photo by free-photos on pixabay
I coughed and spat into the drain. I placed the cigarette in my lips and took another long drag. The tip glowed in the darkness and for a brief instant, in that soft glow; I watched a frog watch me with sad eyes. I turned away and flicked the ash that had gathered at the tip of the cigarette towards the frog. It croaked and hopped away. The darkness ended a few meters from me. At the edge of the darkness was the flickering light of an old street light. I could see the insects gathered around the bulb; fluttering wings and buzzing away in symphonic abandon. I studied the scene then I saw movement at the edge of my vision and turned away.
The gateman had come out from the compound that I have been observing for two weeks. He had a routine. Every night, before he locked up, he would step out to smoke and chat briefly with the gateman from the next compound. Both of them would chatter in Hausa and exchange cigarettes for some minutes and then turn in for the night. I have watched them every night and tonight was no different.
Soon after smoking two sticks each of cigarette and a blunt, they flicked the filter of their cigarettes into the nearby bush and wished each other a good night.
I listened as the bolts struck home in the different gates and the brilliant security lights came on blinding me for some minutes. I stepped back further into the darkness and watched the light reflect on the asphalt road until my eyes got used to it, then I squatted and watched the road.
Some few minutes later, like clockwork, the side gate of one of the houses opened noiselessly. It had taken me all of the two weeks to discover how he left the house every night. And it was only luck that led me to that gate; luck and two boys searching for their football. I had decided to hang around the neighborhood one afternoon instead of waiting until night time for my normal watch. The ball had fallen close to a mango tree surrounded by a garden that had gone wild with inattention and what I thought was a fence. I had almost turned away when I saw the boys push through the supposed fence into the garden and then return with their ball. I heard the soft whine of well oiled hinges and I suddenly knew how he did it.
I watched him walk across the road and disappear around a bend. I waited for some few minutes. I knew where he was headed, so I didn’t see the reason to rush and reveal myself. I followed slowly, walking with the nonchalance of a man going for stroll by ten pm at night. As I took the turn, I felt a sharp pain, the world brightened and went dark.
***
Said the philosopher, sipping tea
With scrunched eyes studying tea leaves.
Secrets are breath,
He said, tossing the teacup Into the irreverent sink
Then studying the drain. Secrets are fear
He muttered in his breath
And turned to study the window sill
Secrets are death
He whispered, turning
To study the frayed edges of the rug
Then raising his eyes to study my bewildered gaze
And then he smiled.
photo by rawpixel on pixabay.
Doctor Chijoke was staring at me when I awoke to the sun on my eyes and a throbbing pain on my temple. He dragged on his cigarette and stood up from his squat. He picked the bucket beside him at the same time as I realized that I was wet from my head down. The bastard had poured water all over me. I tried to swear, I really did but the pain could barely let me breathe.
“You didn’t seem like you were ready to wake up; I had to help you along.” He said with his back turned to me.
I studied his back then I turned to study my environment. We were in a store of sorts. There were old boxes and furniture thrown about the room in careless abandon. Whoever owned the property was definitely not returning for it. There was a single lamp holder hanging from the ceiling but it had no bulb in it.
Cobwebs create vague shadows in the corners of the ceiling and two fat disinterested geckos studied the scene from a corner wall then both dove after a nonchalant spider. While they squabbled over breakfast, I realized I was tied to a chair and the door was a steel one while the only window had thick iron bars crisscrossing it. I was basically a hostage.
“prease can ai huff shum whuta?” I asked. My tongue felt like a thick piece of meat in my mouth. I could chew it and I won’t know until I drown in my own blood. “whut tid jou dhu tho me?” I asked on hearing my voice.
“Oh I can understand that. For a second I thought you were speaking your mother tongue or something. I gave you a pain killer before I pulled out one of your tooth.” He replied, smiling genially.
I opened my eyes wide and tried to search for the missing tooth with my tongue but I could not move the damned thing much. After a sweaty struggle with my own body, I managed to locate the empty space where a molar used to sit comfortable and healthy.
“Wai?” Was the only world that came out of my swollen mouth; I felt pained.
“Well I was bored. I needed to do something with my hands while you slept. Enough of the questions.” He replied and moved away from where he stood.
I had not seen the small table before but now it was laid bare before me. This was not the table set by God in the famous prayer by David, the shepherd boy made king. No this was set by the devil. Today the devil was wearing glasses, a t-shirt and corduroy pants and sneakers. He was smiling at the display. On the table were scalpels and every other sharp thing used by surgeons.
He brought out surgical gloves from his pocket and wore them then he walked to the table and picked a scalpel. He held it to the morning light and it glinted. I swallowed or tried to. It was an innocent job, follow him, find out where he went to and how he left the house, then report. It was not looking innocent any more. No sir, this was dangerous business.
“You are going to tell me everything.” The monster said as he unbuttoned my shirt and exposed my chest to the chill of the morning.
When the sharp edge of the scalpel sliced into my flesh, every thought flew out of the window and my tongue suddenly loosened. It was a miracle. I left nothing out; nothing. You’d think that with all my experience in gathering information, finding secrets and investigating people, I would have achieved a certain level of pain control? Well sorry to disappoint.
INTERLUDE: THERE ARE NO SECRETS HERE
The philosopher said
The world is round, his hands
Folding the napkin into two equal sides
He said truth goes around
Like a merry go round, as his hands
Folding the napkin into four equal parts
He said pain was clearer than light
And light went round the world
As he folded the napkin into a triangle
He said life was death and death was life
His hands standing
The triangle on the table top
He said karma is a bitch
He held the top of the triangle with one hand
Then he twisted the two bottom ends
And the triangle grew a bum
He said secrets are seeds
Round seeds that kill like bullet holes
Then he made the triangle dance
While he looked at me and smiled.
THE END
Blog contributor: @warpedpoetic
Blog Editor: @klynic
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Blog Editor: @klynic