All Rights Reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher. For information, send email to this poster.

Why are you talking to the deaf...Oh! The dead.
Stop talking to the dead.
Ehn! Now, that you've stop.
What did you and the dead discuss.

HERE IS THE STORY

We lived in the rocks surrounded by cactus. After the death of my uncle, my father went alone to speak close to his grave:

To Makanan,
Your spirit is unworthy
Your witchcraft is dead
You can't see us here
Go to the land of death
And become a vampire there.

After a month, I began to follow behind my father to see what he often did. My father spewed some substance like libation on my uncle's grave.
After a few days, I visited the site, and saw my uncle's grave dug (when his body wasn't yet osseous), his skull thrown beside it and no deleterious smell.
My father often grumbled that our people seldom reasoned to give their children good names.
"The instances are pellucid", he said.
My late uncle's name, Makanan, means a person who is inflicting diseases to people by means of witchcraft. My name, Murum which my soho (grand pa) gave me and my father prohibited it, means hyena. My father's name, Mafuyai, means cemetery.
I couldn't know why he often complained about that till when I realised he was who harvested the skull of his late elder brother to calculate the number of worms inside it to come with the theory of how many people he kananed (killed by witchcraft) before his death. He inherited this sense from his father who was the king of traditionalists of our clan.
Makanan's death came about when he tried to kanan someone who was powerful than him. His victim retrieved it to the sender, and made him looked like a pellagra victim for a month before he died.
During a valediction after his corpse was laid down in his grave, some people swore a dark cloud formed over the tree in his compound.



THE END.

HEH