THE MYSTERY OF MY DESTINY....BY OKAFOR ERASMUS
(The Obscurities of My Life in a mysterious box)

CHAPTER ONE
The United States of America had really offered me the opportunity to survive in abject poverty that had characterized my life as I advanced into adulthood which made me embrace it as my own without knowing that there are more to my life than I could ever imagine.
It was a lowly life in the suburbs of Philadelphia, in Carmel city of Indiana, in a home built close to Gander Mountain.
I couldn’t say if I’m proud to announce that I lived in a cabin built in the woods by my poor parents because they couldn’t afford the rent paid in the city and couldn’t see me taken to the destitute since they were still alive and caring.
Born into the lowly family of African American parents and trying to make ends meet, I’d always tried my best to remain educated in my own little way; all thanks to the natural endowment of intelligence that offered the opportunity for me to understand anything once I set my eyes and attention on it.
My father, Eric Churchill was a peasant farmer and sometimes spent some of his leisure at the orchard, tending to the flowers and making sure that nature remains beautified. I admired his sense of natural taste but I hadn’t the time to tow his path because I spent much time reading than I spent observing the orchard.
My mother, Elizabeth Churchill, sold fruits in the local market as a way of helping out to make life bearable for the family.
My own tutorial classes for the younger kids was a good source of modest income that helped my parents and me to ensure that at least two square meal was put on the table, to keep our bodies and soul clung together while we remained hopeful that tomorrow would offer a better opportunity.
My parents were already old while I was just twenty-three which made it harder for me to understand what had kept them from giving birth at their early stages of life. On my eighteenth birthday, I raised a question about that but they told me that I was born in their old age and it was miraculous; that was after spending most of their lives searching for a child and hoping in God.
I was glad, at least for being born into such a wonderful and caring family but it was unfortunate that I didn’t come early in their lives to enjoy their companies longer than just meeting them as old parents. All the same, I was glad.
It was like a nightmare to me to suddenly meet the inevitable of my life: I lost my parents just two days before my twenty-fifth birthday. They died together sleeping peacefully on their bed.
That early morning, I went towards their room and shouted “mom, dad, I’m up and cool” but my greetings echoed back to me like a drum, with my heart panting harder as if I was in a cave.
When I rushed into their room to wake them in my usual way, they were clasped together and sleeping deeply. I smiled and admired their love life one more time and left.
When I came back from work, it was surprising that they still lay in the same position without an inch movement. It was then that it began to dawn on me that something was definitely wrong.
“Mum, Dad, what’s happening?” I rhetorically asked and went straight to them to separate them but they remained glued together because they had been dead for long. “Oh, God, this can’t be it,” I shouted and bolted into the streets seeking for medical help.
I finally got an attention and my parents were taken to the hospital where they were confirmed dead.
That mystery of dying together in each other’s arms kept me worked up with a tortured mind. I tried all I could to get myself to understand that they could have died of natural causes but that belief couldn’t be sunk in my mind; therefore, I couldn’t accept that fact.
I searched all through the house to see if I could get a clue of what really happened: probably, they might have taken a portion to die together as Romeo and Juliet, but what for? They couldn’t just leave me without saying goodbye, notwithstanding the love we shared as a family.
I got no clue, and the resounding sound of silence took over my entire being, rendering me almost useless to the extent of skipping some days and absconding from duty.
As I was still trying to solve the mystery of my birth, the most confusing part of the story just sprang up from nowhere and got me stuck in the cocoon of puzzle and mystery: I got a box delivered at the threshold of my house on my twenty-fifth birthday, which was a Halloween. I couldn’t just get it but it was obvious that one of my friends could have sent the box to me, either filled with birthday gifts or scary things just as I used to witness on my birthdays.
One of the most confusing parts of the whole scenario was that the box looked old with a dusty surface as if it had been in existence in the fifteenth century.
Caged inside such traumatised state of the mind, I dusted the golden box and took it inside the room. To be sure that I wasn’t being monitored, I checked one more time at the door, looking around to probably spot an audience or onlooker who could have dropped the box, waiting for me to take a look at it, but everywhere looked normal and calm, raising more fears inside me.
There was a key beside the box, with my name written boldly on it: “David’s key to unlock his life”
Life? What kind of life was I about to unlock and why should I do that. I’d always hated suspense and puzzles in my life but there lay a big puzzle staring daringly on my face and nudging me to action.
It was like a dream but I had to open the box to see what was inside. With the key, I unlocked the box thinking I was going to see something familiar but I saw something entirely different from what I was thinking; strangeness. There was an old ring in it which looked like something made of archaic ornaments. I also saw another key and a note with the picture of an oak tree boldly written ‘find your way to this tree if you can’. Searching further, I found a substance in a powdery form bottled in a tiny jar and the sketched picture of a man and a woman with just white and black background. They had old clothes on them and held each other. From the picture, it shows typical representation of African couple.
It was kind of funny as if I was in the movies but it was real and I couldn’t just wake up and see that I was dreaming. In that confusion, I decided to search the house thoroughly, seeking for a clue but got none. All through the day, I was scattering the entire room until I got something that blew my mind; I discovered a hidden drawer under my parent’s bed which was locked like a safe. I couldn’t just fathom what could be inside the drawer, so I decided to satisfy my curiosity by forcing the drawer open using a machete. I saw an old note written in my dad’s handwriting which got me more curious to dig deeper. The date the letter bore was about twelve years back and I quickly tried to open the sealed letter and discovered that there was a seal of blood on it with an inscription “Your identity,”
I quickly but carefully opened the letter and saw the most shocking which read,
“David, Odunga, by the time you’re reading this letter, the spirits must have led you to discover this drawer, which is the beginning of your quests and the fortification that will reveal your real identity. We’re not your biological parents but foster parents assigned with the duty of making sure that you were made ready for being who you are. Check the box again and locate the map”
The letter created more muddiness in my mind because I couldn’t understand how my parents would write to me in such melancholic tone telling me that they were just guardians and not my biological parents. Even that name, ‘Odunga’ they called me was totally a strange language which I couldn’t understand. It sounded like a jargon or abracadabra to me, especially coming from my parents who never spoke any language except English which has been the American mother tongue.
Then who am I and what is the quest that I’m meant to undergo? I thought deeply, without having any answers knocking at the threshold of my mind’s eye.
I considered that letter a key that could unlock what lies ahead of me in the quest to discover who I am.
Taking a deep reflection, I took the letter and went straight to the box to check for the map that I was directed to check. I knew it was impossible for me to locate a map whereas I’d thoroughly checked on the box without seeing anything like a map in it. I wasn’t bothered much to check out the box again as I was directed because my parents who wrote the letter were already in the morgue, so it wasn’t really important to me at that particular time but my mind remained restless because of the confusion that loomed in my mind making me saunter in the room and thinking of the next step to take.
I decided to visit the morgue and have some chitchat with my dad to know if they could reveal anything to me as a clue because I was totally overtaken by confusion and numbness. When I wanted to dash out from the house, I felt as if the box was going to miss when I return, so I went straight to it to lock it up but inadvertently looked the box that I was avoiding and saw a paper in khaki which wasn’t there before. I quickly took it and opened it and realised that it was the map that my parents talked about. At this point, I became so afraid and couldn’t just search further because this was entirely strange to me. To start with, I was never the fetish guy or the guy that believed in superstition, which made it hard for me to believe that someone didn’t just enter the barricaded room and dropped the map when I was searching through my parents’ documents and personal effects.
Notwithstanding that I was on the brink of losing my breath because of that strangeness, I decided to open the map. It was surprising that what I had with me was just one side of a map showing a torn half without showing the fullness of the map. The language of the map was even strange and I couldn’t understand which language was that. The other half of the paper wasn’t anywhere in the box even though I tried my best to locate it. I quickly locked everything back in the box and took it along with me to the morgue but I immediately I entered the streets, I saw a black guy in a taxi checking his tyres as if he had some troubles with it.
“Sorry, are …are you ready or busy with your cab,” I stutteringly queried as I beckoned him forward to have his attention, “I mean; can you take me to the hospital?”
“Of course, I can,” the tall stout black guy said and winked.
Why was he winking at me as if we had a deal or something? Anyway, I had lots on my mind other than noticing a taxi driver.
The cab driver quickly opened his car and I hopped in, “take me to Parkview Whitely Hospital, Columbia City,”
“Of course, he said and drove off with a loud screech as if he was in haste or something, but that was exactly what I wanted because I was really losing it that particular time and needed to get to the hospital as fast as I could.
As he drove along the road, I was so quiet and couldn’t think straight but needed someone to talk to, even if I could find a dog or any pet around that could listen to my strange story. “Sir, have you been in confusion in your life before?” I asked, but the question sounded illogical to my mind, “sorry, let me rephrase it; have you ever been in a situation when you realise that what you’ve been thinking about yourself turns out to be the exact opposite even without having someone to explain the reality to you?”
“You mean like waking up to discover that the people you think were your parents aren’t who you thought they were?” he asked which blew my mind the more because he couldn’t have known the exact thing I had in mind.
“Sir, who are you?” I asking confusingly, “how did you know about that?”
“Do you have the map with you?” he asked and gave an impish grin as he looked at me through the rear-view mirror, which got me jittery down to my spines as if I was being hypnotised by the stranger.
Even though I was so afraid and flabbergasted, I felt a sort of relief because I just found someone who could give me an answer to what I was seeking.
“Yes…yes...I…I have it, sir,” I faltered and started trying to unlock the box that was held close to my bosom, even though I was shivering and feeling as if I was passing out.
“You don’t need to unlock the box,” he said, which sounded like a warning to my ears, “I just wanted to confirm that you have it,”
“Sir, who am I? And why are all these strange things happening to me?” I quickly asked as I quivered convulsively.
“It’s not my duty to answer that but you need to guard that box meticulously because your life and its essence depend on it. What you have there was passed from generation to generation until it got to you,”
Which generation was he talking about and how could this be? I thought.
“What’s your duty, please?” I asked hastily with much eagerness for answers.
“My duty is to take you to the grave,” he said, looking straight ahead as he sped along the streets.
“Which grave?” I asked, looking much curious, “you mean a cemetery?”
“There you’re,” he said smilingly as if everything was all jokes, “the cemetery where your parents were buried. Sorry, I mean your guardians, not your real parents,”
“How could it be?” I angrily asked, even though I was becoming more confused, “I just took them to the morgue at Parkview Whitely Hospital a couple of days ago. How could they be buried? Who buried them and when?”
“Actually, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I can authoritatively tell you that your foster parents died one month ago and were buried two days ago,” he answered and remained focused as he navigated through the busy streets.
This part made me feel as if I was no more alive but existing in a sort of fairy tale.
“That’s a big lie and nothing could convince me that the death of my parents that took place three days back had taken about one month already?”
“Like I said before, it’s not my duty to explain further. I’m already saying much,” he said and remained mute without uttering a single word again.
“Who buried my parents and what should I do next? Sir, you need to help me out from this confusion and puzzle of the mind. Who or what is messing with my mind and who dropped the box in front of the cabin in the woods?”
That question and many other numerous questions I asked remained unanswered and unreciprocated.
I noticed that he took a turn and started driving to another direction and speeding as if he just had a brake failure, which made me so frightened because I felt that I just fell into the hands of a kidnapper or even a killer or someone who was messing with my mind. I was filled with total discombobulation without knowing what to do next other than wait and embrace any fate that I could meet.
It was obvious that he wasn’t driving to the hospital but to the cemetery which got me feeling as if I could just wake up and realise that I’d been dreaming but the more I tried to convince myself that everything wasn’t real, the more I was finding my way to the unknown part of my life that I couldn’t understand.
As I thought through the whole thing, I slept off without knowing when I did.
I suddenly woke up when I was nudged to reality by a gentle touch from the African American guy, “Sir, we’re here. Can you come down please?”
I yawned away the sleepiness of my eyes and got down from the car as the door was already opened for me.
Getting down, I discovered that there were many graves there at the cemetery making it hard for me to locate my parents’ grave. I was glad for his company because it was obvious that the taxi driver could be helpful to make it easier for me to locate the graves but that was far from it. The man quickly went back into his car and drove off, leaving me alone and confused. It was then that I realised that he didn’t kidnap me as I alleged but really played a part of what I couldn’t understand in my life. I was left in an oblivion of disarray as I kept peering absently at the numerous graves and unable to know how and where to start my search and quest.

Your paragraphing needs attention. Otherwise this is going to be worth reading......

Milonis:
Your paragraphing needs attention. Otherwise this is going to be worth reading......

I love to be corrected. make me understand what you meant. a n example would be superb. Thanks so much