t is here again, that same ram bleating away at the back of my head. The whistling wind fluttering my curtains through my window. It has been a warm night, sweat and discomfort has been my bed and blanket. Then, in the wee hours of morning, a blinding lightening flashed through, bright enough to break through the coverings of my little bedroom.

The hot night turned cold in a whim, shrilling dry piercing cold enveloped my room, i grabbed the blanket that have laid carelessly on the floor all night long, pulled my self up to lock the windows.

I touched my forehead and the beads of sweat that lingered through the night have dried up, goosebumps caressed every inch of me.
There goes the lightening again, a thunder followed immediately after, the cold intensified, my eyes peered through the corner, misty and dreamy in the punishing grip of a strange sudden dry chill.

The bleating sound of the ram sipped through, ringing just at the back of my head. Its sounds were broken and deep, sending my blood boiling with every bleat, my heart racing without care. I feared i may have a heart attack.
"Why do this same ram bleat behind my window every night?" I asked myself.
Who would let a ram disturb the whole neighborhood every night? It was unfair but there was something strange about this bleat.
There was a chill, a terror that envelope you each time it comes, Andrew lived just next door, i have asked him if he hears any ram bleating in the midnight.

"Ram? What ram?"

I looked on with disbelief, does it mean Andrew sleeps like a log? his window was just next to mine, it should be just as audible as it was to me.
but he looked on with a lost face, wondering and trailing within a foggy thought, i could only imagine what went on within those minds that remained masked behind a beardy face.

"The heat yesterday was just too much" He said

I looked on, lost still. Should i mention the cold? or will he asked 'what cold?' once again?
Am i going crazy?
No. if anyone was, Andrew certainly is. The cold, the ram, lightenings and deafening thunders was as real as real can get, you'd have to be mad, deaf and dead not to notice them.

It is here again, the same sound of a distressed ram, sending a wave of profound sorrow unsaid and unnamed within me.
I crept out of bed, i must see this ram this time, i must chase it out of my window, it should bother someone else and let me sleep.
The cold made my joints ache, my lungs suffered from every drag of breath.

I threw the blanket over my freezing body, slipped into the flip-flops beside my bed and walked towards the backdoor.
The iron bolt of the door was cold, it squeaked protested as i pulled it open, the door groaned as i gently opened it inch by inch.
Stepping out into the back corridor, i peered into the dusk, the ram no longer made a sound and i could hardly see farther than my window from where i stood.

The moon was still gracing the sky, silvery light bathed the grey-dark morning, starry lights smiling through the deep dark sky.
"Where did this lightening come from?" i muttered to my self stepping even further towards the open from the tiled small corridor of my little ground floor apartment. There was nothing that pointed towards rain, the sky was clear, the moon was there, and where the hell is this damn ram?

I turned to walk back into my room, the firs step came with that blinding flash of lightening and a rumbling disturbance in the bowels of the earth.
there goes that bleat again, it was just as close as my own left hand. In one swift reflex i turned, the ram was there.
White and huge, bigger than any ram i have seen and its whiteness shone with a radiance that could not be found in the darkness of the morning, blood shot eyes that shimmered from within, huge horns that bended and coiled into itself.

It made that bleating sound again, i stepped away slowly taking a foot up the little pavement that was my corridor. I backed away, rams are stubborn and i wouldn't want to disturb this strange giant.
There goes the thunder again, but this time the darkness intensified, the cold too. The rays of the moon could not be felt, the silvery light that smeared on everything around me was lost, only darkness tuned in.
Amidst the darkness, the ram was no more, a figure of a man stood there looking at me. His face hidden in that strange darkness that creeped into the world.

My door was within reach, my fear has ran further than i stood. I broke free from the cold, i cannot explain how i ran through the door and locked it in the same moment, into the bedroom, i dashed towards the wardrobe, fetched my baseball bat and waited with an uneasy beating heart that threatened to jump out of me.

Papa would say, Igwekala (Amadioha) didn't say much.

I was born on the day the masquerades were free to roam, spirits that neither spoke nor ate. The day Igwekala was celebrated.
I have grown in a home with a strong faith, our catholic faith ran from my great grand parents, papa have always wanted me to be a priest, to study in the seminary and take on the robe as a sign of my holiness, chastity and undying piousness as the chosen one of God.
I am not in the seminary now, my names are not called out but it seems i am being called. A God is calling me, but not the God papa would imagine.

Igwekala was here.

Am i a priest? A different kind of priest.