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The Bleeding Stone - A Story By Olatubosun - Literature - Nairaland

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The Bleeding Stone - A Story By Olatubosun by daewoorazer(m): 3:20pm On Jan 25, 2017
This book is protected by copyright.
No part of it should be copied or used without the prior knowledge of the author.

Mynd44


Chapter 1

Suddenly I felt all alone, like I was the only one in the middle of a natural thick forest. The darkness was thick I could barely see my own body. My heart could hardly do what it’s designated for. I gasped for breath like an amateur drowning at the heart of a dead lake. Drops of hot sweat trailed from my forehead down my eyes, grave pains stung as they entered my eyes.



Gbi! Gbi! Gbi!
I began hearing thuds of what seemed like slow coordinated steps from giant feet. Every second, the thump of its feet against the ground grew louder and felt nearer by each thud, whatever it was kept moving closer towards me. Then I realized I was lying down on my back and I couldn’t run. I wasn’t tied up yet it felt I was chained in shackles.
“What kind of moment is this?”
“Lord, if it is your will, let this big mug just pass me over!”



As these two thoughts run through my mind, I struggled the more but it was as if I was in shackles. My voice battled for strength to yell but no my voice never sent me. I was weak. Though my mouth moved, all was a futile attempt. That moment I felt the pains of a dumb. Each of my forelimbs was heavier than an Iroko tree. My legs were twice as heavy, could my mind be playing me?


At last I submitted, as that hymn “nearer my Lord to thee, nearer my Lord” played at the back of my mind. By this moment whatever haunted me was very close to me, I can feel its warmth. I could barely turn my head yet I managed to catch a glimpse. It looked like a dead body, which had been buried for 7 days, the creature was luminous. The flesh of its face was filled with pores and the inhabitant of each of those pores were well fed maggot. The lips have been well fed on exposing what it was meant to protect – teeth. Its incisors were well developed and foot of its mouth was a black as that of a black mamba. The absence of lips caused saliva to anoint his body freely. It was a tall creature with giant legs, finally it moved to attack. It surged its head backwards as to gain enough strength to aim its bite towards my neck, and lo, I woke up.



“What could I wait for?”
I thought. The bed I was lying upon seemed like it had been drenched from 10 litres of water. Do I seem to care? I traced my position on the bed I was to get my feet on ground so I could run out of that room as fast as I could. I managed to locate the door, flung it open and reached for the sole sibling I have.
Ejibamikale!
Ejibamikale oooo!!
Baba mi! Baba mi!!
Iya Eyinlaaro! Iya Eyinlaaro!!
(My name is Eyinlaaro and address my mother as a third person.)



The realization I had been left alone in that kind of situation sparked up anger in me.
“How could they have done this to me?”

Re: The Bleeding Stone - A Story By Olatubosun by TemmyB18(f): 3:33pm On Jan 25, 2017
Hmmm
Re: The Bleeding Stone - A Story By Olatubosun by daewoorazer(m): 3:39pm On Jan 25, 2017
I asked myself like I expected them to know I would have a bad dream and even if they knew, should a grown up boy still be sore afraid as this?


I managed to hit the passage leading to the entrance of the house. It was a “face me I face you” structure. The passage of the house lead into 10 rooms; 5 on the right and same on the left. I looked back every minute to check if the creature was following me. I reached the door and my worst fear came to full realization. I had been locked from outside. The anger mixed with fear caused me to be violent. I immediately reached for my father’s axe always placed at a corner of the door post, the one he uses on the farm, I needed not two strikes, I hit the lock of the door and it flung open despite the door was made from strong Iroko planks, I never believe my strength but it didn’t fail me.


I ran like it was a race to win the most valuable treasure in the world, I was out of the house, it was dark and that could mean just two things, its either dusk or dawn; my fear dwindled a little but not for long. I made for the neighbouring hut.

Karounwi! Karounwi!!
Ejimogobia! Kilanko!

The echo that imitated my calls for my friends depicted nothing but that the town was empty. The thought of that monster reappearing resurfaced. Obviously, I was on my own through those sualidid moments.


Suddenly I began to hear chantings, though it was fade I managed to concentrate what it sounded like. My effort to listen hard couldn’t last for long as the vibrating songs of well fed male frogs and toads coupled with those of crickets shaded the chantings. That prompted me to follow the direction the chantings were coming from. At last I could hear what seemed:
“Olalomi l’ole ja o, Ija l’ole ja”
(Olalomi is the warrior, yes he is).


Immediately I realized it was from the market square. Then it dawned on me it was the eve of the celebration of the most powerful god in our village – Ojumogobia. Ojumogobia was believed to be a god of love and abundance. Any marriage rite performed in isolation of Ojumogobia won’t last for long coupled with the sure fact such marriage must end without a fruit. This god was highly revered and loved, Ojumogobia’s priest was given same respect and love but only the King wont bow to greet him as he is believed to be the “husband” of all gods and witches. He is consulted whenever the King has trouble making some important decisions. He never goes out, his residence is in the wild. Ojugomobia priest must never see a woman till he dies. Upon delivery by his mother, the newest priest would be covered with a black cloth on its face, no he must not see any woman, not even his own mother. The god was powerful such that his priest must have sexual meeting with a woman once in his lifetime, this very one time, the woman he made love to must conceive and the child must be a boy. While he makes love to this woman, he must do in blindfolds. Ojumogobia was very powerful, I won’t forget to mention – could be cold and mean too. As soon as the mother of the child of the priest delivers, she drinks a portion which is going to kill her immediately, rather peacefully. The pride in being referred as the mother of Ojumogobia’s priest would want any woman wish to be chosen by the god but the thought of never seeing your child and dying almost immediately after delivery makes them shiver and never wished to be chosen. But either way, nature must take its course, Ojugomobia must surely choose a woman, whoever gets chosen must be apprehended against her will, taken to Ojumogobia’s dark forest where the reigning priest makes love to her once till she delivers.
Re: The Bleeding Stone - A Story By Olatubosun by daewoorazer(m): 3:39pm On Jan 25, 2017
As I reached the market square, the heat from the ring formed by villagers was intense coupled with the heat emanating from the bonfire made at the centre of this ring. At an angle seated King Lanlehin and his chiefs. To the King’s right was the Otun-Oba, Chief Gbegbekunegbe, a short-statured, pot bellied and very arrogant man. His upper lip was fenced with a thick bush of moustache, He is a heavy drinker and is notorious for his troubles. He adores bribes like his wellbeing depended on it. He has 18 wives, but it seemed to amaze me why short statured people never lookout for corresponding heights in women they love. All his wives were very tall and muscular. Has he ever thought they could pass a vote of no confidence in him someday and beat him till death visits. Oh!, my bad, he never walks alone, always in the presence of muscular looking body guards, that was his immunity. No one loved him except for his guards who picks crumbs of bread dropped from his table.


Flanked to the King’s left was Osi-Oba – Chief Igbofidudusola who is the complete opposite of Chief Gbegbekunegbe when we talk stature. He is well mannered and would never bite more than he can chew. At the back of the King seated other less important chiefs and a giant King guard fanning the King with a giant fan decorated in royal embroidery.
While I scanned through the crowd to locate any of my family members or perhaps friends, someone from behind covered my face and asked “guess who it is”. It could not be anyone other than……….to be continued.
Re: The Bleeding Stone - A Story By Olatubosun by xaviercasmir(m): 4:21pm On Jan 25, 2017
RIDE ON !!!!!!!!!!!!
Re: The Bleeding Stone - A Story By Olatubosun by harameede99(f): 7:36pm On Jan 25, 2017
M on dis one
Re: The Bleeding Stone - A Story By Olatubosun by Damilahrey(m): 11:34pm On Jan 27, 2017
Ride on my nigga joor.

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