₦airaland Forum

GSteve001:
Never, ever write again.

It was the last Sunday in April. I had just returned with that special ecstasy from the church. It was another day for me to dust off my bible and flip helplessly while the pastor read from a tablet. By the time I was done arranging and re-arranging, I returned back to the little boy chewing a loaf of bread slowly on the rug. He was a helpless boy I found on my way home, and I had picked him up in line with our pastor’s message that morning –the Good Samaritan. I played one too, and, the feeling was great, knowing that you can be of help too. I passed him a bottle of water and sat opposite him on my bed.

“So, you are lost, right?” I didn’t know if he heard me, but he continued with the loaf of bread. I shrugged and said, “Kid, you didn’t tell me your name on our way home and you want to continue that here? I can’t risk being called a kidnapper. Tell me something about you.” Even though I spoke in care-filled tones, his head was still bowed on the bread. That, my friend, was annoying and I was getting irritated quickly. The pastor didn’t teach us how to handle an annoying Samaritan. The one in the bible would have spoken to a donkey just to get help, but this one was mute.

“See, I can’t continue with this…”

“Mister, why did you stop writing?” his little voice interrupted me as he raised his head, his glazy and intelligent eyes bored into mine and I could barely hold back a chuckle. He spoke, though he asked a strange question.

“Why is that important to you?” I asked.

“If you give me an answer, I’ll tell you all about me.”

Well, that wasn’t too bad. I had bottled up the reason I stopped writing for too long. I knew people would tag me crazy if I told them why, but this boy wanted to know, and I should tell him.

“Come here.” I patted a space on the bed and beckoned on him to join me. He did joyfully and fixed his gaze on me, with a raised brow that signalled ‘start talking’, and I did.

“It started in the year 2017, with divepen1 to be specific. I know you won’t believe this but he had an encounter with one of his fictitious characters. When he posted it online, we all thought he was crazy and never believed him until it started happening to others too. I can’t tell you much about this story, it’s scary, boy. It’s damn scary!

“Just imagine this. A lady you murdered in one of the stories you wrote came back in reality for revenge. Sounds Crazy, right? It actually happened to a writer from Ghana. It was so scary that many writers including me had to stop. We feared that it might happen to us too.

“I have spoken too much already. Boy, now tell me about you.” I looked away from the books I stacked on my table back to the boy who listened to the story with rapt attention. He stood up without a word and approached the door slowly. I walked after him and held his shoulder.

“Kid, who are you? And why are you going away even without telling me a bit about you?” I crouched before him and asked.

“Mister, when the little boy, Ahmed, got locked inside the secret library, someone was supposed to find him after four hours. Isn’t it?” he asked silently. Was he hurt?

“Who is Ahmed? And what have we to do with him?” I asked and stood up. The boy was strange.

“Ahmed got trapped in chapter four. Mary was supposed to find him in chapter five. You stopped that story in chapter four. Mary never arrived, and you can’t imagine how horrible it felt for me to be alone. Please, help me and write chapter five. I need to get out of that library.” He cried and tugged at my leg. His grip was so strong that I had to hold unto the door-leaf.

“Who the hell are you, boy?” I managed to ask.

“I am Ahmed. The boy you created with your imagination while writing.” He declared.

Yes, I wrote The Secret Library. Yes, there was an Ahmed in the story, with a matching description. And yes… I fainted.

Greatzeus:
Opalk Zesh Seunvense Sent

Greatzeus:
Sent