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Abobi || 𝑏𝑦 π΄π‘šπ‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘Žπ‘β„Žπ‘– π‘‚π‘›π‘’β„Ž


TODAY, THE NIGHT IS A BLANKET OF ICE. Abobi rolls on the mattress, seeking comfort from his father. He snuggles up Baba, tugging the blanket over his head with a content sigh. Perhaps this will be a cool long night. A shot cracks the silence, jerking his eyes open. Gunshot?

His lips tremble. “Baba?” Abobi pokes Baba in the side as another gunshot whams the night. Groping in the dark room, he reaches for a torch somewhere by the drawer and bats the butt twice. It slowly comes awake. He flashes the light in Baba's direction, but…  He let out a shriek, crashing down the bedside. The heap on the bed is not Baba but pillows stacked in human form.

Crickets are screeching from somewhere in the room, almost as loud as his pounding heart. Abobi takes tentative steps through the bedroom door, now along the dark corridor, his torchlight long forgotten. The living room door creaks open, and he stands by the doorpost, never going to step out. A second passes. Then another. But he inches a step towards the balcony, keeping to the shadows.

A figure staggers into sight. Abobi crouches at once, watching through the holes in the railing. In the distance, a phone's flashlight comes on. And he sees it: the dark spot on his father's forehead from constantly bowing to pray. He has it too. Just that … right now, the dark spot doesn't matter. For it's gone, and is replaced by a fresh bullet hole in the middle of Baba's forehead, blood oozing out through the hollow. A chill dribbles up his spine. "Baba?" 

Just now, the figure takes another picture, then drags his victim's body along the grassy path. What the … She dashes towards the light switch in the corridor. “Baba!”

The man dragging his father's body grinds a halt. The lone bulb hanging from the ceiling flickers to life. Now he can see him. And he sees him too. They fix a stare at each other, an immix of resentment and thrill. Until the villain drops his father's body to the ground, turning to face him. Abobi staggers backwards; a step, two, three. And  his back sinks into the wall. He can see the killer’s eyes, how black they are with hate and anger. He can also see him reaching for the gun strapped to his waist.

Another shot comes off the barrel.

This time, the world turns quiet as pain punctures Abobi's shoulders. He slumps to the ground, fighting to keep his eyes open. Fighting to keep his breath. Then it starts to rain.


MEET THE AUTHOR:


AMARACHI ONUH is a lover of love, a word magician who weaves love stories out of thin air. If she's not trying out a new spell to create a romance story, then she can be found on the streets of Instagram or YouTube, looking out for the next best food recipe to experiment with.

Most of her stories are set in Nigeria, West Africa. Her free stories can be found on Wattpad under the name: maramartha, and snippets of her works on IG @maramarthaa.

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