Ahmed just made his first bones. A course-mate of his, marked by Eshu, and helped off a story building and into the cold arms of death. What’s next? Read on!
The entire school was agog with the news. The gossip going round stated that a hundred level student had committed suicide by jumping down from the first floor. Policemen came to investigate, we wore black and black, did a silly procession and life went on.
I stepped out of the class. There was a certain chill in the air, and I was bone-tired. I just wanted to find a bed and lay down in it. Sleep for a thousand years maybe. Or a million. I had just turned around the corner, a few steps to the front was the hostel entrance when something really weird happened… I fell through the ground!
When I came to, his annoying orisha-ness Eshu, was seated on some sort of stone throne and watching me with thinly disguised interest.
“A perfect kill, Ahmed. I doubt if any human alive could have done better.”
“Oh! There you are. Who’s the next target?”
“Not yet Ahmed. I brought you down here for a different reason. I wanted to give you this…” so saying, he handed over a long piece of metal. It was a cylinder made of some really dull metal, and it glinted from reflected light. I took it, weighing it carefully in my hands. I looked at it. What am I supposed to do with this? I thought. What is this thing anyway?
“That thing is no ordinary rod. It is a link between my world and yours. Forged by the god of iron and metallurgy, it bears great power, and in a heated battle, may turn the tide in your favour.”
“You’re giving me a supernatural weapon. Why?”
“Your next target will be one of your biggest tests. You need it. Now go.” he flicked a finger as though swatting away an irritating fly, and I found myself lying face-down on the grass outside the hostel. Really? After killing on his say so? That Orisha really needed some etiquette classes. I picked myself up, dusted my sweater and trousers and walked in.
Five minutes later, I was on my bed, staring at my arm. My roomate wasn’t around. Probably off to some party or the other, which was fine by me. I needed the solitude. I picked a flashlight to check even closer. There! I wasn’t mistaken. On my inner forearm, there was now a tattoo of a long metal rod, tastefully done. I had a feeling it was the same rod I was given. Somehow, it seemed to call me. To ask for action, for blood, for death. Despite looking like a totally harmless tattoo on my arm. I touched it, and BAM! I now held it in my arms, life and direct. It seemed to hum with power, and I suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to hit someone. Bloodlust and magic. Okay, I could handle that. Who’s the next target? He wouldn’t know what hit him. I smiled to myself in the darkness as I touched the rod to my forearm, and felt it slide smoothly into my skin.
What’s next? Find out next time, on THE AHMED SERIES™
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