One Eighty: Finale

Day Twenty of One Eighty

I don't remember

I close my eyes tight trying to make something of the void between my head

Flashes

That's all I see

The lady had returned with a mouthful of empty information

He is dead

That particular one leaves me with a sick feeling each time I think about it

And yet...I don't know why

The lady is my mother

And I am home with my family, she said

Yet, I know she's wrong

I only remember being alone

Alone alone

And I remember one eighty days

In one eighty days, everything would be fine

I can be happy again

Happy

Day Forty of One Eighty

I joined the Utopian Peace Corps

He would be proud of me

I see him in my dreams smiling at me

His eyes, sometimes grey sometimes greenish brownish, calling to me

I know him and yet I don't know him

I don't want to think too deeply about it

I can't trust what I think, sometimes I think my mind is lying to me

I don't know if what I know is what I know

I don't know what is a memory and what is just a dream

I can't make sense of anything

So I'm just going to keep myself busy helping people out there

Outside Utopia

Utopia

Day Sixty of One Eighty

I am passing through the underground tunnel again with my group

We need to get food and medical supplies to the inner city of the outside

But the outside government do not want us to help the 'rebels'

Only, at this point, every citizen of the outside is a rebel

The government is fighting its own people!

What we are doing is dangerous, I know

But it must be done

There are children there and they will starve

A water disease is breaking out too

We make our way through the dark, humid subway amid the sound of each other's groaning

The air is stagnant and breathing is hard labor

A single but large flashlight illuminates our path, further heating up the atmosphere

A sudden but slight breeze is a well-received sign of the end of the tunnel

Soon after, the ladder to the surface is finally visible

Just above, moonlight is streaming through an opening

I am standing in the middle of the woods looking up at the moon above my head through the branches of giant trees

And I am painting what I see

Painting with such speed that I can no longer see my hands' movement

Someone packs my hair into a ponytail behind me and wipes my face dry with a soft silk piece of cloth

I am sweating in streams

My eyeballs. They've rolled out of focus

When I finish, I collapse and he's there to catch me

He kisses my forehead and lays me down somewhere

Day Hundred of One Eighty

I no longer want to stay 'home' with strangers

I know they call themselves my family

But I don't know them

I have boarded with the Corps in their housing unit close to the fringes of Utopia

Every day, my group journeys through hidden tunnels, risking discovery by the outside government, to feed and treat victims of the chaos

Some of the victims, soldiers

When I meet the soldiers I find myself searching their faces

I think I am looking for the face in my dreams

His face

In fact, I think something inside me needs to find it desperately

I want to know why I feel this way

But I can't

Day One Fifty of One Eighty

He is dead

He is dead

She said

The lady that calls herself my mother

Stop looking for him, she said

I know what you're doing, she said

But how can she know what I am doing

When I myself do not

He is gone

You need to let go

Chance is gone

My eyes scorch as tears stream down unbridled

What does she mean

What is she saying

And yet it seems my heart knew

I don't know what you are talking about

The tears are gone as soon as they came

Chance simply went on a trip, I told her

He'll be back very soon

And I can leave this house and be with him

A tight smile slips up my lips

And suddenly I feel so sure of what I said

His name is Chance?

His name is Chance

I remember why I had to leave that house

Now, I can think clearly

And not feel nervous, anxious

Alone, I know everything will be fine

When I am not surrounded by worried, gloomy faces, I can be sure everything will be fine

And I can keep myself busy helping those who have the right to be gloomy

Today, I volunteered to go to the more dangerous part of the outside

They call it the Eastern Center

And I know immediately I hear about it that I need to be there

We will stay there for thirty days

This time our mission is to soldiers particularly

Day One Seventy of One Eighty

My dreams are becoming clearer

I dream of Chance every time I close my eyes

I see him

I touch his thick, curly, raven black hair

I feel his thin, pink lips

His strong arms around me

I long so much to hear his voice

But he doesn't speak in my dreams

And it drives me insane with need

Take me with you, I want to say

Take me to where you are

But I don't want to speak and ruin the moment

Or maybe I too cannot speak in my dreams

I feel joyful by day after I have seen my heart by night

I feel the time coming when I will finally see my heart in the light of day

One eighty days

And then I can be at peace

I remember something and go in search of our Corps Zonal Inspector to ask about it

A large warehouse I noticed a far distance from the wounded soldiers' camp we visited daily

It seemed all but abandoned but I couldn't stop watching it

And for days, I have watched it

For what? I don't know

Today, I noticed men enter and not retreat until a full hour after

Then, I see them leave one man less, through a dirt road across the sparse field surrounding the terrain

The ZI warns me against venturing towards the vicinity of the warehouse

And I know that I must go there

According to him, it is a pseudo detention camp kept by rebels and the prisoners there are beyond our helping capacity, it is too guarded

And yet I saw no guards nor any restrictions whatsoever in all my days surveying the area around the structure

If there are soldiers held there, they need help just as much as any other soldier they've helped

Why help some and not help others?

Why help only when it's safe or easy?

Day One Eighty - D-day

I'm ready

Today, I visit that warehouse

I planned a course of action, as much as I can manage

The ZI disapproves, so I am not going with my group to the house

Nobody can know I am going at all

They'll want to stop me

They'll try

But it's OK, I have everything well planned

I have mini food and drug packs for thirty people stuffed in a Peace Corps goodwill carryall

Detached hard work has its benefits, I am group leader

I will give my members instructions about today's campaign and head off immediately for a 'special assignment'

Everything has worked out perfectly

And now, with the warehouse door towering in front of me, I break into a sweat

I shiver with a sudden bout of anxiety and I hold on desperately to the handle of the heavy carryall

I gingerly open the great door and I am swiftly bathed with the smell of death and decay

My eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness of the interior of the warehouse, a sharp contrast to the bright, sunny outside

There are no windows here

Or the windows are all shut

There are bodies on the floor tied to poles

The bodies start to move

And moan

Before I am conscious of it, I'm on the floor leaning towards the man in front of me

The big gaping wound on his leg looks infected

This man would die soon, why would anyone bother to tie him up, what harm can he do?

I lift his head to look at his face

I need to make sure his eyes aren't grey, greenish brown

I move to the next then the next

Searching their faces

I don't find what I am looking for

The men are not all wounded but they are all hanging on to life by a thread

I reach the last man, he lifts his head to look at me before I have to do it for him

And confirms my unconscious fear

He is not here

I collapse to the ground

He is dead

He is dead

And again I feel completely disconnected from my mind and my body

I am weeping and yet I don't know why

He is dead

I don't understand my mind's pattern

He is dead

I feel myself convulse with the intensity of my tears

I pull at my hair in desperation and anxiety

And then I hear it

Heavy footsteps from just outside the building

Like boots crushing dry leaves on the ground

I hear voices, angry voices

I left the door open

I tremble with sudden fear

I should have left while I had the time

And then all thought drains from me as I relax into a comfortable resignation

I sit on the floor and wait for the worst

The men walk in and one shines a torch in my direction

They throw angry questions at me

Who am I?

Where did I come from?

Who sent me?

Who am I?

Someone shouts a loud and precise 'STOP'

And my head is up instantly because I know that voice

I have longed for that voice in my dreams for a long time

He walks towards me and I want to scream

He looks straight at me, stands right in front of me

I can touch him if I want to, yet I can't

I don't remember him

The only thing I know of him is what I see in my dreams

His eyes lock with mine

Greenish Brownish

Am I really looking into the eyes of my heart?

And I am up away from the ground and in his arms

April

April

He repeats over and over again

I want to disappear into him as he is crushing me with the strength of his embrace

They lied to us the council, the government everyone

Everything we thought we knew is all a lie, he is saying

But I don't care about any of that

The one thing I care about has returned to me!

I am laughing and crying and wailing and convulsing

I lift my hands into his hair to feel the silky strands again

I am overwhelmed with a barrage of emotion and I can make no sense of it

I don't want to

I was right

In One Eighty days, everything would be fine!

Am I really in his arms?

Can I really finally hear his voice whispering words of love and other deep emotions only our hearts would ever comprehend?

My face is safely buried just below his shoulder and I am content

Happy

I hear scampering and shuffling around but I don't want to move an inch from where I am

Suddenly I feel a sharp, piercing metal-like thing graze the top of my head just as His hand tightens more around me

I lift up my head as a dizzy spell washes over me and see blood on his shoulder

I am just about to check if he is okay

When I feel another hard substance hit me squarely at the back of my head and pierce through faster than I can conceive my next thought

Light flashes before my eyes for a split second before I blackout

My last vision is of grey eyes under the sun.

END

Stone and the Three Kings: Part 2

But there was nothing. Only people going about their day, and a lone firefly buzzing about my field of vision.

“What’s wrong?” Sandra asked. She was concerned.

“Nothing,” I said, quickly relaxing myself so she would relax. The firefly buzzed around my face, so I swatted it away. “Let’s just go.”

While this wasn’t my first time being followed by something I couldn’t see following me, it was the first time it was happening with someone who didn’t know my secret. You can understand the intense pressure I was under - assuming you’re the kind of person who should be reading this. If not, I recommend you give this to your local akara or suya dealer; they’ll know what to do.

“You’re sure there’s nothing wrong?” Sandra asked for what was probably the third time. At this point, we had turned into her street; deathly quiet in contrast to the bright boisterousness of the main road.

“Wrong?” I asked, looking behind me. “Why would anything be wrong?”

“I wonder for you, na,” she complained. “You keep looking back at every little sound. Are you expecting us to be robbed?”

I scoffed. “Of course not.” I was expecting us to be murdered in cold blood on this quiet, lonely street. My head and body taken as a trophy for the powers that be, her corpse left to rot as a warning to my friends. I felt no need to tell her that, of course.

Her house was farther down the street, and I was counting the seconds until we got there. My fear of my father was no longer driving me – although it was still at the back of my mind. The world was deathly quiet, and the night was pitch black, save for some lights in some houses. My sword continued to shiver in my bag, and I shivered along with it. Sandra shivered as well.

“Chai,” she whispered, hugging herself. “How did it get so cold suddenly?”

I made an attempt at a nonchalant shrug. “Climate change, I guess.”

She laughed. I laughed too. My sword shook violently.

I gave a little backwards glance, but I saw no one behind us, save for a sliver of light buzzing about my face. Another firefly. I swatted it away, irritated.

There was a loud, derisive snort to my side. “You are jumpy tonight, aren’t you?” Sandra said.

I chuckled. “Streets are rough,” I said sheepishly.

“Not these streets…oww!” Sandra winced and slapped her neck. The firefly escaped, disappearing into the darkness.

“Sorry, eh,” I said. “Does it hurt?”

“It does.” Sandra moaned, rubbing the sore spot. She groaned and hissed. “I didn’t even know fireflies bit people.”

She collapsed faster than I could say, “They don’t.”

A movement to my left (I was now facing Sandra, who was unconscious on the road) drew my attention. A figure stood shrouded in the darkness. He looked like a regular human (who was naked or in skin tight clothing), but my instincts told me it wasn’t. I reached into my bag and pulled out my sword, holding it ready for the attack.

The world stood still, or at least, we did. The figure was unmoving in the darkness, and I was not going to move away from Sandra. The sword shook in my hand, but not from its power. I didn’t know what that thing was, and I had a policy against fighting things when I didn’t know how they could kill me. It’s a sage policy I wish more people would adopt.

After some time passed, I decided I would be proactive.

“What are you?!” I asked, putting down my sword. (What did you expect? I’d actually attack that thing? In the night? With no backup? Like an idiot?)

The thing said nothing, so I repeated the question, this time in the sacred tongue. It was still silent.

“Do you know who I am?” I cried. “I am Obagbagbare, the son of Obajobalai. How dare you stay silent when I command you?!” (Be not fooled by the authority in my words, I could not back them up. As I said before, my father wants me dead. Disowning me was no problem for him).

The figure moved. It put its hands to its stomach and made an odd, guttural, otherworldly sound that caught me off guard, so much so that I moved forward a step. It took me a while to realize it was laughter.

“You? The son of what? The son of who?” The thing said when it was done holding its sides. It spat before continuing. “Let me warn you: don’t you ever call my master’s name in vain again! Ever!”

“My father sent you?” I was not surprised, of course. “Then, why do you stand in the shadows like a coward. If you’re truly a son of spirits and not of man, come and fight me!" (What I’d meant to say was, 'Okay, how about you come over here and we can discuss this as rational individuals without resorting to violence,' but I guess I misplaced a few words here and there. The sacred tongue is complicated like that. We’ll let it be what it is.)

The thing laughed again. “And why would I fight an insect such as you?”

“You said my father sent you after me? I didn’t think he rewarded failure.”

“True. Your father does punish the failure of his own,” the figure replied. “But your father didn’t send me to kill you. Only to disgrace you.”

Disgrace me? That didn’t sound like old man Lai at all. Maybe he’s losing his touch. And disgrace me how? I asked the last question aloud. He replied with laughter that rattled my brain.

“They told me you were ignorant. But don’t worry. My work is already done.” He didn’t give me a chance to reel from being called ignorant (spirits put so much pressure on me for not knowing all the nuances of their world in the little time I’ve known of its existence. They’re like parents in a way) before continuing. “But if you insist on doing battle with your better, who am I to deny you your doom.”

The figure let out a quick laugh and bolted towards me at top speed. And this wasn’t human top speed. This was the top speed of the spirits, meaning he was upon me faster than I could cry “Arggh!”

“Arggh!” I cried. I shut my eyes and swung my sword blindly.

My sword exploded with a light so bright that it pierced through my eyelids. That’s how I knew I managed to hit it. (Fun fact: My sword is made from a steel sharper than steel, and can cut through reality like tissue paper).

I opened my eyes, and focused through the now dimming light. What I saw…would have horrified me months ago. At that point, I’d seen worse.

The thing looked pretty close to human, even with the four eyes and fangs sticking out its mouth. Its skin was golden brown, and it seemed to reflect the light from my sword. It was naked, and I saw a huge gash on its bare chest. Golden light, not blood, poured out of the wound, evaporating as it touched air.

The only thing I could note as odd was the smile on its face. Is it…happy? Proud, even? I told myself it was a trick of the light, but that was an obvious lie.

“And if you’re satisfied now, my prince,” it said, a mocking emphasis on the words 'prince' and 'satisfied'. “My work here is done.” And then, it vanished with the light into thin air, leaving me alone in darkness with my confusion...and Sandra.

I'll try to make this as brief as possible.

My name is Stone, my father wants to kill me, and an evil spirit has frozen my girlfriend.

I am dead serious.

I am not a regular teenager, and it was pretending to be one that got me into this mess.

Now, I have to enter the realm of dangerous and unpredictable spirits to fix my mess.

Will I succeed? I won't bet on it.

Part Three is Coming Soon. Tell us what you think of this story so far, in the comments section!

One Eighty: Part 3

Day One of One Eighty

I try to remind myself that my heart will grow fonder with his absence

An hour later and I am still on the rock-hard bed rolling around

Why don't I have the will to do anything

I move slowly to sit up pushing my legs down the side of the bed facing our one large window

I stare out to the long stretch of green that's dull in comparison with the first day I saw it

Little animals roam free all around the field and I cannot help feeling imprisoned

Suffocating in my self-made prison

I shiver

I am alone again

This time I truly am alone

We came to the village to be alone together

Now I am alone alone

I wince

Chance walks past the window, heavy looking logs of wood in hand

I hear the soft creak of footsteps on our loose front stairs

I hear him enter through our front door

We had just finished erecting our cabin house

We needed logs for the fireplace because it felt like winter was here

It felt like snow was supposed to be falling already

We had finished our home just in time

Or we would have needed to lodge at an inn we didn't have money for

The location was perfect

It allowed us the illusion of being apart from the world

It was what we needed

We were young

We were in love

He sat next to me on the bed and pulled me to his lap

He rested his forehead to mine and we stared into each other's eyes for a long time as the heat of the fire he had just stoked in the fireplace and in my heart enveloped us

And then he proceeded to tell me why I am the one

I am different from him

In culture and thinking

He will never understand how and why I think and act the way I do

And so it's going to be a great adventure spending his entire life trying to understand me, he said

In looks

He is so white and I am so dark

My tough and curly hair that never obeys

My dark eyes the shape of almonds that remind him of hot cocoa

My pudgy nose he loves to pull

My soft, swollen lips are too kissable and reminds him of honey or caramel

My round stubborn chin

My fresh ebony skin that makes him think of melted chocolate.

There was a time blurred up in my past, I used to think myself ugly in the face of those pale faced golden girls in school

But I can't even remember why I would think that

In truth, there weren't many people who looked like me

I am special!

The way you carry yourself, he continued

Like you were worshipped in your past life

Like you have everything under control

Like you don't need any protection

My queen

I looked into his soft hazel eyes that looked grey from a distance

Or under the sun

Hot breathe from his nose fanned my face

You are mine, I said to him

I chose him again as he chose me

The window blurs out of view and I realize I am crying

My eyes burn and I shut it tightly

I don't understand myself anymore

This is ridiculous

Teardrops fall to my fat thighs

And I feel insecure again

Am I fat again?

Am I ugly again?

I look vaguely toward the dresser mirror but I don't move to stand before it

I can't

If I look, I will become that girl again

I look at my stubby dark hands, my dark skin

Ebony, he called it

Chance's are as pale as milk

We really are different

Day Fifteen of One Eighty

I make it my mission to be up and out of the house by dawn

The house is a trap

A house of mirrors haunted with too many shadows

Nights have become torturous

I haven't had a wink of sleep in perhaps a week

I am barely conscious

Barely sane.

Art is the only answer

Yet all I paint is doom

I look at today's creation half smeared with my tears

There is fire in the sky and a body lies on the floor in the midst of several people running around in obvious panic

The body is intricately detailed, two bullets to the head.

But it has no face

In fact none of the people have faces

My tears have smeared them all out

Suddenly, there are shadows hanging over my paper

Dark inverted figures, getting bigger and bigger

I look up to see heavily suited men approach me

I take a few minutes to look at their faces

And immediately I know why they are here

I don't know when I start to run but I see approaching landscape flash past me as I move thoughtlessly away

Far away from the evil people

I mustn't hear what they have to say

I just know I mustn't hear it

A pair of arms grab me from behind and suddenly I am back in the departmental store five years ago

When I open my eyes it is not Chance standing in front of me

I put my hands over my ear and scream loudly

I cannot hear my scream but I feel my throat aching, piercing

When I open my eyes again, I am in a strange place

At first my vision is blurred

Smeared grey and dark figures moving into each other

I hear loud voices but I cannot make out their words

I need to know where I am

Suddenly, I feel panicked, restive

I move and realize I am lying down

I attempt to lift myself but something pins me down

I shut my eyes as a series of sharp pains explode in my head

I hear myself groan

And suddenly everything goes dark, oblivion

I open my eyes

I remember the last time I opened my eyes but I don't remember anything beyond then

I stare straight ahead of me where a blurred man is standing, his back to me,

He seems to be talking to someone out of view, outside the door

As my vision comes into focus, I notice the room looks vaguely familiar

The walls are muralled with blue daisies

I blink

A lady rushes in through the door and pushes a cup with a straw sticking out of it, towards my mouth

And I realize I am, in fact, thirsty

A barrage of people breeze in as I drink the water longingly

Who are all these people?

I count eight of them

The man at the door is now facing me, he is wearing an all black ensemble, suit, shirt, tie

Angel of death

His eyes lock with mine

I look away nervously

The lady with the cup now has a hot towel over my fore head

She tucks the thick blanket over me more tightly and then I realize how cold I am

I feel like I am back from the dead

And yet I can't remember what could have happened to me

I can feel these people's stare on me, wanting to talk

Wanting to tell me some grave bad news

But the lady has given them a stern look effectively shutting them up.

And now she plants a warm, flower kiss where she the towel used to me

She whispers for me to go back to sleep

My subconscious immediately obeys her as I feel myself already drifting

I must truly be exhausted

My last vision is of the lady leading everyone out and closing the door behind her.

Part 4 is COMING SOON. What do you think of the story so far? Tell us in the comments section!