《Lion Of The Night》


 Lion Of The Nightmare

    It was dark and uncomfortably silent in the forest, with only the occasional rustling of dry leaves under my feet breaking the silence. I looked left and right as I moved into the forest, certain that it was here. I could feel it; somewhere around here, everything wasn''t right. Unsurprisingly, I wasn''t wrong.


    It stood in the forest, its angry-looking amber eyes glowing in the night. I tried to hide, but I was too late. Our eyes met briefly, and in that moment, I thought nothing was going to happen.


    I was wrong. It burst forward at a searing pace, its sharp fangs looking ready to tear me apart. Now, I know lions are fast, but not as fast as this one. I could feel it right behind me, almost pulling my shorts once. I was too scared and slipped twice, but that didn''t stop me from running. The ground was wet, as if it had just rained.


    Running was difficult as the trees in the forest were clustered. I tried using the trees to trick the lion, but it didn''t work. The lion was firmly on my tail.


    Thinking of another way to get the lion off my back, I bashed my head into a tree and fell. I was confused for a moment, the hit was too hard and painful.


    Wiping blood off my eyes to see the lion, I saw nothing. It was as if nothing was on my tail. It was quiet again, and I hoped I lost the lion while I was running. I rested on the tree to catch my breath. It was then I saw it¡ªnot on the ground running, but on the tree, its amber eyes staring angrily at me. Before I could make any move, the lion pounced on me, its sharp fangs tearing into my flesh.


    ***


    I woke up startled, my singlet soaked in sweat, and I could hear my heartbeat. Searching for the lion, I found myself on my bed, in my room. It was a nightmare, the fourth time this week. I cringed at the recurrence.


    Raising my head, I immediately laid back as I felt a terrible headache, pounding hard and beating like my heart. Turning to the table clock, it displayed 5:30.


    Laying down for about twenty minutes, the pounding in my head stopped. I got up, rushed into the bathroom to wash my face, feeling much better afterward. Returning to the room, drying my face, I sat down thinking about the nightmare. It kept coming, getting scarier. This one was even more violent than the rest, with the lion tearing into my flesh. I gulped at the memory.


    My Maths textbook and notebook were on my desk; I remembered leaving them there last night before sleeping. The homework was a bit complex, and I was dizzy, so I slept off.


    I completed it twenty minutes later and stuffed my books into my bag. There were so many books in my bag that I didn''t bother to remove them. I just took the one I needed before replacing it. It made my bag very heavy, but I preferred it that way.


    Once I was done with that, I made sure my uniform was ready, and my socks were clean before taking my bath. When I got out of the bathroom and put on my uniform, it was 6:41. I took my bag and scanned the room, hoping I hadn''t left anything behind. Once I was sure I left nothing, I turned to open the door when I heard soft footsteps from behind. The footsteps stopped at my door, and there was a pause. Then, a knock.


    "Good morning, Akin. Are you awake?" the voice called out.


    I rolled my eyes and opened the door. I just didn''t know why my dad appointed a maid. She was too caring and did nearly everything for me. I''m sure she''d do my homework for me if she could.


    "Good morning, Aunt Biola. I''m clearly awake."


    She''s not my aunt, but for older people, it''s wrong to call them by their name, so we just add a prefix. Or if they have a child, then ''mummy'' would be the prefix of their child''s name.


    "That''s good, my boy. I cooked rice. Come and eat."


    "Thanks, ma, but I''m good."


    "What? No. You have to eat so you will be strong."


    Like I said, she''s too caring. She just reminds me of my mother too much. I see too much of her in the maid. She''s been there for me, and I hate that. My mother is the only perfect person, and I don''t want to see anyone else that way. At least, not for now. Not when her death is still fresh.


    "Aunt Biola, I''m good seriously. I will buy something in school."


    "No. Even if it''s tea. But you are not leaving without taking something."


    She just wouldn''t give up.


    "Alright, fine."


    "Yes, that''s good. Wait in the dining room; I''ll put water on fire now."


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    She hurried into the kitchen, and I closed my door. I rolled my eyes as I walked into the dining room. Aunt Biola won''t quit until she sees I''m okay, but I feel that right belongs to mom alone.


    I sat in the dining room, waiting. I just hoped dad won''t come out yet.


    But of course, he did. I heard the door to his room open, and then there was a pause. He closed the door later, and he came towards the sitting room. I gritted my teeth and wished I was out of here.


    He stood at the middle of the sitting room as if searching for something. He then advanced towards the dining room.


    I froze when I saw him. It was like seeing a long-lost friend. He raised an eyebrow and frowned.


    "Can''t you greet?" he said with an angry deep voice.


    Aunt Biola came into the dining room just then with my cup of tea. She put the tea in front of me before returning to the kitchen.


    "Good morning, sir," I bowed slightly, as was the custom in our town.


    He moved towards my seat, his look menacing, and for a moment, I thought he was going to hit me.


    "I don''t want to remind you about greeting again. It should be the first thing you should do when you see me."


    "I''m sorry, sir. It won''t happen again," I said, unable to look at his face.


    There was dead silence for what seemed like hours before Aunt Biola came to the rescue.


    "Take your tea so you won''t be late for school."


    Dad turned to leave but paused.


    "Do you have enough money to get you to school?"


    I felt the polymer texture notes in my pocket and knew that wasn''t going to take me anywhere.


    "I have some money, sir," I lied just to make sure our conversation is over. Anything that would make him go away would be cool.


    He dipped his hands into the pocket and brought out some currency notes. He counted some and dropped on the table beside me.


    "Just have this anyway," he said and left the room.


    I stared at the notes and was a bit confused with everything about my dad. One minute, he''s a man you hate, and then another minute, he''s a good man all of a sudden.


    I took the notes and carefully put them in my pocket. I sipped little from the tea before taking my bag to leave.


    "Is that all? Take more tea now," Aunt Biola said, looking shocked by the small amount of tea I took.


    "Aunt Biola, I''m good, and I''m also getting late for school," Aunt Biola sighed and knew I wouldn''t give up.


    "Alright then. But make sure you eat something at school."


    I smiled even as I felt it annoying for her to be that caring woman.


    "I will. Thanks, ma."


    "Bye."


    "Bye."


    With that, I left the house and hoped the day would be good.


    It was a few minutes before seven when I left the house. The other students in our neighborhood were already out and ready for school. Cars were driving out of their respective houses to prepare for the day. Those who didn''t have cars walked or took commercial vehicles or bikes to wherever they wanted to go. I''m in the group of those who took commercial bikes. I could have walked since my school wasn''t far, but dad saved me from that anyway. Also, my school has a strict latecomer policy. I definitely do not want to be among those who would cut grass that always seem to grow back quickly.


    I got a bike few minutes after waiting for one. We negotiated a fee and got going. We were in school five minutes later. Students were already arriving, and some just stood by the school gate, discussing, and some just running around. Na?ve JSS1 students.


    I paid my fee to the bike rider and got into the school. Now I got a clearer view of the school. A few students were getting ready for the daily assembly, which I felt was pointless. Assemblies are supposed to be fun, but we just sing rhymes like we were still in preschool and march like soldiers to our classroom. I just hate it but what choice do I have? I would be punished if I wasn''t present.


    From the gate, there was a short road leading to the main building which from a bird''s eye view looks like a perfectly shaped small letter n. It''s a single-storey building with classrooms on opposite sides and administrative offices in between.


    The school gardener was watering the beautiful flowers which were at both sides of the road. I greeted him briefly and went straight to my class, SS2.


    Our class was small, and I hated it. We were thirty in our small classroom, which I am sure is the biggest reason for the heat in our class. The fans aren''t working anymore, and it''s as if there''s no air coming from outside the window. The class was just so hot and not conducive. We even complained once to our proprietor, and he said he would get back to us. He didn''t. I didn''t expect him to anyway. School owners in our town cared less about students'' comfortability.


    Few of my classmates who had arrived were just starting their homework while some copied before the bell rang for assembly. A few gossiped, but I didn''t care. I just walked to my table and dropped my bag heavily on the table. It was so loud, and every eye was on me for a moment. They continued when they realized it was nothing much.


    "Have you done your homework?"


    I looked up and saw Adeyemi dashing into the classroom, his shirt not tucked in, and his tie not properly knotted. He dropped his bag on his table, which was far better compared to mine. I almost didn''t even hear a sound.


    "Ade, why are you dressed like this? How did you even get past security like that?"


    "Akin, that''s not the problem now. I haven''t done my homework. Have you done yours?"


    Everyone knew how Mr. Samuel took his homework seriously. It was either strokes from his cane, which we popularly called ''pank?r?'' in our town. It was a smooth, long, and hard wood that even one stroke would make the skin red and hard. Mr. Samuel could give eleven or twelve. He could also give punishment for offenders to cut the grass for an entire week, and that''s even on a good day. Mr. Samuel was unpredictable and could come up with something new.


    "I''ve done it. Why haven''t you?" I said as I opened my bag to get my Maths notebook.


    "I did it in a rough book. I forgot to bring the book to school. I was too lazy to copy it last night."


    "What an excuse!" I threw the book, smiling.


    "Bring am jo. Shebi me sef don help you before," he replied in pidgin English, implying that he had helped me in a similar situation before.


    He began copying my homework to his note frantically, and it always amazed me how someone like Ade, the cool boy in school who was confident and smart, is scared of Mr. Samuel. He always has been ever since the teacher came in SS1.


    I took my seat next to him and began unpacking some of my books into my locker.


    "So what''s up?" I asked the trembling Ade.


    "Look, let me be done with this first before I answer you."


    Ade was my only friend in the class. We got even closer after my mom''s death. He helped during the darkest days of my life. A time when I thought my dad and I would be there for each other, especially after my mother''s passing. Instead, it''s been more misery and our relationship fractured.


    Ade gave me support, advice, and love. We were so close that a day without speaking to each other usually feels off. At least, that was how it was from my end.


    As I took my seat, she came in, and I froze. Her steps like that of a proud peacock. She deserved to be proud anyway. Her beauty is unmatched in the whole school and I even think in our town. Her beautiful hairstyle with the braids intertwined into each other made her look stunning. Her black skirt and white blouse stood out from the rest of the girls. It was neatly ironed and fits her body perfectly. I just couldn''t take my eyes off her as Eniola took her seat two places in front of mine.


    "I don''t know why you can''t just go talk to her," Ade whispered.


    "What? I can''t do that."


    "And why''s that?"


    I didn''t have an answer to that, and I just stared awkwardly at the ceiling like it was written up there. But the bell for assembly rang anyway, and everyone began to leave the classroom.


    "Saved by the bell, I guess," Ade said as he dropped my book on my table.


    "Anyway, let''s go for assembly."


    I stood up, glanced at Eniola one last time before she left the class.


    At least, it''s better than staying at home. Having a supportive friend and a beautiful girl to admire every day of the week is why I love staying at school.

 Voices

    "Look at him," Ade whispered from behind me.


    "Who?" I looked around, trying to figure out whom he was talking about.


    "Mr. Samuel. I mean, imagine what he would have done if he found out I didn''t do his homework."


    I saw Mr. Samuel standing at a corner in front of the assembly. It was hard to notice him as he was alone, standing behind a pillar. The look in his eyes was as steely as the lion I saw in my nightmare earlier.


    I tried to forget that and focus on something else. Eniola was walking up to the front of the whole school assembly. She stood on the podium and instructed us to conduct ourselves before we sang the national anthem.


    One thing I loved about her was her confidence. She was not scared of any crowd. She also had a lovely voice to back it up. Anytime she spoke, I was in Dreamland.


    "SS2 boys. Your line is not straight," Eniola called out, and immediately we straightened our line. Her voice was firm. If she wasn''t in her uniform, you would have mistaken her for a teacher. No wonder she was appointed assistant to the current head girl. She fits that role so well.


    We sang the national anthem and recited the pledge. The principal also came with a few announcements before we marched back to our classes.


    Moments after getting to class, we started preparing for Math, the first subject of the day. Everyone had their notebooks and textbooks on their desks, seated patiently, waiting for Mr. Samuel. There was no need to annoy Mr. Samuel on an early Monday morning.


    "Did you hear what those guys in SS3 were saying at the assembly?," Ade whispered to me.


    "No. Anything I might be interested in?"


    "Yes, of course. The inter-school football competition starts in two weeks. Coach Dele would pick his team next Monday, depending on who performs well in training on Wednesday and Saturday."


    "How is that exciting?"


    "No. Don''t tell me you want to pass this up again. Why don''t you want to go out there again and enjoy yourself?"


    "Coach won''t pick me anyway. He hasn''t picked me since you know...," my voice broke off, and I knew he totally understood.


    "I know you don''t want anyone to pity you or whatever. What''s important is that the coach and the team would be happy to have you back again. That dangerous and lively winger you used to be. They want to see that person, and if they don''t, they will still give you that pity face."


    "But Ade...,"


    Our conversation was cut short by the arrival of Mr. Samuel, his usual steely gaze and angry demeanor met by complete silence in the class.


    "Think about it," Ade mouthed before he opened his book to the page where he did his homework, as if anticipating Mr. Samuel''s request for it.


    I understood Ade''s concerns. He wanted me to go out more and try to move on from my mother''s death. I loved football so much and played in many competitions. I excelled in my right-wing position and was known for my dangerous left foot.


    That was where I got my popularity. Football. My mates loved how I played, and I was the coach''s favorite.


    Last year, after my mom''s death, I totally switched off. I was really shaken by her death. I didn''t play as well, and I wasn''t as popular anymore. Coach Dele didn''t let me play in major school competitions, saying he ''wanted me to heal.''


    I haven''t played in a while now, and the popularity I got from football vanished. It''s funny how people forget things so easily. Now, they barely even remember that I was once a player they all liked. In fact, it felt like nobody except Ade knew me.


    At least, there was someone all this time that was supportive and still remembers that lively winger. He wanted me to go out there and enjoy myself again. I was just scared I won''t play like before again. One small error on the pitch, and coach would think I was still ''healing.''


    I was lost in thought that it took a tap on my desk by Ade for me to get back to class.


    "Go and submit your homework," Ade whispered, and all eyes, including Mr. Samuel''s, were on me.


    "You didn''t do it right?,¡± Mr. Samuel asked, his voice deep, and his grip on his pank?r? tight.


    I dashed forward with my book, placing it together with the others.


    "I did it. Everything," I was breathing heavily like I just ran a marathon.


    "Hmm," Mr. Samuel glanced at my book and asked, "Who did you copy?"


    "No, I didn''t copy anybody. This is my work, I swear."


    "Let''s find out then," he took his whiteboard marker from his pocket and wrote a question on the board, similar to the ones he gave us. He only changed the digits.


    I walked to the board, collected the marker, and began solving. Though Mr. Samuel''s presence behind me and the total silence in the class made me uncomfortable, I managed to solve the problem a few minutes later and handed him his marker.


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    "Good. Next time, you submit and don''t let me scream your name before you submit your homework."


    "Okay sir," I replied and returned to my seat. Yeah, Math classes were always intense.


    Lessons started immediately after, and when he was done, he gave us another homework without checking out the one he gave us previously. That''s his habit. Sometimes, I wonder whether he gives us these homeworks to see who wouldn''t do it.


    He left afterwards, and there was a sigh of relief in the entire classroom that it was over. Then in came the sweet and nice English teacher, Mrs. Titi. She was a sharp contrast from the annoying Mr. Samuel. Her classes were always interesting and engaging. She also checks our homework, and I''ve never caught her hitting a student before. She''s the best.


    Mr. Umar, the Biology teacher, was next. His class was also good. The Chemistry teacher, Mr. Ikechukwu, came next. His classes were always boring, and what made it even worse was that I hated chemistry. Ninety percent of the time in his class, I was either sleeping or just staring in space. I also think half the class hated the subject too because most of them were asleep, and some were copying unfinished notes from other subjects. I don''t think Mr. Ikechukwu cared anyway. He was content with spouting nonsense about hydrogen or whatever.


    I was more than glad when the bell went off for break. I think more than half the class felt the same too. Those who were busy with other things stopped what they were doing. It was like a bored audience dispersing with relief after a terrible speech.


    "Wait, please. Let me quickly explain aromatic hydrocarbons for five minutes."


    An unbearable murmur broke out after that. It was like an annoying swarm of bees buzzing all around you.


    "Alright, alright," Mr. Ikechukwu gave up.


    "You can go for a break, but I''ll give you homework explaining aromatic hydrocarbons. Is that okay?"


    "Yes," the class chorused and cheered as Mr. Ikechukwu left the class. We all knew he would forget about the homework before the next class. He''s never asked us for it before, and even when we reminded him, he''d tell us to ''keep it for now.'' No one really cared anymore about his homework.


    "Come on, let''s go," Ade said as he took some money from his bag. "I''m hungry."


    "Yeah, me too. Let''s go." I stuffed my Chemistry notebook inside my bag and joined Ade, who was waiting for me outside the class.


    "You were thinking about it?" Ade asked.


    "About what?"


    "Football. I know that''s why you didn''t respond quickly when Mr. Samuel requested your homework."


    "Oh, that? Well, I''m not sure. I''m scared."


    "To go back out there?" Ade stopped walking, and so did I.


    "Look Akin, I know the past year has been rough for you, and I totally understand how you feel. You''re hurt not just by the death but everything that''s happened after.


    "You can''t keep hiding. You''ll only be in pain. I know your mother and how nice she was. It''s hard to lose someone like that. My point is your mother, wherever she is right now, would be happy to see you happy and doing what you like again."


    "Nice speech. When did you become a motivational speaker?,¡± I smiled, and we continued walking.


    "I just have a way with words. So, will you join the team when they train for the next interschool football competition?" he held his gaze with mine, and it was too hard to say no. It was just hard.


    "Alright, I''ll talk to the coach."


    "Yes!" he jumped like someone who just won a lottery.


    We headed to the school canteen to get something to eat. It was small and crowded by students who wanted to eat first. Some of them even made it a competition. Anyone who managed to order first gets a gift from their mates. Most times, it was like a group of angry mobs trying to order something all at once. It was crazy.


    But one of the perks of being friends with Ade was that he was popular and loved. So when he came, they allowed him all the way to the front to order whatever he wanted.


    They called him by his popular nickname, Starboy. He participated and excelled in all sports available in the school. He was in the Press Club and is the assistant head boy. Everyone liked him because he returned the love to everyone. He somehow had time for everyone in the school. When he finished eating here, he would go to some other class, gist, crack jokes, and advise them like he did to me.


    So, when he ordered, they automatically let me order too. After that, the madness would continue. But this time, he didn''t allow it.


    "Guys, common stop this. Why don''t you behave, and maybe I''ll talk to Iya ?w¨¤ to give you extra of what you ordered," he winked at the owner of the canteen who returned it with a smile. The boys ululated and immediately formed a straight line.


    "That''s more like it," he smiled, and we sat on a bench outside the canteen to eat our food.


    "If she gives them extra, will you pay?"


    "No, she won''t. Also, these boys are juniors. I just had to find something to make them cooperate. I was surprised it worked," he took a spoon of rice and beans he ordered.


    "When the seniors come here, they would stop immediately."


    That was wrong though. No senior did it better than him. Especially judging by what was going on in the girls'' line. The pretty Eniola was there trying to organize the girls but was doing a bad job. She was only screaming without any effect. Eniola was good but no match for this hungry crowd.


    "Your food will get cold. Aren''t you hungry?,¡± Ade asked as he took his last spoon of rice.


    "That was fast," I glanced at his empty plate in disbelief.


    "Yeah, and you''d better be too or else I will leave you here to stare at her as much as you will."


    I rolled my eyes.


    "Nonsense, I wasn''t staring," I turned my gaze somewhere else.


    "Oh really, Mr. Lover Boy?"


    "God, you''re the worst," we both laughed.


    "Let me go and get some water," he stood up and paused, "But you really need to move on from staring. It''s weird."


    "I don''t stare that much. I mean, we also talk too."


    "Akin, I''m not talking about Biology and Chemistry practical classes. I mean, real conversation about anything. Not you trying to force yourself into her group in Chemistry practical class just to talk. Which is also weird," he turned and left before I had a chance to respond.


    I sighed, took one last look at her, and continued eating.


    I returned to class later while Ade went to SS3 class to do his usual advice. I also had a feeling he wanted to discuss the upcoming football competition. He loved football but wasn''t participating in this one. He wanted to play in the basketball competition, which will begin next term. He participated in all three sports available in the school and was decent in all of them. He just moved from one sport to the other every term.


    He returned after break, and classes continued immediately. All were boring except Mr. John''s Geography. It wasn''t his subject or teaching style that made his class interesting but his accent. He speaks in an amusing Ghanaian accent. That alone is enough for the class to be engaged. Sometimes, some students try to ask him a question in that accent as a joke; he would scold that student in a very funny way. He would say "Step that," instead of "Stop that" and we would all burst into laughter.


    He had reported us to the principal several times, but nothing has changed, so he just ignored anyone who tries to mimic his accent.


    Eventually, the timekeeper rang the bell at exactly 3:30 pm to signify the end of school for the day. I had mixed feelings. Even though I was happy the lessons were over, I was not happy that I had to go back home again. Anywhere except that place would be cool, but I have no choice. I cleared my table slowly while Ade was waiting for me by the door.


    "Akin, be fast. What are you doing since?"


    "I''m coming. Just a minute."


    Wasting time wouldn''t change anything. We would all still go back to our various houses at the end of the day. I stuffed my remaining books into my bag, zipped it, and hung it on my shoulder. It was very heavy, but I was used to it.


    Soon, Ade and I were on the road, trekking back home. I insisted we trekked so we could talk about the football competition even though that was clearly not on my mind at the moment.


    "It would be good if you can find your way back into the team, you know."


    "Yeah, of course. But it''ll be a miracle if the coach picks me."


    Ade paused and pointed at a path into a bush.


    "Let''s take a shortcut."


    "Ade, let''s continue on this path," I pointed at the road we were walking on. I didn''t want us to take a shortcut at all.


    "I have a game with some of my friends at five. I want to get home quick."


    I opened my mouth to protest, but I couldn''t. It was pointless, and we always took this path most times on Ade''s insistence.


    "Alright. Let''s go."


    We continued towards that path into the bush. It was quiet and lonely. It was only the two of us walking on the path. But it wasn''t surprising. It was always like that. You could see one or two people, but that''s all. People rarely used this route.


    "So why did you say the coach wouldn''t pick you?" Ade asked, and I totally forgot I said that.


    "Well, because I have tak..." I stopped halfway and felt a sharp pain in my head. Then, all of a sudden, I heard voices of different people.


    "We will bring...," a random voice called out and it broke off before I could make sense of what he or she was saying.


    "Bami gbe kini..."


    "Are you coming home....?"


    It was like a thousand people shouting into my ears at the same time.


    "Akin!," Ade''s voice sounded distant, and the pain in my head increased. I fell on my knees holding my head trying to make it stop. But it didn''t. I kept hearing more and more voices.


    All of a sudden, there was a very loud scream. It sounded like that of a young girl in trouble. The moment I heard the scream, the pain in my head stopped immediately. I was confused and looked around but didn''t see anyone or anything except Ade standing over me.


    "Are you okay? What just happened to you?"


    "I... I don''t know," I stood up, trying to make sense of what just happened.


    "Did you hear the voices? And the scream?"


    "What scream? Akin, we''re the only ones on this road. What''s wrong?"


    I didn''t have an explanation for what just happened. It was painful but fast. Different voices and then a scream.


    "Nothing."


    "But you''re sure everything''s fine?"


    "Yes. It''s not


    hing."


    "It didn''t look like nothing."


    "Well, it was just a headache."


    He didn''t look convinced, but we continued walking anyway. I also knew it wasn''t nothing. First, the nightmares, now this. Something wasn''t right.

 Into The Light

    It was quiet, or at least, I thought it was as I processed my thoughts. Kids were playing on the road, some naked and some still in their school uniforms. A few shops and a popular restaurant, where several people from Il''ola came to eat, were nearby. It was just a stone''s throw from my house, and the place was always noisy and crowded, but it felt like they weren''t there. The noise of the kids, the traders from the shops, or the incoherent noise of the customers from both the restaurant and those trying to negotiate a price with the traders¡ªI didn''t hear anything. It was just like watching TV without volume.


    I was still trying to understand what happened a few minutes ago in the bush path. Ade had just left for his game as we exited the path. He wanted to follow me home, but I told him not to worry. Of course, he was concerned and thought I was sick or something. Well, maybe I am, but I insisted anyway and told him we would meet in school the next day. He finally agreed, and I continued walking alone.


    I thought of the nightmares first and then the voices. Could they have a connection? What exactly is wrong with me? Or was I just going crazy? I wouldn''t argue that last part right now. I thought of these troubling questions as I walked home, trying to make sense of it. My thoughts drowned out everything around me until I found myself in front of my house.


    I heard that deep voice, and I knew he was inside, probably in the sitting room where I would certainly run into him.


    I took a deep breath, turned the knob, and entered the house.


    I was greeted by a strong but sweet-smelling cologne. I thought it was for a visitor because my father didn''t use cologne like that, and I heard his voice like he was deep in a conversation with someone.


    I wouldn''t get my hopes up, though. People rarely visited here since mother''s death.


    There was a small waiting room just before the sitting room. I stood there for a second, trying to make sense of what was going on in the sitting room. I didn''t hear any other person''s voice except my dad. He was deep in a conversation with himself.


    And that was just one of the habits he picked up these past few months. He has been talking to himself more than ever, laughing all alone, and sometimes cooking for an imaginary person. It is getting worse day by day. Sometimes, he would talk all through the night with whoever he was talking to.


    I pushed the door open and entered the sitting room. My dad seemed to be the one wearing the cologne, and there was food on the table. Two plates, in fact! The jollof rice even looked good, and I knew my dad was a bad cook. The house was very clean, and I knew that would be Aunt Biola''s work. But everything was a little extra. The chairs were neatly arranged, and the rug was so clean. It was almost as if the rug was just bought from the market. Even the TV we don''t really use was clear of dust for the first time in weeks.


    I proceeded to the sitting room and greeted my dad. He stopped and turned his gaze toward me. For a moment, he looked like he was going to scream at me to go away or something, but instead, he welcomed me with a smile.


    "How was school today?"


    "It was fine."


    There was a long silence after, and I felt it was my cue to go inside. I turned to leave, but my father''s snap stopped me.


    "Stop there. What did I tell you about greeting?"


    I was confused. I just greeted him. Or has he forgotten so soon?


    "I just greeted you, sir."


    "I''m talking about our visitor," he was really furious now.


    I took a quick glance around the sitting room, but there was no one except the both of us.


    "But, but...," I stammered, trying to find the right words. None came.


    He sprang up from his chair and dashed toward me.


    "I have always warned you to greet an older person when you see one," he said as he moved towards me.


    "Dad, please, I''m sorry."


    I blocked my face with my arm, waiting for him to hit me. But nothing happened. I brought my arm down to see what was going on. He was facing the chair he just stood up from, talking to his imaginary friend.


    "No, it''s wrong. He really needs to learn a lesson," he said, and I still surveyed the room for anyone, trying to find sense in all this, but I didn''t see anyone.


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    He paused like he was waiting for a reply.


    "I understand, but he needs to know."


    Another pause.


    "Alright. But he still needs to greet you. I don''t care what you think," he said as he turned back to me.


    "Now greet our visitor."


    "Sir?"


    "I said greet our visitor," he snapped so hard that I shook in fear.


    "Good evening," I bowed awkwardly at no one.


    "That''s better. I don''t ever want to remind you to greet anymore. Is that clear?" His voice was firm.


    "Yes, sir."


    "Now get out of my sight," he returned to his seat and resumed his conversation.


    I picked up my bag, which had fallen from my shoulder earlier, and headed for my room. The moment I entered my room, I dropped my bag, and closed the door. I rested on the door and took a long deep breath. I was so confused with everything that''s been happening. But my father''s sudden transformation is even more disturbing.


    It was hard to even remember what he was like before mother''s death. But I knew he wasn''t like this. It all started after mother''s death. He didn''t take the news well and was in his room for days. Our family that came tried to help. They made him even try to eat for a start since he didn''t eat or drink days after her death. With a lot of persuasion, he eventually drank water. Just water. He rejected everything they brought to him. Except water. He stayed in his room all day till mother''s burial. He didn''t speak to anyone or say anything. Not even to me. My uncles and aunts did their best, but it wasn''t enough. It wasn''t going to bring her back. I cried every day until I was too weak to cry anymore. I managed to eat something, but the food tasted worse. Everything wasn''t right. I just wanted my mother back.


    When my father came out of his room on the day of the burial, I barely recognized him. He looked exhausted, and his eyes were swollen. He had also grown lots of beards, and his face was begging for a shave. The outline of his cheekbone was so clear he looked like an x-ray image with a lot of hair. You could have mistaken him for an ex-convict. It was hard for him as she died right beside him on their bed. She died in her sleep after a short illness. But even the day of the burial, he didn''t speak to me. He just got dressed and left with his brothers to make sure everything was ready. But I wasn''t sure I was ready. This was my mother. A person I''ve loved and cherished all my life, just gone all of a sudden. I managed to go even though some of my aunts told me to stay back if I wanted to. But I wanted to see her one last time.


    The pain of watching my mother''s coffin taken down six feet beneath the earth''s surface was the worst feeling I''ve had in my life. It was then it hit me that she was truly gone. She was never coming back. I hoped the coffin would open up, and mother would come out and tell us she''s okay. But that didn''t happen. Sand, and more sand, was dug into her grave until she was finally buried away. Forever. It was so hurtful that I''d never seen my dad weep the way he did that day. And that would be the day he changed forever.


    He talked to me after the burial, though. He gave me a short speech about how people come and go and also apologized for not being there this whole time. Then weeks after the burial, he started getting angry so easily. Anytime I did something wrong, he hit me and called me names. I didn''t understand the new change, but it continued. The day it hit its peak was when he told me he regretted the day mother brought me in.


    My family, including me, knew they weren''t my biological parents. At my former school, I was taunted about not having parents. I didn''t know then and thought they were just trying to make fun of me. Until I heard some teachers talking about it, and I got curious. I asked my mother when I got home and she didn''t deny it. She sat me down and told me not to worry too much about what people say. She said she found me in her farm as a baby all alone. She was confused but took me in anyway. No one came looking, and since she never had a child of her own, she raised me together with my father. They showed me nothing but love. Something that my real parents may not have offered me. She told me to forget what people say, and she would keep taking care of me and do her best to make me a great person. She also withdrew me from that school and put me in the school I am now.


    Even though I appreciated the love and affection they''ve shown me, I always thought about what my real parents were like. I always dismissed the thought immediately, though. I felt that if they loved me, they wouldn''t have dumped me. For me, my true parents were the ones that showed a baby they didn''t know love.


    So when my father made that statement, I was mad. I cried for days. I didn''t know why my father was acting this way now.


    Soon, he began talking to himself, and then his brothers started to worry. They offered to help, but he turned them down and told them never to come back again. He even claimed they were responsible for his wife''s death. His behavior was frightening. Soon, all our relatives left and never came back. They were the last set of people to set foot in this house. Except Aunt Biola, of course. Father appointed her shortly after our relatives left. He never acknowledged her, though. In fact, it was like he didn''t know he appointed someone. He never greeted her or talked to her. To him, she didn''t exist. And what''s even more disturbing is that Aunt Biola has never spoken to him either.


    Soon, Dad continued talking to himself more, and it got worse. Laughing to himself, cooking for an imaginary person, talking all night. He also didn''t stop hitting me either.


    I slumped onto my bed, knowing I was on my own. No one was going to help me now. My uncles have stopped calling, and Dad isn''t getting better. Ade has been supportive, no doubt, but there was only so much he could do.


    It was already a few minutes past six, and the dim light of the sun was the only source of light in the room. It was like the sun was sending me a message. Its light shone directly on my old boots, the ones I used for football. I stood up and took them from my shoe rack. They were already dusty and peeling off at the front a little.


    I had felt so much pain this past year. I just wanted to do one thing that could bring me happiness. That is football, my favorite game. It''s the only thing that could make me forget the pain. At least for now.


    I took my brush and went to the toilet to wash the boots. It''s time I followed Ade''s advice.