The Waking Dream

Darkness clutched me at the nape of the neck, dragging me back. I reached out. Then my hand found it, the light switch and light, sweet warm light flooded into the living room. Awake and slightly disoriented, i staggered to a sofa, stifling a yawn, wondering why I had sleepwalked to the sitting room then woken up. The tick-tock of the wall piece drew my gaze. 3.47am. Still morning. Everything was quiet. That half quiet that signifies the early hours of morning. The solemn quiet that frogs and other nocturnal elements failed to respect. Frogs croaked, some insect I couldn’t identify chirped.
I stifled another yawn, then another, then let the third one go unrestrained, guiding it along with my splayed fingers. After searching my mind unsuccessfully for why I had woken and walked to the sitting room I stood to go back to bed. Then I spotted it. The padlock to the ‘protector.’ I stared at it confusedly for a while, then my half awake mind connected. If the padlock was here then the protector was unlocked. As I walked foward to investigate further, the handle of the door creaked and the door swung open…
…then I woke.
What a weird dream. I felt thirsty so I after stretching groped my way to the sitting room as the corridor light was bad. As the light came on my eyes fell on two things that stole the sleep from my eyes, sharply bestowing clarity and at the same time leaving me in even deeper confusion. One, it was exactly 3.47am, and incongruously, the ‘protector’s’ padlock stared at me calmly, in defiance of all logic. “You can’t be here I thought confusedly and it can’t be 3.47am. That happened before. Which is dream, which is reality?” Then the door swung open…
•••

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Review: Sword of Power

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The Sword of Power is a story about love and omens. It speaks to the foundation of power and the place of the metaphysical in shaping human narratives and experiences. The protagonist, Prince Yazidu, is a prince of his father’s ruined palace in the Baghdad Kingdom. He, with his men, sought refuge in Bornu from its King, Sarkin Ali Yaji who gave them Mantuha, a land which has “nothing but breed dangerous animals over the years”, to dwell . As a prince, he was also a valiant warrior who was central to Bornu’s territorial peace and stability because of his rout on the Forest people who were sworn enemies and plunderers of the Bornu people. The book equally tells the familiar story of love and its fragile connection with associated variables like betrayal, privilege, heartaches, failed hopes, customs and traditions.
The story opens with a prologue where Mekwashe, driven by gratitude for a past correct foretelling, craves to know what his future holds. And like a hovering, ominous air, the supernatural verdict he sought, which somewhat mirrors the identical fears of Sarkin Ali Yaji’s consistent thought of the Great Oracle’s warning that the saviour would set his eyes on the throne, his throne, drives the hub of the plot of the story to its conclusion, perhaps, its transient conclusion. The story also ends with another portentous warning from the Magadja who is considered the mouthpiece of Alledjena about how the one who wields the Sword of Power will wreck havoc with it. These two points are separated by the personal narratives of wars, struggles, disappointments, hurts, etc. of Prince Yazidu, Nafisa, Sarkin Ali Yaji, Mekwashe, and Kuruda who are the major characters in the novel.
One of the major strengths of this text lies in the way the writer aptly domesticated cultural narratives with ease. There is an exciting re-presentation of what looked like mythological narratives, historical tale of legends and conquered territories. The writer was also able to give a cohesive plot graph. Even when there was recourse to flashbacks, readers are not left in doubt as to whose past was being narrated and when brought back to the handy scenes in sequence, readers can equally easily connect the lines. I suspect that the novel engages different levels of human existential realities to depict the balance of life especially within the African experience. This is significant. From the natural to the supernatural, to the cultural and community life, to the dynamics of power and the narrative of love, and also to the inter ethnic and inter border wars and clashes that define the sense of life’s totality.
However, there is a sense in which the language appears forced than effortless. One could be tempted to conclude that the writer perhaps wrote cautiously. There is no doubt that the emotions of a writer help in shaping his narrative; the novel at some points is stifled by the feeling that the writer allowed his head get the better of his heart. However, sex scenes are deftly handled with finesse, and with explicit and graphic descriptions. Also, the work seems too dominated by the writer’s imprints. There are moments the text reads more like commentaries. The pacey, lyrical flow of thoughts and conversations often associated with prose works are largely hindered by the writer’s seeming expository interventions.

Note:
But she did not want to belief that he had changed a bit… (Page 148). That word should be believe.

Excerpt from THE ENEMIES WITHIN – By Joshua Omenga

The Law Students' Blog.

The next morning, Nnedi was still lounging in the comfy bed when Omang tapped her and she turned. ‘Hey, Nnedi. Come and watch this.’
‘Hmn? Same Boko Haram thing?’
‘Come and see it!’
She turned twice before she stood up and walked to the sitting room. The TV set was showing footage of a wreck and the caption below read – APAPA BOMBED: BOKO HARAM CLAIMS RESPONSIBILITY.

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Liar liar

You don’t wanna hear this story. Trust me you don’t. But then I didnt wanna live it either. I really didn’t. I dont even want to tell it, not if I don’t have to. But here we are. I’m telling because doing so brings me peace and you’re reading,  because you have an insatiable thirst for good literature and a fascination for dark things. An impasse we are at.

Its a desolate world. I mean that literally. Molten magma bubbles forth from the ground. When it rains, the sky pours death. Acid falls down to the earth but none of it it touches me. I am not there. I walk the rubble earth has become yet I am not there. Its a lie I tell the world and it believes me. This is my power. I lie to existence and it believes me, allowing me to alter the substance of what is. The air is sulphuric and mixed with chemicals that will do all sorts of things to your lungs. Eyes glow in dark alleys. Pets and city creatures warped and twisted along with the rest of this foul world. Their eyes glow, the eyes of frightened monsters. Monsters afraid of a bigger predator, the biggest predator of all in existence, me. Demons fear, the angels, wary. God watches, and my father waits. Waits for me. But I cant wait to meet him. He’s the cause of all this. Hell on earth. A slipover of his prison into ours. A merger, a juxtaposition. I will meet him, he who fathered me alongside evil. Evil and hate. I will meet him and kill him if its the last thing I do. I will rend him limb from limb. My father, the one you call Satan.
I slid the black metal spear from my fingers and play with it. In church they say lets kill the devil. I took that literally. so I found the spear. The unholy spear that had  pierced a god’s flesh, to with it slay the dark soul of another. I dont know if this can kill him. But if any weapon in existence could, it was this one and I couldn’t depend on my talent alone. Can’t lie to a more skilled liar and he’s the father of lies. I let
my mind to go over the planes to when I had ‘acquired’ it. I don’t  physically travel. I had no doubt I could. Move physically through the ether of time. Alter it? Perhaps. My power has few limits. But I don’t travel. I just remember. It was back when I was with the brotherhood and unwittingly served a more experienced devil and liar than myself. I and a few of my dark brothers. We had stormed the Vatican in a blaze of fire and dark magics the Vatican security had no explanation for or counter to. Guns could do little to you when you could lie to reality and it believed you. But two of my mortal brothers fell. I could lie to death itself, make him think it never found them but I didn’t bother. Every war had casualties. There had to be sacrifices. I had paid a steep price to get here. Power was easy. But control was costly. I had paid. And I would pay much more to to balance the scales. There was no absolution. Only balance. So I took the precious weapon from the Vatican vaults and made for the exits. But before we left, we were confronted by another round of Vatican security forces along with the pope himself, holiest man on earth. I had sneered at the thought. I knew too well men were not holy. He had come disbelieving, wanting to see for himself the devil that walked his tranquiline halls and witness the act of dark magic his security reported as unstoppable. He had looked at the item in my fist and trembled in unspeakable anger and fear then finally found his voice. ‘Devil. Son of Satan’ he screamed. I had smiled. If only he knew how accurate his accusations were, how literal. He crossed himself and screamed his security forces at us. He didnt know though. There were things that reside in this world. Things out of it. Dark and powerful, forces and powers imbued with the might of gods, angels and demons. If there is a difference between the three. I showed him things he had never seen before. In the end I let him live as we walked out of one of the most secure buildings in the world with their most hallowed treasure. I needed witnesses to my endgame. I came back to the present and slid the spear back into my cloak. I didn’t need it today. The two assassins that stalked me were human. After all this time, they still tried. Nothing that had a physical form could kill me. But humans are the definition of stupid. And stupid is a large part of stubborn. The two gunmen come out of hiding. They know I am aware of them. No use hiding now. They walk forward. All they see is an unarmed child. Three figures facing each other. Two experienced shooters, one unarmed child with all the darkness in the world in him. But they don’t know this. They pull out silenced .45 colts smoothly and professionally to carry out their executions. No words. I stand before them calmly, waiting  for them to make the first move. They deserved that much even though it gave them no chance whatsoever. It wasn’t all out of fairness however. I was training myself, my reflexes. To see how creative I could get spontaneously. I needed to be demonically fit for what was coming. Pardon the pun. They pointed and pulled the triggers simultaneously. It activated. The air turned fuzzy. The ether substance stirred. I was in my element. I lied. Time was mine, reality too. It tore. Bullets too, into flesh. Two bullets elongate and expand into fur, skin and teeth. Two full grown, African lions prowl to encircle me. One male, the other female. Balance. I reach down to pat them and they purr. I rub their mane while staring evilly at the frightened disbelieving gunmen. Shoot I whisper at the lions. When the scene is done two empty bullets and a lot of gore are lying on the ground. They are back to bullets but the devastating effect of my lie remains, their remains. My next stop is the portal in the Bermuda triangle. The portal/tear/rift from which they accessed this dimension. I could access theirs there too. I remembered a nursery rhyme I used to sing back before the darkness came.

Go in and out the window,
Go in and out the window,
Go in and out the window,
As we have done before.
Go up and down the staircase,
Go up and down the staircase,
Go up and down the staircase,
As we have done before.
Go round and round the village,
Go round and round the village,
Go round and round the village,
As we have done before.
Stand and face your partner,
Stand and face your partner,
Stand and face your partner,
As we have done before.
Now follow her to London,
Now follow her to London,
Now follow her to London,
As we have done before.
Now shake his hand and leave him,
Now shake his hand and leave him,
Now shake his hand and leave him,
As we have done before.

I doubt the rhyme was composed for children intending willing vacations to hell. I chuckle darkly at the humour of it after softly reciting. They could come out the window, I could go in the window. But this was a one way trip and I was going for more than a handshake.  if I went in I wasn’t coming back out, no not likely but oh I would shake something. I would rock hell on its foundations, shake it so hard heaven would feel the quake. I kneeled and smashed my head on the floor releasing black mist from my head. I do it again, more mist. I didn’t need the physical act to lie. But I needed more when lying to myself. Easier to lie to all of existence than to ones own self.  Ironic this but a universal truth and these truths bind even the most experienced lier. The one limit to my power, to our power. I smash my head on the floor one more time then more and more until the floor is covered in mist. I had to channel all the darkness I could muster. For this task I needed the help of all my demons, the ones I had imprisoned in my head. I smash my head against the floor, let them all loose, they scream ‘free!!!…

                               A Dark Goodness.
Book One of The Dark Child Trilogy.

Excerpt From “The Sword of Power”

The Law Students' Blog.

By Joshua Omenga, Donald Pen Prince

When Yazidu got to the Royal Compound, no one asked him his mission. The women and maids and children knew that nothing else would bring him to the Compound except Nafisa. So they went to call her out even before he asked them. She jumped to his arms and he gently lowered her down to palliate the prying and inquisitive eyes of the elderly women who were perpetually on the lookout for breakers of tradition.
They took the familiar path to the Royal Stream. She looked up at his face and smiled like a contented bride. To her utmost wonderment, there was no smile on his face. His brows were creased as if he had been long in the sun. When he opened his mouth to talk but closed it without talking, Nafisa knew at once that he had come with some bad tidings…

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Zombie WarZ

      Zombie warZ

Part 2: Burnt Cookies

As told by Donald PenPrince

(For part 1 and what happened before. See: https://penprince.wordpress.com/2013/07/02/62/ )

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Two men conversed as smoke billowed out the side of a burning building, in a hallway, on the thirteenth floor of the senate building. Neither seemed concerned by the fire or the jammed elevators. What could be more important than their lives, one could have wondered seeing them whisper back and forth with little or no concern for the rest of the institution being gradually overrun by zombies. Yes zombies.
A few hours before this, in the faculty of law, after consumption of certain foods from unverified sources, students had started changing into brainless, undead zombie monsters shuffling about and clumsily snatching the life from their fellow students, converting them into a similar state to continue their unholy campaign. The entire school was now in a state of chaos and almost total destruction. It could be assumed that it was those events and its portents those two discussed.
One of the men was old and paunchy but possessed of an aura of command one only assumed after a lifetime of having one’s orders carried out without question. The other was younger, about the same height and having a crafty, calculating look about him and the confident firmness that comes with reckless youth. The older man was likely a high standing official in the school and was talking in lecturing tones to the younger one. Their conversation went along these lines.
“It got out of hand, this institution is ruined. The school entrusted to me, under my watch. The results are beyond even my wildest calculations“ He spoke as if of a disaster yet did not appear to be too distraught, merely surprised at being surprised. He was a man accustomed to control. 
The younger man answered back calmly and in subordinate tones “The results of these things can’t always be anticipated.” He pauses and brings out a handkerchief to stifle a cough. The older man looks around, as if just noticing their environment,  then looks back to the younger man expectantly, waiting for the rest of the report. This was a hard man, who would get his due and even the threat of imminent incineration or zombie conversion would not halt that.
Realizing this, the younger man swallowed and continued. “When one works with non professionals, and has to depend on them, unexpected results may be expected. A small matter of dosages not strictly adhered to.” the older man looks like he is about to give a sharp retort then shrugs and says “well, at least the potency of the substance is confirmed. You have proof? “The younger man slips a disk out of his pocket and hands it to the older man “footage via the lounge Cameras.” The disk vanishes into the pocket of the older man’s Agbada.
“The antidote works?” “Yes.” The old man breathes a sigh of relief. “Without that, this would all be one big horrible, profitless nightmare.” The younger man produces a blue sulphuric rod and the other man leans forward to take it. The younger man hesitates in putting it in his hands. “I want a larger percentage when the military pays for this.” “But the terms have already been negotiated” the older man counters. “But it was larger than the contract slated. I couldn’t anticipate all the risks and I lost people in this venture.” “Oh but I’m sure the couple million dollars that’s your share is enough to mitigate the loss. 
“I want a ten percent increase.” The older man’s eyes widen, and he looks about to protest, then looks at the rod in the other’s hand. His eyes narrow at the unspoken implications. The item in the other’s hand, the antidote is being used as a bargaining chip. His face hardens and he says “this is a sealed deal. Not your past questions you can hike prices on whenever the whim strikes you.” He appears to consider then says “but no matter. You can have a six percent increase.” The younger man nods and hands the rod over. “It glows in reaction to infected subjects you say?” “And causes a chemical reaction similar to acids eating at human skin“ the younger man affirmed. “It also prevents one from being infected and is supposed to halt and counteract the effects of the substance on one already infected. “Side effects?” “Yet to be discovered“
As he says this, he slips two daggers from his pockets. They are both glowing blue. The older man looks at sulphuric rod in his hand.  It too is glowing a vivid azure blue. They hear footsteps and seconds later, two of the undead zombies the school is overrun with show up, climbing drunkenly up the stairs. The younger man’s thrown daggers take one in the chest, the other in the eye. They fall shriveling into smoking ruins “Best to kill them from afar, safer too.” The older man nods and the younger continues with a serious expression “it’s been nice doing business with you. I suppose a helicopter will be picking you up. I however must make my grand but more dangerous exit”
The older man nods “a change of scenery is in order” he turns to leave. The younger man calls after him. “Remember my six percent when you are a billion dollars richer chancellor” “oh I will my dear president. Oh that’s would be faculty president.

Smoke billowed of the side of a burning building. Chaos reigned, in a faculty that was the bastion of order. The acrid smell of desolation and despair permeated the afternoon air. I drew it all in through my nostrils, passed it around in my lungs, letting it saturate my being, and breathed out resolve. I was weak and knew I couldn’t last much longer. I tested the arm holding my sword zombie slayer. I hefted it slightly. My arm felt stiff and the sword heavy. My shoulder above was wounded and coated with crusts of dried blood where the zombie bat had raked me with its deadly claws. 
Behind me cowered the ladies and classmates that had survived the first wave of the zombie attack in the faculty of law lounge. The sky rained ashes and blood. Winged zombies I referred to as zombie bats sailed across, various law and biz ad students in their grips. It was a macabre day today and an unholy feast the zombies had. One of the flying zombies finished its meal and fixed its beady eyes on us. It dove in on us, having decided we were the next item or meal course in its unlimited course lunch. Lunch has never been a good description for me. Try prince, or sexy, or Dragon even.
I was also not one to give up one, or a flock of attentive ladies to another man, even a flying batish zombie. Never mind that its intentions were not quite amorous. I waited till it sailed closer, then sidestepped smoothly and slid zombie slayer through its left wing, severing it cleanly. I turned evasively but wasn’t fast enough. Some blood spattered on my hair. My beautiful afro I did in next just the week before. Oh well, I always wanted to dye my hair red.
The flying zombie crashed clumsily to the ground in front of one of the girls, Torpeh in year two. She screamed wildly as the thing attempted to rise to its feet. Blade burned blue, zombie flesh sizzled and its attempt was halted by my sword cleaving it in two. Around us, a few other earthbound zombies noticed the commotion with their undead senses and were closing in, eager for a piece of the action. I would give it to them. Ok that sounded sexual. I would have at them. My sword took the arm of one, and I kicked out at another behind me to gain room to finish of a third, and then spun around to take the head off the other (and it’s not what you think pervs)
They were slow and clumsy, these zombies and they sizzled and burned as zombie slayer bit into them. They collapsed at a stab from the blade, never rising again. As I fought them, I noticed that my fatigue disappeared, my arm grew lighter and my wounded shoulder stung less. The sword I wielded, miraculously discovered on the lounge floor glowed a fierce blue. As I decimated the ranks of shuffling creatures, I thought and calculated. Sidestep and cleave arm, the sword reacted to the creatures, almost like two contrary chemicals meeting. Lean and sever jugular, their flesh melted where the blade touched it. Duck and slash stomach leaving rotten entrails to spill forth. The sword was anathema to them, deliberately designed by someone to be so.
Fighting is like dancing, rhythmic. A series of similar moves carried out, each spinning into the other to make the whole fabric. Till you make a mistake, skip a beat, miss a step. In dancing this can be embarrassing. In fighting, fatal. I overextended my reach and stumbled slightly off balance but a block of stone from one of my companions, Jide aka Pryce the rapper knocked it backwards. I turned to nod my thanks to him and found him backing away from another zombie. A throwing motion sent zombie slayer questing forth, seeking the zombie’s spine. It found it, impaling the undead creature.
I walked down to take hold of zombie slayer’s hilt, stepped on the creature’s back and pulled the sword out. It slid smoothly out like water running down a hill. My last observation, the sword countered the effects of the zombie poison. I placed the sword on my wounded shoulder. It pulsed a violent blue and the wound seemed to drag and burn. I found I had fallen to my knees. When I took it off, I found closed flesh where there had been a wound.  Interesting. Dammy helped me back to my feet.
Behind us, an engine revved and came alive. We looked back to see Professor I.O Smith the dean starting a car. He had saved us from being trapped in the lounge which was locked at that time. Here he was helping us get away again. He was a resourceful man. He spun the car around and stopped in front of us. We climbed in the car to make our getaway. Around us, desolation still reigned. It was clear the battle couldn’t be won today. “We need to find somewhere safe” the dean called back to the seven of us who survived the lounge attack. Five sat behind, and two in front, me and Pryce the rapper specifically. “Unilag security of course cannot handle something on this scale” he says while driving. “The authorities have been notified but you know this country, slow to response.” “When they do respond at all” I add. He nods. He steps on the throttle and the SUV sped on.
He took the road behind arts as the one in front of us was full of zombies and the unfolding chaos and ruin their attack had wreaked. As he rounded a sharp bend, a student suddenly appeared in front of us. Not a zombie, but a living student. A girl, dark skinned. I recognized her. Imade a year two student. She was probably trying to get away from the unfolding chaos. I.O Smith I notice isn’t slowing down, perhaps unwilling, perhaps unable to. He would run her over. I couldn’t let that happen. This had nothing to do with the fact that she was lovely, dark skinned and had chatted with me on occasion, engaging me in intelligent conversation. I would totally strive to save anyone in a similar situation even if not possessed of pulchritudinous features and a fascinating mind. And it would be such a shame to be crushed by a car driven by real people after successfully escaping a band of marauding zombies.
I slapped a hand on the steering wheel. Perhaps too eagerly, turning it a second before the car could ram into our lovely damsel and paint the ground with her blood. I’m sure it would have been a pretty painting being that she was a girl possessed of ‘inner beauty.’ Or didn’t inner beauty extend to the color of one’s blood and organs? We didn’t find out thankfully. I had overestimated the force it would take to overturn the car however. I put it down to the excitement of the moment.  Though we could blame it on the zombie virus and curious combination with whatever elements were in the sword, making me resistant and perhaps stronger than usual. I did feel stronger than usual.
Whatever it was, my swing on the steering wheel to get it out of Imade’s path was overdone. The car spun wildly off the road and into the bush in the corner, overturning on its side. A quick survey showed me everyone in the car was fine though. A glance out the window showed me Imade was ok as well, though shaken from her recent brush with death. I tried the door at my side but it was jammed. The hilt of zombie slayer smashed the glass and I kicked the rest out of the way. I and Pryce the rapper climbed out, helping the dean and others out.
Glancing at the car, smoke was coming out of the bonnet. It would take a lot of effort to get the car back on ground and on the road. I looked at the dean and he shook his head ruefully. I had just wrecked our getaway car and we might all die as a result. Least I could do now was obtain her number or bb pin and fix a date for future. We made our way to the road and to my intense bafflement couldn’t find her. Had she run off without even a word of thanks? I scratched my blood spattered afro and tried not to be too disappointed.
I scrutinize my torn clothing and ragged appearance. Oh well perhaps it wouldn’t have gone well. But no, even like this, I’m still looking fairly handsome. I’m sure. Then we hear a jarring scream. A feminine wail follows. I start running in the direction of the wail. Back the way we came. I can finally see the cause of the commotion. Imade is being dragged by one of the flying zombies. I draw zombie slayer and chase after them flushed and hotly ready to do my heroic duty. She is struggling with the creature and this gives me time to catch up, almost. My swing misses as the flying zombie takes to the air with her.
I watch them in the air. She is bleeding from wounds in several places, likely resulting from her struggle with the creature.  Zombie venom would likely be coursing through her, altering her metabolism. My mind races speedily, like a car with nine gears. The airborne zombie shrieks gaily, tauntingly. It maintained a height not too high up, but beyond my reach. So near, yet so far. My racing thoughts come to a grinding halt when it sinks its fangs into her neck.
Dark droplets of blood fall to the ground. I walked forward to catch one on my palm. I closed my hand over it and looked up in fury. A storm, an avalanche of hatred bubbled up in me. I had planned to ask her out sometime. Then a realization hit me and I calmed. There was a time for anger, a time for calm, a time for thought and a time for action. Desperate action sometimes demanded by desperate situations. When the chips were down and the cookies were burnt, it was what you did.
I looked the gleeful creature in the eye, its fangs still glistening with damsel blood. I looked at her, dark, Lovely and fragile. She was unconscious and likely bleeding from an arterial wound. All appeared lost but even if it was so, you didn’t give up. If all was to be lost, then better you be the one to throw it away in your own manner and choosing. Much more satisfying.
I flung my sword straight in the manner one would fling a spear, blade first. The flying zombie had anticipated the move and moved to block the throw with the damsel in its clutches. It had a fiendish and evil grin on its hideous features. I had one on my handsome features too. It had anticipated the move, but not the motive
I take in her lustrous dark and wavy hair and cinnamon coloured skin in that second. Its funny the things you notice in moments of heightened tension. The flying zombie’s grin is wiped off as the sword pierces Imade, passing through her completely and impaling them both, a paradoxical fusion of beauty and ugliness. They both drop. I do too, we all fall down.

                                                                           To Be Continued…

Zombie warZ

                     Zombie warZ                              As told by Donald penprince                                                                                  Part 1:Law and Chaos

I remember the day zombies attacked my school. First of July 2013. I remember that day vividly. That morning I had strolled into the faculty of law lounge as I usually did, in my impossibly white shirt, spotless as a baby’s sinless heart, dark as coal trousers and brighter than sunlight smile. Eyes in beautiful faces framed by lustrous hair turned and conversations paused as I strolled in a normal response from ladies and a reaction to my presence, Helpless to control their breathy sighs and roving eyes. I am after all dashingly handsome and incredibly winsome. But let me proceed with the story of the zombie attack on the faculty and school that morning rather than distract you with my looks as I have distracted many comely females. As I entered the lounge, I opened the lss office door to quickly glance in to see who was about and answer greetings from Sifer,  Anjola and a  couple of other lss officials including Seun Larry Williams the faculty president who did i mention happened to hold me in high regard.  I then strolled into the faculty lounge, ignoring both longing looks and passing glances. For yes occasionally stubborn ladies will only partially glance at me, reluctant to acknowledge the dazzling charm of my looks. This is only pretence however and secretly in their heart of hearts they admit to themselves my utter desirability. A quick survey shows me that the lower part of the lounge is half full with year two to five students’ though in a corner I notice William Hosanna a year one student, and extremely brilliant scrabble player. He is a good friend of mine but I don’t bother waving at him. He is totally engrossed in tutoring a flock of attentive ladies over a scrabble game board and doesn’t look like he will appreciate being disturbed just now. I am somewhat perceptive after all. I walk to the corner of the lounge and climb the stairs leading to the upper portion of the lounge. While climbing the stairs, Vanessa a year 4 girl stumbles while climbing down and almost falls. She smiles her thanks to my steadying hand and skips on. I smile inwardly to myself thinking “and so the ladies keep falling before me”. At the upper part of the lounge, year two students, Dammy Odu, Jones Ayuwo, plump, pretty Tobi and a couple others are lounging (I did mention it’s a lounge after all). I sit down in one of the chairs after exchanging greetings with my gees. One of my friends Yode inquires about my missing Samsung galaxy s4 phone which was stolen the week before. I reply that I hadn’t been able to recover it. I answer that I would probably get another or maybe the Htc one to get the experience of using a different product. Dammy inquires why not a blackberry Porsche? That would make a statement I agree, but I didn’t like blackberry products and asides making the statement, I wouldn’t enjoy using it.  I hope the reader isn’t getting bored with the story just yet. All this chitchat about phones and looks is not an attempt to be overly vain but rather show what an ordinary day it started as. It’s meant to set the pace and show you in all starkness how what started as an ordinary day became a day of horror and foreboding. And the issue of my looks, well not that I’m a vain fellow but you see, my looks do tend to be an unavoidable part of me, even to me. Even when I try to forget them, the ladies don’t let me. But let me not bear you too far away from the interesting channel our tale is flowing through. I and my friends engaged in chit chat along with the other law students in the lounge for upwards of thirty minutes. I do remember the timing impeccably being posessed of an eidetic memory. 10.35am exactly it is, when we hear a piercing scream from one of the girls. We stop in shock and turn to find out the reason for the scream. A pack of food she most likely had bought from the food seller at the lower part of the lounge is open. The contents of the food pack are the reason for the scream. Instead of just tasty fried rice with plantain and coleslaw she must have ordered, a mass of crawling maggots and creepy insects are awash in the food pack and crawling out of the edge. The owner of the food, a popular year two girl named Toyosi who had been the cover girl for popular artiste wizkid’s song art looked up in revulsion then rushes down to likely confront the foodseller. Another piercing scream is heard and we all rush down to find out what new horror is unfolding. When I along with Jones, Dammy and Yode get to the lower part of the lounge, a scene of horror greets us. It is chaos in law

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 All the people who appear to have bought food appear to be in bad shape, or at least those carless enough to have eaten the food without looking too closely at its contents. Several people are on the floor, vomiting, some retch out organs on the floor which is fast turning bloody, some are slumped on the floor, the unaffected girls are screaming uncontrollably, good sign that they are unaffected, somebody, a guy rushes to the door and turns the handle, in vain. The door is locked. “It’s locked from the outside’’ Jones says. His announcement is received with silence as the scary implications of that statement sinks into us. An icy shudder runs through me. In the silence that followed Jones’s announcement, we notice that the rest of the lounge is also silent. All the retching, dying people had completed their death throes it seemed and were lying still. We all quietly survey the carnage in the room and one girl, Akorede in year two inquires in a small scared voice ‘’are they dead?’’ I am about to respond in a sarcastic tone that they are only catching up on lost sleep when one of the silent bodies begins jerking. Slowly at first, then continuously. All the other bodies in the lounge begin to jerk too. Violently. Screaming and crying from the girls begin anew. I look at the faces of the boys in the room. Even their faces reflect fear, the same fear I knew must be reflected in my handsome features. Almost in this instant did I forget my good looks for all the girls had forgotten it it seemed. Almost but not quite. For I noticed that as they whimpered and moaned, they moved closer to me.  The jerking bodies stop jerking all at the same instant. Then a head looks up. Fingers begin to move and bodies begin to jerk up in choppy robotic motions like we see in resident evil and living dead movies. I briefly look at the food stand for the foodseller and wonder, a small part of me that she must be in some way responsible for the sale of the food that’s converting people into zombies and the locked door too must be her doing. There is scant time for logic and reasonings however as all around us zombies are rising up from the corpses of dead law students.  one of the boys, Dammy reaches for the door to the lss office but it dosnt budge. It appears to be locked too. Around us, our former law students have risen up as ghoulish zombies, with bloodshot eyes and glistening fangs as they shuffle towards us. I bend to pick up an object from the floor. It is long and ornate. Curved and beautiful. I don’t stop to wonder what a finely forged samurai sword is doing on the floor of the law lounge.  There had been strange inexplicable occurrences and zombie risings. It only stood to reason there would be samurai swords too.  Now all that was needed was a hero of the light to wield tha blade and vanquish all shadowy forces that had appeared in the faculty. I was definitely hero material-20 yards. I had the looks and now the sword too and apparently the skill as we found out when zombies rushed in for a taste of living flesh. Too bad they didn’t get their taste some of the girls in the lounge with me where sweet lasses I could confirm. In one smooth motion, I drew the stainless steel sword from its sheath and lopped of the head of one zombie that had shuffled ahead of its mates. I tried not to reason that it was one of my mates formerly. That is one thing you don’t think if you want to survive a zombie apocalypse. I command all the remaining law students to get behind me  as the shuffling zombies stagger…into a carnage as I have at them. I am a whirlwind with my spinning sword, I don’t disappoint the fates that had sent a sword to aid us in the zombie aplcalypse and display brilliant swordsmanship and skills I never knew I had (another reason for the reader to watch samurai and ninja movies. You never know when a zombie apocalypse will happen and a hero will be called for). After cutting up the last zombie law student(regrettable that, but necessary for survival) I sheath my sword in a flourish. I am just about to say that we should find a way out of the lounge when the lss office door bursts open and something  grabs one of the girls. It’s the Toyosi girl in year two. The creature holding her is different from the rest of the zombies. This one has a human head, the head of the food seller in the lounge who we reasoned must be responsible for the whole zombie manifestation. The zombie queen/foodseller has long leathery wings and glistening fangs in its human mouth all of which contribute to make a truly hideous face. I pull out my sword and notice the blade is glowing. A blue nimbus of light is surrounding the blade, likely a reaction to the evil of the batzombie/foodseller. At the sight of my glowing sword, the zombie flinches back in fear . ‘’putsss down your weaponsss. Puts it down or thisss one diessss’’ it rasps through its hideous fangs. Yeah right I think. Put down my weapon and be lunch for a fat batzombie. On the same vein I couldn’t very well let the Toyosi girl my classmate, and a pretty lass besides be eaten by the zombie queen. I glance back at my remaining companions with raised eyebrows.  Dammy shakes his head and mouths a silent no. I know what I must do. I toss my sword to the floor. The zombie queen’s eyes are on the sword, watching it as it falls to the ground. This is instinct . It would keep its eyes on the feared weapon as it fell and I know this. I don’t watch the falling sword with it however. I am already moving. I launch the scabbard of the sword straight at it while its distracted by the falling sword and bend to scoop up the sword. I am not quick enough however for as I pick up the sword and rush at the bat zombie queen, I notice its already dodged the missile and is reaching for Toyosi’s neck with its fangs in anger. Time slows. I can feel myself racing to defeat not just the bat  zombie but time and space. Will I make it, will I be in time to save a lovely damsel in distress? For that is a hero’s traditional role. I strive to fulfill that role with my sword outstretched in the samurai strike pose and my body hurtling through space and time. Skin is pierced and flesh is rent. Toyosi screams and falls to the floor, unharmed as my swird pierces the monster bat zombie in the mouth. Directly in between the fangs it had sort to end a damsel’s life with. She looks at me gratefully while sobbing in relief and the others rush to comfort her. I pull my sword of the carcass of the dead zombie monster. A while later we hear pounding on the door and I pull my sword taking a few steps back waiting for the next foe. Tired but determined. I knew though that there was only so much a handsome hero could do. A bunch of keys rattle, one is inserted into the key hole and turned. The door swings open and we all breath in relief. It is Seun Larry Williams and the dean proffessor I.O Smith coming I to tell us that the school has been overrun with zombies. We all rush out to find the school outside law in chaos. Zombies shuffling lazily around, living students are caught and eaten, and bat zombies sail through the air on leathery wings to snatch students from the ground and feast on them in the sky. I notice the sky. The sky has gone dark and cloudy from the smoke billowing from the topmost floor of the senate building that housed the vc’s office. I shook my head in despair and hoped they had more swords, more heroes for this one was weary and wounded. I put a hand to my shoulder and it came away wet with blood for as I stabbed the batzombie dead, its claws had torn my flesh. I felt sluggush and dizzy. Who knew what venom would be rushing through me now. But I smiled my charming smile at one of my female companions who smiled back bravely and drew my sword as one of the zombie bats swooped in for the kill. As long as there were monsters to slay and damsels to save, tired heroes would keep fighting.

The Saga Continues…
Zombie WarZ
Part 2: (click on link)
http://wp.me/p1WE30-3j
                                                                     

Sword, Staff and Scepter

SWORD, STAFF AND
SCEPTRE
BOOK 1
PATH
OF
OSIRIS
PROLOGUE/PREFACE
Evil comes in many guises. Sometimes it
wears the face of a friend…sometimes
it comes as a friend.
I was in the great Temple of Ramses,
situated at Abu Simbel. I was coming
from the sanctuary, the room that
contained the statues of the four gods of
Egypt, the room that contained lots more.
The sword, Ra –sengis at my side. It
was a plain nondescript blade with white
runes etched into its black scabbard. I
strode down the hall, clutching the sword
tightly, for its plainness was a ploy to
fool the unwary. It is one of the greatest
treasures of Egypt. I was not overly
concerned about the sword however as it
was already in my grasp. I was headed
for an even greater treasure, one that
would complete the first part of my quest for imortality
Did that sound mad? I couldn’t help
wincing inwardly at the thought for I
feared I was Half-mad already with grief at
the loss my brother, father and
uncle. I walked on, my steps steady and
resolute. Had the vizier Panshj not said
that the only way to endure hardship was
to become hard? From the sanctuary, I
entered the southern treasure room, a
great and vast hall containing fabulous
treasures and religious relics. On a shelf
was what looked to be the bracelet of
Ramses, a fabled relic that was worth
fortunes. I plodded on unseeing of all the
treasures. I had a goal. One I could not
afford to be distracted from by all the
gold in Nubia. One the people I loved had
died for. I could feel the lump in my
throat as I remembered this but I steeled
myself and went on. After going
through the hall, I emerged in a corridor
that led me to my destination, the
pillared hall containing the cippus or
pointed rectangular pillars showing Horus
triumphing over dangerous beasts. As I
had barely seen the treasures and
objects in the hall I had passed, I only
dimly registered the beauty of this hall.
My photographic, no longer merely human
memory records it all though and
stows it away, the famous figures drawn
on the walls, dignifying the deities of
Egypt, the beautiful designs and murals
which gave the hall its splendor. All
only receive a passing glance. My attention
was on the end of the hall, where
lay the object of my desires, my dreams
and my pains, the fabled tears of Osiris.
The black sands he is rumored to have left
for his heir and predecessor. I sucked
in a ragged breath. After all I had seen, it
was not like I needed confirmation
that it existed but how it was. The essence
of immortality, one of the most
important weapons I needed in my fight
against Set, chief representation of evil.
I walked towards my goal.
The sands were in an hourglass, clutched
by a statue of Ramses depicted
as Osiris, Egyptian god of death. The statue
was one of eight statues lined
around the room. I stopped walking. My
superhuman senses could perceive
that something was not quite right. I could
smell the foul stench of evil in
the room. The dark and rank smell was
borne to my nose by the stale air in
the room. I followed the smell to its
source. From behind one of the pillars, a
shadow detached itself. A black, hooded
figure emerged. I stopped to consider
the figure. I could still feel other shadows
hiding behind pillars. The figure
was standing perfectly still, barring my
path. Another creature of Seth master
of Chaos. Seeking to obstruct and prevent
me from achieving my destiny to
overthrow him and avenge the brother he
slew in treachery. I also held the death
of my kin against him.
I could feel the rage rising in me. A boiling
cauldron of hate that threatened
to spill over. I cooled the flames of my
rage however and uncurled my fingers
from the hilt of the black sword,
remembering the instructions I had
received
with the blade. I glared at the silent
figure. Looks won’t kill however. I walked
on, My hand curled around the hilt of my
other slightly more ordinary sword,
resolute and determined to go through my
foe or foes (as they were definitely
more than one in the hall). The figure
stood silently, watching me approach, a
confident prey or perhaps he saw it the
other way round with me as the prey.
The plod plod of my steps echoed and
resounded in the hall. My other sword
was half-drawn, my face set in a silent
snarl. It was hard keeping a rein on my
rage remembering the deaths caused by
Seth, supreme manifestation of evil and
chief instigator of chaos.
I slowed my advance to watch the silent
cloaked figure. I had come too far and
seen too much to completely abandon
caution. I crouched in anticipation as the
cowled figure began to move. He put both
his hands slowly on the cowl of his
attire and threw it back with his bony
fingers. My eyes widened in shock and
the clatter of my sword echoed in the hall
as it (not the black sheathed sword)
dropped from my suddenly nerveless
fingers. The hand holding the black sword
shook as diverse emotions ran through me.
First shock, then pain, then pain
again and finally anger. Here was a two-
faced fiend. Half its face was that of
the shadowy manifestation that had
wreaked so much havoc in my life and
the other half, that of my brother
Amenhotep. The brother I had slain. For a
moment pain threatened to overwhelm
me and my sorrow drown me, then rage
won through and anger engulfed me,
sweeping me away in a savage wave, a
dense blackness that coalesced and
erupted from me in torrents. I didn’t bend
to
pick up the ordinary sword. My face was
set in a snarl. “You will regret taking
that form today, foul creature of Seth”, I
spat. The creature grinned, a wide feral
grin showing all its teeth. Jagged serrated
teeth they were. Amen’s face and
seth’s, grinning at me. My head pounded
and my blood was a roaring avalanche
in my veins. I could dimly remember a
voice in my head warning me that the
sword I held would destroy a mortal in an
instant. My fingers were gripping its
hilt so hard. In an instant, quicker than the
drop of one grain of sand from the
hourglass, four dark shapes disengaged
themselves from shadows cast by the
pillars. Four dark hounds to pull me down as
guilt over slaying Amen distracted
me. My foe had underestimated me again
it seemed.
Fast as it was, my no longer merely human
reflexes were even faster. I could
almost feel the breath of the slavish
hounds of Seth on my face. That was when
I drew the sword…Ra-sengis, the sword of
Ra. The weapon forged for the
father of the gods, Amon-ra, from a piece
of the sun by montu, Egyptian deity
of war. The sword I was warned not to
draw until I had clearly transcended
mortality and crossed the threshold into
godhood or as close to it as any mortal
could. The sword would destroy any mortal, even the weilder
in a second. I had crossed the point
of no return however, driven beyond by
the imposter. I no longer cared about
my quest or even if I was destroyed. I just
wanted to destroy the imposter. As
I pulled out the sword, with the fangs of
the hounds of Seth dripping their foul
saliva on me, there was a blinding flash
that announced the arrival of the sword
in the world. In that instant before
everything went black, I could glimpse the
blazing yellow light of what could only be a
miniature sun. At the same time,
I felt red-hot, searing heat run through
me, destroying my cells faster than they
could heal themselves. Then everything
went black… (Just before it did, I heard
the laughter of Seth)
*
*
*
…My name is Kemosiri and I am something
of a rarity, something that has
not been seen since the creation of the
world and Kemet, the two lands. I am
neither mortal nor deity but a crossbreed
between both, a demigod that sought
to become a deity and end the scourge of
chaos that ravaged Kemet, my home.
Forgive me for cutting my tale at that
point, but I believe that whether deity,
mortal or demigod, one should always tell
a story at the beginning and so I
shall.
Before the search for the hourglass of
death and the sands it contained, across
the wind-swept sands of Egypt (Kemet, the
black land) and beyond, this is what
occurred…
As told by Kemosiri, Panshj and the All-
Seeing Eye of Re.