Fiction: Nay-Tivity

April 21, 2016 Fiction , POETRY / FICTION

By

Kolawole Oluwanifemi

 

 

Present day. 4, Kent Street. Saturday, 8:05am.

It was raining. You were enjoying the coziness of your one-room apartment. The feeling of not going to your meagre-paying engineering shift jobs, three of them. You let your mind wander. You remembered your girlfriend, Steph, brag about how her man “… has three jobs! Three jobs!” the other day. You chuckled. A rhythmic knock brought you out of your reverie. You wouldn’t budge because you knew you have a roommate that knocks that way. You usually wait for a third knock before responding. You walked to the door at the third, waiting for his usual “open this damn door now before I bring it down!” threat. He didn’t disappoint. You shifted the latch and walked back to where you sat, smiling. You saw him drag in a rusty wooden box. “Hey dude“, he smiled showing his gap tooth. “Look what I found,”  he said gleefully. You listened to him make a story of the how, where and what about the box he came in with. The rest of the day went well.

**

It was evening. Sleeping on Saturdays came easy unlike other days. Your roommate has gone out to get dinner. You tucked the pillow well under your head, facing up with your palms across your chest. You gave in to sleep immediately.

***

 

Unknown location.

You were at the front of an old building that could well describe Macbeth’s locations in the Shakespearean age. A few things you could not explain though – how you knew the names of the two humans coming out from the building, how you knew it was two millennia in the past, how your legs carried you so fast without your consent. “Maybe that’s the way things are done here,”  you shrugged.

Marie looked elegant in her peach-coloured long dress, it had a short cape. She had a veil over her head. A bearded Josh wore a sleeved smock with a linen neck band. His gait complimented the beauty beside him.They giggled and chatted as they left the building. Your feet moved.

**

You were in Marie’s room. It was dimly lit. The smouldering fire giving warmth cast a shadow around the bed. She slept peacefully, until she stirred gently, then vigorously like she was being held down by something bigger than her. You were alarmed, but your feet wouldn’t move. Red smoke came out of the fireplace and moved towards her, the size of a grown man. You’d watched the smoke seep into her. She let out a gasp and went limp. You were terrified. Then, you saw her breathe like before, sleeping peacefully. Your feet moved.

**

It was his workshop, Josh’s. In a split, it went shady, then dark. The door creaked a bit. The voice that followed sent you into shock, it was flat and croaky. “Josh, do not leave your wife, for what is conceived of her is from above. She will bring forth a son to fulfil prophecy.” The voice paused. “Do not put her away, for she is your wife.” It stopped. You were transfixed, the darkness disappeared. It was day. Josh was busy, hitting a nail into a box. Your feet moved.

**

It was a busy morning. The place looked a bit different. A lot of people were moving. You could see Marie and Josh from a distance. Marie’s bump was bigger than you expected. You guessed she’s due, looked like she would pop any second. You were right. Marie gave a shriek, Josh panicked. They moved quickly to a place. A shed, sort of, cramped with puppy boxes at corners. Marie gave another shriek, asking for a back massage. “Don’t leave, please don’t leave me,” she let out. You wouldn’t have believed if you were told, but you could see it: Josh took the delivery. Head out first; it was red, but not from blood, it was its complexion. Two little bones projected from the head. As it came into full view, Josh’s hands shook as he placed the baby in Marie’s waiting arms. The smile on her face vanished, replaced with a flummoxed look. She lost her voice. She couldn’t scream as she saw the creature also had something sticking out below its back.

You could not take it anymore, you ran…

***

 

Present day. 4, Kent Street. Sunday, 5:45am.

When you came to, you shifted off the pillow. You wouldn’t believe that was how the Holy Ghost came upon Mary to birth Jesus. Your Protestant belief won’t let you take that.

The stream of sweat that had soaked your shirt was the least of your worries, as your heart beat raced to match the pounding sound your head made.

There was a knock, your eyes popped. You ran to the door only to find a distraught neighbour. You asked what day it was. She could only mutter “Brooke is dead. He died on the spot. It was a hit and run during the early hours of Saturday when it rained. An ambulance arrived much later to carry him. The informant said his body is at the Precint. You know where that is, right?

You opened your mouth but nothing came out. Today is Sunday. Brooke was your roommate. Yesterday was Saturday. Your head went into overdrive as you tried to take it all in. ‘Who brought in the box with The time-travel pillow then?‘, you whispered.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Kolawole Oluwanifemi

Kolawole Oluwanifemi is a graduate of Transport Management who loves reading and speaking. She’s a freelance budding writer that has authored a number of short stories, flash fictions and poems. She is a Nigerian that writes for fun and doesn’t mind her works making marks in the world.
Her contact mail is bovkolawole@gmail.com.

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