:Reference to blood and wounds.
The engine droned. Gulls squawked & flew off. The lake sat placid in the sun. Chidera was there with two of her friends. Andrew was there too, with lures and fishing poles. & i was there, uninvited. It was Saturday. The cook had let us off, after breakfast. I should be reading for the test tomorrow. The writings of the polymath and seer, Araya, are a difficult read. But Chidera is here. So i am here. I keep telling myself that my reasons are innocent. She is like a sister to me. It is my duty to care for her. This is a difficult thing to do. Chidera always finds mischief on its hill of dubious rewards. Like today, we are gathered, like flies, to witness the summoning of a Shrill. Why would anyone want to summon a ghost that screams?
The boys stand the tent and set fishing lines. I send a message to the principal; the trip is going on fine. I say nothing of the big yellow moon up ahead or the suspicion I harbour. I lie. The moon hangs like egg yolk over my head, ready to pour its sticky slime on me. I try to read. The ritual begins at midnight.
"Only you will come to a party with a book," a voice breathes near me.
I did not hear her approach. It is Kaye, Chidera’s friend. We have never spoken to each other before.
"Well i am not interested in arguing over who has the longest pole?" I reply.
She giggles. She has two deep dimples in her cheek and her eyes seem to carry the moon inside it.
"What are you reading?"she asks.
"Araya."
"The test tomorrow?" she asks.
"Yes. Are you writing it too?"
Kaye studies me, her eyes seeing things that i thought hidden well. She shakes her head.
"Maybe. I like to know my options," she replied.
"Hey Kaye! What are you doing with the girl? Come over here."
It is Chidera. She has never called my name. No one ever calls my name. And of course, i don’t say it either. Names are for you, not me. I don’t need a name to know who i am but you do. You think if you know my name, you know me. Chidera doesn’t know my name. Maybe she knows me best or not at all. Kaye smiles at me, then leaves. We all leave under Chidera’s thumb. I am the only one who knows this. Maybe that is why she fears me. Maybe that is why I invited myself to this party. Fear makes people do stupid things like summon a Shrill.
It is 11:30pm. Everyone is a bit tensed now. From her leather bag, Chidera has brought out the materials for the summoning. It is incomplete. It has everything but blood, the most important ingredient. I say nothing. The others know no better. Except Kaye, she smiles at me as if in on a private joke. I do not smile. I never smile. It makes my face sore. Slowly, reluctantly maybe, everyone gathers around Chidera. On the ground, as close to the water as possible; a rabbit bone, a goat horn, kolanut, elephant grass, alligator pepper and a bottle of gin. It is incomplete. Chidera begins a speech. She has always loved to be the centre, not the head or the tail. She told me once, that the middle is the safest place to be. She read it in some archaic book by an ancient general, no one remembers. I can't remember my reply now.
To begin, everyone takes off their clothes. We fold them neatly by our sides. Then we form a circle around the circle drawn on the ground by Kaye. In that circle, one boy places the items.
"We are gathered here today, to prove to those old meddling louts who stride the halls of this great institution that we have power and knowledge and thus, should not be trifled with," Chidera says.
Someone giggles.
"This is not a small matter. It is not a laughing matter. For too long, students under the authority of the long illumined professors of this university, have been undermined, underappreciated and in some cases, abused. This must stop. To ensure a revolution, one must have power. Not borrowed power. Not power paid for by wealth or pedigree but true power; the power of the wild. This power unfortunately is not a gift many of us share. But we are in luck. We have among us, someone who was born of the wild. Who, it is rumoured, walks the shadows and converses with bushbabies and merpeoples. My best friend and sister," Chidera says, pointing at me.
All eyes turn to me in surprise but i do not see them. I see only Chidera; her cheeks flushed with heat, her eyes half closed, entranced by the sound of her voice, her lips pinched by a thorn of moon light. She has just revealed secrets which, despite wise counsel, i told to her. It was in confidence, to someone i trusted and here i was, a tool and indeed, a fool. I almost shake my head. Nothing breaks the heart more than ignorance thinking itself wise.
Kaye smiles as she comes to me, naked. Her form undulates like the grass rimming the edge of the lake. I can see how the moon presses her breast on the lake’s wet lips. I do not see the calabash or the blade until it cuts skin and i bleed. I scream in shock but strong hands hold me and over there, by her ritual of insanity, Chidera watches, with a triumphant gleam in her eyes, as my blood drop like loose ash into the bowl. The last material for the ritual is theirs. It is complete.
"Do not do this, Chidera," I warn.
"Please, shush. Your inability to see the power you carry is what will kill you. It will not be me. Bind the wound," She replies.
Kaye returns, after placing the calabash among the trash and drops a bandage over my arm. Her eyes bear no emotion as she ties the cloth around the already clotting injury.
"I am sorry," she whispers.
"No you are not. But you will be,"
She steps back, shock, a hasty script on her face. Then she smiles, her teeth bright and walks back to the circle. Chidera has a viewing screen before her. She spreads her arms and begins the invocation.
Faraway, in the country, where no eyes see, a monster hears its name and rises from its stool. I hear its footfalls thud against my eyes. I hear its voice grate against my bones. I taste its crude hunger. These poor children.
"Mistress, did you call?" It asks.
I almost weep.
A best friend, the one who knows you well, knows the nature of your powers and makes them appear. The awakening monster that stands so close to your bones will give you an identity you don't yet know. It is so important to know who you really are!
Well one has to be careful the things we share. People do not often know the value of being the holder of someone's confidences.
Nice story.
Your writing always grips me, @warpedpoetic. I am drawn in by the sense that there is an entire world opening up before me, and your storytelling is the lens by which I am able to catch glimpses of its space and its beings and goings-on. Thank you for sharing your beautiful gift of writing with us.
I am glad. Thank you for always welcoming my work here. This is home for me. Thank you.
Masterly suspenseful. Overflowing with dark mysticism and magic. Replete with betrayal of the worst kind - a confidence, undone. Your work resounds with lyricisms. You have a rare talent. It’s beautiful, offensive and horrifying, but in the most sublime way, a way that makes ordinary fiction look pale. 🤗❤️💕❤️❤️🤗
Note: check your lowercase i, which is meant to be I. It’s not really important, because of the way you write, but it identifies you, and I’d prefer you to be identified by something else. ❤️💕❤️❤️❤️
This is one of the most beautiful things I have been told for my writing. Thank you. I appreciate your words. I will definitely fix that.
I love you. I love your writing. You are marvelous. ❤️🤗💕
Thank you very much for your words. I love you too. Light and love from here. 🤗✅🖤
Thank you for writing to this prompt. It's is truly a pleasure to read a story that is crafted so well. Your story is a cautionary tale about pride and over-reaching. The convocation plays with powers it does not understand. It seems Chidera was right to fear the narrator.
An outstanding piece. The last line, the most important word is, perhaps, almost.
Thank you very much. I feel good today. 😂 Thank you much 🖤
Wow.
MASTERFUL! This read gripped me along, needing to define what or who our narrator is... finding the answers everywhere, and nowhere as I read along. Then the finale.... chills :) Thank you for this fantastic story @warpedpoetic
Thank you very much. 👏🏿🖤