It happened last night when all souls were at peace with themselves. I lay in bed anxious by the stillness of the night. The sound of air that often sang sweet lullaby was absent. A whisper came from outside my door and I sat up in bed.
It must be Mama and Haruf, I thought as I headed towards the door. The veranda was empty when I opened the door but there was light coming from the living room so I went there. I could still hear the whisper and the only thing I could pick from it was my name.
Mama was the only one in the living room. She always fall asleep while watching the 9 o’clock news. But the whisper did not stop. It got louder. I went towards the door leading to the compound as the whisper continued in the direction. The clock showed 11pm.
Something was strange about the night. I rubbed my hands together, letting my eyes search the compound. There was no one but the whisper got even louder. It was more than a whisper now; the voice called my name. I felt a strange pull towards it. Towards the night and all that hid behind it.
The pull had me moving forward to the backyard. The call now came from there, so I walked until I sighted a strong bright light from within. My heart throbbed and the light was determined to make me blind.
“Who is there?” I walked with care into the light. The thick light faded, and the call got louder. As I moved deeper, I saw through the thick light a shadow lacing around.
“Who are you?” I asked with a shuddering voice.
“I am you,” it replied with the echo of my voice.
“But…. But that is not possible” I shuttered.
“The impossible is that which you see as impossible,” it said and continued, “I am the pen you cast aside. Write. Break away from the block and write.”
With that, it disappeared and then awoke my sleeping muse.
Picture Credit: Cristian Escobar
This story emerged in 7th position in the 2017 edition of the JB Afenfia Flash Fiction Contest.