It simmered, the innocent white thread that peeked from the top of that wax pillar; disappeared slowly into the vigour of a tiny flame. In it, I saw yellow flames lapping and lapping like the flames Pastor Ohis had described would burn thorns and thistles after the harvest. The heat in me doubled up. We were in hell; I was thorn and she was thistle, with her every feature stinging my senses.
“This is a rare privilege, don’t be silly, ” she said, coming closer to a frozen me. (I had frozen in the heat, motionless, only releasing my mind to stray wherever it willed. But it decided to linger underneath her short, sleeveless loose-fitting negligee.)
This hell was burning hotter… I would help her and help myself to appease the fire that was eating me up. What could go wrong? Nothing. Oh, something! Her mother could walk in to check on her, and she would find a little demon in her lucifer’s room. But she’d only see a halo hanging on its head, while she plucked my horns and decided whether to bury me alive or send my corpse to my people back in the village. So, I summoned strength and turned round to find the door shut.
How did I ever get here? Knob, Knob, where was the door Knob? My eyes only saw a bolt and my hands used them, caging me with lucifer in hell.
Lucifer smiled. I’m not sure what expression hung over my face but I know my teeth were tightly jammed and my lips gave way, exposing them to air. Surprisingly, she retreated, it felt creepy as she went close to the candle holder. She shot a sly smile at me and pinched the little thread on the candle stick and all went black.
Omonigho Iyomon is a pretty Nigerian who writes under the pseudonym Twee Feet . She loves to laugh, read and create scenes in her head which she eventually shares using words and sentences. She loves beautiful expressions, interesting conversations with smarties, quietness, good food, good music, and she appreciates God’s love for her