Blood on the Altar (an excerpt)

The transit to Jos was too silent for Blessing; all through the journey which she went alone, she held the picture of her dead lover in her hands, crying at every glitch of the cherished memories they shared. The last night they spent together, she could still remember her words:

“My dearest Blessing, this is all a plot; a plot to take you away from me. Those mothers were jealous of what we have achieved together- your lovely voice that I helped you train and your influence from the children’s Choir to the youth’s Choir. I want you to know that many of them have approached me to help them train their daughters in which I refused. Now, they wanted us out, and they wanted you out of their way too”.

That day, Blessing looked at her in admiration, hate and pity. She knew it was all an excuse and a lie; she truly abused all those children like she had abused her. Though, she got over it and loved it. She was glad it never worked out with those new entrants; she didn’t want to share Sister Mary- not even with God!
“Promise me, promise me my love that you will remember me always, and you will fight for me. Your mother will take you away tomorrow, but promise me I will remain in your heart”, she requested of Blessing, something she would have done even without her request.

She also made her promise that she will not allow anybody to attain that position of a Choir Mistress because in her words, “it is my right. They never wanted me to have it, but you must have it if I couldn’t. I used all my strength, might, time and resources to grow the Choir. I was the third Choir member when this branch started. Now, they wanted to reap where they did not sow and enjoy the fruit of my labour”.

She watched her lover stood up, pacing the room like a damsel in distress, unsure where turn for help. Blessing stood up and walked over to her, as small as she was in frame, she held her close and assured her that she will do everything to ensure that her cause was justified and duly fought for by her.
Sister Mary kissed her, and it was a great kiss shared between them. She couldn’t have explained why that kiss has always remain something to covet, but she believed, maybe the salty taste from the tears on their lips added more taste to the whole kissing process.

She hid the picture perfectly in her bag as she alighted from the bus into the waiting arms of her Sister who started treating her as a victim of rape and injustice, much to her disgust. Only God knows what her mother would have told her sister. Her lover was killed; she was murdered by the jealous mothers who pushed her to suicide. Her lover was denied justice; justice to fair hearing. Her lover was taken away from her when she was about to enjoy her more. And here they all are, treating her dead lover with such disrespect! She has promised her she will avenge her death, and revenge she must take, even if it takes the whole time of her life. In her mind, she knew was never a victim of rape, but of injustice. Yet, no one seemed to understand this.

Her aunt welcomed her to the dining the evening she arrived, and she couldn’t taste out of the food. That evening, her appetite was not only lost, it simply didn’t exist. Her Aunt wondered and asked her why she didn’t touch the food,

“I am not hungry”, that was her response.

But even so, her eyes couldn’t resist the neatly placed cucumbers in the bowl, out of the many fruits in the large bowl placed on the dining table. She was already salivating; not from her mouth, but between her legs. Her Aunt, having noticed her attraction to the cucumbers, had invited her to take one and eat; an invitation she couldn’t resist. She took one and excused herself to retreat inside.

That day, she couldn’t wait to get inside before she pulled up her skirt and pulled down her pants. She ran into the toilet and sat on the toilet seat with legs professionally spread. With a quick movement, she spit in her palms and bathed the cucumber with it. She rubbed it gently, more like caressing. But it wasn’t slippery enough for her; so, she forced out phlegm and rubbed it on the cucumber. That felt better.

She balanced herself nicely on the toilet seat with one hand and gently pushed in the improvised todger gently into the wet throbbing hole between her open legs with the other. She almost died of an unending sensation that rushed up and jumped down her spine. She moaned gently as the abyss between her legs almost swallowed up the whole big fruit.
She held it in place and clasped her thighs together. She raised her head gently, absorbing the pleasure with a sizzling sound between her clenched teeth. Then she started to thrust, gently at first, and faster, uncontrollably. When the sensation was too much, she held the fruit with both hands and smashed it in with ferocious strength. Her eyes wide shut, her voice got louder; something she tried to control but for reasons known to her, she couldn’t. She shook her head frantically like a reggae artist!

She rose to the skies and aimed to for the heavens. She smashed ferociously and without care. Her voice was louder and her moans were darker and deeper. Then, suddenly, almost when she was closer to the heavens, she reached orgasm and touched down from her flight to the skies. She was tired, and she felt dead. She finished whatever she was doing and opened her eyes to the horror of her life- her Aunt stood right at the entrance of the toilet, looking at her.
Slowly, she removed the cucumber and lowered her head in shame.

“Blessing, what are you doing?” Her Aunt asked, half smiling.

“I’m…I’m sorry”, she said, and slowly covered her shame.

“Are you?” Her aunt asked.

Blessing nodded, but her Aunt continued,

“I mean you are doing it wrong; you may hurt yourself with such fierce movements”.

“Aunty, I was trying to kill an insect that entered while I was…”

Her Aunt’s laughter cut into her excuse like a wild fire, and it burnt the excuse away from her mind almost immediately. She realized she has been very stupid to even try to say that, but she must reiterate her lie until it is being accepted as the truth; both by her and whoever who cared to listen. Sister Mary thought her to always stand by her lies even when threatened with a gun.

“It is true, Ma. I was trying to kill a fly”, she insisted.

“Of course I know”, the Aunt said, “it might interest you to know that it happens a lot to me too; but I don’t kill it like that way. I mean I have, but I landed in the hospital because I ended up hurting my precious pot. You see”, she continued, much to Blessing’s confusion, “I have to teach you how to do this, because there are lots of flies around here, and occasionally, they will definitely find their way back in”. She smiled to see Blessing’s reaction which was already lost in the wastelands.

….an excerpt from my new book: BLOOD ON THE ALTAR.

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a single parent, writer and a struggling entrepreneur