"Turn that off!" One of the men said. "And remove your clothes!"
within seconds I was unclad in my white pants, and no shoes; feeling every detail of the earth beneath my feet. One of the men gestured for me to forge ahead. And as slowly as possible, I approached the human menorah.
Partially clueless and scared, I craned not able to gaze the visage of the menorah.
"No one knows," the menorah's voice cuts in slowly as if giving thoughtful weight to every syllabus. "No one comes, except?"
"Willingly!" I hastily replied.
"The journey one shall take shall be red, white and black?"
"Mysterious!"
"What is greater?"
"The unknown."
I felt the weight of his hand on my shoulder, I didn't still crane.
"One shall be a strong branch during the storm, yet as obedient as the leaves to the wind." He circled something around my head then stood aside. "One shall forge ahead and relief one's self of scorpions."
I strode past him and continued on the narrow path. My hair erupting as the branches brushed my skin. I began to shiver. It wasn't the fact that I was bare-bodied, but the overflow of fear in my heart.
"The narrow road to hell is littered with green monsters that don't bite, but sing, that don't kill but give life." Four days ago, sitting across Charles in a restaurant, he walked me through a metaphorical map of my initiation. "Yet parasites are obscured in them. Remember," he sipped his Coke. "One's heart shall never fill with scorpions."
"Scorpions?"
"Fear...One shall—"
"Charles," I leaned forward and spoke in whispers. "I am not really appreciating the third-person view."
"I am only trying to prepare you justifiably so—"
"Justifiably?"
"Yea!" his voice tuned up. "So when you fuck up and your head is chopped off your neck I would be justified...and you can sit back and stop whispering you are drawing attention."
I looked around and everybody seemed to be minding his or her business. Charles took a deep breath and asked, "What is the first answer?"
"Willingly,"
"Second?"
"Mysterious,"
"Third?"
"You know, I am more interested in the questions and the who that would ask them."
"You know I can't tell you that, but trust me you would recognize."
I thought about it for a while. "Would I be asked to strip before or after—"
"I have told you this so many times!"
"No, just once."
I looked around I caught staring eyes. Probably because two virile men spoke of striping. "Now people are staring." I informed.
"We should leave." Charles said.
"What?"
He pushed his chair back and motioned up. "You are paying."
I dug into my pocket and retrieve some crumpled notes which I threw into the empty plate and tagged along.
Charles slid his hood on as we stepped out the door.
Honk of horns, roaring engines and different mix of voice filled the sunny day. Charles strode with an eerie calmness; he had both hands dug in his pocket, taking consecutive steps.
"Be the leaf? That's all you would tell me for the next step?" I asked anxiously, "So after the questions, I am meant to be the leaf?"
"One is to remember that one can only see—"
"The picture being painted," I completed. "I know...I know, but I need you to elaborate on the leaf thing."
"Remember, one's heart shall not fill with scorpions." Charles said, his voice barely audible over the day. For the next four minutes or so, we strode silently; absorbing the day's sun.
I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. For some arcane reason I wasn't scared, because I had strained my mind's eye to picture a narrow path littered with green monsters, that don't bite, but sing, that don't kill but give life. All I could picture was the incredible hulk duplicated and littered through a street.
"One," I said, "means singularity, independence."
"Yes, one shall not—" Charles stopped mid-sentence. He craned to me. "Bro, always remember that you came alone."
With the one-theory dangling in my head, I didn't slow my pace or look back for Nonso. All I could think of was 'being the leaf.'
The head of the torch exploded and my already quickened pulse momentary paused. I instinctively let go of the body and whisked away. What the...!
I craned and couldn't see past 1km of space. I began my breathing therapy; sucking in enough air and exhaling. I took the first step, feeling every detail of earth beneath my feet; my hands were stretched, as a blind man's to break protruding branches obscured in the night.
"Be the leaf," I said under my breath. I felt my molecules vibrate—as if they were being over-charged by energy. It was Fear.
I heard an eerie creak behind me. I stopped to make sure it wasn't my steps. I heard a branch creak again. I shut my eyes admitting someone was following me.
"Nonso!" I whispered audibly. A branch broke again, then like a predictor—finally gauging and locking its prey—I heard rather than saw something accelerate through the bushes.
I whirled and took off, not minding I was nature-blind. Leaves flew into my eyes and branches scuffed my body, then I tripped over something and fell. I felt flesh peel off my knee.
The fuss in the bushes had disappeared and my eyes had adjusted to the night; having been partially blinded from the little explosion. Now I could see some feet off the path narrowing into the night.
I sprang up then felt the painful itch at my knee. Apparently, fear overshadowed pain, so I ignored it and leaped forward.
I didn't run too long to have outrun whatever was chasing me. It must have stopped on its own accord.
I heard an outplaced rustle, I stopped dead in my tracks; my head craning to all directions. "shit!" I caused inwardly. I heard another rustle then the sudden outburst.
I ran, with partial advantage of my improved sight; I meandered the branches, ducking and jumping over stumps. The uproar had stopped but I didn't. I wanted to put as much distance between me and whatever was chasing me.
Be the leaf...as obedient as the leaves to the wind. It didn't make sense to me. Nothing made sense anymore. I stopped. Breathing heavily.
"The green monsters are the trees." I connected some obvious dots to see if something would intuitively come to my head. "That don't bite...they obviously don't bite..." I clenched my eyes trying to flicker ideas, but I heard the rustle again. I took off before anything. I ran as far and fast as I could.
There was also a voice emanating into my head, telling me that I would die here. it took so much will-power to parget a force field that sealed the voice in. This force field was fueled by the little hope in me. Hope, that all this was all the process.
I ran out of breath but I took one more step. Spider webs, leaves, and stuff stuck to my sweaty body. I was breathing heavily; my chest pumping like that of a boxer.
When I heard the last rustling, an answer intuitively came to me: the rustle is the singing of the trees. Probably originating from poetry. Or so I thought. Even if I was correct, I didn't know what to do next.
My breath had leveled, so I ploughed on; my knee itching with every tethering step. Be the leaf... I plucked a leaf and perused it, trying to feel some connection with the leaf. It didn't seem productive but I kept looking at it in the night—like I was going to see something I haven't seen in my twenty-nine years of consciousness.
It was said that the human mind works best when pressed, but I was tensed, scared and tired, yet nothing made sense; I couldn't connect the dots, although I knew they wanted me to.
I jolted as someone that has been zapped back to consciousness when I heard the sudden unheralded outburst. But I was too tired and weak to run. I tightened my muscles and stood still like a log of wood. Two men tore out of the bushes wielding machete. I shut my eyes at once. They ran into me and I fell. They continued like they didn't notice me.
I heard their footsteps and creak of branches fade into the night, then I heard it fade in. The footsteps lunged forward and the virile men came into sight. Their faces were obscured in the night, but their massive stature shaped vividly.
"One!" His powerful hand quack my chest and I fell. "Who are you?" He yelled.
"My name is—"
"Shut up!" The other man said. His voice was lighter than the other. "Stand up!" he said.
I sprang up. "Move!" he pointed backward with his machete.
I was about to say something when he swung the machete, I ducked and it chopped into the tree beside me.
Shit!
*
The story continues in the next part.