As he closed the door to his room and turned his back to it, two eyes opened on the wooden frame of the fine masterpiece. One black and one a pigment that was thicker than blood. It blinked once slowly and then after a while it blinked again sharply.
Whose eyes are those?
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I poured myself a beverage and took some biscuit from the fridge to go along with it, I needed something light, and my first thought was to go for fruits, but I'll just stick with the beverage and biscuit.
My eye lid was struck with the spell called sleep as heavy as it seemed but my will to stay awake was the only thing keeping it open. I could still see it, the slender figure with a hat that covered half of what was supposed to be it face but it eyes were visible and installed terror with it looks.
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It was slanted yet straight which made it appearance seem intriguing, the right eye was charcoal black, almost pitch and it left eye was a thicker shade of red beyond anything I had ever seen before. It held a rake on it left hand while it stood unmoving staring at me bathed under the troubled rain that fell while I struggled to hold my eyes open for a second. But my eyes remained blur still.
This was the dream I had.
There was something about the figure that instilled a large amount of fear in me, I don't know what it was, but it accessed me like it was studying my very being inside out. I was terrified my limbs too numb to move.
I was left immobile. And afraid. It made it way towards me, slowly and it steps carrying a charisma of it own. It was confident like a tiger who saw a helpless beast fall into it trap with no room for escape. I was the prey.
It was the predator.
It eyes brightened with a sinister smile while it grips on the rake became tighter, it knew I was weak, and it banked on it. Before I could get a hold of myself, my lower abdomen was torn into six places, the figure standing before me.
I was stabbed with a rake!
Joy danced around it now shining eyes as it sheen made me weaker, the thought of death flooded my head like an erosion, and it put my mind in a frenzy for survival. All I could think of was how I could survive what had befallen me while my body was being lifted up in the sky, my gut where the rake had pierced began to twist alongside the moment of the figures hand.
It wanted to rip me apart, separating my upper body from the lower.
That's when I found it, the log of wood in this turbulent sea of despair, the thought of my wife and our four-month unborn foetus.
I woke up.
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I stood up from the couch I sat on and moved to the balcony, it was cold and welcoming especially when it wrapped it icy cold fingers around my body. I liked it.
The night sky was bare you could count the stars clearly. It reminded me of my name, Lai Irawo, it was Yoruba for 'without stars'.
It was a weird name I know. But my mum who was from Nigeria decided to name me after what the skies looked like on the day I was born, I don't know if it was for poetic reasons or she just named me according to situation, the name was what I was given.
Younger it proved a challenge as it encouraged bullies and critics but as time passed, I hugged the name harder, it gave me this sense of uniqueness and comfort, I think.
I returned to the sitting room to where I sat lost in thoughts. It felt odd, like something was missing. I could feel it I just couldn't place my fingers around it. I sat nevertheless, leaning into the weirdly warm couch. When I reached out, it hit me.
The beverage and the biscuit were gone!