“The evil men do lives after them”
14th July 2000
The sun was slowly and gracefully setting, casting its shadow from the western horizon. But, as if prompted to counter the beautiful soft radiation of the sun, a humid air that clung on the immediate atmosphere tried to make the scenery appear slightly morbid. The surrounding bush did the least, to add a little glamour to the already soured atmosphere around the University of Calabar.
The sight of the footpath ahead made the hairs on his body to stand. His nerves were pricked as he made his way through it. The footpath was a shortcut linking the major road and the hostel he was heading to. It continued further to the Qua Ibo River behind the hostel.
The heavy forest that surrounded the river extended on both sides of the footpath, like a medieval castle fortress. As he turned from the road into the footpath, a strange feeling instantly came over him. He felt as if something was pulling him back. One part of him urged him to go back, while the other nudged him on. Surprisingly, it was the later that he obeyed, as he was not in the mood to pay serious attention to any distracting inner voice.
But, the premonition refused to vanish. Nothing he did to reassure himself could help him to overcome that feeling. He abhorred using the footpath, as it was always lonely, making it a perfect place for an ambush especially; in a notorious institution like his. Though sometimes, taking the footpath becomes necessary, just as in the instant case. But whenever such occasion arises, he usually takes a dash on the ‘less- than-two hundred meter’ footpath.
The number of times he had used the path could be counted. What frightens him most about the path was not the thick forest around it, but its meandering nature, which impedes visibility. This, he was always conscious of, and each time he went through that path his heartbeat increased.
The strange feelings he had earlier experienced returned with intensity. It was no longer imaginary but, real. In the past three years since he had been using this path, he had never experienced anything near what he was presently experiencing.
The feeling of danger hung over his head, like the sword of Damocles. His instinct told him that he was being watched. He was the more irritated that he could not identify the exact spot from where he was being watched. He felt the weapon on his waist, and was momentarily pleased.
Suddenly, he realized that the gun he had was not fully loaded; fear gripped him, and he quickened his steps.
The hostel was about one hundred and twenty meters away. Whenever he decided to go through this path he always had on him a fully loaded gun. But, today of all days, he had foolishly come out with an almost empty .380 Beretta pistol – with only three bullets left.
He cursed himself for being so stupid and careless!
Buy Now
No comments:
Post a Comment