Wrath

I never believed in life after death. Those were the stories Mama Ante used to tell me, my grandmother. She always used to say that we would go to a place where there was no death but happiness and joy in amass. A pellucid fallacy of what she was made to believe, by her father and her father’s father.

Up until the day she passed away, I didn’t believe but standing right now and watching these two gates in front of me. I was at loss for words. Clearly Mama hadn't lied and yes, I was dead.

I used to think that once one died, they would cease to exist, they would become nothing. Before I was born, I was nothing and I always believed that would be the case after my demise.

While watching those gates, a man dressed in a white garment from head to toe began walking up to me. His feet were brazen and so were his hands. He wore a veil shielding his face from my view. I was already dead, what more did I need hidden from me?

But how did I die?

I couldn’t remember, nothing came to my mind. As at this time, the man was already standing in front of me. His presence was ethereal and felt intimidating and I looked down at my feet, giving into the submission that had popped its head.

“My lord.” My voice came out soft although I was a harsh toned person. Back in my village Mandela, the children never liked talking to me. I was always harsh towards them, and every time they saw me, I had a stern expression. They nicknamed me ango meaning “harsh person” but I never cared. With my gaze still casted on my toes, I continued with the voice. “What do you want with me?”

I had no idea on what to expect, I was all out for surprises. What could he say?

Was I going to suffer forever like grandma had always said?

“You shouldn’t be here yet.” His voice was deep, like the sound of rushing streams.

His statement had caught me off guard and I looked up to his veil, and then back to my toes again.

“But I am dead.”

“Yes, and no.”

My eyes widened at his words. What did he mean by yes and no?

“Go.” He suddenly said and before I could utter a word, everything went dark.

Then I woke up with a loud gasp, my throat was dry and my chest was heaving. I held my hand to my throat and coughed. Then I looked around the place that I was in. Everywhere was dark, I could see nothing except the stars in the sky. There was this big circle that blocked out almost everything and I squinted my eyes closer, and realized what and where I was—in a hole. Whoever had killed me had also thrown me down a hole to hide their tracks. I tried moving an inch but I felt a sharp pain in my stomach. I touched the spot and felt liquid, they were almost dried. My lips were hurting too, probably from the fall or the attack. I couldn’t tell. I tried to recall how I came to be here but nothing came up.

I had no clue who had tried to kill me or why they wanted me dead. All I knew is that I had been given a second chance. To find my killer and find out why.

My gaze slowly rose up to the bright stars twinkling and the moon shimmering with all its beauty. I was going to find out, that I knew. But how would I when I couldn’t even remember how I had died.

My name is Odette Avon and this is my story.