Must Read: Paradox Of Abel - Season 1 - Episode 24

7 years ago

Must Read: Paradox Of Abel - Season 1 - Episode 24

He could not believe what the lady said. He thought he must be hearing things. Was this girl trying to blame him for the arguments that ensued in the dinning room? He didn’t even utter any word there, except when he defended himself against Remi’s father’s declaration.

Daniel remembered that the arguments had resulted from the patriarch’s intention to change his will. Now this girl was blaming him for that? That’s preposterous! What a family indeecd!
“Did you know that your father threatened to beat me to death if we couldn’t find you?”
“Count yourself lucky,” she replied in a manner devoid of affection. She stood up, smoothed her blouse and added, “By dawn tomorrow, you should be gone.”
“Is that what you want?” Daniel was immensely disappointed. What afflicted him therewithal was a depression of sadness which could compare to no earthly s£nsat!on more properly defined than to the afterdream of a reveler upon opium.
“Yes, that is what I want,” her face suddenly softened, “There is something going on here that I don’t want you to be involved in. You need to go.”
“What is going on, Remi? Tell me, what is going on?” He knew it! There was something behind her cold countenance, something entirely deep-rooted than the claim of he being her boyfriend. It was only a girl wanting in maturity that would be that angry over the minor peccadillo. There was something seriously sinister.
Remi carried a proud face and looked at Daniel with deep concern. She shook her head and said, “Even if I told you, you wouldn’t understand.”
He stood up and held her hands, those fragile hands. He was afraid they might snap if he held them too tightly. He directly looked into her eyes. Those eyes were now very innocent, helpless, beautiful. Her radiant face shone under the glare of the light bulb. Her lips full and sensuous. It took a lot of Daniel’s self-control to stop himself from nipping at those generous lips.
In response to her comment, he said, “Try me.”
He was meeting her gaze head-on.
“It’s about the will.” She said.
“What will?”
“Grandfather’s will; the will he wants to change.”
“What is it about the will?”
She didn’t reply immediately. She studied Daniel’s face, as if she was trying to decide if she could trust him or not. Then she finally said, “He must not change that will.”
“I think he’s already made up his mind; I’m not sure anyone can stop him now. You have to deal with it. Do you know why he wants to change his will?”
What happened next rendered Daniel speechless. Instead of answering his question, Remi began to weep. Tears rushed to her eyes. Daniel was dumbfounded; he didn’t know what to say or do. What caused the sudden tears, he could not really unravel. But he knew it came from what he had said.
Before he could rise to find a tissue or handkerchief to offer her, Remi said, “I don’t belong here. I don’t.”
She wiped off her tears with the back of her hands, smiled ruefully as she cast an embarrassed look at Daniel, “I’m sorry about that. I know that everything will be alright.”
Although he was still confused, Daniel managed to reply, “I hope so. I hope whatever is bothering you is remedied.”
“It will, very soon,” she replied, “Sooner than you think.” Then she opened the door and went out.

Daniel maintained his erect position for almost five minutes as he continued staring fixedly at the corridor beyond the opened door. It seemed like he was staring at an apparition, but he was seeing nothing; not even the door or corridor. His mind was churning wildly. His thoughts as loose as a canine unleashed. He was frowning deeply; a frown within a frown.

It was not until Daniel walked towards the door to shut it that he realized how tired he was. He presumed that everyone must have retired to bed; except, perhaps, Remi. Someone who had just wept and declared a strange determination didn’t always retire to bed to sleep the agony off. She was likely to remain cuddled at a dark corner crying her head off, all because her grandfather had suddenly decided to alter his will.
Twelve thirty. The single muffled stroke of the grandfather’s clock boomed through the walls of the rooms. The night was strangely cold, amidst the strange breeze of air produced by the ceiling fan was the swirl of the night’s coldness coming through the open window. His legs were feeling curiously weak now; he’d been standing for too long.
Daniel tried to examine his emotions as he retired to his bed. He meticulously la!d a finger to his own pulse. If this was curiosity or concern, it was the kind of curiosity very different from the sorts with which he had been accustomed. A small hammer seemed to pound his temple, and his heart beat with heavy blows; but he could swear that this was not a symptom of malaria, and neither was it that of apprehension nor of curiosity.
The lights went off suddenly. The power had been interrupted. Moonlight flooded in from the window. The window itself overlooked the woods and beyond. In the faint gloom, this thicket appear to be very close to the window but Daniel knew very well that it wasn’t. it was still acres away. He could distinguish the tall timbers from the little oaks flourishing in the thickets. He moved across the room, searching, trying to find a candle or lamp. Then the lights came back on. He found himself standing before a mirror hanging from one wall. He stared at himself. He remembered someone telling him that if he looked in a mirror in the dark you could see the devil behind you. He tried to remember if he’d sensed a shadow behind him during that brief moment of gloom but he couldn’t come up with anything definite.

He saw a smooth face staring at him with rather tired eyes through the mirror and an obvious stubble around his jowl. Many times he had been complimented about his lips; they’d imagined those lips would have kissed a lot of ladies’, but Daniel knew better.

Seeing himself in the mirror, Daniel did not really take note of the pretty mouth he possessed. He saw more than mere aesthetic appreciation. His sleepy eyes hurt him, and he was conscious of a heart bumping against frail ribs. He was now struggling to keep at bay his eyes threatening to glue shut in slumber.
Staring with effort at his own reflection, Daniel missed his own quiet room in Port Harcourt, and at Kish Household. Rooms fitted with different impressive electronic gadgets and exquisite furniture. This night, he was in a strange room among strange people. He walked away from the mirror and flicked off the light-switch, but he refused to shut the window. The night was now pleasantly cool without being cold. He began to undress. Sporting only his singlet and a pair of shorts, Daniel sat on the edge of the bed. He was feeling sleepy already but he didn’t know why he was forcing himself awake. He was conscious of a great drowsiness, and of the cramps in his spine from the awkward position he sat; he had not changed his sitting position for quite some time now. Somewhere, crickets began to chirp and the breeze ran among the trees with long and distant swishings. Nearly nak*d now, he could feel the cool air ran a prickly finger up his back.

There came a babel of sibilant voices from somewhere in the compound, like some people discussing, but Daniel was not sure at what he was hearing. But he believed there wouldn’t be anyone outside the house so late, maybe his ears were deceiving him. He felt increasingly sleepy; he shook his head like a stubborn doll and lay on the bed.

He roused himself out of his slumberous state but he didn’t feel like he was thoroughly awake. There is a drowsy state, between sleeping and waking, when you dream more in five minutes with your eyes half-open and you’re half-conscious of everything that passed around, than you would in five nights with your eyes firmly closed, and your sense wraps in perfect consciousness. At such times, every human knows just enough of what his mind is doing; to form some glimmering conception of its mighty powers, its bounding from earth and spurning time and space, when freed from the restraints of its corporeal associate. Daniel believed that he did not close his eyes for a moment. Swollen dreams and images, like rascals taking a pistol shot at him and an old ugly man beating the holy grail out of him, boiled through a half-waking state; all the concerns, curiosities and agitations he’d tried to repress invaded his brain immediately. The bed felt lumpy, and once, he thought he’d cried out. But he must have slept, because, when he returned to complete wakefulness, a cold pallour, not quite dawn, was visible against the window sliding glass.

Now he lay wide awake, trembling a little. His eyes were heavy, and his bones ached from exhaustion. Even in this night, birds were moving and twittering among the tendrils with an insistent petulant chorus; Daniel could hear a faint but distinct whir of wings. But he also detected some fainter footfalls which he could have sworn had been a part of his dream.
In life at night, when most things were dead asleep, only nature stood watch. And perhaps birds would stir and crickets might snore, even dogs were sometimes lazy at keeping guards.
And then, clear and high, came a scream; a horrible high-pitch scream that died away in a choke or gurgle. Daniel stood up abruptly, paralyzed, the slumber instantly cleared off his consciousness. The scream had come not from within the house but from outside under the starry sky. It was quite close to him; it seemed like it had emanated from beneath his window.

He stood still for a vey short moment, trying to force rationality to his fuzzed brain, then he quickly fumbled for his nightgown. The slippers were harder to find in the unfamiliar darkness. He did not want to turn on the light; doing that would be the dumbest action in the critical moment. He found his footwears and crossed to the window, blinking out towards where he had heard the horrible footfalls; he knew he could not be the only person who’d heard that scream.

Daniel did not know whether he had leaned out of the window for too long. But the footfalls within the house continued to increase at rapid rates, like soldiers on patrol.

Then he suddenly saw a figure emerge from the bend. The figure was running. It ran past Daniel’s window at a speed he dare not guess, and Daniel was able to catch a clearer view of the form. It was a woman. He could make out the tallness of the shape, the thinness and gracefulness at which she moved even as she ran. He knew the figure – [i]it was Remi!