Donigspain - S01 E28

Story 3 years ago

Donigspain - S01 E28

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 28

Like I said earlier, this was my

first time of having to host a girl

overnight. Deep down in my

heart I was enveloped in so

many fears. Fears which stem up

from countless religious sermons

about hell as well as uncountable

midnight mother-son lantern

talks on the dangers associated

with mingling with girls.

Outwardly I was wearing a calm

disposition while inwardly I was

as restless as Abubakar Shekau.

“What if the trumpet sounds

now? What if Jesus Christ

appears now? What if this girl

dies under my roof this night?” I

was seriously battling with ‘what

ifs.’ With these thoughts running

through my head I made to

sleep. I was still in a state of

trance , boundary between sleep

and consciousness, when I was

awoken by what I conceived to

be the voice of angels shouting

and singing “halelujah!

halelujah!! halelujah!!! Thank you

Jesus for saving me! Am saved!!

Halelujah!!!…” I listened more

carefully in order to cancel out

the notion that it was indeed the

voice of angels but the voice

persisted, drawing more closer,

shouting in the highest of pitch I

had ever heard and in the dead

silence of the night thus giving

me more reason to believe the

end has come.

“Chei, my own don be o… Na so I

end up for hell-fire? Just dis first

day… Woman don kill me o…” I

thought as I paced around the

room panting. “Maybe God go

give me smaller punishment as I

never do anything with her. I still

be virgin na,” I tried consoling

myself. Next thing that came to

my mind was to pick my phone

and dial my mum’s number. If

she ever answers it then that

means the end is yet to come but

if I met cries on how she had

disappeared that night then am

as good as finished. If anyone

should go to heaven, judging by

their good heart/deeds and

religious adherence, my mum

would definitely be the one;

that’s my verdict. All these were

happening in split seconds.

By now I could feel my heart

pound against my chest. The

pounding of my heart was now

more deafening than that of a

locomotive train. Why should it

not pound so? What could be

worse than one spending one’s

eternity in a furnace of fire and

brimstone with demonic minions

on standby as special torture

agents. I was brought back to

reality when I heard ‘gboom

gboom gboom’ on our gate. The

knock on the gate continued

while the person at the gate

hummed a song. I listened more

carefully and that was when I

identified the owner of the voice.

“So na Mama Emeka wan make I

die of high blood pressure?” I

said to myself in relief as I

sluggishly walked out of my

room in order to open the gate

for her.

“Aah, thank you very much my

son… I meela nke ôma… ndeewo,”

Mama Emeka greeted me as she

walked into the compound with

her Bible which suggests she

was returning from a tarry night

church programme. It’s a well

known fact that Mama Emeka’s

voice can win the highest award

in an Opera competition

especially if the song happens to

be of Reverend Father Mbaka’s

album.

“Hmmm, thank God say I still get

chance to repent.”

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