Readers Discretion Is Advised
“Kreee ke ke ke ke like” the door creaked, dancing to the rhythm of the harmattan wind. Tinuade would have closed it to put an end to the disturbing noise if her head was clear. But as she stood by the zinc washing the plates they used the previous night, the creaking door was the least of her worries.
On Sunday when she watched her husband stood on pulpit performing miracles, she had thought it was the glory of God shining upon him. Everyone knew Ayodele Steven to be a true man of God, even numerous highly anointed saints they had been inviting for revival confirmed it. If he’s indeed a true believer, how did his prayer room turned into shrine overnight?
She had known Steven to be passionate for God, right from their NYSC days he had led flocks of believers and everyone attested to the fact that he would make a great man of God someday. It was his dream of building a strong ministry that endeared her heart to him and she stayed right by his side till his dream came to full manifestation.
She was aware of how their ministry had grown from a five men congregation to a mega-parish housing thousands of congregation every Sunday. The question she was unable to find the answer to was how the blood-soaked figurine she had seen fit into the whole picture. Thank God she was brave enough to douse it with fuel and set the filthy thing ablaze. When Steven comes, he would explain to her what the idol was doing in the house of a renowned Pastor.
“Gbam! Gbam! Gbam! Gbam!” Tinuade was jolted out of her thought by distance noise. She turned to see if it was the silly kitchen door again but it wasn’t, the kitchen door was still. Knowing she was alone in the house, she found it had to fathom what might be causing the noise. The picture of the figurine she had burned appeared in her mind and planted the seed of fear in her. She recited a Bible verse to cleanse her mind of the evil as she proceeded out of the kitchen.
The sitting room was exactly as she had left it after cleaning earlier that morning. Nothing was out of its place but her ear was still picking the disturbing sound. From there she headed to the guest room and found nothing. The realization that the sound was coming from upstairs reminded her of the baby she left sleeping.
Her footsteps were swift as she raced through the stairs heading towards her son’s room. At the instant pull, the oak door gave way. What Tinuade witnessed in her son’s room sent her reeling in shock. The figurine she thought she burnt was standing there staring at her and her baby’s cradle was rocking left and right without any visible hand controlling it.
The three months old boy was smiling and giggling, obviously enjoying his cradle being rocked. Tinuade rushed forward to save her son from whatever spirit toying with the cradle but she was swept off her feet and flung against the wall by a force more powerful than any she had ever seen.
Pastor Steven felt something was wrong the moment he sat down for the early meeting with other ministers of God but it wasn’t until he realized the key to his prayer room was missing that he knew he had been sleeping under a burning roof. The Pastors were surprised when he asked to be excused and raced out of the conference hall.
As he drove home at top speed, he kept praying no one had seen the key and opened the secret room. A few minutes later, he nosed the car through the street and pulled to a halt opposite the gate of his house. He jumped down, opened the gate and rushed inside. Pastor Steven was stunned when he saw the remains of the figurine responsible for the success of his ministry. He anxiously pushed the door to the main house but was surprised that it was closed. He knew his wife had nowhere to go at such early hours, so he started banging the door.
Tinuade woke up with a slight headache, for a few seconds she forgot where she was until she saw the cradle rocking. She tried to reach for her child again but the cradle levitated high and began whirling in the air. An echo of mocking laughter broke through the room as Tinuade and her child screamed for mercy.
After countless banging, the door finally gave way. The first thing Steven heard the moment he got in was his wife’s scream so he rushed upstairs to check on her. Immediately he entered the room, the cradle came down quietly and the laughing ceased. He stared at his wife for an explanation but instead of explaining, she rushed forward to get her son out of the cradle.
She was only a few steps away from the cradle when a strange fire broke out separating her from the baby. She would have gone through the fire if her husband hadn’t held her down. When the fire was eventually extinguished, their beautiful baby was reduced to nothing more than a churned little skeleton.
By Oluwafunminiyi Komolafe
Picture source: Randafricanart