MY REALITY 4A: Beyond The Grave

My name is Gwamezioku. A pungent stench knocked my senses back to reality or rather say back to consciousness but I could not move because of the heap upon me. I could barely see the sun and my voice was gone, screaming was not an option. These bags of what I don’t know are layers high upon me and since I could not call for help, my mind went wild with questions of how I got here.
Is this hell? Am I dead? Where am I? What are these bags? Am I in a coffin? What is this terrible smell?

Crying was not going to answer to these questions neither will it alleviate the pain? Struggling was not possible either; I was tucked in tight and fixed, with my back to the ground. I could not see my clothes as I could not raise my head but I knew they were wet, they were soaked wet but with thick liquid and not necessarily water. It was irritating to my skin but that seemed the least of my problem in this grave.

Grave? Hmm! Am I in a grave? If I am in a grave, does it mean I am dead? How? When? Oooh!!! So this is how it feels to be dead. I could not move any part of my body; drowning gradually from the stink of my own putrefying flesh. As the awe of hopelessness engulfed my entire being and my motionless body remain crushed under these bags, I couldn’t help but eventually sob helplessly, the tears flowed down my chicks as I remembered the regrets, the mistakes, the hurts, the anger, the bitterness and the pains my life has journeyed through. I remembered everything like as if 42 years was just a moment.

I remembered Charles. Exuberance is a virtue that sometimes brought me in collision with others who saw life from different view. Whilst heading home from the City Hall, venue of our rehearsals on Wednesday, I received a text from the Director that the programme was set for Saturday but Friday was for studying. Amara had brought the costumes to the rehearsal on Monday which some complained of loose stitches and oversize/undersize issues and was to return them on Friday for final try-outs. The text meant that the costumes will be worn in any condition they come on Saturday and I naturally assumed Charles knew about it because he was the Assistant Director and so I didn’t call him to inform him of the Director’s text.


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