Before the war by Destiny Festus. A must read short story. KossyDerrickBlog KossyDerrickEntertainment

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Saturday, November 10, 2018

Before the war by Destiny Festus. A must read short story.

Before the war,
we would spend our evenings under the udala tree.
I would rest my head on your chest.
and you would tell stories of tales I already knew about.
Stories of brave men who rode on horseback and touched the moon.
Stories of men who found love in the eyes of other men.
Myths of lovers who drank poison to be with each other forever.
Each story came with a song.
But I wouldn't complain because the sound of your voice felt like magic to me.
Tales of War were nothing but fairy tales and fiction
And our only source of light at night was the dusty oil lamp.
But now conflagration assumes the role of the moon
Now that I think of it, I miss the pungent smell of kerosene
as the flame would cast its shade on the trees and reveal shadows of bodies and sounds.
Before the war,
we would hold hands and walk.
Our footstep was guided by the fear of the unknown.
We didn't have to lie on our belly for hours
avoiding stray bullet and bombs.
I never bothered to read the newspapers
and you discussed our future instead of the politics of men.
You hand never trembled and you didn't sing too fast.
I had no curfew and I didn't have to lie.
And then sadly the war came.
Stories of soldiers closing in on our village spread like oil fire.
Papa packed his small gods and his family.
We entered a ship, destination unknown.
I heard you were captured by the men of War.
They put a gun in your hand and told you to fight for their cause.
I heard you resisted and they sliced your mother's throat like onions.
I heard about our village that burnt.
I heard the screams of the ones that died
Could still be heard days after the great hail of fire had visited.
I heard about the King that ran.
When I close my eyes all I see is fire,  and bullet.
And when I open them all is see is blood.
And admist all this, all I can think about
Is the time before the war
When we spend quiet evenings under the udala tree.
When the flame of the oil lamp would cast shadows of bodies and sounds.
When I was yours and you were mine.

Obehi 📝
Hugs and eyes 👀
Before the war.

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