I don show!!!
This tale is a new twist on an old story. It was written a while back but it’s still a good read so I bring it to you.
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A TALE OF AMARA
Have you ever witnessed the death of love?
Amara had seen it at least three times. The first time, she was only 13. She was young, innocent and in the cusp of femininity.
As the last of four kids (younger than her youngest sibling by 5 years), Amara was always considered a baby. Many times, they would forget that she was not too young that she could not read the hidden meanings of their cryptic sentences, or think hard and long enough on their senior jokes that she could not figure it out.
While her elder siblings were all in university, her parents drew swords fashioned with words and they dueled ceaselessly. Things were said to her hearing, things that should never have been heard, at least not by one so young. When her parents divorced, she was the least surprised.
I mean, what 13 year old would be surprised when big words like, “Philanderer” and “Despicable” were tossed around like chocolate on Valentine’s day. Who would stay surprised when the dueling duo ended their fights not because they were done with the quarrel but because the fighters ran out of steam?
Well, Amara was not surprised, if anything, she was happy. No more fighting.
The second time, she was 17.
Her boyish hips and budding breasts grew and filled out. She grew tall and beautiful save for the random spots of acne, pimples or black heads on her face. While she was neither the prettiest nor tallest of the three girls in her family, her sisters resented her for some reason. Try as she might, she could not place a finger on it. She always assumed it was because she had chosen to stay and take care of her father when every other sibling went with their mother.
Yes, for four years she had lived a life of relative luxury, she ate whatever she liked and had the fanciest gadgets in town so long as she did well in her studies. Her father did what he could to make up for the lonlieness he was sure would be plaguing the only child of his who chose to stay with him. Staying with the man, however, was no bed of roses.
Their father was a strict task master whose gifts were as legendary as his wrath. Like any other strict ruler would, Amara was given a set of precepts to follow.
Of the many rules and laws, three stood unshakable:
– No staying out after 8:30 pm.
– No cigarettes or alcohol till after she was super old, like maybe 20.
– No lies.
These laws were simple enough to follow, and for the most part, she did. However when she was 16, she managed to break all three on the same day.
She had gone out with her friends and somehow, alcohol and cigarettes were shared and she’d gotten home late. He tried to be considerate and didn’t ask why she’d gotten home an hour after her curfew, he only wanted to know why she stank like a brewery. Her reply was that someone had poured some drinks on her.
Her father quietly draped her diminutive, swaying body over his thighs, dragged her shorts and panties down and shined her derriere but good, in simpler terms, he whooped her ass till they were hot enough to fry egg. Her sit-spots were so bruised she couldn’t sit properly for most of the weekend.
Even at 17, it wasn’t beyond him to lay her across his thighs and shine her heart shaped, bubble butt if she stepped out of line. Her sisters knew this, yet they insisted that she was “living the life”.
But I digress…
When she was 17, her brother (the eldest of the four), the one sibling she was close to, who loved her like the sun and the moon rose on her face (probably another reason why her sisters resented her), was engaged to be married.
Kosarachi or Kosi was a straight up pretty lady with a body that evoked primal passions in both men and women. Men wanted to bed her, and the women who did not want to bed her wanted to kill her.
And somehow, this beautiful woman was in love with her brother.
Her handsome brother who she had crushed on for the longest time. It did not matter that she was ten years younger than he was, or that they were brother and sister. He looked like a model and he was nice to her and always quick to come to her aid; be it from their father who had taken to touching her sacred places in less than sacred ways or from her resenting sisters who were always in a hurry to make her feel worthless. He was always in her corner, a knight of valour, ready to protect her innocence and his lady, Kosi, was always there right by his side. In her eyes, no two people were more in love or suited for each other than Kosi & Kene.
So you can imagine her surprise when two months away from their wedding, they separated.
“What happened?” she had asked her almost sister-in-law over the phone.
“Ask your brother!”
“But… you love him”
“Not anymore”, came her cold reply.
Her sisters looked at her like a blood sucking succubus when she had turned to them for answers. Not that their attitude surprised her in any way. She sought her answers from the horse’s mouth instead.
He just lay on the couch in his apartment, a half empty bottle of Johnny Walker’s “Blue Label” was clutched in his hand as tears streamed down his face. He looked small and defeated and broken and dejected. Her heart bled for him so she ran to his side and threw her arms around his torso and held onto him. She had no words to console him by so she just stayed with him in his moment of need. He cried some more and poured them both a tot of his Blue Label.
“What happened, Kene?” she had asked when he looked like he was well enough to talk again. He only smiled, kissed her on the forehead and said something that she would always remember.
“Some things are best left unsaid”.
So she kept her mouth shut and stayed by his side till he could take care of himself.
* * *
The next time she witnessed this death of love, it left her near heartless…
To be continued.