IN THE MIDST OF RELIGIOUS CONSPIRATORS (EPISODE 2)
looking straight into my eyes. With his
suspecting look, I knew he had known about my
internally ruminated undisclosed plan. I remained
standstill like a stagnant spring patiently waiting
for anopheles to breed in.
As I calculated his progression from an angle of
depression, my elevation angle yielded a positive
result on that cool dangerous day. He threw the
knife he was holding at me, with a view to
stopping my pulminary organ from pumping its
mandatory fluid. Although, it hit me, I pretended
as if he had succeeded in his plan to devour.
The uniformed man gazed at my restless body
afar. It was as if he had a telescopic lens
installed in his pair of eyes. I saw his face, but
pretended like a lifeless homosapien in a lonely
abattoir.
Some minutes later, I noticed that the pigs in
the cage where I was, the uniformed man,
alongside some army of trained men who trouped
out of strategic corners I couldnot figure out
started walking hastily like a running splash of
village stream. The frontal lobe of my cerebral
cortex started calculating which theorem I would
use to solve the statistical assuming mean and
the probability of my freedom.
” An emergency meeting is summoned. They are
going to celebrate the demise of an intruder in a
grand style” were the two sentences that ignited
my mind. I thought for a while inorder to build
confidence in achieving my cognitively stored
architectural plan. I stood up quickly like an
unexpected and sudden strike of thunderstorm in
a dry season. I climbed the fence, but, alas,
something else I didnot ever imagine ensued.
As the motion of my leg was about to be lifted
from the fence, a young man in ” Ankara-a
Yoruba attire ” appeared from nowhere like ‘
baba onirungbon yeuke’ in D.O. Fagunwa’s
‘Ogboju Ode ninu Igbo Eledumare.’ I was
shocked, but I summoned the last breath of
courage in me like a photojournaalist taking close
up shots of battalions of soldiers in the 2nd
World War.
Contrary to my pre-meditated thought, this young
man whose age I guessed was not up to mine
was a God-sent to me. He instructed me to jump
down the fence, which I confidently did. He held
my hand and showed me a footpath leading to
another community. I took the direction without
wasting the precious and limited time in my
confine.
At the end of the tunnel, I escaped out of the
boundary where I was held hostage for no clear
ratio decidendi. I then looked back at the deadly
den, thanked my Creator. While I paused a while,
I didn’t even know how I managed to utter this
statement out of my oral cavity: THESE ARE INDEED A TRAINED GROUP OF RELIGIOUS CONSPIRATORS IN THE ASSYLUM…!
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