May Contest

5 Is The Number Of Death

Ma was older than she should.
Pa was younger than he should.
It reminded me of Aunty Asante shriveled dying body.
One year later Ma could not walk anymore.
Pa was doing his best to help her, but still everything felt wrong and unconvincing, like she was dying.
When Pa left for work, I rummaged through his drawers, I found Ma’s portrait bound with red fetish cloth; she looked sick and old.
I took the portrait to the kitchen and stabbed it with a knife.
Its been two days now, Pa has not returned yet.
Ma is strong and healthy.



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