It was an atmosphere, buttered with slices of thick agony. The fading sun slowly crawled into the night relinquishing its fiery prowess to the brightness of the crimson moon.
Mama managed to light the candle,magically wishing she could light up her faith too; praying to God to heal her bleeding heart.
“ Akolo is bringing the cure ” she muttered tearfully, wetting Ashea’s face, who laid almost lifeless on the patched floor.
Papa sat wistfully under the tall iroko tree,greeted by smell of loss. And suddenly there was a loud scream, tearing into the silence of the night.