That Night

The soldier led him from the building, naked, battered, joints in significant pain across the grounds of the military base through the darkness of light. Bayo followed him, his teenage body trembling in fear, slightly out of breath from exhaustion. The day's torturous regiments were finally over, his hear deeply prayed in silence for fear the soldier might hear it.

A brief flashback of how he got there crossed his mind as his bare feet walked on stones and bits of rubbish scattered here and there across the grounds. It was pitch black and they would not reach the next point for another 500 yards, and the soldier was moving at a quicker pace than Bayo was, who tried his best in vain on several occasions to avoid stepping on sharp stones and bits of jagged materials.

It had been around 11am, and and he had been at home in his room when the house-help came in and told him his mother was calling him to the living room. He got out of bed, wearing tartan shorts with and a navy blue T-shirt, and bounded into the living room, stopping shot as his heart froze in fear.

His mother sat on the main couch, and standing beside her was a 6 foot soldier in full green camouflage uniform, wearing a blue beret. He was clean shaven but looked about 40 years old; his face hardened probably from the years of militant training and operations in his post. His name was Kunle. He had the look of a man who had killed a few local thieves at gunpoint with not an ounce of guilt. Bayo had seen dead bodies of thieves before on his way to school, soldiers armed with rifles standing over them, spent shells on the ground around them.

His brain raced, the instinctive decisive moment of fight or flight overcoming his mind, and he bolted for the balcony of the second story flat they lived in, attempting to jump off. But Kunle grabbed him before he could jump off. His mother said to him that because he had been failing at his studies, the soldier was going to take him to the barrack and make him sign an undertaking that he would perform well at school. Bayo fearfully agreed to follow him, and left the house with the soldier. But as they entered the barracks, another solider closed the gate behind them, and as Bayo turned forward again, Kunle was walking towards him, cocking a rifle and barking orders for him to strip naked.

And so the day had begun. He had been whipped several times relentlessly for what seemed like decades, made to carry tyres above his head whilst crawling on his knees around a tree, made to roll on the ground from one end of a building to another, amongst other treacherous acts. His arms ached from the repeated hits from the batons, his elbows stiffened up by the minute from having lifted heavy tyres for ages. He had several whip marks all over his body from the lashes he had received.

The arrived at a small housing for a large generator. The night was particularly hot, and the beads of salty sweat trickling on his body stung the open wounds all over. Kunle opened the gate to the holding. "OYA get in!!!", he ordered. Bayo went in. There was nothing in there but a large generator, the size of a small car "Put your hands through the bars!" The soldier barked. As Bayo did so, standing naked, Kunle handcuffed his hands through the bars.

When he had done that,  Kunle grabbed Bayo's penis, and began to pull the pubic hairs out. The screams the left Bayo's mouth echoed through the night...

The Final Step

Hands clasped together, as Jordan sits at the edge of the bridge, overlooking the dual carriageway below. There is no traffic, and so the cars speed past below dangling feet, many breaking the speed limits for the next safety cameras are not for another half a mile ahead. The sunrays break through beautifully carved cotton clouds that take their precious time to glide across the orange yet somewhat peachy sun in the far distant to the north-east from where one sits; the view is glorious. A few high rises and office buildings litter the horizon, with a few trees reflecting the mercy of the concrete jungle, as if they were left to live as a reminder of mankind's earthly destructive might. If there was any doubt that something powerful had created the beauty of this world, they would be put into question. What a beautiful world. The temperature was warm, about 25 degrees centigrade, and a gentle cool breeze blew against the navy blue V-neck T-shirt, caressing the skin. Light blue Levis denim jeans were worn for the occasion, with brown moccasins on black socks.


His all had been given. The heart ripped open in sheer exasperation, shredding to bits the cold shell that encased the precious contents he had fought so hard to conceal. Every vulnerability had been poured out, like a bank of stubbornness burst open, the calls for mercy, the for lack of a better term 'weaknesses' that had been treasured at all costs had come flooding out. 'At all costs', the words repeated themselves in mind. At what cost? Everything had been lost in that world. So close to being someone of importance, someone to respect. Everything had come crashing down, dealt with repeated blows from various perspectives; trust, respect, consistency, priority and responsibility. They had all been broken down and stepped upon carelessly, without a moment to seriously consider the consequences. There had been cries of wisdom to heed, but all had become distant faint whispers, drowned by the bellowing of pride.


And now, a like a broken leaf floating away in the distance in the air, everything was lost and fallen away, gone with the wind. And one could do nothing but watch helplessly , as words fell on deaf ears and attempted deeds of restoration shunned by a decisive heart. There was nothing that could be done. There is nothing that can be done. There is nothing he can could ever be done. All that is left to do is accept. But beyond that, there was nothing left to give. The cup that once runneth over had been drained and now tilted over, empty. Nothing to offer a potential suitor, a vacant premise to greet a new applicant for the soul mate position. And here, o the edge of the bridge, nothing but the jaws of death lay ahead. Flashbacks of several debates on mortality and what happens with the soul when one dies flew through the mind. Would one be reincarnated? Would one fall into a dark sleep? Would one suddenly drop into a lake of fire, or levitate into the nebular to find out one's fate at the pearly gates?


The callouts from the officers and loved ones were like muted souls banging against the windows of the mind. There was no way they could reach through now, it was too late. Some may feel this was a cry for help, others attention being sought, but both were wrong. This was an extended moment to reflect on the numerous chances given, the terrible decisions made and the acceptance of the choice to be an example to the next generation; do not be like one. Do not abuse opportunities, waste chances, break hearts, hurt others. Treat others with care, treat life with care, treat yourself with care, that you may find happiness and joy in bringing happiness and joy. One last look to the sunset, it'a final journey for the day reflecting Jordan'a final journey in his life. What a sight to behold. A deep sigh, and an edge forward in preparation for the final step into nothingness. One was always superstitious, so put the right foot forward and let go. 'So this is what death feels like. Goodbye mot...'

The Vortex

Paice fell 500 feet into the side of the mountain. The impact was deafening, as his build crashed into the jagged rocks, momentarily buried in an explosion of dust rock particles and the loud boom announcing his fall from grace, proclaiming the strength of blow he was dealt.

"You will no longer deny me of my rightful place!", roared out above sending out shockwaves that made the trunks of every oak tree within the the vicinity shudder. As Paice crawled out from the crumbled ditch born of his impact, he could sense Rescent circling above.

Several lightning bolts struck out from the area Rescent levitated, and a dark cloud began to spread out, creating a gloomy atmosphere, as the sun light ceased to break through. Paice performed a mental scan of his physical status. He was fine, but that hefty punch dished out by Rescent was from a place of suppressed rage, a home of resentment that had been created in the abyss Paice has sent him to, sealed with reason.

The world had become dark, and in this place of pain, the spirits watched on from their various realms. Paice stood up, defiant, projecting resilience to pain, and shouted out to the skies "This is our fault! We need to take responsibility!" The silhouette of Rescent began to form behind the dark cloulds which had now taken over the skies "No!", he bellowed, revealing himself in a majestic stance mid-air, "this is all YOUR fault! You were weak, a push over. You stood by and did nothing, whilst these mortals walked all over us, demeaning our existence, residing us to nothing but weaklings. Had you shown our strength, no one would've messed with us!"

Paice bent his knees and lifted himself into the air. He reached where Rescent was, and as he approached he could see Rescent clench his left fist backwards, as if readying another strike. Rescent was justified in his feelings and Paice could see clearly where he was coming from, but he knew that if he was to let Rescent through the vortex, out of their realm, the ramifications would be disastrous.

Time had been a friend to Rescent, a catalyst to eventual escapade as he could no longer watch on as their world crumbled. And now he was out of the deep dark abyss his being had been relegated to, he had amassed enough strength to overpower Paice with relentless attacks into submission, set himself free through the vortex.

Paice knew that if he did not let Rescent go, everything would be torn from the inside. Their realm was already a dark place, and the sinister spirits could break through the clouds any moment. Paice let go...

Jordan's face turned to stone as the gravity of the betrayal began to sink within. The shock filled his heart with momentary fear as the realisation of his naivety released a sensation of disappointment. "How could he let this happen to him? Why did he give so much trust? How could he be such a FOOL?" The questions rampaged through his mind, tearing down ever softness he had in his thinking; every peaceful energy.

He felt bitter, that he had been used and emotionally abused. His peaceful nature had been compromised, and a new sensation spread through his mind like growing tentacles that grew from a place he had grown to live without, a place he was taught to avoid, a place of resentment...

Part 2: Close Encounter

“I built an imaginary kingdom in my mind, but I did not materialise it. I had a perception founded on emotions, but I did not cement its base on logic. I floated in the clouds of infatuation, but I did not ground my decisions on sense. I held you to the highest esteems in retrospect, found you to be above all else, placing you on a pedestal which crushed my spine as I lifted it above all that I was as a man. But I saw not the inevitability that came out of the eternity I envisioned, and so my world crumbled, and all that I never built crashed around me. And here I stumble, in a world of smiles, joy and over varied emotions born of love, I trudge on in the muds of an apocalyptic world of broken dreams, all of which pay atop a broken heart. But I must smile. I must raise this mask to my face, conceal the devastation behind my eyes and project a cool persona, one who is mellow and ready for the world. He who breaks down in silence and solitude must be protected from the sight of the world, for I foresee only shame and mockery. I must become this new outwardly strong persona, but bear the burden of a haunted spirit within. This is my punishment.”

Jordan sat in a bench in the central park square outside the restaurant. This was a Portuguese joint is a fairly upmarket area, in a line of other various eateries and fancy spots to eat. He had chosen this location for the date because he had been there once with a cousin of his. He had dressed smart casual for this date. He did not want to seem too eager, so worse a pair of black smart shoes, light blue jeans, a fitted T-shirt and a brown blazer. As usual he had made sure to get a top up shape up the day before. Jordan had a thing of always looking sharp and on point when going to any social outing, event or even meeting up with any woman. He had chosen to wear the scent of Prada for Men…it always seemed to have a positive effect on women.

 

The agreed time for the date was 8pm, and Jordan arrived 15 minutes early; 1. because he had a thing of punctuality and 2. because he was curious to see what outfit she would have on. He thought back to the night he met this woman, last Saturday. He and his best friend Joe had been getting into the swing of things in the club, the DJ was playing some excellent 90s jams, and the ratio of women to men were in favour of men. She had danced towards him and he joined her in the midst of the crowd. About five minutes into the dance he had asked what her name was. “Stacey!”, she half-shouted near his ear due to the loud music, arms round his shoulder as they swayed to the music. After a while they moved to the bar, where he ordered them a couple of drinks to rehydrate. He got to find out the basic information he needed; she was 30, had an administrative role for a housing association, no children and lived by herself. She had worn quite a sexy dress but safely on the classy side. They exchanged numbers as everyone left the club, had a long conversation on the Monday evening and her he was on a Thursday evening awaiting her arrival on their first date.

 

He noticed a lady some yards away walking towards the square. She work a knee length beige jacket, a pair of black heals and her hair was in a bun. ‘This must be her’, thought Jordan, getting himself ready and standing up. Sure enough, it was her and she approached him with a controlled smile, almost as if she did not want to give away that she was looking forward to her. He greeted her with a polite kiss on one cheek, holding her hand gently in a half shake. She looked him up and down admiringly, complimenting him “You look dashing” with a smile. “Why thank you lady, you’re looking quite glamourous yourself” he said, slightly putting on a posh English accent. She laughed, “Thanks. Shall we?” “Of course”, Jordan responded, leading the way. A waiter led them to a booth in a corner of the restaurant towards the back. The got comfortable and had a look at the menu. Stacey took off her jacket, revealing an elegant red dress with spaghetti straps, a gold necklace that matched her earrings and bangles. Jordan could smell her perfume, and it awakened his senses even more. It had a sweet scent, with a bit of strawberries to it. Stacey, on the other hand, spent the first few minutes stealing glances at Jordan’s set up. She could tell that he was a guy who worked out quite a bit; her eyes following the broadness of his shoulders, down to the V-neck top he had on, almost tantalising to the cut in the middle of his chest. She was mentally thankful that he had on a T-shirt and had taken his jacket off, and continued her visual trip down to his bulging biceps and manly forearms. ‘I bet he could carry my and flip me around in wondrous ways’, she thought, half biting her lower lips. She took a deep breath and sighed, catching a whiff of his fragrance, almost spiritually captured in the process by the invigorating scent. ‘This man smells GOOD!’, she thought to herself, almost shocked at a passing image of herself straddling him and inhaling the air all over his body. She quickly composed herself discreetly, asking him what he had decided. In a few minutes they had their meals in front of them and were tucking away.

 

Jordan and Stacey had a good half hour conversation, talking about the night at the club, the number of times either of them was approached; their jobs, basic family information etc. “So how long have you been single for?” Stacey asked. Jordan was not expecting the question, and was slightly taken aback, but tried to respond quickly without emotions. “Under six months”, he said, trying not to be vague. But Stacey was a very observant woman and picked up on that millisecond of hesitance before his response. “And how long were you two together for?”, she asked smiling politely, as if undeterred by how recent the breakup was so as not to throw Jordan off. “About 5 years”, he responded. She nodded in acknowledgement, looking away, then looking back at him “you’re still in love with her, aren’t you?” she asked, half assumingly. Jordan felt the surge of pressed-down emotions beginning to fight their way up his guts, surging. ‘No, I’m not letting this woman have ANY sign of my emotional weakness. I am the Terminator. I have no emotional connection towards ANY woman’, he tried to convince himself mentally. He tried to laugh it off and pull off his best ‘emotionally detached guy open for anything’ mask “Of course not! Ha ha!”. Stacey allowed her smiling glance to linger for a bit longer, looking at him dead in his eyes as if to catch him off guard. ‘Either he’s telling the truth, or he’s a REALLY good actor’, Stacey thought, ‘and he does not have a career in theatre, so I guess I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt’. She relaxed her shoulders, and Jordan laughed “You’re just trying to make sure you’re not dealing with a guy who’s got emotional baggage aren’t you?”, he asked.  Stacey reached for her purse, opening it up and taking out her lip gloss, applying it to her lips. “Well”, she responded “A lady needs to ensure she’s not dealing with the aftermath of any man’s relationships. Or should I say, any remnants of emotional attachment, be they anger, love, pain, sadness, longing.” Jordan acknowledged her points “True…true”. 

 

Jordan smiled, projected the image of a man who was just out on a date, a pleasant guy who had a bright future ahead of him, no worries in the world, looked after  himself. But deep inside, he was fighting a battle. He was reinforcing the restraint on his true emotions. He was not ready to seek for a relationship with anyone. He was a broken man, damaged emotionally within. His heart was currently located in the past tracks of another woman; trodden on, dragged underneath the wheels of her forward-moving mind-set. The pieces of his soul had been scattered around his world, and to Jordan, he was just a man moving about in life now trying to pick the pieces up. This lady, Stacey, was an intuitive individual, but he had just had a narrow escape with her; she had unknowingly walked past the house of emotional turmoil. She had seen the painting of a screaming man, who froze in time at her glance, but had not heard his cries for redemption, for peace and the longings of another. He could not let this happen again. He was going to need to work on maintaining a steady, unmoved mask of confidence and sternness. He might have to be cold within, in order to project that to the world. They must not know. Nobody must know.

Part 1: Jordan and Joe

It had been three months since the breakup. Three months of wading through the marshes of depression, the first few weeks wallowing in a pond of self pity and self-discouragement. He knew what he had to do, bit his spirit lacked the courage and will to physically get up and get back out there in the world. He was a broken man, but he also knew that he could not stay like this forever. Eventually he was going to have to get up and get out there, rebuild himself from the start up. It had taken one of his close friends to pull him out of his cave and get into the gym. He had exercised before, but in a very amateur way. He had made no gains in the physique department. But this time he had a gym buddy, and Joe was going to make sure he did not stay in that cave doing nothing. Jordan was feeling low, but being in this gym, around people making efforts to improve themsleves in some way, gave him a bit of motivation.

3pm. The session was great. They had worked on their chest muscles, doing some sets of bench press, push ups and used some of the free weights. Only fairly relatively light weights, but it was a start. Joe and Jordan walked up the street to the local chicken shop. As the walked in Joe grinned enthusiastically "Yes! Time to get that much needed protein!". Jordan laughed, concealing his still fragile inner energy. They sat down to eat. Joe started talking about the current music he had been listening to and the artists, playing some of them  on his mobile for Jordan to listen to. Neither of them had jobs, but Joe was a man who never gave up. He was always trying something, searching for what it was that he was destined to do. Jordan admired that about him. He also knew that Joe was trying to distract him from thinking about his ex-girlfriend or spending any time, energy or effort on her, but he played along because he knew it was for the best. It was over. Joe probably saw that too, but was sparing Jordan the torment of hearing that from him.

"So who are you seeing now?", Jordan asked. "Ah I met this hot, hot, HOT chick yesterday, she gave me her number. I might see her next week", Joe replied, sitting back in the chair, munching the last of his barbecued chicken wings. He continued "We should go out tonight, we need to get you some fresh ladies. You need to upgrade man. She's not the only hot chick in the world. I understand you feel that way now, but trust me this event that's happening tonight...if we go, I promise you, you will NOT be disappointed!". "Well, I'm not sure about that", Jordan laughed nervously, "She was a 10/10, so there would have to be flipping....super hot models there for me to even look". They both laughed out loud, then Joe said "Tell you what...if by the end of the night, you don't collect at least two numbers from HOT chicks that are at least an eight, I'll give you back your entry fee money for the club...deal?" "Deal.". They shook on it, laughing, then got up and left.

'So...this is how people get over a broken heart, chatting to women', Jordan thought. Other women right now were the last of his desires. The vast opportunities to engage with other women were not at the forefront of his mind. He just sat on the train on the way home, willing it to move faster so that he could once again retreat into his shell, out of the brightness of the world. He looked around the carriage he was in. Sitting across him was a tall African lady, fair in complexion. Her hair was in braids, neatly done that rested on her shoulders and back. She wore a black leather jacket, some sort of dark blue jeggings and a pair of casual brown shoes. Her skin looked flawless, thighs thick but in an athletic way, and she had a small set of soft looking lips. Her eyes told stories of assertiveness and a no nonsense characteristic gained through life experiences. She seemed quite engrossed in the book she was reading. The thought to approach her crossed his mind, but then he thought "I bet she's got someone anyways". Just as he was about to look away, she looks up catching him staring at her and smiles. He gives a quick smile back and looks down at his mobile phone, pretending to check a message. He could sense her still looking at him. He looks from the corner of his eyes, and sure enough she was still checking him out. 'Let's just do this', he mutters to himself saying to her "Hi".

"Hi", she responds. "What are you reading?", he asks. She responds, turning the book over to display the cover"Oh just some boring mystery novel". His stop was next, so he decides to go in for the kill. 'They're either going to say yes or no anyways', he'd always told himself to counter any doubts before approaching anyway..."I don't mean to be forward, but I'm getting off soon. Just wondered, have you got a boyfriend?" "Yes", she laughs, "Sorry". "That's okay, well take care", Jordan replies, whilst getting up to come off the train at his stop. She was pretty, polite, but somehow he felt completely discouraged by that. He felt maybe it was some sort of sign not to approach any woman now and deal with his heartbreak and develop himself. Maybe he shouldn't even go to this club tonight. Maybe Joe was wrong and he should just stay in and wallow alone. He gets in, slumps in  the bed and falls asleep.

He phone ringing wakes him up. It's Joe. He's called to let Jordan know he's on his way to pick him up.'Damn, I must've had a long sleep', thought Jordan. It was now 11pm. He quickly showers and gets dressed. He puts on a light blue pair of jeans, a pair of smart chelsea boots, a smart fitted blue shirt and a black blazer with beige elbow patches. Thankfully he had got his haircut in the morning before the workout, so he looked neat. A car horn outside let him know that Joe was outside waiting on him. Jordan pauses for a moment in from of the mirror, straightening his jacket. This is it. He was going to have to get out there on the market again....reluctantly. This was not what he wanted. He wanted her, but he was alone now. There was no other half. He felt like a building that had been partly destroyed within. The mirror told him that he was a handsome tall fellow that looked after himself well and had a good dress sense and style. The mirror told him that he looked like a very smooth cool dude. The mirror told him that the smile he pulled was sexy. But the eyes in his reflection told him that he was a prisoner of love for a memory of a woman.

Another honk jumped him out of his thoughts and he went outside to the car. On arrival to the club, as the drove past it, there was a long queue, majority of it being women, most scantily dressed. He had to admit to himself that despite his heartbreak over his ex, these women looked like they could definitely take his mind off her without a problem based on their looks. Joe parked the car, applied some expensive aftershave and then proceeded to head to the club. As they approach, the bass from inside shook the floor. Jordan could tell that he might not be forgetting this night anytime soon...

Prologue

"I sat there on the bench in the park. My head was down. I was drowned in my thoughts. My thoughts were swirling in the pool of guilt. The guilt overwhelmed my spirit. My spirit was overcast in the shadows of dark clouds of depression. How did I get to this point? What was I thinking? I thought I was in control. I thought fear would make her stay. I knew I was in love. No… wait. I ‘thought’ I was in love. Was I not in love? What about all the romance? I was so confused. Peering through this telescope of insight into the past, I see clearly that my mind was warped. My perception of the world was distorted by wayward, uneducated and foolish thinking.

Everything was broken. With a single act I had destroyed everything I had that was a potential for something good, despite it’s rocky foundation. I had allowed myself to tumble down the hole of infatuation, clouded in mind by discolored ideologies of love, or what I thought love was. Everything decision I made had its base on emotion. Every decision contributed to this moment, like an infected wound being fed upon by larvae and foul creatures. I had made efforts to communicate, to reach out, to plead and to beg. I had stripped myself willingly of all I was as a man right down to the bare veins of my heart. All proved to be futile. She was gone. That was it. As much as the remnants of any hope or optimism died off, I knew deep inside my broken heart that this was the end. All I was left with were my sins, guilt, regrets, shame and depression.

And as each second passed alone in my thoughts, somehow my eyes were opening slowly. I felt like a baby waking up into the world for the first time, as one who opens their eyes to a bright shining light in the morn; the cold, dark truth was blurry, but I was beginning to see it…and it hurt. I could not accept it at first. I did not want to. I was afraid to accept that was who I was, who I had become. But as each day came, and I awoke to my loneliness in the silence of my room, it started to become clear to me; I had lost this woman because of what I had done. That was the truth. If I could have ripped out my eyes with my bare hands so I did not have to see that truth again I would have. If I could have ended my life so I did not have to live that existence for another moment, I would have.

But I was not brave enough to end my own life, and as much as I was a fool, I still had the sense to acknowledge that the wiser decision would be to walk down that hard path to redemption. I was just afraid of making that first step as I did not see any light at the end of it. I was also conscious to constantly remind myself that if I am to do this, I had to do it for me, not for her. This was going to be the toughest turning point in my life…"