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Eaten Alive: My Disciples Want My Flesh / Chapter 4: Rules Weigh Heavy
Eaten Alive: My Disciples Want My Flesh

Eaten Alive: My Disciples Want My Flesh

Author: Tiffany Butler


Chapter 4: Rules Weigh Heavy

Sweat just dey rush my body. How rules go set trap wey person no fit escape?

E be like when elders for compound dey drag pikin for centre, dey shout question wey no get answer. My leg dey heavy, my mind dey race.

The Redeemer wey dey center na Yellow Brows Chief Priest wey disguise.

E dey smile, but im smile cold—like witch for village wey dey plan evil. I dey see through the holy cloth.

If I kneel, I break the rule wey say scripture-seeker no suppose kneel.

If I no kneel, I dey reject Senior Brother request.

Na real wahala. My mind dey count seconds, sweat dey soak my armpit, back, even my boxers. Everywhere cold.

I look up. The person for up like say e wan use rules finish me.

E dey look down from altar, eyes red, body dey shake, but e still dey smile. Saints dey clap, angels dey hover. E resemble those elders for new yam festival wey no dey ever smile true.

"Since you don see Redeemer, why you no bow?" the fake Redeemer talk.

Im voice deep, e get echo, like voice from old church microphone. The sound dey cut through my bone.

"Master, you go bow or you no go bow?" Monkey eye red like palm oil, full with wahala.

E swing staff small, dey threaten. The place dey hot suddenly, like fire dey roast yam for under my feet.

I just yarn, "God abeg," then I bow down, no hide am.

My knees touch ground, I close eyes, dey pray for forgiveness. I dey ready for anything.

Redeemer begin laugh, the whole hall dey shake. All the angels and saints dey happy.

Dem dey hail, dey clap, dey jump. My heart dey pound, I dey wait make thunder strike.

"Eh?" Next thing, e make sound like say e confuse.

Silence enter, the air heavy like when harmattan dey press night. I open small eye, dey look up.

I stand up, nothing touch me.

Surprise catch me. My hand dey my chest, I dey check if my spirit still dey with me.

The new rule say scripture-seeker no fit kneel, monkey dey force me kneel.

But another rule talk: 【You no be Tang Seng.】

I no be Tang Seng, so I no be scripture-seeker.

Wetin dem ban na for scripture-seeker—wetin concern me, wey I just be one ordinary person?

Na so one breeze of hope enter my mind, like when harmattan morning breeze dey blow.

I look up. Redeemer wey dey altar seat face dark, e roar, blood and tears dey fall from im eyes—fear catch everybody.

E shout, blood splash everywhere. The place smell of fear, saints dey scatter, angels dey vanish. Even the elders dey hide.

Monkey begin howl, drag iron staff from belle, dey look me like say e wan chop.

Bajie dey shiver, Sha Seng just dey stare ground. Monkey dey roar, im staff dey glow red.

My heart dey beat anyhow as I remember the last rule for this Journey to the West world.

I dey pray for mind, dey count all the rules, dey hope say I no go miss any.

【Hide who you really be; you no be Tang Seng.】

I stand up slow, put my palms together, smile: "Redeemer, this small monk na Father Kenechukwu, from Great Umuahia for East..."

I bow small, do sign of the cross the way we dey do for St. Paul's parish. I dey smile wella, dey package myself like person wey dey introduce for elders' council.

As I talk am, monkey eyes clear. E stand for my front, protect me from the fake Redeemer.

Na so I feel small relief, I fit breathe again. Monkey face don gentle, im tail relax. Bajie dey wipe sweat for face, Sha Seng just dey look ground, ram dey chew side.

I happy for mind. I use the rules make Senior Brother stand for my side.

The trick work, my heart dey praise God inside. I dey thank my mama for teaching me to always remember rules.

Redeemer roar, wave hand, golden offering bowl fly from im sleeve, everywhere dark.

The darkness deep, e be like eclipse, my body dey cold. Golden bowl big, e swallow us sharp sharp. My voice no fit come out.

Monkey roar, Bajie and Sha Seng use power, but nothing work.

Bajie dey turn to pig, Sha Seng dey chant, monkey dey shout incantation, but all na zero. The place tight, air no too dey.

Four of us—master and disciples—dem trap us for inside the golden offering bowl.

E be like prison for spirit world. My chest dey tight, I dey gasp for air. The place dey smell like old well, air dey choke.

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