Chronicles of the unnamed wanderer 8

I blinked my eyes to the opening in the hold and watched the man step in. He looked different, he was dressed different. He had something around his neck, a rope-like thing as if he was hung but the rope got cut before he could die. He had some sort of cloth wrapped around his legs and something covering his feet. I noticed all of these things even as he walked to where I laid, touched my chains and they fell off into dust. I stared at him, my hands gripping tight the bones that I had quickly gathered together.

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“Who are you?” I asked.

“The future.” He replied, stretching his hands to me. “It is time to go.” He added.

I heard the trapdoor hitch open and I knew that if I did not leave that moment I might never see the sun again. I grabbed his proffered hand and he lifted me up as if I weighed nothing more than a pot of water. As I stumbled after him towards the opening that stood like a gaping wound in the hold, I heard footsteps climbing down the ladder into the hold. For the life of me, I could not walk fast enough. My battles with the rats, the weakness of body made it difficult for me to do anything. The stranger on seeing that I was not fast enough grabbed me by the waist and lifted me up then he ran and jumped through the hole. At that same moment, I saw from the corner of my eyes, a snake like whip grab at the stranger. As we crossed to the other side, the stranger screamed and dropped me like a sack of grain on the floor then he fell and went still. I struggled back and turned to look at the opening. It was closing but I could still see the rage that framed Medusa’s beautiful face. The hole closed.

I collapsed to the floor and drank in air as if I had not breathed forever. I gasped and let my body just lie there. After some time, I realised that my saviour had not moved from his position. I turned to look at him and saw that he no longer breathed. The snake like whip thing must have dealt him a lethal blow. I began to say prayers for his soul then I remembered that I worshipped no one now. I had nothing to do with the gods. I struggled to a sitting position and surveyed the place I had been dragged to. I was in a big room. It was empty of anything. There was a single door which was closed but no other openings that I could see. The floor was cold and hard as if it was made of baked clay that had slept in the dew of harmattan.

As I studied the place, the door opened and some men entered. All of them had a stick like thing in their hands which they pointed at me. They were all dressed in the same manner like my very dead friend. I could sense the menace in the air and I wished I still had a spear or a knife even to defend myself. The men stopped some distance from me and I heard the footsteps of a single person. I looked up and I saw a woman walking towards me. She wore the same clothes as the men but she did not have the stick thing on her. She walked up to the dead man and squatted before him. She touched his face as sadness painted her face for a blink and then she sighed and turned to look at me. She stood up and placed her hands behind her back

“Wanderer, is it?” she asked.

I shrugged. I do not have a name neither do I care for one. If everybody I saw called me wanderer that was their business.

“What am I to do with you? You are here because he thought you had the answer to our problem yet he is dead and you are not. It would seem that everywhere you go you bring death with you and pain.” She said.

“If I was left alone to my life, lived in peace, I won’t have to be where I’m not wanted. I can therefore keep my curse to myself.” I replied.

"Curses, gods, seers, superstitious crap. He believed in those. I do not. I believe in facts, hard facts. You will have to prove me wrong." she replied, then she smiled and raised her hand. The men dropped the stick and stepped back.

“Come with me. You may not be used to this time. We need to get you cleaned up, fed and dressed in proper clothes then we will talk." She added.

I studied her face and wondered about trust and the futility of life without choices. I have seen things that would befuddle the minds of people but I am still alive. If I am to die today, it was all for the good. I was tired anyway. My thoughts fizzled away as I felt the knucklebones in my hand. At least I have access to the veil. I might just tear it asunder before I am done. Yes.

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©warpedpoetic, 2019.