They say Revenge is better served cold; In this piece, SOLADOYE-ADEWOLE TIWALADE puts the concept of revenge in a very lucid range. The revenge, enjoy.
He lay on his chest, hidden from sight by the shadow of the garden flowers. He heard the voices first, followed by the footsteps of the security guards. Searchlights flashed erratically in different directions, temporarily dissolving the darkness.
“You see, there is no one there. You’ve been drinking again” the voice was deep and gruff
“well, I thought I saw a figure” The second voice was filled with uncertainty “maybe it was just my imagination”
For a brief moment, a beam of light landed on him. He could feel his heart thump rapidly in his chest, and his fingers closed over the smooth wooden grip of the revolver. The light shifted away, and his body relaxed. Soon, he heard the footsteps disperse, taking along the voices of its owners.
He didn’t relinquish his hiding place immediately. He waited a long time. Waiting was not new to him. It was what he had been doing for the past twenty years. It was an art he had mastered.
After what seemed like ages, he rose to his feet, partially crouching. The moon was full, bathing the night in an eerie glow. His ears filled with the sounds of the night.
It was a cold night, just like that night. The night that started his journey of revenge.
Finally, his mission was to be accomplished tonight. Stealthily, he manoeuvred his way towards the main house again. This time, he took the window at the side of the house, climbing his way up the building. He worked as quietly as possible. It took close to 30 minutes before he could gain entrance. It was the window to the guest room. He smiled wryly to himself as he lifted himself over the window and dropped soundlessly onto the soft rug inside. He was a guest after all…. albeit, an unwelcome one.
As he moved quietly around the house, the event of that night, twenty years ago, flashed before his eyes, and he felt the rage that had been simmering for years bubble and spill over.
The memory of that night would forever haunt him. They had all sat in the dining room, a big, happy family, ready to eat dinner. Him, dad, mum, his elder brother and their little twin sisters.
“Dele, you didn’t wash your hand again” his mother had scolded “go into the kitchen right now and wash them clean”
He remembered his annoyance as his brother had stuck out his tongue and laughed at him. He hadn’t known that he would never hear his brother laugh again.
As he washed and splashed water all over the kitchen floor, he had heard the front door open, followed by the frightening voices. He remembered his fear as he tip toed to the dining room. He had just reached the doorway when he heard the first shot. He saw Kenny slump face first into her bowl of soup.
Taiwo had begun to scream then. She was the next to go. Her blood curdling scream still woke him up at night.
Standing there at the doorway, his eyes bulging in his head, he had watched them shot, one after the other. He had been unable to move, unable to speak, unable to help.
They had wanted a code, and his dad had not been ready to give it out, not even when his mother had pleaded with tears in her eyes.
“I have taken an oath of loyalty never to divulge the secret” he had said
They hadn’t spared a soul, except for the unseen little boy who stood motionless in the doorway.
That night, his dad was led out by the evil men. His body had been found in an open drainage days later, signs of torture visible on the decomposing corpse.
It was a visiting uncle who had found him the next day, still standing in the doorway, unable to speak, unable to move, his body half frozen from the cold harmattan air.
It had taken a whole year for him to recover his speech. Even then, he never could tell anyone what he had seen, but the face of the man had stuck to his little mind. The man with the gun. Today was the day to fulfil his own oath for revenge.
He found his way downstairs, and he saw them. They all sat at the dining table. The man, his wife, three little children.
He smiled the smile of a deranged man. It was just the perfect setting. He lifted the revolver
The man looked up and his face twisted in a mixture of shock and fear.
He squeezed the trigger.
Somewhere in the doorway, another little boy stood. Motionless, speechless, watching his whole family die before his eyes.
©SOLADOYE-ADEWOLE TIWALADE J