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TALES OF THE ATLANTIC CHAPTER NINETEEN
December 1 2012I’d known from time immemorial that an idle mind was always the devil’s workshop. On this fateful evening, I wouldn’t describe what I‘m going to narrate next as due to idleness, but rather satisfying my curiousity. I remembered my dear mother dying slowly and painfully, after she’d been (‘wrongfully’) delivered by her late husband. I’d witnessed ‘proper’ deliverances carried out and their resultant effects which were usually immediate, if such a victim wasn’t a strong Christian.But today I was going to see what happened to an initiate whose ‘time was up.’ My invisible double arrived at the Senator’s palatial residence at seven in the morning, while he was awake, healthy and with his two lawyers cross-checking something that resembled his will. My invisible double almost laughed, because the document was going to be useless after his immediate family experienced what I and Boma just experienced.My invisible double walked out through the wall, with the intention of com
TALES OF THE ATLANTIC CHAPTER TWENTY
2013Two weeks into the New Year, I began to understand the kind of person an Marine Brothers Society initiate became – heartless. It was as if upon joining Marine Brothers Society, one’s heart turned into stone and immediately lacked human feelings and sympathy. This was why when I recently drove through my late mother’s church, I knew the ‘battle’ was gradually intensifying. Apart from that, I had to get all the spiritual power and protection I could muster.The look on the face of Timothy’s invisible double, the day he delivered the pretty lady near Casablanca, was one devoid of pity as he proceeded to deliver the poor lady who had no idea of what was going to befall her. The Timothy I’d known in the past, though a chronic womaniser would never hurt a fly, and always abhorred every form of violence.Somehow, I knew the presence of a Holy Bible inside my ‘Marine Brothers Society mansion’ was totally prohibited as an Marine Brothers Society initiate. I vividly remembered the painting
TALES OF THE ATLANTIC CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
It was the third Saturday after St Valentine’s Day in the church Pastor Alozie presided over. The men and women had been on their feet for almost three hours and didn’t look as if they were going to take a break or conclude any time soon. It was almost six in the evening, as Samuel Adefarasin and eight other members prayed with one prayer point after the other.The battle had begun as far as he and the others were concerned. There was no going back, and the ‘enemy’ would get what was coming. While they concluded the last payer by six, a young female usher in her mid-thirties came to inform them that their attention was needed by Pastor Alozie and his Assistant in the office. Some minutes later, they filed into the Pastor’s office, as I quietly sat on my bed.At the same time, my invisible double picked up my Marine Brothers Society katana and slinked out of my compound. He was going to make sure that ‘strange lady’ was taken care of once and for all.My invisible double walked briskly
TALES OF THE ATLANTIC CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Pastor Alozie seemed to be in another world that Sunday morning, while he sat in his sitting room. He’d called his Assistant, Pastor Richard Ebube on how to go about the day’s service in the church with the other ministers. One look at her husband that morning as she entered the SUV, she knew what he was going to get involved in: spiritual warfare.She maintained a bland face as she journeyed to church, trying to imagine the particular member of the Parish had brought ‘trouble’ upon her dear husband again. When he was sure the SUV was on its way to its destination, Pastor Alozie sat in his plush sitting room, locked the main door and began to read his Bible.He knew she was going to come. There was no doubt about that, because the Holy Spirit never lied to him. The air conditioner in the sitting room was working at full blast, as the sweat drops formed on his face. It was seven on the dot when it all began.The next minute, he was no longer in his sitting room, but in another ‘world.’
TALES OF THE ATLANTIC CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Pastor Evelyn Anyaso got up with a start. The fear had left her, but she knew the perspiration was as a result of it and not her black camisole. She walked out of the ‘special bathroom’ and shut it gently, before hurrying to the main sitting room. Though she bore the title of ‘Pastor,’ it didn’t stop her from ‘enjoying’ herself. At that moment, she began to think of all the fourteen young unmarried men she’d delivered since she’d joined Marine Brothers Society. At 9am the next day, her sixty year old housecleaner – Madam Olivia Nwachukwu would arrive for her rounds of cleaning, dusting and arranging the interior of the large building. She tried to hurry up with her drinking, so that no member of Throne of Grace Ministries would hear any scandal about their General Overseer, seen drinking alcohol. There was a special refrigerator, designed like a wooden cabinet and affixed to the wall. The refrigerator, which had a beautiful portrait of Mary Slessor on its door, was stocked with an ar
TALES OF THE ATLANTIC CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Although they both knew it couldn’t be seen by a mortal, they both admired the beast. Its reddish skin glittered on the waters as it patiently waited to transport its owner back to her ‘territory.’ Seductra seemed to be conversing with the seven headed dragon, as her utmost perfection came forward in a tight, purple, ankle-length gown. She was adorned in gold earrings, bangles, necklace and a feminine Rolex wristwatch. Seductra wondered why her ‘sister’ went through the trouble of getting the seven headed dragon, when hers had only one head. Much ado about perfection, she thought. The seven headed dragon which made playful sounds while Seductra stood beside it, was the size of an adult sperm whale. Seductra was only glad the Chinese Naval fleet had left the area, because there was every tendency for the seven headed beast to feel frightened by their presence and attack them. She knew that as they stood in the opposite direction of the Chinese fleet in the distance, if the latter were
TALES OF THE ATLANTIC CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Chelsea Umosen had barely left the suite when Timothy froze near the window, where he stood. It was the first day of March and it’d found him in Le Meridien Ogeyi Place, having sex with a marketing staff from Boma’s bank. Although he never liked the bank, one look at Chelsea’s fair face that fateful afternoon definitely forced him to. She’d left the hotel, happy she’d succeeded in getting another customer for her bank, who would deposit ten million Naira before the next week ran out. Last night, inside the hotel restaurant, she’d even collected his passport photographs and four specimens of his signature. Though she’d left him in a happy mood this morning, his present mood was frightful as it’d always been whenever he saw the goddess of perfection. He’d chosen this particular hotel to ‘service’ the ‘bank girl’ because he didn’t want the ugly incident that happened that fateful Sunday to repeat itself. It felt worse since none of the initiates’ invisible doubles could ever muster the
TALES OF THE ATLANTIC CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
While my throat was been pressed by the strange lady, Timothy walked back and forth in front of his television, with a glass of golden liquid in his right hand. He paid no attention to what the man and woman said on the television concerning Islamic extremists.He only watched CNN in order to be updated about international business activities such as shipping. The moment he stared at the bottle of Moet & Chandon on the centre table, he knew shipping and business were presently unimportant. He downed the third glass of the golden stuff while thinking about the assignment he’d been given by the goddess.“What the hell has he done now?” He muttered to no one in particular. Ten minutes ago, he was surprised when he saw the portrait of the goddess in his bedroom. She was dressed like a geisha, crying, with twenty-one dead geishas, scattered around the room in which she stood.“Watching Tonye’s not the problem…the problem is the reason for watching him.”He began to unscrew the lid
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