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TALES OF THE ATLANTIC CHAPTER TWELVE
Pastor Frederick Alozie Ph.D was a man in his late forties, heavily built and in possession of an aura of cheerfulness, almost on a twenty-four hour basis. When he wasn’t lecturing at the Rivers State University of Science and Technology, he devoted most of his time to the work of God as a Parish Pastor, at the Redeemed Christian Church of God, Abraham’s Villa Parish.In the thirteen years of being a member and ‘worker’ at the Redeemed Christian Church of God, he’d never heard of anything concerning mermaids drinking blood or partying on the Atlantic Ocean. Sitting in his office that fateful Saturday morning, he watched Deaconess Esther Amadi narrate everything she had seen in her vision, with the prayer band leader seated beside her.When she was through, he knew the ‘battle’ in the spiritual realm was drawn, as far as he and all the ‘workers’ in the Parish were concerned.He wasn’t a man who loved to beat about the bush; rather he was one who believed in taking the bull by the horns
TALES OF THE ATLANTIC CHAPTER THIRTEEN
In the next four to five weeks that quickly went by, I began to learn a lot of amazing, frightening and horrible things about Marine Brothers Society, sometimes through the book that disappeared into my abdomen.There were ‘things’ which I came across, but I’d decided against mentioning all of them, and simply tagged them ‘wonderful.’ There were also things which I learnt from my fellow initiates, some of whom had been initiated years before and some who’d been initiated when I was still a crawling baby.One of these things was an event which happened in the first week of August. It all began when I walked out of an event centre after an art exhibition was concluded. A male caller informed me that my cargo from Europe had been cleared.Further, it was awaiting my collection at an automobile showroom, somewhere near Waterlines House. He also informed me that I had to get the key and particulars from a particular courier company, before I could get my cargo.For reasons best known to me
TALES OF THE ATLANTIC CHAPTER FOURTEEN
It was quarter past eight in the morning as I stood in the ‘normal bathroom’ brushing my teeth and preparing for the mock deliverance. I didn’t have a single idea of how it was going to be, though I wanted to hurry up and be done with it.“A very quiet place…body must be stable and motionless…” I was recalling what the half-naked lady had told me while reducing the air conditioner, before sitting cross-legged on the large bed. I was lucky that my neighbours had already gone to work before I started my ‘activity.’I didn’t even want to have anything to do with them because I felt everyone should keep to himself and herself, while God kept everybody. I checked the wall clock one more time before I started, and it showed forty minutes past eight.I got prepared, became motionless and for reasons only I myself could understand, focused my gaze on the portrait which showed the goddess arm in arm with her ‘twin sister’ in an orchard, posing for a painter. They were dressed in eighteenth cen
TALES OF THE ATLANTIC CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It was exactly two weeks since she had seen that vision on that fateful Thursday evening and the entire image of all she saw remained evergreen in her memory. With barely fifteen minutes left before the commencement of today’s Faith Clinic, she sat on one of the plastic chairs in the church and read her Bible.Although she prayed alone at home and sometimes in her office, she felt better and more relieved afterwards, whenever she prayed among her brethren or preferably with members of her prayer band. Suddenly, Deaconess Amadi felt a sudden chill, followed by thunder and lightning. She was surprised nobody else reacted to the sound. Maybe she was the only one who heard it. Closing her Bible, she decided to take a quick walk outside the church for fresh air when the chill enveloped her again.She quickened her steps until she was out of the gate, watching several members hurrying into the church.“You must be Deaconess Esther Amadi, the one who sees visions?”She turned sharply to her
TALES OF THE ATLANTIC CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN“I’m fed up with all these…my dear. I’m not going to that church again until this whole thing is over.” Chief Walter Amadi was surprised as he watched his wife pace the room looking frightened.“You heard your Pastor, everything is going to be fine, don’t scare yourself to death, it’s all a matter of time.”He soon gave her a bear hug which seemed to last forever, while her heartbeat soon returned to its normal rate, and thoughts of her vision and meeting with the goddess seemed distant from her mind that particular moment.It was the first meeting in October, as every initiate’s invisible double in the orb seemed to be rattled by the rage of the goddess of perfection. My invisible double believed he was the only ‘exception,’ due to the hatred I felt for her.My desire for revenge at that moment seemed to boil like volcanic larva with every passing second. Thirty minutes into the meeting, she let out a piercing scream, as her body exploded. Her body soon came back toge
TALES OF THE ATLANTIC CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Sitting down on a couch in the living room, I fondled the Marine Brothers Society ring which I couldn’t pull off, on the small finger on my right hand. I’d never thought in my wildest dreams that I’ll ever be a ‘murderer,’ now I had the blood of three people on my hands. I felt bad to my marrow, while I kept looking at my katana hanging on the wall.I picked up my mobile phone and tried to call Boma, but soon thought better of it, as I stood up and begun to pace the sitting room.Moments later, images from the dream I’d had in which my late father was begging me began to race into my mind, while I pondered on the consequences of my actions the day before. There were so many families who had members in occult societies, and for some, it felt like a ‘usual’ thing to them. The man who was an initiate was sometimes known to be one by his wife, children and family members.Though not all occult societies might have devastating consequences upon the wealth of its dead members, the family me
TALES OF THE ATLANTIC CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Senator Balarabe Shittu, who represented the Central Senatorial district in Jigawa State, was the definition of a rich, powerful and highly influential Nigerian politician and individual. Having joined Marine Brothers Society nineteen years ago, his wealth and power had risen to an unbelievable level. This led many people including his enemies to give him the nickname ‘Salaudeen’.He was fifty-five years of age, dark in complexion, handsome and jovial with a smooth Hausa accent. Senator Shittu stood at five feet ten and was always clad in expensive caftans, which were strictly imported from Pakistan, Qatar, Senegal and Dubai. He had three estates in the Nation’s capital – Abuja, Kano and Ogun State. Each estate comprised of five blocks of thirty flats and a two-bedroom flat, which was separate for his personal use.Money was never his problem, as he sometimes ordered branch managers of commercial banks to his palatial mansion in Abuja in bullion vans, whenever he felt like it. Having
TALES OF THE ATLANTIC CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Senator Balarabe Shittu, who represented the Central Senatorial district in Jigawa State, was the definition of a rich, powerful and highly influential Nigerian politician and individual. Having joined Marine Brothers Society nineteen years ago, his wealth and power had risen to an unbelievable level. This led many people including his enemies to give him the nickname ‘Salaudeen’.He was fifty-five years of age, dark in complexion, handsome and jovial with a smooth Hausa accent. Senator Shittu stood at five feet ten and was always clad in expensive caftans, which were strictly imported from Pakistan, Qatar, Senegal and Dubai. He had three estates in the Nation’s capital – Abuja, Kano and Ogun State. Each estate comprised of five blocks of thirty flats and a two-bedroom flat, which was separate for his personal use.Money was never his problem, as he sometimes ordered branch managers of commercial banks to his palatial mansion in Abuja in bullion vans, whenever he felt like it. Having
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