– By Nwachukwu Obinna
“Omo nna!” I heard my sister, Joanne’s voice from the balcony. I was in the sitting room watching Scooby Doo, my favorite cartoon. Mum was in the kitchen, cooking, and Dad was in the toilet. Joanne’s second yell pulled me away from the couch where I sat in the living room in a flash and out to the balcony. I chuckled as I watched him pass by.
“Isi ara!” I exclaimed, unable to restrain myself. He let out an austere countenance as he looked up, shifting his gaze over to our direction. He paused for a moment, briefly looking at us with a stern expression and later returned his movement. I laughed out loudly as I watched him move, counting his steps as he walked. I was ten years old, and Joanne was thirteen.
Our ridicule then transformed into a habit. We would stand on our balcony daily, waiting for him to pass by. He usually does, because our house was just two houses away from where he lived, with his Aunt. He was a mockery of us both and for the other children in the neighbourhood. The way he speaks, his step and his looks always put us in a state of hilarity. He was the neighbourhood clown.
***
It was on a Monday evening. The downpour had left the road begging for passersby. Mum had gone to see a friend and Dad was yet to return from that day’s work. Joanne and I were playing outside, in the open space of our compound. We had no gate then so the ground floor of our building could be seen from the street. Joanne grew weary and decided to quit, leaving me alone to play solo.
On the corner of my eyes, I caught him staring at me. His eyes, somewhat demanding like he was expecting me to react to his gawk. I was in frenzy, the thrill of that moment had placed me in a state of mind where my childhood bliss was at its peak. I immediately shouted, “Omo nna!”
He let out an infuriating smile and began walking over to where I stood. I was shocked at first, unable to move or speak because it was the first time the village boy had dared to approach me. Then I became curious, waiting, under the drizzle trying to predict his action. He paused, few paces away from me. That was when I noticed that he wasn’t just a kid, like myself. His looks very mature, and his age, if I had guessed right was more than twice my age.
“So, it is me you and your sister are calling Omo nna” he said, his countenance flushing with anger and his eyeballs gleaming with bright red patches of blood.
I froze.
The next thing I felt was strong push straight to my cheekbone that got me laid on the floor motionless for only God knows when.
The next place I saw myself was in a hospital bed. Where my sister Joanne narrated to me her screams for help after she found me still on the floor and thought I was dead.
image:dailymail.co.uk
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