CATERPILLAR DANCE II

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    Written by Gbanger James & Ameh Abigail

    Read  CATERPILLAR DANCE I

    He spat furiously at the ground, his chest heaved heavily. A lamb? He felt disgust and anger all at once. He decided it was time to find another location, particularly one with lesser traffic at this time of the night.

    The path to chief priest’s shrine crossed his mind; very few dared trod that path at wee hours of the night, for the myth that the chief priest performed the deadliest of his deeds at that hour.
    Agber set out for the path, he was fearless. He had no time to think of consequences and anything that stood in his way would part with its head, he thought.

    Growing up he remembered the times his father and uncles would leave the house for two days, his mother always told him they had gone for the dance. And he always wondered why he was never allowed. She believed the dance was evil and children should not be allowed to participate. And until her dying breath she forbade him, but the world was evil with or without the dance and he found out sooner than later.

    Soon he crouched beneath the short trees along the path; he could hear muffled voices approaching. He clenched his sword to his chest, tasting the bitter juice from the weed in his mouth. He stilled his breath, and waited.

    Soon he could make out the voices, a familiar masculine voice and a female’s. She was sobbing, strong importunate words came from the man harshly, and then she let out a soft scream.
    Agber watched on, soon a short silhouette of a man appeared and he had his hands firmly wrapped around the woman’s wrist urging her on with him. Two heads. The gods had smiled down on him, Agber thought.

    “This is a service to your clan, to your family, to the gods” the man blurted harshly. He hissed loudly, throwing her to the ground. “You are a weakling, no fit for the task. I will put an end to your misery this night woman” he said, crouching between her legs.
    She begged continuously in the local dialect, as the man tore her wrapper and forcefully parted her legs. Agber tiptoed, her crying masked the ruffling of leaves and soon he stood behind the staunch man about to force his way with the woman.
    “Your dance is over” he said loudly. The man jumped up alarmed, his erect manhood dangling between his legs. Agber jammed his sword into his neck; it was a taboo for the victim to have the last say before his fate. Once he felt the life leave the man, he let him drop to the ground, ignoring the terrified woman screaming next to him. He did not bother to look at his face, that was for the gods. But he had to kill the woman before anyone heard her scream.

    Slowly, he approached her, she grovelled backwards, “please, spare me”, her soft tender voice could melt the hardest of hearts, but Agber had no heart, his flesh was stone he used to sharpen his sword, his blood was bitter by the weeds he chewed the first day of every month. Every night he danced. A savage. He kept his eyes fixed on the ground beneath his feet, he could not look at the sacrifice if it were a woman the gods would strike him in his sleep and that was the worst way to die in the land.

    He moved towards her, and she kept moving back slowly, bare before him. Agber bit the weed again, but it had run out of juice. The juice was meant to keep him bitter, angry and determined. He bit it again, but to no avail and then he made the ultimate mistake. He looked up at her. His sword seemed to be covered in slime for it slipped easily out of his hand and the weed withered. He looked into her eyes, her body. She was made by and for the gods only, he knew that instantly. But how could he look away, she seduced his soul; The one he lost when he severed his first head. Her chest heaved up and down, her breasts bouncing gloriously, moist from her sweat. She sobbed. The night framed Her beautiful silhouette. Then it dawned on him, who would dare touch the food for the gods, he turned immediately without caution and starred deeply at the man he had just murdered. The weed fell from his lips as he stared agape at the black liquid oozing out of the chief priest’s neck.

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