Preordained #ProjectNigeria

22- Mammy Wata

"Queen, p-p-please," he sobs.

I'm surprised that he's actually terrified and I'm beginning to enjoy myself. I hiss like a snake, roll my hips sprinkle more water on him.

"I have already consecrated you. There's no turning back."

Five minutes of more dancing and chanting of senseless words, and Mr. Adeyemo is reduced to a wailing mass of terror.

"I'll do anything, I swear it!"

"You can't do anything," I sneer. "It's you I've always wanted."

"I'll pass you on that course!"

Finally! What I want to hear.

"That course is not important to me. It was part of my plan."

"Hay God, please save your son," he whimpers. Sweat shines on his skin, his tremors are visible.

"God doesn't save you when you've spent your life making people miserable. You've led many girls astray, pushed them to the wall. He won't answer you. I need corrupt people like you in my kingdom, that's why I chose you."

He wheezes, breathless from fear.

"I'll pass all the girls. I'll pass everybody, I promise!"

"I'm not here for the girls, only you."

Suddenly I jerk a bit and cock my head to the side, still swaying to no rhythm, pretending to listen to someone, my face now serious.

"Mother, it's this one I want," I say.

He sobs, reminding me again that he has a wife and children.

"It's Richard Adeyemo I want, mother. No one else."

This dialogue with myself is quite funny but I have to be serious now.

"I can't let him go. It's almost midnight and he'll soon be mine."

I can hear him calling upon Jesus and the whole host of angels and saints, Mary included. He begins the Our Father prayer.

I stomp my feet in annoyance, frown and growl. "I want Richard, mother. It's almost midnight."

Humming, I move backwards and then reaching behind me, find the switch and turn off the lights.

Mr. Richard Adeyemo, Bsc Journalism, Msc Mass Communication, and PhD Mass Communication, screams like a girl and then I hear a dull thud.

When the light comes on, he has rolled onto the floor and is trying desperately to get to his feet. Tears are now streaming down his face which is contorted from crying.

"Please reject me. Reject me let me go. I promise, I won't do this again. I don't know how to rule a kingdom. Queen, please let me go. I'll make sure you graduate very well. In fact, I'll resign from my job."

I move towards him, holding tight onto my knife.

"Jesus, Jesus," he screams.

I cut the rope binding his legs and feet.

"Pick your clothes and leave before I change my mind," I bark, eyes wide. "I'll be watching you. Even while you sleep, I'll always be watching you."

It takes him less than fifteen seconds to awkwardly pick up his clothes and literally fly from the room. Immediately, I use some tissue paper to wipe off the chalk marks from the floor, replace the rug, and arrange the bed.

Richard Adeyemo had left his shoes behind.

Maduka's POV:

I am laughing so hard.