Death Tales {Ride or die}
Prose

Death Tales {Ride or die}

Death quote: "To ride on the wings of violence is to savor the delicate of death. The violent genius tastes it once. the unschooled only dare sniff its wake."

 

Iya Godwin Amala tasted bad that day and my mood was effectively ruined. The taste of cow's shit still lingered from the intestine I insisted on eating. I emptied the toothpick container into my pocket as revenge. 

Heading outside, I noticed the keke wasn't parked well. Lol, I didn't care the least bit, after-all I paid tax for the road use.

The seat felt cool, one idiot must have sat it in to play "keke driver". I had no intention of taking any passengers though. Eating meats had always had a sleepy effect on me and it was time to take a nap.

The ride home was going smoothly when I saw him. Scrawny looking and haggard, the boy had flagged me down. He looked barely 15 years old yet I was sure he was a year or two older. Whether it was pity, I do not know, whether it was the need for extra cash, I couldn't say, but in 5 minutes, I had a boy and two women in the keke, the drive wouldn't take more than 15 minutes, the road was free today.

"Oga put your head inside", the woman in the middle snapped at the boy, earning her a look of disgust. He probably wanted to see cars ahead of the truck.

I knew he'd do it again, but this time, what prepared me wasn't his actions. Twas that of another, the devil spawn himself.

A truck carrying aluminum sheets had parked on the road further ahead. If the driver wasn't evil, he would have parked better. The sheets extended beyond the space allotted for it out into the road.

I sped up.

The devil must have whispered to him, for the foolish child peeped again. I inched closer to the truck with every second. We had neared the sheets when he saw it. It was too late. 

The sheets, thin, weak, yet sharp when used at the right angle, kissed his neck with such ferocity...

Half his neck sandwiched the sheets as the sheets tore through it distributing blood like a teacher would write on a chalkboard. The end of the sheets weren't straight and with a final stride, the jugular vein ripped free from the neck. 

All happened in five seconds and I barely had time to admire that paragon of phenomenal art. The rush of pleasure filled my head akin to the first pull of Colorado on a cold night. Sadly, I had no time to enjoy the feel. 

The body, having experienced a shift in balance lolled off the keke to the fast moving ground. The rest of the passengers did not have time to scream. I wouldn't let them get me in jail. I inched closer to the roundabout ahead... 

It made for three deaths that day on the news.

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