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The Feast

It was electric at the stadium, crowds swelled and oozed over the walls. “You only live once; no one’s got the right to make me choose what I don’t want to do. IT’S. MY. LIIIIFE!” The crowd roared and went wild. Thousands upon thousands from across the city had gone in to see Rabid. The band wasn’t one to disappoint. They had just launched a new album, Venom and that was the talk of the city. It was estimated that the 6 million youth would be swarming in to see their favourite band. Tickets were sold out 3 months prior.

This morning the stadium was so packed the air above it was thick, stinking of heavy perspiration with gratitude to the December heat. Brows polka dotted with sweat, eyes squinting to see from the distance, saliva playing target practice as people spat out the lyrics of each song. Others tried to gyrate in the small foot space they had. The security team had ferried 1,000 fainters and counting within the first two hours of the event. When it came to Venom, no curtain raisers were allowed. It was 5 hours straight of hits back to back.

In the distance a scuffle had began, and died, initially it was caused by the fainters. One man who was seated on his friend’s shoulders waving frantically had seen the slight mêlée. It looked like someone had knocked over the first domino to set off a chain reaction. But a pre-emptive move by those closer to the wave’s centre killed the potential mess.

“Kevo! Kevo! Ebu cheki! Cheki!” Maish called out excited and impatiently.

“Ni cheki nini – we ndo uko place poa kuona, nita wika na huku down.” Kevo bobbed his head as he spoke. “Down! Kwish.. Kwish-A!” Kevo sang along out loud in sync with the band.

The two continued to scream, make whooping sounds and yell in jubilation. That was the best 500 bob the two of them had spent. Swaleh who wasn’t as short as Maish had ‘offered’ to stand by Kevo’s side and let Maish experience, “life ya wasee soo!” Swaleh always rubbed it in Maish’s face that he was pretty short. Maish was 5’ 4” Swaleh and Kevo were 6 ft. But despite being high above most of the crowd, the heat and stuffiness was beginning to get to affect him. Swaleh had ignored Kevo’s offer of water earlier giving a stupid supposed macho remark. “Maji? Niya wadhi kama wewe. Water for the weak; I am VENOM!” He yelled Venom repeatedly. Now the only venom that was apparent to him was the acidity building in his own tummy that needed a cooler.

The water was over and done with and with the swarming crowds there wasn’t anywhere to buy some. He was stuck. Swaleh tried singing along some more with his boys. But 15 minutes in again he couldn’t do it. There was an attempt at the Mexican wave in the stadium. It made things worse for Swaleh. The person next to him seemed to have missed his shower hour for a month because whatever emerged from his raised arms was about to clear the stadium. Swaleh coughed so hard, he fell on other fans who shoved him away.

Swaleh was getting worse; more flushed. About three and a half hours in Swaleh wasn’t going to make it any longer, but just before he passed out. He felt something wet sprinkle on him. It was cooling and relieving but it was unusually sticky. He flipped his head backward, he thought it was a little drizzle. The sprinkle felt more consistent with a paint splatter on the wall. He opened his eyes and looked at his hand, it was red. He rubbed his index finger and thumb together to feel the texture; sticky. He smelt it, and shook his head. He looked around, crowds were still cheering.

Venom was playing electrically, locks flung in the air like Juliani’s. But as he turned to look, there was a steady pile up of seizing bodies. Blood was spraying from severed arteries. Swaleh, tapped Kevo’s shoulders. Kevo shrugged him off and shook his shoulders in dance to the music.

“Maish! Maish! Pinduka! Cheki!” Swale yelled, Maish showed him the one finger salute and began to yell along to the lyrics. Swaleh was now sweating profusely and shaking. Whatever was killing people was moving fast. There was no sound or sight of anything. Any direction Swaleh looked, once he looked at it twice to verify that everything was normal, a third turn the group was dead. He couldn’t afford to look at his friends.

Then all of a sudden there was a crash and the band began to bleed through their eyes. The crowd went wild, “Manze special effects za Venom ni noma jo!” Maish cheered, amazing props and make up is what they thought. Then the band fell one by one like a domino game and began to seize on stage. Their eyes then popped out of their sockets violently looking like golf balls in the air.

Then screaming and a stampede ensued; every man for himself. Swaleh grabbed Kevo by the t-shirt, and yanked him backward. The jolt and the stampeding crowd caused Kevo and Maish to topple over. There was a woman on the ground screaming and pummeling in the air. Then out of nowhere they saw her neck being sliced open and blood gushing out. The woman drenched everyone around her.

The trio was now on the ground, people began to climb over them, blood curdling screams filled the stadium. People flew in mid air and landed on each other. Those Swaleh had seen seizing earlier vanished. There was no sign of where they went or what was killing people. Kevo suddenly began to scream hysterically, kick violently and repeatedly and inch away from something. Swaleh yelled out at him, he was sandwiched between people and couldn’t escape. Kevo reached a hand out, but it was too late; blood splattered.

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Fresh Bait

Supe was drumming her fingers on the boardroom table. She bobbed her head to the tune she drummed to. Her nails were bitten and chipped with dirt underneath them. She had unusually long fingers that made the drumming even more fascinating. It made her gnarly fingers look like tree roots spreading across the glossy mahogany table.

Supe was sprawled on the table top, ‘I am hungry!” she demanded. No one was in the room with her. She sighed and peeled off her faded headscarf. Her hair was stunning, it was jet black and flowing. It was very hard to believe that such soft curly hair would have emerged from that rot laden scarf. Supe’s gnarly fingers made their way to the centre of her head. She tugged at a hair strand and it broke off.  “grey hair! Not liking.” She said shaking her head as she flicked the loose strand of hair.

Supe sat up and began to scratch her skin, as she pulled up her tattered cardigan sleeve to get more scratching room, she showed off her punctured arms. There were so many holes she would have made a watering can, her arms were scarred and discoloured. The discolouration made her arms look plagued with gangrene ready for amputation at any given time. Supe completed scratching her arms and pulled down her cardigan.

“Foooddd! Can’t you hear me?” Supe was now very agitated and she began to bang the tables. “do you hear me?” She ran to the door and began to bang at it repeatedly. There was no response, she fell in a mound on the floor and began to flail her arms and legs. Then she began to make deep guttural sounds and her back began to arch unusually like a serpent’s.

“FOOOOOD!” she yelled, her head upturned revealing blood red eyes, no pupils. Her hair was now a blizzard of gray, her ear’s protruding like satellites and pointed like an elves. Her skin was now an unusual ashy gray. There was a huge thud at the door. And instantaneously, Supe meekly morped back in to the fair haired urchin she was at the table. The door flung open and a huge bowl of food was thrust on the table. Supe pounced on it like a wild animal and lapped it all up in 2 minutes flat.

Her tongue long and fluid like a toad’s licked her gnarly fingers and face in satisfaction. Supe fell asleep on the table. A team of scientists had been watching this through a bulletproof one way mirror. When one of them tapped at the window to establish if she was fully asleep. He found himself on the other side of the glass, sprawled on the table with Supe towering over him in her morped state ready to devour her kill.

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Red Dragon

It sounded like distant drums, drums made of iron, it was loud and callous. The rhythm sounded defiant and abnormal. The air became thick and fine debris began to fall to the ground. An unusual sound began to pierce through the drums, it sounded like a vulture, but with a human timbre. Then it fell silent for a few minutes. The whistle of a steady intensity began to pierce through the clouds. The air lifted, the debris stopped and the sky went clear blue.

Everyone in the city stood, some trembling in fear, others holding their mouths to prevent themselves from letting out a sound. One person cupped their mouth so hard, and bit himself to prevent himself from saying anything. He was bleeding and his blood was now dropping to the ground. The street was so quiet you could almost hear the blood land on the pool of water where the man stood.

A woman in a red dress clicked along in her 5 inch heels, swaying her child bearing hips. Her slim waist was seductive and child nurturing bosom would make any blind man see again. The light wind kissed her arm; goose bumps began to appear on her arm. She playfully rubbed her arms throwing glances at anyone who would pay her mind. She was in a realm of her own unaware of the tangible fear around her. Her heels seemed deafening in that silence. It was as if, almost for a second the time stood still. A child running after their painting that was now being blown by the wind was grabbed by her mother who was screaming, “Noooo!” at the top of her lungs. Everything seemed exaggerated, save for the red woman who clicked along gleefully.

Her hair was kinky and straightened a slight breeze against her hair made it flap against her eyes. She playfully pushed it away from her eye as she pouted her lips, her smile; bright, divine, cleansing. One man who had fallen from fear looked up at her as she walked passed him and reached for her. The woman leaned over to him and lifted him by the chin; he was slain by her beauty.

As she crouched down, she slowly separated her knees and a creature emerged from within. A small dirty green midget crawled out and landed smack on the man’s face. It pulled out what looked like an umbilical cord, and shoved that slimy cord through the man’s nostrils. The man didn’t flinch; his gaze was fixated on the woman’s. A suction sound emerged and the woman now seemed younger. The midget returned to where it emerged from and the woman arose. The man snapped out of the daze he was in, felt his nose and was now bleeding. He chocked and died. The debris began to fall, the drums clanged and the sky darkened and the cycle began again. The city had no clue what was in store for them.

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Hungover Village

As the boda boda hummed into the town, there was an eerie silence. The crows were flying round in droves, they darkened the sky. It was unusual, Naiserian held on to her brother tighter. The vast trees they rode past seemed to be enclosing in on them. It was as if they rode into a cave. The crows now began to descend and open up the skies, the canopy became less threatening. But there was a stench that was completely unexplainable. It was a mixture of decomposition and cow dung. Loisani couldn’t put his finger on it. He kept reassuring his sister that everything would be fine.

As they drew closer to the grand gate, their destination, they felt drops, it felt like rain. Naiserian loved the rain; she threw her head back to suck in all the drops. “Don’t open your mouth like you always do. You never know.” Loisani joked, Naiserian smacked him. “Too late.” She opened her mouth to ‘drink’ the rain. After a few drops on her tongue, she began to cough and try to wipe the taste off her tongue. ‘Gross! Gross! Groooooosssss!” she exclaimed.

“Get the water from your bag. Didn’t I warn you?” Loisani laughed.

“Whatever! What was it anyway, it tasted dirty, something rotten. What kind of rain is this here?” Naiserian retorted in disgust and drank water from her bottle and sighed in relief.

Losiani wasn’t paying attention to the road anymore, something had caught his attention and he was debating on whether or not to tell Naiserian or keep driving. But his debate took too long; they veered off the road and hit a tree root that was peering from the ground beneath them.

“YOU WANT TO KILL ME NOW?” Naiserian exclaimed as they landed on the ground. Losiani helped her up, lay the bike back on the ground and reached to hug her.

“You are acting weird what is it.”

“I’ve missed you Naiserian.” Loisani was overreacting and getting on her nerves. He hugged her so tight in his 6’ 5” 130 kg muscular frame. Naiserian broke free gasping for air. “What is it with you?” She said as she walked backwards, falling over the tree roots on her back.

As Naiserian arose dusting herself, she lifted her eyes to the trees above and began to point. Loisani was nodding in acknowledgment of what she saw. And she let out a blood curling shriek; Loisani reached out to her both arms wide open to embrace her again. “I drank that! I drank That?” Naiserian said as Loisani held her tighter. Naiserian began to gag and her abdomen began to thrust hard. She broke out of Loisani’s arms and ran in the direction they had come from and she threw up.

The sky was now a glorious blue, cloudless and the suns warmth beamed in revealing hundreds of dead and skinned individuals. Blood dripped from eaten out limbs. Eyes bulging from what sockets may have been left, muscles raw and rotting, maggots flowing freely.

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Erotic trauma

Candy was on the pole upside down with her glass heels piercing the air, she was jigging her butt as she always did at happy hour. The crowd was wild like blood hounds, tongues wagging, 1,000 shilling notes showering down on her. Candy was a special stripper no one was allowed to touch her or put money in her g-string. That was what made her so alluring she was a tease. It was Friday Happy Hour at Robba’s, and Candy was out to please.

The drinks flowed and the DJ was letting it rip, the floor lights went off at exactly 7pm and the strobe lights electrified the room. The laser lights went on and Candy did what she did best, turned a hound into a wolf in her 30 minute sets. Her agility left even the most flexible gymnasts awe struck.

15 minutes into the set, the lights went off and the crowd raised hell. In less than 10 seconds the lights were back on, the DJ’s music went back on and so did the strobe lights and lasers. Then someone screamed and a glass broke. Candy was missing, she wasn’t on the pole, there was a trail of blood from the pole to the door and her weave lay by the base of the pole. The floor lights went on. The music went off abruptly sounding like a chewed cassette and everyone stood staring at one of the mirrors on the wall. “You were warned!” was written on the mirror with what looked like blood.

The other strippers waiting to go in next for their sets froze, then another scream was heard coming from the back of the room. The DJ was seizing on the ground with blood gushing out of his neck, his eyes about pop out of their sockets. The manager, Chris, ran to The DJ’s side. “Clear the area, give him some room. Stay with me Jess! Stay with me it will be fine!” Chris knew at the back of his mind that it wouldn’t be OK.

Woosh, a shadowy presence wafted by the room and a cold air filled the room. A door flung open and it was banging repeatedly against one of the tables near it. The crowd began to steadily thin out. The lights went out again and a cocktail of screams rent the air, scuffles and people yelling. “Let me out!” “I am too young to die!” “Take whatever you want!”

It was blood curdling chaotic fear. Then the lights went on a minute later. People were baffled touching themselves to see if anything had happened to them. One man seated against a wall who had been inebriated for most of the night began to laugh hysterically. And pointed at everyone, they looked at him baffled. Then he gestured cupping his imaginary breasts, then pointed at the mirrors around.

People screamed, grabbing anything in sight to cover themselves. They were all naked and had no idea how it happened. None of their clothes were in the room either.

 

 

 

 

 

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Jokes on you!

The spotlight lit up and centered on the stage, then a drum roll and a man in a court jester’s hat emerged from the left side of the stage and stood right in the middle of the spotlight. There was pin drop silence. “Ladies and germs presenting this evening in a onetime only show…” The jester’s introduction was cut short by gasps and screams. Then the room fell silent again. The lights died and a commotion was heard.

What made the commotion curious was that it seemed to move in a circular motion across the room. Screams, groans and jostling of feet seemed to happen in an unusual interval. The jester dashed backstage to turn on the floor lights. When he did, he was left in awe. Shoes and clothes lay strewn across the floor and tables, corpses lay lifeless on the floor, on seats, chair legs had been pierced through people’s hearts and swollen throats with pale lips all lay in place of the lively audience that had been before him a few moments before.

The spotlight lit itself and seemed to be harsher, the jester could not see anything at all, save for a moving shadow. He screamed and ran to the changing room. He bumped into the club manager and fell comically on the floor and the whoopee cushion taped to his costume rear went off. The manager laughed, “Jess, that is your best performance yet, so believable. Not that forced crap you always do. Why are you doing it back here?”

The manager was left standing at the entrance of the changing room backstage as the jester ran off screaming. The rear door of the club let some light in for a split second as the jester ran out. The manager simply laughed and flung his arm at the slammed door and walked toward the stage. The spotlight was now flickering. In between the flickers the manager would see a shadow seem to move closer. He couldn’t see the crowd. He went back stage to turn down the lights intensity, when he did, he walked to the stage and nothing prepared him for what he saw.

The bodies were now more mutilated, limbs were strewn, entrails all over on table tops, and the life sucked out of bodies. They looked as though they had decomposed for over a year. The manager couldn’t scream, his mouth was ajar and his eyes wide open then he saw the shadow. He felt the air grow cold. The jester who was trembling right outside the clubs rear door, heard a blood curdling scream and ran.