|the exorcism of the dark village (standard:adventure, 2871 words)|
|Author: sean||Added: Aug 16 2003||Views/Reads: 2615/1683||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|its a typical story of an exorcism.|
The Exorcism of the Dark village. By Sean Okai The story you are about to read is entirely true. I know this because it happened to me. While reading you will discover that I have neglected my faith (Christianity). It was twelve mid-night my church was having a vigil and I was coordinating it. It was one of those times where I had some of those unusual flash backs, the thought of how my wife and my four year old son killed in a fire kept flashing on and off in my mind like a little child flickering a switch of a light bulb at night. Poor Elaine, her lasts words on planet earth were. “Darn you bill!” What the heck was I suppose to do? I walked out of the car for a minute and a small bomb explodes in the car had slowly and painfully engulfed almost every thing in the car, oh the horror! Elaine was trapped in her seat by the seat belt and she was roasted like a goat (any one that used that exact simile in front of me either went home with a bleeding nose or never went home at all). I'm not a violent person just don't know how to control my temper! After the vigil (and lots of scary exorcisms) I went into my private inner room to take a smoke – cigarettes were recommended to me by my doctor, “the weather was freeeezing!” while I was there (hearing people rushing to get out of the cold church) I noticed a strange piece of paper on the table, it was something about missionaries but I didn't pick it up. Suddenly a voice spoke to me, it said “biiiill, biiiill, do what you have to do!” I felt like I had woken up from one of those ultimate power episodes where a black figure tried to tempt you or convince you to do something. I crashed the cigarette in the ashtray and walked out of my private room in the church. Just outside my room was my associate pastor, Uche discussing with the church plumber he didn't even notice me so I called out to him. He walked close to me; I had to move back so he would not perceive the cigarette odor in my breath. “Ol' boy, its happening to me again-what must I do?” I asked. “Calm ya nerves”. He said in his stupid Igbo ascents (they really annoy me with the way he pronounces Al'es instead of Alex, and the way he says moneey instead of money)“ Keep praying to God... or do you want to join the mafia? “Never!” I said, shouting. The thought of how my wife died kept hunting me, the words “daaaaaarn you!” was all I could hear sometimes. As a pastor, no one expected me to have unwelcome visitors-oh but I had many, one of them was Mr. Sniper. I hated him more than I hate the devil. He was like getting wet feet while wearing slippers, “Man I really hate that guy!” one day Mr. Sniper paid me a visit. “Who's there?” I asked, after a knock on the door. “Mr. Joe”. A voice replied me. So I opened the door and there was Mr. Joe ‘sniper' Milligan. I was quite impressed with his conduct while outside on most occasions he would be seen putting breeze from his mouth into his little pestle trying to remove dirt from the mouth of the gun but this time he was all dressed up in a tuxedo and he wore a funny black shoe. Mr. Sniper was one of the gang members of my dad's mafia; I know through gossips that he was the person that planted the bomb in my car that killed my wife and child. Though his dressing has changed his attitude was still rude! “ ‘sup slick!” The jerk said to me. I ignored him, and then he asked again. “You there? Slick... I said what's up!” “What the heck do you want from me?” I busted out. “ I just came here to tell you that I have seeeeeeen the light”. He said seemingly to me. “ I was invited to church, I just thought I should dress like a new-born!” “Good for you!” I said, sounding like one of those low down agony aunties. “Hey, wait listen God don show me something”. He replied, slightly annoyed. “It's about your life, him say you go em...yes him say u go deliver people from one island like that!” I instantly banged the door, right on the kisser. I walked up to my favorite chair (the one directly under the sign) ‘Billy Cooper is for the lord” I heard him shouting outside but totally ignored the jerk. That was the first time I had actually banged the door on somebody's face and really felt proud of it. Ironically, a similar message to what he told me I witnessed in a dream or should I say nightmare. I was asked to go to a village and conduct some exorcism and the messenger insisted that I go alone. The next day, I told my assistant pastor about it and he encouraged me not to disobey the voice of the ‘lord'. That afternoon I left to the bus stop to board a bus heading to a village I hardly knew. Before you can pronounce the word kalamqupptipiuy! I found my self in a village called Ibu (I got there by accident) it was that stupid old taxi cab that took me there, two tires were flat on the ground probably because of the hefty woman and all those vegetables she stuffed in the boot of the car. The car was literally out of shape probably because of those leaves she stuffed in the boot looked like a lion having the Olumo rock in its mouth (the ride was cheap, my congregation don't pay much as offering) and there Click here to read the rest of this story (144 more lines)
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