Shadow

Book 1

Book 1

Destiny’s world spun around her. She feared the very shock of it might run her insane. Her mother had died when she was but a toddler. She could not even remember her though she dreamt of her. She often told herself that her dreams were just memories lost in her subconscious.

She sat in the small room arms and legs tied, in a chair. There was not a way in the world that the woman before her was her mother.

“Yes, it is me flesh and blood.” A chair was brought in for the woman to sit in. The woman before her was a carbon copy of the woman in the photo her father kept in his room. He had never spoken much about her mother while she was young, pampering her with toys and treats that she might not bother about the gap in her life.

When she was old enough to understand, her father had told her the truth not the mummy is not here, mummy loves you or the mummy is in heaven with Jesus he had told her when she was little. Her mother had died in a car accident.

“It cannot be. You were burnt, everyone on that bus died”, Destiny stammered. She felt her mouth dry up in disbelief. It was just another dream, she told herself. The woman before her stared at her with invading eyes; it was as though she could read her mind. She had often wondered where she had gotten her darker complexion since her father and brother were both light skinned like most people from the eastern part of the country.

“Burnt beyond recognition, meaning mistakes in identity could have been made”, the woman said. Her voice was passive showing no emotion whatsoever.

“If you were alive, why did you stay away from your family? Where were you all these years, with another man?” Destiny found herself angered by the indifference of the woman who was claiming to be her mother. The woman crossed her legs and put her hands on her upper knee.

“I found my purpose”, she said with a smile. The smile seemed more of a regular facial feature than bright. Destiny didn’t ask why.

“I sought to strike equity amongst mankind.” Destiny snickered. It helped her keep back her tears.

“So you became a preacher?” The supposed late Mrs. Nkechi Odum slapped her thighs as she burst into laughter. It lacked vibrancy. It was cold.

“You have your father’s sense of humor. I hear your brother has it too. No, I am not a preacher. I do promise I will tell you once you are ready.” She got up to her feet with an office kind of smartness. She buttoned her suit, adjusted her skirt and walked towards the door.

“We will get to you later. By the way, make yourself comfortable.” The door slammed shut and she was all alone in the room, like it had been a dream, a very bad dream.