Stealing from the ghost
1081 Words
The alley was narrow and deserted, the Albino clutching his pride strode quickly now, his red eyes filling with anticipation as he approached his destination. Shakau's parting words over the phone echoed in his mind.
'Tonight we will change the world, get some sleep.'
The albino smirked, he had been awake all night but sleep was the last thing on his mind.
Sleep is for the weak, he is a warrior like his ancestors before him.
His people never sleep once a battle begins, this battle had most definitely begun and he had been given the honor of spilling the first blood.
Now he has six hours to celebrate his glory before the doom.
Sleep! No.
There are far better ways to relax. Feeling a familiar anticipation swelling within him, the albino moved faster down the alley.
He arrived at the filled hotel, entered a well-furnished sitting room where the light was low and the air filled with smoke from cigarettes and m*******a. Examining the prostitute sitting some yards away like roasted chicken display for consumption. Fat, thin, shapely, and beautiful, lucky stars hotel has all to offer.
Sitting down and ordering for his usual Guinness extra stout, a stick of Benson slowly burn in his mouth.
The albino believes life is good only if you have money to spend. Genuflecting on his past, Albino wasn't his name, his name is Turiah Elijah; the only son of Emir of Ilorin.
His father; the Paramount ruler and the owner of the best koranic school in the state.
Growing up consists of a familiar cycle: Pray, eat and attend school. Cut adrift from modernization.
He had lived a solitary life, devoid of friendship and happiness.
His only joy was his strength, even at the tender age of twelve, he could beat a full-grown man.
The pleasure of inflicting pain always intoxicate him.
One night when he was fourteen, he killed a man.
It was an accident, one that change his life...
"Excuse me please, kindly buy me a cigarette." A voice jolted the albino back to reality.
Standing in his front was a beauty. His loin sprang alive, the presence of alcohol always fueled his s****l desire.
"I'm sorry," the girl said, "I thought you.... with her unfinished statement she turn, twisting her protruding buttocks sexily.
The albino watched her, his loin, getting more alive every passing second.
"wait!" he shouted after her.
The girl stopped, turned, and walked towards him.
" I know what you want," she said holding the albino's hand.
She drew him up towards her room.
He did not resist but went along with his mysterious briefcase.
The girl's hand was soft, red, and swollen from chafing, the white skin albino lay beside her, spent admiring his naked prize.
He wondered if her current slumber was just a deception, a pathetic attempt to avoid further service to him.
He did not care, he had reaped sufficient rewards.
In his town, women were possession, weak tools of pleasure, chattel to be traded like livestock, they understand their place.
But here, women feigned strength and independence that both amused and excited him.
Forcing them into physical submission was a gratification he always enjoyed.
Now despite the contentment in his loins, the albino sensed another appetite growing within him.
He had killed some hours ago, killed and mutilated, and for him, killing was like cocaine- each encounter satisfying only temporarily before increasing his longing for more.
The exhilaration had worn off, the craving had returned.
He studied the sleeping woman beside him, running his palm across her delicate neck, he felt aroused with the knowledge that he can end her life in an instant. What would it matter?
She was subhuman, a vehicle only for pleasure and service.
His strong finger encircled her throat, savoring her delicate pulse, fighting the deadly desire. He removed his hand from her neck and spank her on her naked buttocks.
"Get me a bottle of water," he said.
The prostitute opened her fridge and brought out a sealed bottle of water.
The albino makes sure the water is sealed, with a prostitute you can never tell.
Apart from the priceless code in this briefcase, he knew there is something more precious to him than a pair of two aged men's arms. One thousand dollars.
just a traveling tip.
His account beaming from his recent deposit, a whopping sum of Hundred thousand dollars, all for this men's arms.
The albino gave a wide yarn, focusing seemed to be more difficult.
All of a sudden everything became blurred.
A moment later, the truth hit him. He had been drugged.
It was too late, he yarns and watched as darkness descended.
A prostitute once jokes that Tuna can steal from a ghost, a figurative attribute to her fast finger and sharp brain.
Tonight, Tuna had fulfilled the literary meaning, emerging alone with the strange briefcase, looking like a thief in search of a bounty, she secretly sneaked out of the hotel.
Westsider grimaced, this is not his business,
Tuna can steal from the devil himself.
He is less concerned, not after she stole his one-month salary, just for a round of s*x, since then, he had wished evil on her.
This seemed to be his concern now as One star; a notorious rogue, just sneaked after the prostitute.
Sneaking is impossible for his size and shape - seven feet tall and as big as a gorilla but walk with a limp.
Westsider sense this is trouble. Onestar is only good for one thing; making trouble.
Yet a good merry fool, one that became so powerful to the extent that he was worshipped even by men in power, until recently when he fell out of grace.
Onestar's infamous had cost westsider sleepless night, here he is looking for fresh evidence to put this goon behind the bar.
Maybe tonight will present a chance.
Westsider hoped so, prayed so.
Gush! this means absolutely one thing, the prostitute's death.
Good radiance to bad rubbish.
Westsider quickly raced after them.
A few distances away, he caught the huge shape of Onestar getting closer to the unaware girl; who whistle loudly.
For a fleeting second, he thought of shouting out to her, yet his mind selfishly wish for this to happen. He is tired of trailing this sapient.
He watched as she turned in fright, trying to escape her attacker. Seconds later, he saw her fall. Her neck snapped backward as she remain still.
- Writer
