MARRIED TO HIS SISTER

The morning rays struck from the ridges. An iconic hut thatched of dried grass protruded from the ridges. No one would ignore it. This was Silvia's home in an era when women's ownership of land and property would not have been imagined. Against the traditions had inherited his father's land and property. The uncles saw her married to Dr. Andrew, a tycoon in the town, after which the inheritance was taken. Sadly, Andrew was just a tool to push selfish interests and agenda. The infuriated Silvia's attempt to run away from her husband was continually blocked. However, a heavy sound would be heard one morning as the rays' penetrated the trees and ridges. Silvia: how did I get myself here? I was fooled!!! I am doomed! Enough is enough! Dr. Andrew: I indeed love you. How could you arise on such a morning to fill the air with desperation? Silvia: you rejected me, the kicks of your son, no one to console. The biting cold of the night, yet immersed in duvets that have no warmth to provide, arose me severally in the night. I am doomed. Am I not enough for you? I did it, allowed you between my thighs, and held me by your hairy chest. What a doctor! Can't you even treat your own? Dr. Andrew: I don't understand…. Silvia: Quiet! Quiet! Quiet! Andrew. You fooled me, and now what to box me. I knew it; your patients are worth more than I. You even compare and allow others to sit on my sit, dine on my table, and worse enough, sleep on my bed, yet not mine. Every day I arose, only to prepare you for them that you forgot me. A tired man, you came, turning around the bed all night long as if disturbed. I have missed you yet lie on the same bed at least five days a week. I can't wait! Dr. Andrew: as if drunk on his societal status. I think we can solve this on our own. Silvia: Yeees…No! This is my late father's land, yet I lost it for you. However, I will remain here or turn to a street urchin rather than live with you. Dr. Andrew: Noooo! I want to see and raise my son! Silvia: Oooh. Is he more important than I am? He will be raised if not by me. "I love her. How can I lose her and my son? Couldn't I have resisted the trials and storms of the times. How could I fall in the hands of these chicks. I am ruined ". Andrew had no one to speak to. Full of regrets, the sleep would not have a grip on him. The clock's tick-tock arose from a series of questions and self-interrogation at 2 am. On retiring to bed, he rolled on the bed till morning. This must have been a payback; the biting cold was so real to him. No cloth or bedding would give enough warmth. On the other hand, he wetted the pillow in tears of regret, but nothing would show up. As if from dead, his head was cold, that he had to take a hot shower immediately after arousal. Arising very early, he sat outside on a traditional three-legged stool inherited from his grandfather. The shaky stool stands seemed to communicate something about his life. However, inattentive to the communication, he gazed on the sunrise. The hut stood still and immovable. Still his mind remained attentive to what the spirit led him into. The penetration of the sun rays into his body, not only brought some warmth but also elicited moments of recap. "My wife, my wife..." Sounds rang in his mind so intensely that he began to speak softly as if whispering to someone. "Ah! Am ruined!" In a loud shout, Andrew busted. The reverberations of the shout would be heard from the valley bottoms. This attracted a few male friends at the homestead. A moment of discussion with the men on what had happened evoked the need for Silvia's punishment and eviction from the land. While this was against his will, Andrew, consoled by the men, was obliged to buy into the idea. "I would rather have her punished and thrown out of the community than see her all the time with my son." As in a Dreamland, shouts and screams from the ridges filled his ears as he thought. Lost into the thoughts,… Pated her by the back. "Uh, would those be screams from Silvia's house?" With eyes wide open, Andrew looked at the morning rays and his calendar, which had no markings, but one circled in charred red—90 days had passed without speaking to her after great complaints of lower stomach pains and denial of bed rights. In doll-dotted pajamas, Andrew gashed out and ran across the valley to the ridges.