18+ inhuman act
1001 Words
Chapter 2: Inhuman Act
John had no idea what was going on until he saw it—until the burly, reeking man slapped his wife on the buttocks, grinning as if it was his birthright.
And just like that, reality slammed into him.
They weren’t soldiers.
They weren’t law enforcement.
They were bandits—infamous, cruel, and now in charge of their lives.
---
“See as this one fine like Mami water! I no know say woman wey fine like this still dey for Buleria o!” the man shouted, clearly drunk, leering at my wife as he grabbed her behind again.
The slaps hit her, but the pain landed in my chest.
I felt like my skull was being pounded by a blacksmith’s hammer.
But what could I do?
A gun was pointed at my temple.
One move, one spark of resistance, and I'd be a dead man.
“Na your wife abi?” the drunk mumbled, slurring his words. “Abeg, hold am—make I do him wife as he dey look.”
He moved in. His breath stank like sewage, his tongue halfway out like a dog. He was about to force a kiss on my wife.
Her body was trembling—anger, fear, revulsion.
I wanted to fight. I needed to.
But I was frozen. Helpless.
Then—thank God—a larger man appeared from behind and smacked the pervert across the head. He barked orders in a language I couldn’t understand—probably Hausa.
That was the first time we saw Audu.
Without a word, Audu turned and walked away, entering one of the cars they’d hijacked from the other victims. He sped off into the darkness.
Relief washed over me.
I thanked God that Selena hadn’t tried something dangerous like kicking the bastard in his manhood. We were already in hell—we didn’t need gasoline on the flames.
Soon after, we were all herded into two large buses.
Blindfolds over our eyes.
Guns on our backs.
Our stolen cars tailed behind us like a convoy.
---
After what felt like two hours, we were forced off the buses. Still blindfolded, we marched through thick bushland for what seemed like an eternity. Branches tore at our clothes. Insects bit at our skin. The smell of earth and death lingered in the air.
Finally, the blindfolds were removed.
And that’s when we saw it.
A shrine.
Not just any shrine—
A massive wooden hall, deep in the heart of the forest.
It stood alone, like a secret buried by time and evil.
Inside was worse.
Black and red cloths draped the walls, adorned with crude skull symbols painted in white.
Human skulls—over twenty of them—hung from the ceiling like grotesque chandeliers.
Bones lined the corners, seashells scattered like sand across the dirt floor.
In the center of the shrine sat a massive clay pot, filled with something I couldn’t quite see.
Nearby, a long wooden table was set against the far wall.
Gourds, calabashes—some opened, others sealed—lay in an ominous line.
At the center sat a twisted sculpture: an animal’s body with a human face, smeared with red and black goo.
A man, maybe in his 50s, knelt before it, clothed only in a plain white cloth tied around his waist. He was deep in prayer.
As we entered, he rose to greet our captors, smiling like a man possessed.
That’s when it hit me.
They weren’t bandits.
They weren’t kidnappers.
They were ritualists.
---
“Hahahaha! You brought them just in time,” the evil priest said, pulling out his phone. “Let me call Chief. He must be here before daybreak.”
Midnight came.
They dragged one of us—a young man—out of the shrine.
We heard screams. Grunts.
The unmistakable sound of someone fighting for their life.
Then silence.
Thirty minutes later, they returned.
They were carrying a calabash filled with blood.
With them was a stranger, dressed in flowing robes.
His face was familiar. A politician. No…
Senator Bankole.
He removed his cap, knelt before the grotesque sculpture.
The priest handed him the calabash.
“Drink,” he said.
Senator Bankole drank.
Then the rest of the blood was poured over his head.
“Senator!” the priest boomed. “You are now on the path to becoming a man. For the next seven days, you will bathe in human blood. On the seventh day, these people”—he pointed at us—“will be sent to the spirit world. Their deaths will bear fruit from the Tree Monster, and the curse upon your head will be lifted.”
I couldn’t hear the rest.
I didn’t want to.
---
Dawn broke.
They dragged Selena and me out of the shrine.
People had already started whispering their last goodbyes.
My heart was already numb.
If this was death, let it come.
But then—Audu returned.
He walked up to us, eyes gleaming with madness.
He reached out, trying to grope my wife again—my Selena—my treasure.
That was it.
I don’t know where the strength came from.
Maybe it was love.
Maybe desperation.
I leapt from the ground and spun.
A full roundhouse kick.
My heel met his jaw.
Blood splattered. Audu stumbled.
It felt good.
Even if it was the last thing I ever did.
His men pounced.
I was slammed to the ground and held there.
Audu, now seething, stripped off his shirt.
“You want to be a man?” he growled.
“I’ll take your wife first. Then you.”
The words hit me harder than any blow.
I didn’t have time to process.
His fists became thunder.
My face, a drum.
He turned me into a canvas of pain.
But even then—I didn't regret it.
He leaned down, whispering in my ear.
“I think I’ll take you first.”
Then he slapped my behind.
- Writer
