"What the fuck..." Funmi stared at him like he was a ghost, like she was just seeing through him for the first time. She took a few steps back, and when he tried to reach for her, she screamed and jumped back. "Don't you fucking touch me."
For the first time, Jonathan flinched and his confident face faltered. There was hurt in the glimmer of his eyes. He sniffed and placed his hand on his chest, leaning forward. "I didn't know where she got the concoctions." He took his hands down, but his fingers were still firm. "All I knew was it made me feel better whenever I drank it, and it made Adesuwa happy when she drank it. I told you. I'm no saint. But when I found out where my miracle potion truly came from, of course I put an end to it. Yes, she was my mother, but she had murdered over thirty girls in the span of two months, and she wasn't going to stop. I had to put an end to it. I told the villagers about her and they ambushed her in our home.
"But Adesuwa fought. She sprang on their group and gutted one of the men with her nails, and his insides spilled unto the grass. Adesuwa was fast, like she had been anticipating their attack. She stole a cutlass and flung it at another man, burying it deep in his skull. The men had come with three priests, who gripped bibles, praying fervently, but Adesuwa grabbed one and shoved her head into his face. She bit his lips and ripped them out—blood splurted in the air and rained on the grass. The other priests fled. Five men died that day, brutally murdered, until they eventually subdued her, binding her in chains. I watched them drag her away, and that was when she cursed me: 'Wherever I go after my death, you will follow me,' she said, pointing a finger at me. And that is how I ended up here with her, in this dark layer of your subconscious. I'm not sure what they did to her after they took her, but I never saw her again. There are multiple ways they killed witches during my time. They could have stoned her to death, or set her ablaze, or decapitated her, or flayed her... I don't know. But after they took her away, there was no one to help me anymore. I died of malaria a few months later."
Funmi shook her head and let out a dry chuckle, not finding room in her heart to feel sympathy for him. But then, he did not even speak like he wanted her sympathy. "I'm beginning to think I'm already dead, and this place is my hell."
"Oh, trust me, you're very much alive. But not for long, if Adesuwa gets you."
Funmi pouted her lips and paced back and forth, causing the floor to creak with each step and the cringy noise bothered her thoughts, so she stopped her pacing. She turned to Jonathan, desperate for a way to save her skin. "You already tried to kill me, and it didn't work. How can Adesuwa kill me when my death can only come by suicide?"
Jonathan waved a finger. "That is incorrect," he said. "I never said suicide is the only way. I just said you have to kill yourself."
Funmi scowled at him and crossed her arms over her bosom again—but not because of the cold this time. "They're the same thing."
"In the real world, yes. They are technically the same thing. But here, it's more complicated. To die here, to truly die here, you have to kill yourself. And you see, the thing about Adesuwa is... she is you."
The words were lost on her. Funmi leaned forward, like she needed to hear properly. "I beg your pardon?"
"She can kill you because she is you. You're her. You two share the same soul."
Funmi groaned in frustration and stamped the wooden floor so hard, her foot impaled the floorboard. When she pulled her foot out, there was a breach in the floor. Funmi looked through the hole, but only darkness was there, and she wondered what was underneath. She turned to Jonathan; he did not look impressed. "Just stop saying things that do not make any sense. What do you mean she is me, and all that bullshit! Your psychopathic mother lived hundred years ago."
"Yes, she did live hundred years ago, but how do you think she ended up here in this layer of your subconscious?"
"I'm guessing you're about to tell me."
Jonathan stared at her through narrow eyes, as though studying her. Was he trying to decide if she can handle his next words? It stirred a rage inside Funmi again. "Are you familiar with the concept of reincarnation?" he finally said.
Funmi sighed and turned around, then she walked through the aisle, towards the altar, taking only steady steps.
Jonathan followed her. "Uhm, what do you think you're doing?"
Funmi turned her head to glance at him, and she caught him staring at her buttocks. He whipped his head away. Funmi shook her head and turned around again. I don't care about your body, my foot! "If we're going to do this, then I have to get those clothes from the crucifix before I freeze to death. At this point, I'd be satisfied with that option—it's a lot better than what Adesuwa wants to do to me. But seeing as the cold can't exactly kill me here, then I'm going to keep the cold away."
Jonathan dashed ahead of her and stood before her, a few steps away from the scattered candles by the altar and kicked splinters of wood—splinters which came from the pulpit. He glared at the girl and grabbed her shoulders. "This isn't the physical world you're familiar with where you can just move things around, okay? Everything you see right now is like an image, from a moment in time. A memory. You can't just go around taking things. Everything put in place has to stay in place, or the whole place might collapse."
"You enjoy seeing me naked, is that it? Well, I don't enjoy being naked." Funmi pointed at the crucifix. "I need those cloths."
"Then I'll strip and give you my clothes."
Funmi swept a look across the attire. "Hard pass," she said, and walked around him.
She walked past the railings guarding the altar and mounted the podium, stepping on a bible with a rosary beside it. Funmi wasn't catholic, but she made the sign of the cross before walking towards the crucifix. It seemed to her like the right thing to do. She took only slow steps, as though she might step on a land mine and explode. Jonathan stood outside the altar, watching. Waiting. But Funmi did not care—she kept moving. With each step she took, she drew closer to the crucifix. It was much larger up close, towering over her, and she raised her head to grab a full view of the cross. The clothes drifted with the wind. Save the whistling breeze, the church was dead quiet, but there was something about that silence that spoke volumes. Her heart thumped her chest, and when she listened hard enough, she heard the anxious beating. Funmi drew a deep breath in, and the smell of burnt meat rushed into her nostrils again—it was stronger, almost like burning leather. Funmi raised her arm to touch the cloth and the floor creaked beneath her; it sounded like a thin cackle. She grabbed the cloth and pulled it off the crucifix; the whole material fell and revealed what was underneath.
It was not Jesus Christ.
It didn't look human, and yet it had the shape of one, like it once had life. It was black and brown and scaly, and looked like burnt wood. But it was flesh. That was where the smell emanated from. The head of the figure was bald, and its hair had melted onto the face. The lips and eyelids were charred, and the eyes had no flesh to clothe it anymore. The eyes were round, and full, and whitish, staring blankly at Funmi's feet. The hands were nailed to either arms of the cross, and the feet were nailed as well—one atop the other. This was done to mimic the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, except Jesus Christ wasn't burnt alive as well. This was a person who had been executed. The chest region was almost flat, and whatever mass was supposed to be there had been consumed by the flames. Between the thighs, there was no penis, and there was no evidence of one. Whoever this person was, it wasn't a male.
"Adesuwa," Jonathan said under his breath, but loud enough for Funmi to hear.
Funmi gasped. "What..."
The eyes on the burnt figure shifted in their sockets, slowly, until the black pupils pointed right at Funmi. The cheeks stretched, revealing a set of white teeth, even whiter than her eyeballs—it had no lips, but that was a smile. And it was the creepiest smile Funmi had ever seen. Before Funmi could scream, it tore its hands off the cross, leaped in the air above Funmi, and descended on her.
YOU ARE READING
Jonathan and Other Weird Stories
Short StoryA collection of short stories 1) THABISA Tunde is gay, and Jabulani has his eyes on him. Angry eyes, filled with weird desires. All his life, Tunde has felt bound with shackles, longing to taste freedom. Real freedom---to walk down the streets, smil...