Flesh: Sierra Leone

The Tsetse's Whisper

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the crumbling streets of Freetown. Aminata, Sorie, Fatmata, Mohamed, and Isata huddled together in an abandoned school building. The air was thick with fear and the stench of decay. Outside, the dead roamed, their eyes vacant, their hunger insatiable.

Aminata, a former school teacher with a calm demeanor, used her knowledge of local languages to communicate and coordinate with survivors from different ethnic groups. Sorie, an energetic mechanic, kept vehicles and generators running—a crucial task for their survival. Fatmata, a medical student, treated injuries and illnesses with limited supplies. Mohamed, a former police officer, planned their defense and ensured their safety. And Isata, the youngest of the group, scavenged for electronic parts and rigged up a communication system.

The tsetse flies buzzed relentlessly, carriers of the virus that had turned the city into a nightmare. Their erratic flight patterns seemed like whispers—warnings of approaching hordes, tips on scavenging, and glimpses of hope. Isata had deciphered their coded language, and they followed the flies through the labyrinthine streets.

One day, they stumbled upon an old library. Its shelves sagged under the weight of forgotten knowledge. Aminata found a book—a relic from a time before the outbreak—a collection of Sierra Leonean folktales. The stories wove magic and reality, blurring the lines between the living and the dead. The tsetse flies buzzed in approval, their wings creating an eerie harmony.

The survivors fought back. Aminata's calm voice guided them, Sorie's wrench swung true, Fatmata's scalpel flashed, Mohamed's shotgun roared, and Isata's traps snapped shut. They became a family, bound by blood and whispers. The tsetse flies, once harbingers of death, now carried hope.

And so, in the quiet evenings, when the sun dipped below the horizon, the survivors gathered. Aminata's voice rose, Sorie's laughter echoed, Fatmata's healing touch soothed, Mohamed's wisdom guided, and Isata's eyes sparkled with possibility.

Together, they whispered hope—a symphony of survival.