The Rising - Ennead 2

Scene 13.1 - Sleeping with the Enemy

We often blame our evil on demons, but wise men know that the darkest demons are born in the Hearts of Men - Anon.

His name is Kekeli. It means light, which is ironic. Kelly, as he prefers to be known, Is often mean and inconsiderate of others. I suppose in a manner of speaking, that's what people expect from teenagers isn't it?

The bed on which he sleeps is comfy. Waking up is the last thing he wants to do on this brilliant Saturday morning. He has little choice in the matter however. His bed cloth whips off, moved by an unseen hand. Next, his mattress tips, dropping him onto the grey linoleum of his bedroom floor.

It's a good thing his bed is not so far off the floor. In all confidence, dear reader, I assure you that this teen's skull contains the most interesting stuff.

Kelly stretches out, unfazed by the rude awakening, and begins to prepare to face the rest of the day. A rude awakening seems to be, perhaps, more normal than you or I would expect.

Kelly is thirteen. He looks smaller than thirteen year old Ghanaian boys are meant to be. It's a good thing that he's got quite a bit of time to catch up. I don't know about you, but his frailty doesn't inspire me with too much confidence. It's a dog-eat-dog world out there, especially with this whole "Rising' business bubbling up all over the place.

He pads out his room, shirtless and clothed in only pyjama bottoms.

An older female calls out from the kitchen as his feet touch the pale cream ceramic tiles of a small living room, "Kekeli Kosi Danku! You better not be walking around this early Saturday without slippers!"

The older female is perceptive, no? Kelly heads back to his bedroom to rummage underneath his bed, then his reading desk, till he finds both halves of a pair of rubber slippers.

He heads back to the living room grumbling under his breath about the unfairness of life or something. He makes a beeline for his favourite rattan couch which he flops down on to.

His right hand dives between couch cushions to hunt for the remote control whilst his left hand dives down the front of his pyjamas. Gross? Yes, teenage boys aren't angels.

The remote is found but refuses to function. Some evil changeling has turned the tube off at the outlet.

Kelly curses under his breath and bounces forward to switch on the set. It blinks to life and he settles back down to worship the screen.

KLONKK!!

A floating wooden spoon raps our Kelly on the head. The voice from the kitchen calls out again. "Breakfast first young man!"

Kelly grabs the spoon and viciously pretends to strangle it. Done with his revenge, he sighs and shuffles into the cramped kitchen.

A large part of the kitchen is dominated by a small four sided table. It's barely large enough for four, which is okay since it has only ever sat two.

"Good morning Aunt Phyllis." Kelly mumbles as he walks though the doorway.

Phyllis Danku sits on one side of the table, splitting her attention between a cup of hot chocolate and her tablet. She nods in response to the greeting.

Kelly's aunt and legal guardian has looks that vacillate between late twenties and late thirties depending on her mood. Today is a good morning; a thirty year old morning to be precise.

She wears a pair of pyjamas identical to Kelly's but for their size. Most of her permed hair is pulled into a hasty bun except for a few rebel wisps and her single lock of grey hair. She peers over her reading glasses to observe her nephew scratching his tummy and sitting down glumly to a bowl of koko*.

The aunt, after a moment, decides not to comment on his state of undress. There's only so much one can do after all.

Phyllis is done before Kelly is. She leaves her cup in the sink and moves out, absent-mindedly petting the nephew's hair as she does so.

"Meet me in the garage when you're done. We have to continue our lessons. The winds are changing." She says as she breezes out on unshod feet.

Kelly grunts in response and brushes her off as he bites a chunk out of a bread roll.

#

The cat is already hanging upside down on a nylon cord when Kelly steps into the garage. It meows pitifully, trying to touch the heart of the new comer. It clearly has no idea.

"You wore a shirt. Good." The aunt comments before she turns around and smiles sweetly.

Kelly returns a tight grimace and takes his place by her side. She holds a steel basin under the feline and hands him a bowie knife.

"Make sure you don't make a mess this time, okay?" She says as he flips the knife open.

"Yes Aunt Phyllis"

"You know you're going to clean it up if you do. Hold the vein when it's cut so it doesn't spill out too quickly."

"Yes Aunt Phyllis" Kelly drones as he does just that.

The dark red liquid gushes out in a steady stream. The cat struggles as this happens, but Kelly holds onto it like a pro. A little blood manages to spurt out of control and miss the bowl. The Aunt sighs and the nephew ignores her.

"You made sure that you didn't cut yourself didn't you?"

"Uh huh." He confirms. The last dregs of cat blood are dribbling out now.

"Good. Human blood is powerful. You shouldn't waste it. You should only use it for powerful work. Like binding daemons."

"Binding daemons. Like you right?"

"Yes dear." She grins, nudging him affectionately with her elbow "Daemons like me."

Footnotes

*Koko – refers here to Ghanaian porridge. Made out of fermented and milled corn or millet. In everyday usage, koko is a generic term that may be used to refer to any cereal porridge which involves water and the application of water. This includes wheat porridge, grits and oatmeal.