Yellow Tales of a Nigerian Housemaid (completed)

Chapter Thirty Five

I jerked up suddenly with hot sweats dripping down my face, and splattering on my tiny bed. It'd been a nightmare, a nightmare that actually looked real. I didn't see who it was, only his deep crooked voice resounded in the strange room. His face was filled with darkness, just like a hollowed pit. His cold hand was clenched tightly on my neck, subduing me to surrender. I can't recall where we were, or what he wanted from me, all I could remember was how freaking scared I was, with thoughts that I was going to die!

I blinked severally as I tried to shut out the memories of my nightmare, but like a hurricane, it kept flooding in. I lazily dragged my butt closer to the wall and leaned on it. Mama was at the other edge, fast asleep. The silver torchlight was left on, and it leaned carefully on her drawer. The windows were wide open with the curtains tied together in a knot. The gentle breeze from the window blew on my wet skin, nearly rocking me back to sleep; but the sudden flash of my nightmare denied me that opportunity as I flung my eyes open again.

Then I remembered it, my piggy bank.

I gently stood up from my bed and tiptoed to Mama's corner. With utmost carefulness, I picked the torchlight up from the drawer and made for the door.

Slowly, I twisted the knob and pulled on it gently forcing the door  to whisper in response. I stopped. Mama exhaled loudly and turned the other way. I stood still like a mannequin, praying she doesn't wake up. Soon, she began to snore again.

I pulled the door gently and within seconds was safely in the sitting room. Dera was lying on her mat at a corner with a dim light from the native lantern illuminating the wide room. A faded green wrapper wrapped her from the legs up to her shoulder, she was laying still, deep asleep.
I left her presence and turned to the stairs, tiptoeing carefully till I was along the passage downstairs walking towards the door. I reached for the bolt and quietly unbolted it. Grabbing the knob, I pulled it open forcing the cool breeze to blow sharply on my face and into my nostrils. I smiled, that smelt like victory!

The night was cold, dark and scary. The pawpaw leaves bowed and danced oddly to the whistling sound of the breeze. The fireflies were scattered around the garden and blinked it's light in a rhythmic pattern. The crickets and night owls could be heard screeching with the nocturnal birds singing scary tunes. I remembered my nightmare and for a second, thought about the comfort of my bed. These thoughts were overwhelming and nearly lured me to bed, but remembering my piggy bank gave me the motive I needed to move on.

I flashed my torchlight around to ensure my safety, and felt satisfied knowing nothing was amiss. With hurried but quiet steps, I made my way to the little garden, ready to dig up my piggy bank.

I stood before the garden, totally lost. I couldn't recognize the actual spot I'd buried it. The rains had washed away the dry leaves and the flowing mud waters had brought new earth into the garden. The only way to easily locate it was to pray the stick I'd mounted beside it still stood. With this in mind, I set to work.

I scurried round the garden in a long fruitless search. I was getting disappointed by each passing second, and my initial sense of excitement was waning slowly. My happiness was suddenly overtaken by an immense flow of sadness.

Then I heard the door open gently.

I stopped, switched off my torchlight and laid still.

I listened but heard nothing. I waited few long seconds but nothing still came into view. With everywhere suddenly quiet, I shrugged, switched on my torchlight and continued. I wasn't particularly worried as I reassured myself it could be the night breeze or another silly animal friend of mine.

"What are you doing there?" The voice was a bit loud.

I froze!

Then I heard the footsteps, they were coming closer. I still didn't turn. I hadn't listened clearly to know who it was, I was lost in what I was doing.