Amobi and the Door Beyond Time (PREVIEW)

4. Let it Go! Let it Go!

Sometimes life is like a swimming pool, calm and gentle and peaceful. It sparkles beautifully in the sunlight, inviting you in. But then, that weird uncle that eats way too many sardines and makes sad attempts at jokes during family reunions jumps in and ruins it for everyone. For me, Mr Ohia was that weird uncle. One attack and my life was suddenly doing cartwheels.

"So let me get this straight," Kosi began, an expression of disbelief on her face. "This awakening could kill us?"

"No, it won't," Chioma replied. "Iboma's just being dramatic."

"That's what you told that other boy," the god said. "Where is he now?"

"He's perfectly fine."

"After he'd already come close to death five times."

"Anyone who hears you will think that you don't want them to be awakened."

"Of course I want them to be initiated," Iboma sniffed. "I'm just trying to warn them about the risks."

"No problem there," I.K interjected. "Consider us duly warned."

We were now entering the small town I'd seen earlier. The houses weren't any finer up close, but we did see some artwork displayed proudly over most of them. One house had a giant skull leering at us from the balcony.

"What is this place?" I.K asked hesitantly. "I feel like we just entered gang territory." He choked. "We have, haven't we? They are going to beat us up for trespassing." Kosi scowled and cracked her knuckles and I instantly felt sorry for the poor soul that'd dare to attack her.

"Nobody is going to beat you up," Chioma said, somewhat incredulously. "These are just art. Don't you remember? Back in the old days, people would decorate their homes with drawings."

I stared at a particularly grotesque rendition of a flying pig.

"Pretty sure we didn't draw those."

Chioma shrugged. "Art evolves."

We rounded a corner and the town seemed to come to life around us. Most of the inhabitants were middle-aged, though I spotted a couple of girls my age giggling near a shop. Bicycles and a couple of motorcycles plied the tiny road, but most people were on foot. A group of laughing children played football on the road, oblivious to the blaring horns of the vehicles that passed straight through them. A mother hurried forward, seized her son's ear and gave it a sharp twist.

"How many times will I tell you to stop playing football on the road?" she screamed. "But will you hear? No! Your ears were made for decoration. Okwagi! Go and tell them you didn't see me. You cannot kill me, because I did not kill my mother. Just wait until your father returns."

She dragged away the now wailing boy, still screaming at the top of her lungs while his mates looked on in bemusement.

"People are worried," Chioma said, watching the furious mother. "We've had incidents before of course, but never like this."

"The end of the world does tend to do that," Iboma replied sagely.

A weird looking building came into view – or rather scuttled into view because the entire structure was moving. It was three storeys high and was painted a violent shade of purple with yellow lines streaking down its sides like lightning bolts. Rows and rows of giant insect legs sprouted from the bottom and the windows opened and shut like eyes. The house screeched to a halt at the sight of us, then turned and fled down a side alley. Hawkers and pedestrians alike leapt aside to let it pass.

"Wait! Come back," a boy yelled as he chased after the fleeing house and almost ran into us. Chioma grabbed him by the arm, her eyebrows scrunched up in concern. "Francis, what happened?"