The Evening Of The Morning
It was a dangerous night for Squad 4or, as usual, mounted on a checkpoint by a road bordered by bushes on both sides. But, thieves, kidnappers, and bribery, they already strategized for, but what they saw...who they saw after mere little boys ambushed them, left the little boys dead and Agbo; a blooder in Squad 4or, stricken that he didn't sleep for four days; as something he loved doing, it was appalling he didn't touch his wife. The attack had left him tethering at the brink of life and death with three nuts lodged in lethal areas in his stomach, but the man they saw, who warned them never to say his name out loud, made him cross the line easily and his chest began to rise and fall again.
That he could lie beside his wife and eat with his family, adding his only son, was appalling to him. His wife wouldn't understand. Touching her down there or having her nipple in his mouth wasn't even close to what he thought about.
He thought about a man and he couldn't stop thinking about this man. This man who the book is about, this man who tells tales of his past life, this man who is strong, but always reminds Agbo that something is stronger. And dreadfully, that something was coming.
It is also about me, the poor, sacrificial lamb, it is about me, the host of the Almighty.
