Restart Survival of Dolores

West Africa, 355 B.C.

The wind swirled around a stick-thin man, shoving an imaginary rain into his face so that it’s slashes at his boney cheeks. The dusky fog of the night spread towards him. His short, curly hair was fitted on his dark skin and brilliant black eyes that sparkled like two pairs of onyx. However, his thick gray eyebrows and beard covered his charm. Yet, one would discover his beauty at first glance.

Ayo, the old farmer in his late 40s, was still digging holes to harvest tuber of yams, potatoes and cocoyams he had planted earlier that year.

Another hit of his rusty hoe against the soft-skinned earth. It peeled it off, revealing its rich soil, along with the woody scent hovering alongside the cold, night breeze.

With this, Ayo deepened his shaky hands into it, trying to know what the earth has brought for him this time. Curiosity laced his eyes as he grabbed the fibre out of the ground.

Alas! It was nothing but rotten stems. Ayo forced it out, and the tuber bursted onto his face, filled with nothing but maggots swimming out of it. He threw it away immediately with disgust.

This was the last piece of it, out of the thousand tuber stems he had planted earlier that year. This was the last. It’s been two years now. No farmer in Odo-Ara planted a single crop. Every farmer failed, and the villagers were sick and dying. When this happens, they believe that the gods of the land are angry. Human give blood and sacrifices to please the gods but these times, everything gets rejected.

Looking up at the darkening sky, Ayo could feel the sound of silence. A single tear clouded Ayo’s eyes, filling up the space. His lips shivered at the coldness that blew through his skinny body like a virus.

“It’s been two years without rain! My wife is sick and my son is dying! Tonight, I curse this land!” He raised up to his feet despite tears dripping down and settling into his beard.

“A thousand curses upon you, wretched gods! Despite all the blood you’ve taken! You never satisfy me, anyway! I rebuke you henceforth!!”

Saying this aloud to the sky, Ayo’s voice echoed back to him, but not only his voice. As if something was there in the darkness. The sound of fire jarring in the air. Like thunderclaps, crackling.

Hissing.

His eyes widened in shock while he tried to see clearer, hoping it wasn’t a dream. Ayo wiped his eyes to the direction. He had never expected this, but he stood still until he realized what it was. A purple thunder bolted the sky like a furious dragon.

A Comet.

In a split of moment, it filled the entire place with light, an arc of lightening. With menacing speed like a burning ball from the fire thrown from the sky.

His lips quivered at the words. “Praise be to the gods of the land!” But he was too late.

The comet struck the farmer down with just one blow.

His burnt body moved forward as he tried to recognize what the shiny thing was. It sparkled in his eyes with its eye-like shape. Crawling to it with the fibre of his veins twisted out with his shaky hand stretched to it. Ayo let out a choky cough as this charming brown skin turned into charcoal.

Just then, he heard another sound from above. Hoping it wasn’t another comet, he raised his gaze to the dreariness of the night and there it was. A blur vision of a giant flying bird. He wasn’t sure of what it was, but it’s type of golden was exceptional. His muscles twitched as he tried to survive the pain.

About to touch the egg, the dragon grabbed it with it’s legs. Next, it breathed out fire on Ayo’s burnt body, as if the comet wasn’t enough. It burnt his entire farm and disappeared into the dark sky.

The next minute, the remains of Ayo, the greatest farmer in Odo-Ara. Was nothing but his burnt body, lying on the farm that burnt along with him. All in ashes.

That night, Digi, his wife, let out a screeching cry. She was in the labour room alongside an elderly woman with totally white eyes called Iya Aduke. She had lost her sight at an early age from the use of harsh herbs her parents had used for her because of ignorance. She’s also a widow, but she helps to labour women within Odo-Ara to deliver their babies.

She never remarried, nor does she have a child. People call her Iya Aduke, hoping someday she would have a child to succeed her too. Blind as Iya Aduke, she knew every nook and cranny of the town.

“Listen. . . I can hear the cry of your baby, my dear. It’s just one push and these are over.” Her hoarse voice whispered into Digi’s ears.

“What about my husband? I need my husband!!” She bursted into a gut-wrenching sob that tore up her lungs.

“Your husband isn’t back from farm yet but I believe he’d bring good news. Right now, you need to push out. Your child’s birth should be a joyful sight in the eyes of the gods.”

‘Hmmmm. . .’