Ejike The Betrayal

rned twenty-five, it bled like a wounded goat. It wasn't just the sky that turned,

lips, masking the unease brewing in his belly. He was always laughing. The villagers said he joked to hi

ey called him. "Ejik

en his laughter

Amadioha, an old voice whi

in his hand. "Who's there? I've not yet sin

rom the shadows not a

d egg yolks. Her voice creaked like bamboo in the win

ughed again, but i

stepping closer. "Your blood i

e for celebration, not riddles. I

he night. "The moon never bleeds without a reason.

rom his face. Behind him, the drumming at the square fade

n he he

ng and sharp

d come out o

s calling