THE STRANGERS IN MY HOME (PART 2)

Later that night, Josiah Umeh was sitting in the parlor, legs crossed with palm wine in one hand.

He sat there, watching Cocomelon on the wide flat screen TV in front of him. Chidinma’s favorite TV show.

It could have been Ada’s favorite show if she were alive.

As Josiah’s eyes were glued to the TV screen, tears formed around his eyeballs and began falling down like a waterfall as he watched JJ and his family sing Baby Shark.

He was alone. In this dark empty room.

And where was Madam Okafor and the five children?

Josiah turned his head to look outside the window. He stared at the bungalow building standing next to the parlor.

The boys quarter.

The boys’ quarter was cold, dark and empty. No sign of life existed within the walls of the building.

The last sign of life that existed there was just behind the giant metal door. Six dead bodies locked inside after inhaling carbon monoxide that Josiah had exposed them to after locking them up inside.

The only one left alive in the Mbeze Okafor family home was the murderer himself, Josiah Umeh.

There was one question that came across his mind as he sat alone in that dark room,

“Why am I hungry?”

His stomach did not growl neither did his throat feel dry. His hunger wasn’t physical, it was internal.

He did not feel satisfied after he had accomplished his one greedy desire; become Chief Mbeze Okafor.

He felt empty. He wanted more. But the more he wanted, the hungrier he became. Would he ever, for once, just once, be satisfied? Even after all the bloodshed and glory that stood in front of him...

“Oga, wetin you dey find?” A voice snapped Josiah back to reality.

He blinked twice. Where was he?

He looked around to see himself standing outside the gate of the tall green 6-bedroom duplex that belong to the Mbeze Okafor family.

He turned to the owner of the voice, Emeka the gateman.

“You wan sew cloth for my oga?” Emeka asked again, while pointing at the sewing machine on top of Josiah’s shoulders.

For a moment, a very short moment, Josiah had forgotten he was an itinerant tailor.

With his fist clenched, Josiah stared at his machine and back at the tall building in front of him.

Disappointment flooded his face but at the same time, he felt relieved that none of all the craziness that happened inside the Mbeze Okafor family home was real.

“No, sir.” Josiah shook his head and turned around to leave.

Emeka stared at him strangely for a second before retreating back into the house.

Josiah stopped walking and unclenched his fist. He looked down at the lost keys that he picked up from outside the Mbeze Okafor house gate.

The keys that had the word ‘Boys Quarters’ boldly scribbled on the plastic key holder.

He dug the key inside his pockets before strolling back into the streets to continue his job.

And one question replayed at the back of his mind.

To break in or not to break into the Mbeze Okafor family house like he imagined? He shook his head. Maybe he won’t.

.... Or maybe he will.

—THE END—

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. All characters, locations, organizations and incidents appearing in this article are fictitious.

COMMENT below what kind of stories you would like to see on my blog. Romance? (don’t dare me on this one because it will end in tears) Juju Horror? Corruption? Secondary school? NYSC?