A Dance With The Devil

Prologue

Some people are greedy. Others a

re just evil. A presidential election goes wrong. And violence is born. This is the story of a 16 year-old-schoolgirl caught in the midst of the hostility born of the aftermath, of a child robbed of innocence in the most brutal manner. And of the controversial decision she must make. This is the story of how a moment of pure tranquility is flipped upside down into an endless, chaotic turmoil. This is a story of greed, power, boldness, selflessness, pain, courage, despair, agony and HOPE.

Dear Mike,

I know you must be angry at me for not writing to you sooner, but there is a lot that happened to me when I went visiting my folks in the village the last few weeks. Let me cut to the chase and explain what happened. On that fateful night, I vividly remember the noises outside getting louder by the second. And the noises were approaching in our direction. From inside our small house, I could hear children crying and the neighbours yelling – they were shouting and screaming as if begging for their lives. It was terrifying. And we were scared... very scared.

I remember how it all changed from a quiet calm to a raucous commotion in an instant. We didn’t even have time to prepare; they struck in the dead of the night without warning.

When the noises outside grew louder and closer, I knew we were in imminent danger.

At that point I recall mom grabbing my three younger siblings and cuddling them in the corner of the room and asking them not to worry; as if that would make a difference.

I knew something big was about to hit us, and her efforts were worthless, but I still understood her; she has always been a protective and comforting person. What we did not realize as we stood there worried and shocked was that our tiny village was under a serious attack.

See, Mike, unlike you and your family we do not live in a big mansion in a gated community in the city protected by armed security guards. The earnings of our family lineage could never afford that in our entire combined lifetimes. You are rich, and able. We are just simple people who cannot afford much. Our setup is simple; simple as we can afford.

I’m not complaining about our home though, I am just letting you understand how permeable our homestead is. In fact, an averagely muscular person could easily tear through our house wall with his bare fist. Imagine that.

Darling, I know it’s been months since we last talked, and it’s impolite to ambush you with such a sad letter out of the blue, but you know I honestly missed you and I never meant to be so cold. But while I went visiting the countryside, the unthinkable happened. And it’s why I want to first let you know that I won’t get to see you again Mike. That sounds sad I know. Unexpected even, but it’s the truth and but I hope when you get to the end of this letter you’ll understand.

In fact, let me get back to explaining; I know you are curious to read on…

So, on that fateful night a crowd of angry men was charging towards our not so strong house. I could feel their loud steps as they approached. And in our naivety we didn’t expect it, or even prepare for it. I was standing close to the door and I took one last glance at the four innocent faces opposite me now filled with so much fear and worry. This is what remained after my dad had succumbed to lung cancer a year back. These were the only people in the world I could call family.

Being the eldest of the four siblings, I had to do something. And my head was running fast trying to dig into the deepest of my inspiration to come up with that magical way out of this.

I remember earlier in the day it had been reported that a church near our area had been torched by these perpetrators and dozens of people burnt beyond recognition. The local radio had reported the graphic details of the tragedy. It was a sad account of helpless souls suffering in the hands of ruthless devils. The victims, mostly children who had gone for their morning mass, had been cornered and the church sprayed with inflammable petrol. The doors had been locked from outside and the building set on fire.

I imagined the horror they had gone through as they tried to escape, their voices as they begged and cried. And at that moment reality struck me that in a few minutes my family would face the same fate. This small house would be smothered to the ground, we would choke in the smoke, and the flames would devour our bodies and leave nothing but embers. In minutes, we would be gone and forgotten.

So, as we all stood there aghast, faces filled with confusion, the noises outside growing louder and more scarier by the second, I felt I had to do something fast, or we would all become history.

In a very sporadic fashion I swirled the stool adjacent to me towards the glass window across the room. I needed as much push to it as possible to get past the wooden window frame. It worked. The glass shuttered loudly and what was left now was a wide gap on what was seconds ago a framed window.

Mum gasped for air and you could see she was...