The Second Sight thrills…
THE SECOND SIGHT
SEASON 1 EPS. 32
Location: SERENE TOWN
Yaw Boat doesn’t know where to take her.
She is still being weighed down by whatever drug Styles has used on her, although her movements are more frequent now.
He just drives automatically, and after a while he is surprised to find himself cruising around Serene Town.
It is a suburb of Beach County, and this is only the second or third time that he has entered its borders.
Serene Town is not a place you want to be. It is a huge community, filled with beautiful buildings and nature-fresh plants and pristine streets.
It houses a variety of special institutions.
A philanthropic organization started it all by erecting a special institute for the mentally-challenged. The government followed by establishing two institutions, one for the blind and deaf, and another for orphaned kids living with AIDS and other life-threatening diseases.
From there, the institutions have sprouted, and a fancy politician with great selfish ambitions has named it Serene Town.
Three kinds of people come to the suburb: those who are potential inmates, the workers of the institutions, and visitors.
It is a tightly-secured environment, and police presence can be seen every few blocks. The first time Boat had come to the place was when his father – and his church – had donated some valued items to THE HAVEN OF BLISS, an institution that provides care for the aged, more famed for its superb services than its absurd name.
Serene Town has had its fair share of scandals, though. The most recent one had been about a male nurse at The Haven of Bliss who had obviously had a sick desire for wrinkled women.
No one had been able to fathom out what was going on until a vibrant new doctor had become suspicious of how the old ladies seemed to favour the young stud, giggling with silly abandon whenever he was around and fawning around him with the enthusiasm of teenaged girls. There had been one occasion when two brittle-boned ladies had engaged in a pathetic scratching bout simply because the nurse had seemed to give more attention to one of them.
The doctor communicated his concerns to the right ears, and secret camera had been installed, and eventually the footage had revealed the sick young nurse giving the old ladies the rides of their mature lives whilst he filmed the whole show.
Later it had been revealed that he sold those tapes at high prices to a list of clients so powerful that its existence had caused a major furore.
As Boat cruises through the town he slowly comes out of his moroseness. He switches off the car’s air conditioner and winds down the windows. The air is fresh and clean, and as he slowly drives past the Serene Pleasure Park, he hears hears the wonderful high-pitched sounds of crickets and other nocturnal insects.
There is peace here and, most importantly, there are not many uglies here! It seems as if Serene Town is not their favourite playground.
He turns through the entrance of the park and parks the vehicle.
The huge park is lit but empty, save for a few late sleepers. Maybe doctors and nurses mostly, escaping from their hectic jobs to grab a few moments of nature and love.
Boat gets down and walks towards some shrubs and begins to pee. He knows it is a bad practice, one he personally abhors, and he knows a policeman can appear and raise hell any moment, but today he really doesn’t care. He has been through hell, and deserves a little break no doubt.
Boat does the toss, puts the boy inside, and is zipping up his fly when his vision is suddenly filled with a brilliant green.
He swivels round, startled, and sees that it is Hideous, blasting away into the black sky with a screech of fear so horrible that Boat almost covers his ears.
Boat is intrigued and mystified.
Hideous, the Great Bad Thing, the fearless Demon, Supreme Assassin for the demons supremo, fleeing with such fear?
What has spooked the demon so badly?
Boat turns towards the car.
The passenger door is open, and suddenly he sees a bright light to his left.
The lady he has rescued is bent double, puking into a culvert.
And her whole body is suffused with that wonderful and brilliant force-field.
Boat looks into the skies, and sees a tiny dot of green.
Hideous is fleeing far far far into the sky in its terror!
First Boat begins to giggle as happiness bubbles deep in his chest. He is extremely happy to see Hideous in flight, and soon the giggle becomes a full-throated wail of sheer delight.
He laughs so hard that he feels pains in his ribs, and tears of glee comes to his eyes. Yaw Boat knows he is sounding hysterical, but he doesn’t give two hoots!
Hideous is scared!
It has fled with a screech!
It is the most pleasant sight Boat has seen in ages.
In itself it presents no humour, because it showcased nothing new. Boat has seen that phenomenon before.
What makes him laugh, maybe, is the fact that in the past few hours he has convinced himself that nothing can be done to save him, and that he is doomed to a life he neither wants nor ready for.
Hideous’ flight is a beacon of hope and a great balm to his shattered soul. Maybe all is not lost. Maybe the light he is seeing in the tunnel isn’t that of an oncoming train after all, but a hint of entrance, a chance of life once more!
The girl is on her feet now. She sways weakly, but she looks a little bit okay now. Boat approaches her. He takes out his handkerchief and wipes a trail of saliva from her chin.
Her dull eyes regard him quietly, and then her lips began to tremble. A look of sheer horror crosses her face as she seems to recollect something, and then she takes two steps and falls into his arms.
Boat holds her as she cries quietly.
Her force-field is gone now; it had been activated by the presence of Hideous. Boat wonders again why it had disappeared inside the Lustful Lips, why he had only seen a trace of it, a barely discernible aura.
Has it been because after the drug Styles gave her she had lost her defences? Or did Styles’ assault on her had cause it to weaken somehow? Or, more reasonably, did it grow weak in the presence of so much evil?
It must have been because of the things Styles did to her, Boat thinks. He remembers something about that, something he had picked up in Sunday School many years ago, about how God turned His divine face away from Jesus when the Son was on the cross.
The sight of so much sin hanging on His only begotten Son caused God to look away. Did this lady enter into sin when Styles ravaged her with his lips and hands? Is that why she has lost her force-field?
He holds her for a long time, even when she has stopped crying. She holds him and will not let him go even when he tries to move away..
At last she raises a soaked face to look at him.
His shoulder is wet with her tears.
My name is Abena Bonsu. Thank you, thank you, whoever you are. Thank you very much.
Boat just stares into her beautiful radiant face, and he feels good inwardly for helping this angel.
It feels real good!
She wants to know what happened to her, and so Boat tells her, but he leaves out most of the gory details.
And then, trembling with the after-effects of her harrowing experience, she tells him her story.
She owns her own hairdressing salon in Cape Coast, and is on a short holiday to Madina. She is visiting her older sister who has finally given birth to a baby boy after sixteen years of marriage without a child.
Her brother-in-law, a respectable lawyer, has a lot of friends who had shown up at the naming ceremony of the baby.
Styles had come to the party primarily to see her brother-in-law whom he wants to represent a group of Italian businessmen who are in a spot of trouble in Ghana.
After speaking to Styles for a few minutes she had been in no doubt that the man is a total sinner who does not believe in God.
Being the staunch Christian that she is, she had tried to speak to him about the great love of God. Styles had pretended to be interested, and had even promised to go to church with her if she would go to the Lustful Lips and get him.
The club had shocked her greatly, and she had decided to leave the moment she entered. He had served her with an unopened fruit drink. She had opened it herself and poured.
Next moment she was feeling woozy and faint, and Styles was all over her, pawing her and doing a whole lot of terrible things to her.
How did he put a glass in my glass? I was holding it all the time, and he never even touched it!
He didn’t need to touch your glass. Fruit drink in a paper box, right? The drug was injected into the drink with a hypodermic syringe before it was brought to you. If you had refused the drink, Styles also has a ring on his finger on which he sometimes dips in a drug. He will hold your arm and give you a small pinch with the ring, and the drug will enter your bloodstream immediately.
Her face fall to pieces, and her exhalation of breath is agonized.
That is so horrible! I never imagined he could be so awful! How can anybody be so callous?
Boat smiles sadly.
It could’ve been worse, Abena. Some men are jackals. You should be extra careful next time.
The moment he says it he becomes sad, somehow. Who is he kidding anyway, and who does he think he is?
He is also a jackal, definitely no saint; he has done some very terrible things himself, taking girls for a ride, only interested in the pleasures of their bodies!
She leans forward and touches his right cheek briefly.
I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me, Yaw. Thank you so much. You put yourself at great risk to save my honour. I’ll eternally be indebted to you.
Once again, as he smiles down at her, he feels good.
For the first time in many years he has done something for a girl without expecting anything from her.
It makes his heart glad.
Later, after she has recovered a little bit more, Boat drives to Madina and drops her off at her sister’s place.
He goes round the car and opens the door for her, and she drops right into his arms.
She hugs him tightly for a moment.
She is so clean, so fresh. The kind of girls any man would want to raise a family with, to love, and to worship.
She steps back, but she is still in the circle of his arms. Her hands rested on his upper arms, and her eyes are a bit too bright in the night light.
Sometimes a man will meet a girl briefly, and he will always wish he could have known her better and longer.
It is just like that with them that night.
Her breathing is a bit quicker, and the look on her face is a bit funny.
And for just a moment Boat is all focused on her, and he doesn’t think of Elaine Blankson, his angel, for a moment.
He likes the way she fits into his arms. She is beautiful, warm and so essential.
You’re a very handsome man, Yaw Boat, the type mothers warn their daughters about. The kind of man who breaks virginities… a very dangerous species of man.
Now I’m confused. I don’t know whether that was mean as a compliment, or as a put down.
She laughs a little. Shakily, unsteadily.
She stands on tiptoe suddenly and kisses him on the right cheek quickly, and then she steps out of his arms.
She looks at him, and the smiles gone, and her face is sad and serious.
Wish I can know you more, Yaw, my hero of the night. I hope we meet again.
Yeah. Wish I’ll meet you again someday, Abena.
Their fingers are the last to part, and he watches her walk to their front door with a heart not quite steady. The door opens, and she turns for a last wave, and then she is gone.
Boat still stands for a moment, and it dawns on him that they should have exchanged cell numbers.
After a moment he enters the car.
He feeds the accelerator and drives away.
He is about five kilometres from his father’s residence when a green light explodes in his car again, and Hideous settles down in his backseat.
Boat has no fear now.
He swings the car to the roadside and parks, and then he turns and looks at that murdering demon.
There is a smile on his lips, and he knows it isn’t a really nice smile.
You know I can see you, right? And I’m sure you can hear me too, you fucking coward! You’re such a bully, not quite so tough, are you? You pick on innocent people and do your shit with them, but you’re nothing but a little silly green piece of shit, aren’t you? Why didn’t you stay in the car when she was around, you fucking coward?
The ugly face of the demon does not change.
Suddenly a tentacle flashes fast forward, and gives Boat a sudden terrible slap across his and it feels like he has been hit by a giant.
It almost wrenches his head off his shoulders, and it drives him bodily across the seat to smash painfully against the steering-wheel.
Boat’s ribs hammer the wheel, and his ears ring with the ferocity of that hit.
He cannot see anything for a moment because his vision has clouded over. His eyes are filled with sudden unshed tears, and for a moment he struggles to catch his breath.
He gazes at Hideous with impotent fury and – yes – fear.
Its expression is not so impassive now. There is a sort of aggressiveness about it, as if it is daring Boat to open his big mouth again.
Without another word Boat turns and begins to drive again. He has to breathe shallowly through his lips because there is a great pain still in him, somewhere around the regions of his heart.
After a moment he hears a derisive titter from the backseat.
Typical. Evil forces are bullies, especially Hideous.
He drives into the courtyard of his father’s house, his house.
He kills the engine, and then the phone begins to ring.
Boat fumbles his phone out because it is the special tone for his father.
Season 1 Eps. 33
THE SECOND SIGHT
VISION OF A HOLE
Location: JOE BOAT RESIDENCE
Perspectives, reasons and fear.
What is real and what isn’t? Where does sanity end, and where does madness begin?
Boat sits in the car for a long time.
His father has informed him that he is back from Canada. He has gone to his church headquarters for a short meeting with the Apostle and some church executive elders, and will be back home with Boat a little while.
He wants Boat to wait for him at home.
Yaw Boat finally heaves a sigh of relief.
It is all really nice. After putting down his mobile phone he sits still in the car for a long time.
The relief he feels is phenomenal.
Hideous disappeared as soon Boat came within sight of his father’s house. It hadn’t done any of its panic flights this time, though.
One moment it is there in his backseat, an ugly green sheen Boat tried not to notice, and then it was gone. It vanished just like that… poof!
Really, it had been refreshing to see the faint halo around the house, standing out like an angel on a dark night. It reaches out into the night sky, barely discernible, but there.
And because it is there, because the house is protected, Boat sees no uglies around their house.
For the first time in what seems like ages Boat knows great relief, and the weight on his shoulders seems bearable. He doesn’t feel so alone anymore; his problems are now for his Dad.
His father understands, and he is experienced and he knows exactly what Boat is going through, and he is going to help his only son.
Boat sighs and rubs a trembling hand across his face.
Everything is okay now.
He is surrounded by serenity, and he knows that with his father on the scene he will be out of his misery soon enough. All that has happened will soon seem like a dream. Life will go on, but not his other life of wanton sex, sloshing alcohol and abusing hard drugs …no, that part of him is dead now.
He will re-evaluate his life, commit to clean things, and settle down in sweet marriage with Elaine. He is going to be responsible.
No more anaconda holes for Yaw Boat… not ever!
He chuckles sheepishly and gets out of the car slowly, wincing at the wicked destruction he has put that car through. It looks as if he has run it through a shredder. The once elegant car is now badly wounded and limping.
As he walks towards the front door he tries to put a call through to Elaine, but her line is busy at first, and as he glances at the phone a little message comes on: ‘bad signal’.
It seems he is still being quartered rather nicely.
As he puts the phone back in his pocket he stops suddenly.
Unconsciously, he has walked past the main house, and is halfway down towards Samson Basoah’s little cottage down there in the exotic plants and woods near the beach.
He looks at the main house, and looks at Uncle Samson’s cottage, and then a silly thing suddenly happens…
First he feels a cold whisper of wind, not strong, not so much felt than heard!
It is a whispery, unpleasant feeling, crawling down his arms, bringing goose bumps on him. He trembles, and then two security guards come into view from around the main house, breaking the spell.
Boat breathes shallowly.
It is true that he has grown up mostly in Uncle Samson’s cottage. He had detested the main house as a kid, and spent most of his growing up years with Samson Basoah.
Under any other circumstance he would have gone to Samson’s cottage straight away, but these are not ordinary conditions.
First, his father is back, and the most convenient place to wait for him is in the main house. Secondly, Samson will be with the older Boat, as usual, driving him round, and thus he will be all alone in Basoah’s house.
He will be all alone in Samson’s cottage, without company, alone and forlorn. But there is a protective halo around the main house, and he will be safe there, free from the sight of demons until his father returns.
The scariest fact is that he has had no intention of going to Uncle Samson’s house; he had wanted to get into the main house, straight to his bedroom and then wait for his father.
He has just been on the phone, trying to reach Elaine, and he has walked past the house as if it does not exist, as if his feet are headed in a different direction to his mind.
As if he is being guided!
The two guards greet Boat politely.
He responds and watches them move on, and as usual he can’t suppress the little smile that plays around his lips.
His father is always espousing the ability of the great God above to protect His people, and yet there are always armed security guards around the house.
Boat doesn’t his father though. He is a wealthy man, and in the past there had been bad experiences with armed robbers who had erroneously thought he keeps large sums of money at home.
The security guards are thus a necessity.
Boat looks at Uncle Samson’s house again, nestled so far down the slopes, partly hidden by tall royal palm plants.
A place he loves; a place he has always felt absolute confidence in. This is a place he has spent countless hours cooped in during his lifetime. A place which is more homely than the house he shares with his father.
And yet, as he stares at it now there is sudden apprehension in his heart!
It seems to him that Uncle Samson’s house is suddenly beckoning to him, almost reaching out for him. He can feel its pull – its drag – calling out softly, reaching out with icy fingers.
For a crazy moment everything recedes, and it is just him and that white building nestled among the plants, seeming to be luring him with hidden eyes, calling, calling, calling!
He feels cold, and he turns away with a little shudder.
Why is he suddenly spooking himself now over Uncle Samson’s house? He loves that place. He loved every second he spent there with Uncle Samson, and he has slept over there countless times.
So why the sudden fear? Why the apprehension?
And yet he knows he cannot go down to Uncle Samson’s house, not that night.
He takes a couple of steps towards the main house, and that is when it happens!
He has a sudden flash, a vision!
It opens out right there in front of his eyes, as if he is looking at a giant screen television!
He just sees it, huge and clear …a vision right in front of him!
It is the vision of a large bedroom, with a bed, a wardrobe, a little television fixed on a stand against the wall, a little reading table, huge French windows that have a great view of the beach below. A bed made extra huge to accommodate an extra huge owner!
There is no doubt about it!
It is a bedroom Boat knows very well!
Uncle Samson’s bedroom!
And then, suddenly, the giant bed moves to one side suddenly, as if shoved by a powerful hand!
The bed moves against the wall, revealing what is hiding under.
It was a hole! A perfect square hole in the floor!
The hole has stairs leading downwards!
Stairs that ends on a flat landing, and then there is an entrance leading into an unknown place, and what lies in the other side is a mystery, a dark secret!
Boat’s sudden scream is anguished, pitiful, harsh!
It is a cry of crystallized fear and panic.
The vision – or whatever the heck it has been – is gone!
And Boat realizes that he is no longer on his feet!
He is lying on the slightly-wet grass, moaning up at the night sky, his body trembling, the horror locked deep in his soul.
He has a sudden terrible headache, and his sight is blurred. My breathing is erratic, and he can hear his heart beating so loudly that it seems it is about to explode right out of his chest.
What has he seen?
What has happened?
Oh Lord, what does it all mean?
Boat feels so weak, and he turns on his stomach, little moans of agony coming out of his throat as his eyes fall on that house again.
For a moment, a very frightening little moment, the fronds of the plants seem to part, and that house seems to lose all its colour, becoming a terribly dark structure glaring at him, screaming at him not to dare!
But it is only for a moment, and he wonders soon afterwards if he has imagined it all.
After a moment the crippling fear in his heart dissipates, and the agony in his head subsides.
He stands up slowly, and watches Uncle Samson’s house.
He knows that house, and he has known Uncle Samson all his life.
All his life he has been in that house, and he has never come across any hidden hole under Uncle Samson’s bed!
True, he has never gone under Uncle Samson’s bed, but Boat knows for a certainty that there isn’t any secret square hole there.
But what has he seen?
A vision? Is that it?
If it is how did he have it?
Who sent it?
No it can’t be; it just can’t be!
…I want you to know one simple fact: Time has run out for you! Even as you read this, a demon of old is ready to take over your body and your soul. Believe me, son, it is true…
(weakly, with great despair)
You bastard, Anderson! You horrible stupid bastard!
He still doesn’t know what has happened, and he still doens’t understand it.
He doesn’t know if some forces too powerful for his brain to grapple with has given him a vision, or whether his mind has finally snapped and he is beginning to go mad.
Whatever it is, he is going inside that house, into that bedroom and he is going to pull that bed and find out!
Fear, like a dark heavy cloak, covers him.
Slowly, his legs feeling as if tons of lead are tied to them, Yaw Boat takes tortured, reluctant steps towards that house.
He needs to find out!
There is certainly something wrong that night about Uncle Samson’s house!
The moment Boat steps onto the porch he feels the palpable hatred, the pull of a latent evil so strong that he can almost smell its foul breath in the air.
The house seems alive – breathing – with equal measures of fear and fury, physically trying to Boat me, and trying to push him away.
He swallows painfully.
His throat is so parched it feels as if he has swallowed a thousand razor blades which are all stuck down there in his oesophagus.
Boat takes a step towards the door, and this time there is a slight tremble, the whole building creaking, and the lights dimming perceptively.
He almost hears it, a low sort of growl, a ‘reaching out’ that blasts fear through him again.
Boat can even hear his inner voice speaking a warning to him:
Better not, kid, better not! This shit is scary, scarier than Funky Grounds blues, kid! Turn away, kiddo, turn away …don’t enter that place, please!
Yaw Boat stops and takes a look back up the slopes. The main house glows, huge and friendly, utterly inviting, calling out to him.
He looks at Uncle Samson’s door.
It has always been open, always welcoming, always filled with love!
But not tonight.
On this particular night it seems to move inward, closing in on itself with an audible click, trying to keep him away.
Boat suddenly knows with a hidden certainty that if he steps through that door he might not come out again.
Panic washes over him with sudden intensity, and he almost turns and flees.
…what is also true is that you can always beat them. Remember that! It is your only weapon…
Again Anderson’s letter, his words, his convictions …his madness!
Somehow, remembering those words floods Boat with a strange kind of hope, of strength and resolve.
He has to know the truth!
Season 1 Eps. 34
THE SECOND SIGHT
INSIDE THE HOLE
Location: SAMSON’S RESIDENCE
Whatever power has shown him that vision wants him to know the truth or otherwise, and maybe whoever that powerful Being is, He will be able to protect Boat from whatever evil is lying in wait inside that house.
He holds the handle of the door and pushes it down.
The huge door opens and swings inward silently.
Boat suddenly feels like the little beetle entering the web of a tarantula.
Boat steps inside, and as he reaches out for the light switch on the wall, he seems to see a shadow, a darker shadow than the blackness of the room, moving past him, heading towards the wall on his right.
Of course it might have been his imagination.
The light came on, flooding the living room with soft brilliance, chasing the shadows away, restoring some balm to his stretched nerves, bringing with it the sanity that comes when light triumphs over the permeating evil of darkness.
He pauses just inside the plush living-room and looks around. This is Samson’s Haven, Boat’s favourite place on the whole estate.
Here he has grown up, had eaten, slept, fooled and turned upside down. Here he has known real life and joy, with a man he loves beyond measure.
The fear dissipates quickly as he looks around the familiar room. The rich comfortable furniture, the electrical appliances, the paintings on the walls, the biblical tapes and literature.
A man’s well-kept room.
Suddenly it feels absurd just being there.
It is as if he is invading the man’s privacy, and he feels a rush of shame. He almost turns away right then, but something makes him stay; something that won’t be denied or satisfied until he enters that bedroom, and pulls that bed away from the wall.
He crosses the living-room quickly.
Deep down Boat knows he has but a few minutes before his father and Uncle Samson return, and so he needs to move fast.
He approaches the door that leads to a short corridor that ends at the door of the master bedroom.
Boat reaches for the handle of the door, and something strange happens again.
The door is closed alright, but at the very last moment before Boat’s hand touches it, it moves forward, as if some force is pulling it shut tighter, and he hears the sharp creaking sound it makes, as if the hinges are being tortured, pulled in too tightly.
Boat feels a cold eerie blast of air, and goose bumps stand out on his arms. He has to fight the apprehension hard – real hard – to reach out for that handle again.
Somewhere deep down he prays that it will be locked, for the first time ever, refusing to open…
He turns the handle, and as it has done for almost two decades, the door opens slowly and smoothly.
The corridor is dark, save for the light that filters in from the living-room, forming an inverted V on the floor and a patch of lighted square on the left wall.
Boat takes a deep breath and steps into the corridor.
Up ahead, looming darkly at the end of the corridor, is the bedroom door, looking extra sinister because it is abnormally tall and broad to allow for Uncle Samson’s great hulk.
Boat can see light around its four edges, giving it an alien holy look; evidently, Uncle Samson has forgotten to switch off the bedroom light.
That strange door looms larger and darker as Boat approaches.
This time the door will surely be locked; for the very first time ever in his life, that bedroom door will be locked…
But it is not locked!
Boat opens it.
The bedside lamp is on. Obviously Uncle Samson had been reading before rushing out to meet Boat’s father at the airport.
The room is huge and neat, everything in its proper place.
Uncle Samson is a very fastidious sort of man in his own way. He hates dirty surroundings, and that is one of the areas they have always had troubles with because he hates the mess Yaw Boat makes.
He is always picking up stuff after Boat, and sometimes berates him gently to be more responsible about neatness.
Everything in its proper place; pristine order is a virtue he never lacks.
There is a great aquarium in the room, taking up almost the whole length of one wall. This is Uncle Samson’s joy. He can spend countless hours just standing and staring at the fishes. He has given them names, almost all of them, and Boat sometimes wonders how he Uncle Samson is able to distinguish such a great number of fishes.
There is a huge wardrobe across the room against the wall directly opposite the bed.
A Panasonic 32-inch LED television is mounted against one wall, opposite the head rest of the bed so that he could lie in bed and watch television.
Below that is a miniature sound system and DVD recorder. Near to that is a computer desk on which stands a monitor. The system unit is under the desk. To one side of the desk are three tall compact disk holders, all of them filled with CDs.
The bed is huge, made from polished African mahogany wood. It is neatly made, and at the foot of it, down on the floor, are wool-lined white slippers, precisely placed.
The door to the bathroom is slightly ajar, which makes Boat scowl briefly. That is so unlike Uncle Samson.
He might have been in a great hurry to leave.
Yaw Boat stands still and surveys the bed.
He knows he is hedging.
He balks, and he is scared.
Scared to move that bed.
This is it.
He has to do it.
He is suddenly assailed by a sudden bout of sadness.
A man he has loved all his life, a man who has been more close to him than his own father. This man who has taught him so much and loved him unreservedly.
This gentle giant with no malice in his heart, and here is Boat, about to repay all those years of loyalty by coming into his most private environment and trying to find out if some damn vision I has had – probably due to some delayed reaction of months of drug use – is actually real.
What will Boat say if Uncle Samson walks in and sees him messing around with his bed?
Boat walks to the foot of be bed, bends, holds the lower wood tightly, lifts and pulls, and it slides noiselessly and smoothly over the polished floor.
He sets the bed down and and slowly turns to the spot under the bed.
There is no collection of dust or cobwebs on the floor, as would have been the case with most beds. There are no shoes or slippers carelessly kicked under the bed.
Here too Uncle Samson has been as efficient as ever, his neatness finding character with the unusual cleanliness of the space under his bed.
Boat takes in all these in a second, because his eyes were wide open with horror.
It is there alright!
That square hole in the floor with the stairs leading downwards!
It is there …right there!
Exactly how he has seen it in the vision.
And he dies a little inside at that particular moment when he sees the hole!
Oh, Dear Lord …what is this?
He is assailed by a great sense of déjà vu as he stands looking down at that hole, and those stairs leading downwards into some great and forbidden underground.
It is not only because of that crazy moment when he thinks he has seen it in a dream. No. It feels as if he has actually been here before, that he has walked down those stairs before.
he hasn’t ever known that Uncle Samson’s sweet little haven has an underground passage. He has always thought it is standing on good firm ground.
Now he remembers how Uncle Samson has taken charge of the whole building, from its architectural design to its physical erection.
Joe Boat had let the final decisions rest on Samson, because the giant is the one who is going to live in it, and that is the reason why Uncle Samson has put in little touches here and there, including the secret underground place without the knowledge of Boat and his father.
What can this secret place be?
What is hidden there?
Is it just an innocent room, put there by Uncle Samson as his own little safe hideaway, a retreat of some sorts?
Somehow Boat does not believe that.
He believes that he has received that vision for a purpose …a purpose that suddenly brings to question years of adoration for the man, years of loyalty and faithfulness.
Does it mean that all along Uncle Samson has been someone he is not? Has Boat and his father been deceived so totally for so long?
There are no answers, only that square entrance with stairs leading downwards stares Yaw Boat in the face.
Maybe, just maybe, it is safe after all, and Uncle Samson might have a perfectly good reason for keeping such a place a secret from them.
There is just one way to find out.
Boat steps onto the first stair.
By that single act he knows there is no turning back for him. Deep down his soul cries out. Something tells him to get the hell out of there and go and wait for his father, but it is a muted voice.
The forces propelling him forward are too powerful to resist.
He is a helpless pawn who is Unblinded, and who is being forced to see the beauties of the wild for the first time; The Wild, a serene place with things that have fangs, a place where Goliath is the Goliath who has the propensity to give David a pain between the legs whilst stuffing stones up David’s orifices.
A place where David and Goliath ceases to be a motivation story for the kids, and become an adult’s nightmare.
Boat descends to the last stair and finds himself in a long corridor.
The floor is cemented, but it smells dank, and has a faint odour which is at once too familiar and yet still unknown, a pervading invasion of his nasal passageways that refuses ardently to be identified although its origin is tantalizingly within reach.
It isn’t an overly unpleasant smell, but it is uncomfortable enough to make Boat wrinkle his nostrils and breathe shallowly.
He sees the edge of the bed above him, and the ceiling that has murals about the life of Christ. If he moves into the corridor it will swallow him up, and he won’t see the room above him.
With another deep breath and a bunch of trembling nerves he moves forward. The darkness closes around him, stifling and hot, almost claustrophobic.
He sets his teeth and steels himself forward. Boat isn’t a coward and damn if he is going to show a streak of yellow now.
He resists the urge to reach out and touch the walls on each side; Boat has this strong premonition that his fingers will touch something nasty, something really awful.
There is something on the floor, though.
It isn’t hard concrete that he is walking on.
It feels somewhat squishy and slippery, undulating too, something like a crawly structure. He looks down, but all he sees is inky blackness.
And then, he hears the steps.
Faint, muted, creepy, whispering…
Something is behind him…
Something is following him!
He stops, overcome by a fear so crippling that a sound close to a sob floats out of his lips. His heart thuds, and maniacal panic grips him.
This is it, oh Lord!
His worst nightmare!
Funky Grounds at last…
Live, coloured and in full HD!
He takes a step forward, and he hears the slithery sound behind him, and can feel the presence just at the nape of his neck, long fingers tingling in anticipation.
Boat is covered with sweat.
At that particular moment he would have gladly turned and fled from that dark corridor, but his heart is heavy with dread close to total breakdown.
He is in raw panic.
It is more comfortable to walk forward towards the unknown, than to turn and face that evil thing behind him, and he knows it is there, a terrible thing with a face that will drive terror through his heart and explode that most vital organ with devastating effects.
It is there alright, and it wants him to know it is there, and it wants him to feel the panic and the presence of death.
Boat knows it is gloating in its ability to drive him close to the edge of insanity, but he also knows, deep down, that despite the fear, none of those terrible demons can hurt him that bad because he is still important.
He is still the vessel that their master will use, and they all know it.
Boat comes to the end of the corridor, and his hand touches a door.
He reaches out and feels for a handle, but there is none.
He feels a wetness on the door and on his hands, but it is too dark to see what has smeared them.
Behind him the thing has paused.
He can hear its malevolent breathing, thick and full of ill-will. He can also smell it now, a putrid rotted smell that comes straight from hell’s catacombs.
Boat’s breathing comes in wheezes, and he can feel the first signs of his tortured heart going into overdrive.
A heart failure is not out of the question now, and with all his willpower he strives to remain calm and to cool down.
Feeling utterly overwhelmed, he raises his arms and place them against the door, resting his head on his arms.
He knows he can hold that position forever, because if that door is refusing to open, there is no way he is going to be able to retrace his steps, no way he is going to turn and see the face of that thing behind him.
Fortunately – under the circumstances, of course – his weight presses hard against the door, and suddenly it swings inward slowly…
Season 1 Eps. 35
THE SECOND SIGHT
Location: SAMSON’S RESIDENCE
Boat stumbles into the room, at first too grateful to fully look around.
Eventually his eyes begin to notice things.
First he looks at his hands.
Up to his arms he is covered with thick red blood.
His horrified eyes descends, and he sees that he has been walking in a thick sludge of clotted blood, and that his whole feet up to his ankles are soaked in blood.
He recognizes the smell at last; it is the essence of fresh blood, and suddenly he is overcome with a crippling dizziness, but he fights it hard.
This is not the time to pass out, and he steels his iron nerves together, and after a moment that eerie faintness passes.
Slowly, as if he is some weird a mechanical contraption, his head comes up, and he takes stock of the room.
The light comes from candles fixed into the walls.
It is a perfectly circular room, extremely huge, and with things…
As looks slowly at those things, his begin to buckle, his throat constricted, and his eyes hurt so intensely that he can barely keep them open. He sinks to his knees and reaches out for the door-posts to steady himself.
The cry of horror is torn from his very depths, and as he trembles violently the first sting of tears assault his eyes and then fall down his cheeks.
Oh, my God! Oh, dear Lord!
It is a temple of sorts – macabre, terrible, wicked and surreal.
It is an extremely huge domelike enclosure, a perfectly-formed circular shape that was so precise that it defies the mind.
On the ceiling and walls are strange murals and paintings depicting abstract images and a profanity so vile and grotesque that it is inconceivable; not even the sickest mind could have dreamt of a thing like that.
The drawings are from biblical narrations.
There is one about the birth of Jesus, where he is lying in his Manger, screaming, while His mother Mary is being raped by a group of horned devils, and His father Joseph is being sodomized with a huge phallus-like object wielded by a grotesque caricature with a crooked halo who can only be the Almighty God.
Another one shows Christ in all His glory, holding a piece of stick to which are attached glowing strings affixed to millions of objects which can be the human race, and the Lord Himself is ejaculating on the world as He jerks the puppets.
The Last Supper is depicted by Christ being possessed by the Devil as He makes love to a menstruating Mary Magdalene from behind, pulling bread from her breasts and holding a tall wineglass below her pudenda as she drips red liquid into it.
The Crucifixion shows not Christ on the cross, but a dirty, wailing, emaciated figure that could have been one of the Disciples, with Christ disguised as one of the Roman soldiers, sticking a spear into the side of the man on the cross, winking wickedly and laughing derisively at the sick joke He has played on the world.
The Resurrection is marked by a naked, dope-eyed Christ jerking off as angels secretly carry out the stiff body of a fake Christ whilst other majestically muscular and naked angels perform blow-jobs on the Roman soldiers standing on guard.
The Ascension is depicted by Christ with strings and ropes attached to his arms and body, being pulled upwards by angels hidden by clouds, whilst a whore-like woman grips the Lord’s waist tightly, her head buried in his crotch.
The Day of Pentecost is marked by the Holy Spirit descending like a group of penises dripping thick sperms into the mouths of people.
It is sick!
This is totally offensive, and even Boat, who is not a Christian, is greatly horrified to see such paintings.
It is totally unacceptable!
But it is nothing – absolutely nothing – compared to the other things on the ceiling.
Six shrivelled naked corpses are hanging from the ceiling by hooks impaling their backs.
Four of them were in a perfect horizontal line, with two on each side of the second body, forming a macabre cross on the ceiling.
The corpses are males, in various stages of growth. The straight line begins with the corpse of a baby boy, followed by one of a boy around twelve years old, then a teenager and ending with the body of a man in his twenties.
The two on each side are the corpses of a middle-aged man and a very old man.
Their shrivelled faces show masks of agony, frozen into place for eternity, carefully preserved to last a lifetime.
On the walls, in between the gross paintings of Jesus’ life, are various paintings of Yaw Boat at various stages of his life, right from infancy to his present age.
At the far end of the room is a huge golden throne, absolutely magnificent. Boat has no doubt that it is made from pure gold.
Resting on three human skulls in front of the throne is a golden crown.
Just beyond the throne he can dimly make out a sinuous black movement, as if the floor itself has life, and is undulating to some unheard music.
In the middle of the room is a huge golden bed, and lying on it is the preserved corpse of a woman, spread-eagled, chained to the posts of the bed by golden clamps.
Boat walks forward slowly, cringing from the horror, muted cries of anguish scratching out of his throat.
He looks at the woman on the bed.
Her face is filled with untold agonies; it is evident that she has suffered a great deal before she died.
Yaw Boat turns away with a muted scream of horror, reaching blindly for one of the bedposts as the vomit spews uncontrollably.
Oh, Lord! Oh, my God! No, no, no!!!
It is her!
The housekeeper who has broken his virginity and ushered him into a world of unbridled lust!
What in the name of Hades has happened?
Boat vividly remembers his father ordering Samson Basoah to pay her off and make sure she leaves the premises.
Yes, that is it!
After the incident, Boat’s father had dragged him to church to meet the elders for interceding prayers.
They had left Miss Nana with Samson Basoah, and Joe Boat had instructed Uncle Samson to pay her off with three months advance wages and let her leave the house.
And now here she is!
It was all beginning to make sense to Boat.
Samson Basoah murdered her, no doubt, shortly after Boat and his father left the house.
It is evident now that Uncle Samson is responsible for Nana seducing him that weekend, to begin whatever evil ritual he has planned for Boat, and once his aim had been achieved he had gotten rid of her for a more deadly purpose.
How had he gotten away with all these? How had he been able to fool them for so long? Who is he? What has he done to Yaw Boat, and still plans on doing?
There are other things in the room, like the circular iron cauldrons placed at various points around the room. Cauldrons which appear to be boiling, emitting clouds of hot steam but under which there are no fires.
..I want you to know one simple fact: time has run out for you!
Even as you read this, a demon of old is ready to take over your body and your soul. Believe me, son, it is true!
Always Paul Anderson.
Oh how right he has been all along! How blind had Boat been!
Through the haze of his horror he knows time has indeed run out for him.
If he had been horrified before, he is terrified now!
This is no child’s play.
A terrible destiny is awaiting him, and he needs help fast; the kind of help only his father or Anderson can give.
He has ventured into the lair of a real Goliath, and he is not a boastful nerd like the biblical Goliath, no way!
This is a cold, merciless and savage giant who will rip David’s sling out of his hand and twist it around his balls whilst stuffing round stones into places of his fancy…
And then, somewhere in the periphery of his side vision Boat sees the movement first, and in his horror-stricken stupor he swivels round.
It is that black undulating movement he has seen beyond the golden throne. It is alive now, moving in a violent fluid fashion, and it is accompanied by a sound…
A hissing sound!
The candlelight reflects off a shiny black scaly skin …and then Boat’s breath catches in a silent scream of horror as the head of an anaconda, or something like it, rears up just in front of the throne, jaws wide-open, forked tongue beating hungrily.
That whole dark mass beyond the throne is, in actual fact, the coiled body of the largest man-eating snake the world has ever seen!
Boat gets to his feet and – whimpering, panic-stricken – flees the room blindly, hastily. He hears the rush of air behind him, and knows that terrible reptile is inches from him, fangs gaping wide, preparing to swallow him whole!
He blasts blindly into the dark corridor where that infernal being had followed him and almost driven him mad. Boat takes the steps with one mighty bound and emerges in Uncle Samson’s bedroom gasping for breath as tears of anguish runs down his face.
He stops cold suddenly.
He sees Hideous draped across Uncle Samson’s bed.
And, standing just inside the room, his scarred face a map of stunned incomprehension, is Samson Basoah.
Boat stares at him, and his tortured face might have said it all.
However, the horror melts from Samson’s face fast, and suddenly that gentle face, that sweet caring face, changes rapidly, and on it is an expression of terrible fury.
At that moment he is the Samson Basoah that Boat’s father had once told him about. He is the hardened criminal, the terrible murderer who had broken a man’s neck with a little twist of his victim’s chin.
He is the Basoah who had served on death row, the merciless killer whose sheer bulk and strength made him a formidable enemy.
Boat knows then that whatever they have shared together is gone, and even in that terrible moment of acute betrayal, the realization hurt Boat real bad.
He finds it hard – even after all that he has seen – to believe that this man has faked all the love he had shown to him.
The times they have had together, the moment of mutual love and care …they are all gone, lost in a second of revelation.
It makes Boat’s heart bleed!
But not now, not anymore, not ever again.
Uncle Samson closes the gap between them quickly, moving with the sinuous grace of a feline animal.
And then, as his face continues to change with fury, the other thing appears.
It blazes right on his forehead, a terrible red evil thing.
The mark of The Beast!
Boat points a trembling finger at Samson even as he closes in on him, and Boat’s face is split up into tortured lines of pure agony.
What are you? How dare you do this to me, to my father? How could you?
He grates out through gnashing teeth, heart torn to shreds by the depths of his feelings.
Samson slows down now, his harsh face without pity or remorse. His lips seems to draw back from his teeth in a vicious snarl.
He is an animal!
We loved you! Dad made you a part of our family! He took you from prison and made you who you are! Is this how you repay us, by giving me this evil shit? Who the hell gave you the right to gamble with my damn life?
The words are ejected out of Boat violently like bullets, pushed out by emotional volcanoes.
Samson comes to a halt just inches from Boat.
It is not a gamble, my boy. It is your destiny. But you’re talking too much. You’ve always talked too much, and I have no explanations for you. You only need to know that tonight is your night. You’ll will know everything before the sun rises, trust me.
Don’t give me that shit! Destiny? Whose fucking destiny? Mine? What right do you have over my bloody life? You want me to end up like you with that damn mark of the beast on my forehead too?
That stops him completely dead in his tracks, his face twisted grotesquely with shock …and yes, the first hint of great fear.
His great head tilts to one side, and his eyes narrow. It is a rare look; it is his confused stance, and he cannot hide his growing horror. His neck twitches perceptively, and a vein beats erratically on his ravaged right cheek.
What? No, you can’t! No! It is not possible! You? With the Second Sight? It really happened? You’re an Unblind?
You’re damn right it fucking happened, and I’m a bloody Unblind, and I can fucking see the mark of the beast blazing on your fucking forehead! Everything Pastor Anderson said has come true! What the hell did you do to Miss Naana, and what the hell have you been doing to me?
Season 1 Eps. 36
THE SECOND SIGHT
BREACH OF TRUST
Location: UNCLE SAMSON’S RESIDENCE
Yaw Boat speaks fiercely, his right hand raised, forefinger jabbing the air for emphasis, his heart beating with uncontrollable anger brought on by the pain of Samson’s deceit.
Uncle Samson still looks greatly flustered and he rubs his furrowed brow absent-mindedly, his mind seemingly far off.
How can it be? I never thought that damn man could interfere, and his stupid little prophecy will come true. But that’s alright, I think. It’s too late for you now. You’ve come too far, and nothing will change now.
In your fucking dreams! My Dad is going to find out right now, and he’s going to put this right, and you’re going to regret to the skin of your ugly teeth! You’re going to wish you never fucked with the son of Mr. Joe Boat!
Samson’s eyes are mean once again, his confusion quickly forgotten.
He looks like a mountain – a very impregnable one – and again that mark on his forehead blazes a sickening crimson.
And who’s going to tell your faher, Ya? You? Your old man is going senile, don’t you know? And he eats out of my hand. The next time you set eyes on him it’ll be all over. You want to know what this is all about, right? Well, your wish will be granted. You’re going back to that room you so impudently entered, and boy, you’re going to find out all about your miserable life!
Boat takes a step back from him.
Suddenly his anger begins to dissipate, and in its shadow is the beginning of great panic.
Uncle Samson’s last words have not sounded right; it isn’t his voice at all, but it had come out in a rumble – a deep, blasting bass that reverberates round the room, filling it, crashing through Boat’s mind, making his nerves grate.
And something else too!
As he said the last words, something vile within him emerges, superimposing itself on Uncle Samson’s features!
For a brief second – a very brief second – his face has changes! He has sprouted a snout, pig-like but hairy, and his forehead has bulged, his eyes going a terrifying yellow, his jaw jutting out, his teeth a wild series of canines, top and bottom, ready to tear and maul.
Just for a brief moment, and then the man’s furious face emerges again.
It dawned on Boat then, finally, that he is not dealing with a human.
Uncle Samson is just another vessel, and it is that thing which dwells in him that is responsible for all the atrocities Boat has seen.
You fucking bastard! You evil piece of dogpile! You’re also a vessel, aren’t you? You have been occupied, haven’t you?
Yes. Satisfied? You’re going to be occupied by a more powerful demon, and you’re going to have powers you have never imagined before. Now one can help you now, Yaw. It might seem terrifying now, but when this is all over you’ll have the kind of power men have always dreamt about, the kind of power that will put the world at your feet. It is inevitable, and the sooner you accept and deal with it, the better it will be for you. Come along now, back to the chamber. Don’t let me hurt you.
So ominous, so startling.
Samson Basoah, a giant of a man who seemingly has no violence in him. That statement, coming from him, sounds as absurd as the Pope watching a striptease in public.
But Boat knows it isn’t coming from him; it is The Thing speaking, warning him.
Desperately Boat’s mind races, searching for avenues of escape, and not finding any.
My father will kill you for this!
Your father can’t help you now, Yaw. This night you’ll spend with me. He will believe you didn’t show up. After all it won’t be the first time he demanded to see you failed to show up. By morning it will be all over. You’re going to be grateful for this, boy, believe me!
He reaches for Boat’s arm, but Boat steps away from him.
Boat’s face is desperate, his eyes wild.
Don’t you dare touch me ever again!
Get back into that room! Don’t let me repeat that, and don’t let me hurt you!
Once again he moves forward and reaches for Boat.
Boat’s brain is in a turmoil, and his heartbeat has accelerated.
Of one thing he is extremely sure of is that he can’t allow himself to be taken!
He knows that if he falls into the hands of Uncle Samson and his dark forces it will be the end of him.
He has to get to his father, because only he can help him now.
Element of surprise.
That is a weapon, as his GojuFist trainer used to say, and when utilized right it can be the difference between life and death.
And that is why Boat launches himself at Samson, the fingers of both hands rigid, seeking his eyes and throat. They would have been paralysing blows that would have put an end to the whole thing.
If they have landed, that is.
Boat finds only empty space where Samson has been a second before.
Samson is quick, real quick, and as Boat tries to regain his balance Samson slams a fist into his stomach, causing him to gag immediately.
The pain explodes in Boat’s brain – alive, paralysing!
He begins to double up, and Samson backhands him across the face, spinning his head back, almost tearing it off his neck.
Boat sees only blackness as he lands on all fours, and he can feel warm blood running down his nostrils and forming a bitter tangy taste in his mouth.
The mere thought of it – that Uncle Samson and he can be engaged in such violence – is utterly obscene.
Somehow Boat is more sad than hurt by Samson’s assault on him. To think that all those years of loving care have been nothing but evil manipulation, that all Samson has done for him has been just a façade, a part of the overall program, a part of pure evil.
He had thought he was in control of his life, but all along he had been nothing but a puppet on a string, a piece of object that has been painstakingly controlled and driven toward a terrible agenda that means nothing but death to him.
Somehow he mourns that lost trust in that brief moment when blood drips down his nostrils and his tongue aches.
Such evil, such wickedness.
His anger is full, and suddenly he moves off the floor so quickly that Samson is caught unawares. Boat rushes him, his shoulder lowered, straight into Samson’s tummy.
The giant had no time to parry or sidestep, and he takes Boat’s tackle full blast. It should have sent them crashing to the floor with Samson moaning in agony, but apart from moving him back a step or two – and making him catch his breath sharply – the brutal hit has no effect on Samson, and Boat bounces off Samson’s hard muscles as if he has run into a brick wall.
Samson is that strong …and he is that fit!
He slaps Boat across the face, and he falls hard, dazed by the blow.
Boat fights the darkness that threatens to swallow him. It is a most trying moment for him because all he wants to do is to give in and let sweet nothingness consume him. Emotionally he is sated, and physically he is a total wreck.
But he can’t give in, especially not when he knows the kind of terrible future Samson has in store for him. He has no wish to be invaded like Ralph Stebbins, or Henry Didier!
With the strength ebbing rapidly out of him, Boat gathers his weight behind his neck and lunges off the floor at Samson, swinging a fast left right combination from the waist, aiming for Samson’s jaw and throat, seeking to cause swift pain to slow down the giant and enable him get past him.
Once he has Samson behind him he the older man will never catch because Boat is a good fast runner.
With the grace of a matador Samson twists away effortlessly and swings at Boat, catching him cleanly on the jaw.
Boat drops, the wind totally knocked out of him. He falls on his face, his head bursting with pain and another spout of blood pouring out of his nostrils and split lips.
Boat is fully aware that Samson didn’t hit him with the full force of his awesome power. If he had, split lips would’ve been Boat’s least worry; he would have fractured Boat’s jaw, and probably killed him in the process.
Slowly Boat turns over once and remains still, all the fight evaporating from me.
Sharp tears prick his eyes as it dawns on him that there is no way he is going to be able to beat Samson’s sheer fighting prowess; he is far too big, and far too strong. Worse, he is a capable fighter even for all that brawn, and he moves with speed and precision, and Boat knows that GojuFist or not, Samson Basoah is a superior fighter, and he can never best him in hand-to-hand combat.
Boat’s helplessness is a sudden weight that almost crushes him. It makes his heart palpitate violently, and at that moment he wishes for death.
He has never felt so overwhelmed in his life.
Give it up, Yaw. Stand up now.
Boat ignores him, and lies absolutely still on the floor.
Through the tiny slits of his eyes he sees the flash of sudden concern on Samson’s face. He thinks he has hit Boat too hard, maybe hurt me bad in the process.
Boat is utterly taken aback by the look of fear that suddenly flashes across Samson’s scarred face.
Boat resolves then to make a last move.
Fear and concern can make a man careless and cause him to drop his guard for that fraction of a second that can make all the difference.
With a man like Samson, Boat will have only one chance, and that makes timing very essential.
He approaches Boat’s inert form rapidly and prods him with the tip of one expensive brown shoe.
Get up now, boy! Don’t be a sissy now.
Boat remains immobile.
Samson bends from the waist, just as Boat has hoped he would, intending to haul Boat into a sitting position.
Boat waits until Samson’s hands are grabbing the lapels of his shirt.
Samson’s legs are braced for the upward haul, offering a nice target between his thighs. Boat rises with the momentum of Samson’s pull, and he gathers all his power into his right fist.
It was a masterpiece – a classic by all standards!
He sinks fist to the last iota of intent into Samson’s balls.
Samson hasn’t been expecting the attack, and thus he didn’t tense or try to twist away, both actions capable of dulling the effects of the blow to some extent, but he is relaxed, and that makes the blow all the more powerful.
When God decided to put man’s most sensitive objects into a sac hanging outside his body, it enabled man to become vulnerable even if his whole body is armoured in muscles and bone.
Boat has never heard of any man who is so fit and so muscle-bound that his scrotal sac is like iron.
All male balls are soft balls!
A flash of agony creases that huge face above Boat, and it is like a knife searing through Boat’s heart. To have done that to somebody he loves – still loves in an awful kind of way – is something Boat momentarily feels very sorry for.
Samson tries to stay erect, and he almost succeeds. However it is a losing battle; he feels the pain badly, real badly.
Samson’s body betrays him, lets the paralysing pain overcome his great resolve, but his eyes remain alive, full of a murderous loathing that once again tears into Boat’s heart, making him realize that no matter what happens, he will never be Uncle Samson again.
Just before he falls to his knees his great hands reach out, clawing for Boat’s neck.
Boat jack-knifes away from him with panic; to let those hands get hold of him will mean doom, and even as he moves away Boat’s hand is thrusting out, reaching for a low stool at the foot of the bed.
As Boat gains one knee his hand is firmly grasping one of the legs of the stool, and he brings it round in a vicious swipe.
Samson doesn’t see it coming until it is almost too late.
He tries to move his head back, and that is why the stool smashes against his jaw instead of the side of his head.
This time he groans with the pain as the impact swings his head round on his thick neck. The stool breaks to smithereens, and Boat lets go of the splintered leg as Samson falls on his side, unconscious.
Season 1 Eps. 37
THE SECOND SIGHT
Location: JOE BOAT’S RESIDENCE
Boat struggles to his feet, but the room does a crazy swaying act, and he bends quickly to hold his knees and allow it to pass.
He zigzags his way to the living room.
He reaches for his mobile phone, but it isn’t in its usual position in his top left breast pocket. Somehow, somewhere in the night I has lost it, probably during the fight.
His vision is a little clear now, and he walks over to the phone on Uncle Samson’s little desk where he does all his fake Bible readings and writes his little biblical dissertations which have all been atrocious blasphemies in view of what the man really is.
The fake …the damn little fake!
Boat lifts the receiver.
There is no dialing tone; the phone is dead.
He traces the cable anxiously.
There is a connecting device that sometimes comes off.
All that needs to be done is to fix the crimped node back into its socket.
But it is intact that night, and as he traces the line he sees that the wire has been cut cleanly, and the pair of scissors he sees on the desk gives him the rest of the story.
Uncle Samson had come in, suspected – or known, somehow – that Boat is no longer the little toast he had been frying, and decided to play it safe and cut him off.
There is no time to lose now.
He has to move, keep moving, and find his father, who is Boat’s only hope now against a future that seems bleaker by the second.
He drops the receiver and turns.
And that is when he sees it.
He has not been expecting it.
He knows danger is coming in the form of Uncle Samson, or from other deadly things like Hideous and the other minions.
Boat has seen them, and somehow he has come to know them, even though in a brutal manner, and his mind is slowly building a sort of resistance – even if paper-thin – against them.
But Boast isn’t prepared for what he sees now!
It is not as terrible-looking as Hideous or the other demons are.
Really, it is a normal sort of thing, but to see it like Boat is seeing it now almost drives Boat mad.
It is simply the most awful and sickest thing Boat has ever seen!
Uncle Samson’s television is on.
It is tuned to CNN where an anchor is speaking The sound is muted, and Boat can see the anchor just moving his lips moving and his hands gesticulating, as the news bar scrolls below the screen.
The plasma television makes the room a whole lot bright, but it isn’t the kind of light that will be able to cast a clear, detailed shadow on the wall, even if someone is standing real close to it. Its light is not strong enough, and any shadow it casts would have been diffused.
But there is a shadow on the wall opposite the television!
A crystal-clear black shadow!
It is shaped like a man, but it is not a man.
It has three huge hairy legs.
The shadow broadens towards its chest, and its arms are unbelievably thick and stunted. It had three huge fingers on its hands.
Its head is extremely huge, its forehead elongated and thrust forward. On top of its head is a long, curved horn. It was a gigantic thing, so big that its head is thrown across the ceiling as it straightens up from its scrutiny of Boat.
Uncle Samson is considered a giant, but this creature is five times that size.
Boat looks at the spot on the carpet where a figure ought to be standing to cast a shadow like that on the wall, but there is absolutely nothing.
But the temperature in the room has dropped several degrees suddenly. It is a warm African night, and Boat isn’t supposed to feel cold – but he is freezing!
There is a smell in the room too – rancid, pungent, stinking – too terrible to breathe.
It is like rotten seaweed, the scent of the dirtiest part of the sea.
What is casting that shadow?
Is it in the room with Boat, looking at and appraising him? Or is that what it is – just a shadow?
What diabolical evil has taken so much interest in Boat?
Trouble is, it is nearer to the main door than Yaw boat is!
His mind is definitely not playing tricks on him!
The horned Shadow is real!
It is that same shadow which has been thrown on the ground in Fairview after the murder of Pastor Geoffrey Sam!
Boat feels his heart thumping so harshly that he is scared his heart will just explode.
His terror is complete, and for several seconds he just gawks at the Shadow-Thing.
Suddenly insanity is knocking on the door of his mind, and he simply cannot take it any longer.
With a sound which is half-cry and half-whimper Boat dashes quickly towards the door. The moment moves he sees the Shadow-Thing’s right hand moving, the three huge fingers curling themselves into a fist.
Boat is five paces from the door, whimpering like a rabid dog, expecting to run into something solid, something enveloping.
He keeps his eyes on that thing on the wall, and when he is just a pace from the door the fist of the monster flashes off the wall, and smashes into Boat’s stomach with such terrible force that he wails, and doubles up on the floor with his buttocks stuck in the air as the most terrible pain he has ever experienced ravages his body!
The pain was paralysing.
Boat cannot breathe for several seconds, and for a terrible moment he has no wish to get off the floor. Even the slightest movement caused him crippling pain.
Boat watches that Shadow-Thing through bleary eyes as the darkness slowly closes in on him. The freezing cold is stronger, and the rotten scent is so bad that Boat gags.
The Shadow-Thing is immobile, but its neck is craned, watching Boat.
Suddenly it stands upright and its head whips round towards the doors.
Boat thinks he hears a frantic growl – but he might have been mistaken.
For a brief moment the cold is so terrible that Boat thinks he might turn into a pillar of ice, and the scent is so terrible and nauseating that he stops d breathing and gags on it.
Suddenly the main door opens!
Out of the corner of his eyes Boat sees a brightness filling the doorway, so brilliantly that he has to shut his eyes to slits against it.
Someone wearing that amazing force-field has just entered the room.
Shortly afterwards someone speaks from the doorway, restoring his sanity.
The voice gasps and starts to speak rapidly.
Boat recognizes that voice!
It belongs to JOSIAH NSIAH, one of the security details.
He is a small intense man who is downright serious with his work. He is so time conscious that Uncle Samson has nicknamed him ‘Wristwatch’.
My good God, Mr. Boat! What happend to you?
He is such a devout Christian that there was a little bible tucked away in his clothing somewhere at all times. At the least chance he gets he would take out that bible and begin to read.
Boat has often chastised him over that habit. He has never liked Josiah Nsiah liked him much because he is a Christian freak.
He used to get on Boat’s nerves with his staunch belief, and there had been times he had wanted him replaced for no tangible reason.
But that night Boat could’ve hugged him.
I thought I heard a scream here and came to investigate.
His force-field is brilliant, and when Boat looks over Mr. Nsiah’s shoulder the Shadow-Thing is gone.
It has fled at the sight of Mr. Nsiah’s full incredible force-field!
He grated out the insult, but his mouth is so wounded and mushy, and his brain so warbled, that it comes out sounding like ‘Basharl’ or something like that.
Nothing, Josh. Floor slippery. Lost my footing and fell down.
Oh, I see. Sorry, sir. Please let me help you up. But you’re hurt. On your mouth, and your face seems swollen. Must’ve been a very bad fall.
Boat puts his arm around the man’s shoulder and waits for his breathing to slow down, and the faintness to go away.
Josh, Uncle Samson is in there in his room. Do you know if he came back with my Dad?
No, sir. Mr. Basoah informed us that your father is still at the Church. Come, let me help you to the house.
No, no. It is very urgent that I see my father. Do you have your phone?
The man helps Boat out of the door and tries to stop, but Boat propels him forward, scared that Uncle Samson will be on his tail pretty soon, and he is certain he can’t be able to best him a second time that night.
The man fumbles a well-used Nokia from his pocket.
Here’s my phone, sir, but surprisingly all the mobile networks seem to be off tonight. When I was leaving home this evening my little boy was not feeling so good. He had a bad temperature. I’ve been trying to reach my wife but can’t get through. My colleagues on the different networks are also experiencing the same challenges.
He has speaks with a little sigh of exasperation.
Once again Boat senses that it is no coincidence.
The net is drawing tighter, and he knows that dark forces are closing in, cutting off all his avenues of escape.
Why didn’t you use the phone in the house, Josh?
He already knows the answer that is coming.
The man stares at Boat as if he is from outer space.
Didn’t you hear the news, sir? The telephone company apologized to residents of the ARA that they are experiencing problems here, and their technicians are working on it. Service will be restored as soon as they complete. At the moment, all the land lines are jammed up.
Boat shudders from the sudden horror.
The chase is on, and he knows something worse than death, a most terrible destiny, is just around the corner, waiting for him.
Boat rushes into the main house just long enough to take the keys to his father’s new Mercedes Benz Coupe.
As he gets in he sees a huge hulk labouring up the incline from that evil house below, and he knows Uncle Samson is still in the reckoning.
Boat reverses violently, the tires screeching in protest, and shoots out of the gates with the powerful car almost suspended in the air.
Out on the open road he guns the car, and it responds like a bullet, eating up the miles hungrily.
Boat didn’t care a hoot about police speed patrols.
His life is in danger, and he has to be with his father at any cost!
Season 1 Eps. 38
THE SECOND SIGHT
A BATTLE OF WILLS
Location: STREETS OF MADINA
Boat is bruised and badly battered.
He tries to ignore the pain that is racking his body as he drives.
He has to stay focused and relegate all other matters to the background. Crazy things have happened, and he is in a world where insanity and reality are bedfellows.
There was no time to dwell on the horrors that he has witnessed; he can only speculate on the role Uncle Samson had played in his life, all through the years.
He is being prepared for a terrible future, and the man in charge of that destruction has turned out to be none other than a man he loves almost as much as his father.
Africans have a proverb of sorts for that kind of betrayal; the beast that will give you that fatal bite is right in your clothes!
How absolutely befitting!
What would have happened in that chamber of horrors? What would Samson have done with him?
And worse of all: what is that Shadow-Thing?
A shadow that can move, not cast by anything! Maybe too powerful for even an unblinded man to see physically?
Boat hits town in record time. It is a miracle that he has no cops on his tail, but then again, it isn’t a very usual kind of night.
He pays no heed to the uglies this time. He is however a little surprised to find that instead of fear he now feels contempt – and yes, a whole lot of anger – towards them.
Yaw Boat wishes he has the power to reach out and squeeze the damn things till their eyes and innards pops out. He wishes he can kick them, cut them and burn them all to hell. H wishes he can stomp on them repeatedly until they moan and beg for mercy.
Yes, for the very first time he just wants to maim them!
And in that crazy instant Boat remembers Anderson again!
Everything has panned out. He has received the damn gift which, to him anyway, is a curse. As that crazy pastor had stated in his letter, he is an Unblind, but he does not have the powers that real Unblinds have over these beasties.
What he has seen in Uncle Samson’s – no, not Uncle Samson anymore, but plain Samson – had also confirmed what the pastor had said about a demon getting ready to possess his body.
So if what Anderson said has become the truth, it means the rest is also going to happen. It is that simple, and it is that scary.
According to Anderson, Boat is in the middle now, and he has only two ways to go: either end up as a demon-controlled evil freak, or a God-empowered good freak chasing horrible spiritual creatures out of the world.
Sure, Boat wishes he has his own force-field. It will be fun seeing those dirty sluts scampering because of him. But that is as far as he wants it to go. He is not carved out for that life, and he wants nothing to do with it.
His choices are limited though. He knows he will be forced to make a choice if he is not helped soon. That means he has to be with his father; only he can be of help now.
He has money, and he believes in the faith Anderson has, and he seems to understand the workings of all that spiritual stuff, and knows the play of the turf.
Sure, Joe Boat had expressed the wish that his son will accept the terrible gift and live the life of an Unblind, but Boat knows he has leverage over his father.
Joe Boat is his father, and he loves Boat. He will not like to see his son go through the horrors he has been exposed to, and in the final analysis Boat is sure his father would relent and help him purge that awful gift.
Boat is so lost in his thoughts that he almost runs smack into the back of a huge Ford wagon front of him. He brakes hard, and the powerful car’s engine whines with protest, and the car comes to a shuddering halt just inches from the back bumper of the Ford.
Boat lets out his breath slowly.
He becomes aware of his surroundings gradually.
There is a cacophony of horn blasts all around him, and he finds himself stuck in the middle of an unusual traffic. His side of the road is not moving, and neither are the cars coming from the opposite direction.
Many of the drivers are out of their cars, gesticulating wildly, evidently annoyed at something. Boat winds down the window and pokes my head out, and immediately his ears are assaulted by the din of the horns.
He begins to get out, and then he is struck by a sudden realization; he cannot see any uglies around!
There are a lot of people, but there are no horrible spirits anywhere. He gets out quickly and looks around for any force-field that will signify the presence of a true Christian, but there is nothing.
It brings a sick feeling to his guts, and suddenly Yaw Boat very afraid again.
It is so ironic in a way, really, that for the first time that his eyes have been spared the horrors of a terrible trauma, he suddenly feels abnormal, strangely incomplete!
The traffic appears to be locked ahead of him, so he makes his way slowly past the shouting people as he moves forward to ascertain what is causing the hold up.
From snatches of their heated complaints of the stranded drivers he gets the gist of what might have caused the traffic.
Up ahead is an intersection, and it seems a convoy of somebody important is on its way through, and traffic wardens have stopped traffic on both sides of the intersection to allow the VIP to sail through.
Boat knows it won’t take more than a few minutes before traffic starts flowing again. It is nothing new; it happens all the time. But Boat cannot accept it. He has reached a stage of existence where every occurrence is abnormal until proven otherwise.
A little cold shiver crawls its way craftily up his spine as it dawns on him that this can also be another net, designed to delay him until the opening is tightly cinched shut.
There are huge cops all over the place, paying deaf ears to the barrage of voices, trying to calm down the impatient drivers in their cold persuasive ways.
Up ahead a particularly large cop is urging a driver to get back inside his car and take his little son with him. Evidently the little boy is hyperactive, and can decide to do any number of foolish things young people his age are prone to do.
The driver picks up his son, tosses him into his car, and enters the car himself.
Just then the sirens come, and the dispatch riders shot past on their sleek motorcycles. Boat heaves an audible sigh of relief and begins to turn away, intending to head back to his car.
And then the huge policeman turns, and fixes Boat with a stare.
The mark of the beast blazes a terrible red on his forehead, and his eyes are a violent yellow; no blacks, no whites… just that sea of rabid yellow!
His nose trembles and lifts upwards, and his lips came off his teeth in a snarl.
Another possessed vessel!
Damn! Oh, hell!
The huge cop begins to walk towards Boat, his right hand reaching for the thick baton at his waist.
It is the same old story again.
Now Boat understands why the uglies are absent, and why there has been a road block at that particular time. His suspicions have been bang on, and he smiles grimly.
He is now reading the pitch right, beginning to get a grasp of the rules, and the all-important foul plays.
Under no circumstance is he going to be allowed to see his father.
Here is a senior police officer who can arrest him on any number of charges, render him totally immobile and take him to wherever he is commanded to take Boat.
Boat sees that there is a holstered gun on his hips too, and Boat raises his hands midway in the air, presenting the cop with a picture of a docile sheep, a man who neither seeks nor wants to give any trouble.
The wildness disappeared from the cop’s eyes a bit when he sees that Boat has evidently given up, and although his left hand is on his baton, he makes no attempt to pull it out.
He was tall, maybe a head shorter than Boat, but he is broad and bound in muscle.
You’re coming with me, young man.
His voice is a deafening roar that almost bursts Boat’s eardrums… but of course, Boat is the only one that hears that voice.
Alright, officer. I give up. I don’t want any trouble.
The cop falls for it, and relaxes his guard just for a fraction of a second, and that is all that Boat needs.
He spins suddenly, his right elbow a propelling weapon that smashes against the policeman’s face.
Boat feels the man’s nose crunching, his head snapping back with the impact, and a guttural scream emerging from his throat.
Blood spurted from his nose and covers the face of a pretty woman leaning out of an Alpha Romeo sedan.
The cop raises his hands to his face, still whimpering in agony. That is both a wrong and daft move. He lays his body wide open for attacks, and Boat obliges by ramming a foot into his balls. The man yowls with fresh pain and drops his hands to cup the blazing agony in his groin.
Another daft move.
Boat chops him across his throat with the rigid edge of his right hand, and he falls down, gagging for breath, dry-retching and writhing in agony.
Some of the drivers, shocked at the apparent unprovoked attack on a policeman by an evidently mad civilian, are screaming for help as Boat turns and flees towards his car.
The presidential convoy has passed, and already the cars stuck in the traffic are beginning to move again.
Yaw Boat is about twenty meters from his father’s Mercedes when it explodes.
Just like that!
One moment it is sitting there, pretty and large and waiting for him to enter and drive away …and then in the next moment it jumps slightly as it explodes with a loud booming noise, and bluish-yellow and red fire engulfs it.
Glass fragments shoot out like bullets, and Boat drops to the street fast to avoid his eyes and face getting cut up with glass fragments.
People are screaming.
The car just in front of the Mercedes bucks as all its glass exploded – windscreen, back glass and windows. A grey-haired man who has been getting into a huge Hummer falls down, blood running down his face in rivulets as more glass showers down on him.
A speeding Chevy from the opposite side of the road skids off and climbs the intersection embankment and plunges full head into a fancy sports car parked just behind the burning Mercedes.
Boat sees it all with a coldly disinterested eye because his whole attention is focused on his burning car. As the yellow flames lick upwards into the night sky, Boat’s horrified eyes sees evil once again.
Rising from the depths of the fire, gaining height and stature, is a gigantic three-legged shadow with a horn on its head!
The shock is paralysing, and Boat’s mouth opens in a soundless scream. He back-pedals, gets to his feet, and then turns to flee.
That is when Hideous rises up from the middle of the street just in front of Yaw Boat and wraps itself around Boat’s legs.
Boat tries to move, but he can’t so much as lift a leg. He remembers Bob immediately. Poor old Bob, held right in the middle of the street, unable to move, watching as the truck that will kill him drew nearer and nearer.
He fights harder, desperately, but to no avail. Hideous has fixed him good.
Boat sees a dark shape moving across the side of the Hummer: it was the Shadow-Thing!
Boat sees its huge three-fingered right hand close into a fist and begins to swing.
He knows that the blow is coming for him again, and fear cripples his mind.
No, no…. NOOOOO!
He steels himself for the blow, but even then when it comes it is hard and laden with pain.
It smashes into Boat’s stomach, and he gasps with the pain. Another blow, a roundhouse this time, smashes against his right cheek and he falls down, blood spurting from his nostrils.
Boat hits the back of his head hard against the tarmac, and he lays there, weak and totally done for, hardly able to move a finger.
Dirty evil bastards!
Two cops appear suddenly, and they ignore the wounded cop completely and comes towards Boat. One is holding a drawn Police Special, whilst the other is dangling a pair of handcuffs in his hand.
On their foreheads, of course, is that one special thing – the mark of the beast, 666, blazing blood red.
The painful tears of failure, of being captured, stings Boat’s eyes.
A crowd is gathering, and Boat knows deep down that his chances of escape are really slim.
He can see the shocked looks on the faces around him. Little innocent people who don’t know what is going down, and obviously thinks, erroneously, that Yaw Boat is a criminal.
There is no fight left in Boat.
He struggles to a sitting position.
To Be Continued…
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