The Boogie Man (Part 1 of 2)

Word has gone round that the Boogie man is in town. Many are sceptical about that piece of news, many are indifferent, many more are simply stricken with fear, (that’s one ‘many’ too many, but it is a really large population), and a lot more do not believe the boogie man exists.

Already, people have been said to have come up missing.

Questionable, sensational reports, very much like this one, are a-dime-a-dozen in this area. So, you understand if some of us are not bowled over at the latest fad.

On this fateful day though, against our mother’s warnings, my sister and I take off in one of the cars, we put down the top, and travel down the winding path that leads to town. For the thrill, she steps on it while we whoop and generally have the time of our lives. We somehow get distracted and wind up near the falls, a brief stroll on the beach and she wants to peel off her clothes and take a dip but voice
-of-wisdom me reminds her that father awaits our early return.

As we make our way back to the car, a shadow falls on the rock that hides our car from view. Somehow, we know, just before we see him, that this was it. In seconds, we are to face with the fear of many- aka Boogie man. Tall- huge more like, ferocious looking, garbed in designer blacks, he moves stealthily with a gun casually slung across his shoulder.  Without speaking a word, he looks terrifying.

I steal a look at my sister, she does not look terrified but she isn’t smiling (as is her custom) either, actually, she looks… askance (?!)

He says something but all my numb mind registers is a deafening roar. To me, everything is magnified and  amplified, looking and sounding a thousand times worse than it probably is.
Before he utters another word, Sis gets the first word in and  announces that we are not afraid of him.

“We are not?” I incredulously squeak under my breath. She shushes and pulls me closer.

Then comes the oh so beautiful exchange.

She tells him he is a scarred, scared little boy in adult skin, terrorising harmless people and how she feels sorry for him because his life must really suck.
He growls in response.

In my semi paralysed state, I wonder why he doesn’t  attack; just pull the trigger and shut my sister up once and for all. Everybody complains that she talks too much anyway.
“Go pick on someone your size”, she says, ‘oh, that’s right, you are the lowest of lows, right at the bottom of the food – and authority – chain. Too inconsequential, in the right places, to be classed as anything that matters.

She tells of how she knows for sure that he was defeated in battle downtown; how he was thrashed and publicly made a spectacle of by a Carpenter. Ordinary men kicked dust on him and made him whimper for mercy- the fish merchant, the tent maker, the accounts clerk, the law intern, simple guys who dared- these guys bound him up and plundered his arsenal, kicking him out of town.

I am near hysteria at this point, but with each syllable, my sister’s words seems to shoot darts of liquid fire up my spine.

I brace a look into his eyes, he doesn’t seem to be affected by all of these but I feel something shift (hey, I have been known to be wrong before).

Sis just keeps right on recounting his depressing track record.

Quietly, he says “shut up and move”, jerking his head towards a frightening part of the rocks- replete with caves and drops.
“Didn’t you get the memo?”  was her comeback, “We are not your hostages, nor would we ever be. You are too…” as if searching for words, she suddenly stops and (wait for this) starts laughing! I mean, she actually laughs, heartily!

My heart plunges to the sole of my left foot. Finally, I think, she has lost it. My sister has snapped; gone mad, and I am going to die. Oh well! At least I lived a good life.

As if he finds my sister hilarious and reads my mind at the same time, with a faint smile, he echoes “You are going to die – both of you- slowly, painfully, with all your dreams unfulfilled, then, I’ll go to your home and do same to every sorry member of your family”

Her pretty lips curls upwards and with a look of glorious wonder, she claps and says,“ Nice little speech. I was wondering when you will get to the lies. You’re a liar and a lie. That’s your identity”

I glare at her and think “Really, calling a man with a weapon names is not smart at all”

“You know the game is up but you are not one to go without trying”. She continues, “Well, in case you missed the news, we are the ones that escaped*.
We have been given authority over you by the man that trashed you in battle… we are seated with Him in High places, far above you and your creative tantrums.

You have nothing on us, nothing to charge us with because we are just and right-standing. Yes, we are the righteousness of the most High God through His son Jesus.

As He is, so are we; you know why? Because, we believe and wholeheartedly accept the sacrifice that He made for us with His life. We are now the pleasures at the Father’s right hand.
We are one with Him: He is the head of the body that we are, so His victory over you is ours too- forever”
“Oh! Did I mention that we have authority over you? So, you may leave now, ’cause am done talking to you”.

I am shocked to find out that I have not passed out
– in a bid to grant my turmoiled soul respite from its back and forth.

I know all these things my sister is saying- we had both been taught them- they are true, but do they work just like that? Will they work now?
I’m not sure but I know she either just saved our lives or made our deaths that much more excruciating because this guy looks like he could cause an earthquake with a pop of his vein. Boy, he is all shades of red with rage!

From all intents and purposes, we -she- did well, but, I thought, tiny us and rehashed news against big, mean, present right-before-your-eyes him? I am totally seating on the fence on this one.

I grow weak-er (if that is possible at this point) with tears, as, within a heartbeat, ‘Mr Boogs’ disappears behind the rocks.

I crumple in tearful relief into my sister, and whisper, “Oh my God, what just happened?”

She holds me tight and with her usual humour, teasingly replies, “I am not your God, silly, I am Faith, your sister” she grins “and we just kicked the enemy’s butt from the place of victory!”

image

Advertisements

11 thoughts on “The Boogie Man (Part 1 of 2)

  1. Oh my God! Thats just awesome. I love your sister Faith.
    This is so creatively done, i was reading it on the road. And no boogie man(car) hit me.

    Hey Sister, God bless you!

  2. I really love this sis, I must say; ‘sis’ FAITH has helped me in so many ways, am grateful for that and i thank the lord God almighty. LOVE U SIS

    • Dolapo, hey sugar, thanks for coming by and for the comment too. Keep her (faith) alive & active. The chronicling of our stories will be incomplete without her. Love you too. xoxo

  3. Really…..we will need to keep “sis faith” alive in this journey. Thank you for letting God breathe on the truth through your hands!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s