An Animal had Taken Them in its Fangs...
With Dennis Da-ala Mirilla, Vanessa Walters, John Brennick, Gemma Weekes, Isaiah Weekes, Ioney Smallhorn - April 27th, 2021
This week’s writers in the order they appear below : Dennis Da-ala Mirilla, Vanessa Walters, John Brennick, Gemma Weeks, Isaiah Weekes, Ioney Smallhorn
An animal had taken them in its fangs...
They stretched their friendship to its limits - fragile as it was, precious as it was- and it broke. It was like an animal shredding its prey with its fangs into pieces.
They met on Clubhouse. It was random.
Theirs was an instant friendship. She, looking for strangers to bant with on the internet. Him, looking for sources for the story about African fintech companies he was writing. She had experience having worked at Interswitch in Lagos and that was how they bonded.
Soon, they were on the phone all day. She liked Netflix but he preferred HBO Max. They spoke about communications in relationship. And why relationship suffered. And how theirs will be different.
But they didn’t have enough social capital for the turn their friendship took. It was too soon and so it broke, leaving them utterly undone.
By Dennis Da-ala Mirilla
An animal had taken them in its fangs...
The meadow stretched before them. Yawned in its green emptiness. Each blade of grass a hurdle. The trees that fringed side each side were quiet. Not a thing moved but the sun. They told them to hide during the day and run only at night. But they had heard dogs coming up behind them, their barking a savage whisper in the wind.
It was this or nothing. This or kneel together, heads bowed, knuckles clasped, and wait for hell to overtake them. The sun, he thought, looked creamy, like the churned butter back at the house. For a split second, he thought back to the moment he had licked it, its smooth taste on his tongue before the wooden spoon crashed down on his head.
“Let’s go,” he said gently to the frightened, tearful eyes around him. “Now!”
By Vanessa Walters
An animal had taken them in its fangs...
"An animal has taken them in its fangs" shouted Annusia as she ran toward us.
We shot up onto our feet.
"What?!"
"Where?!"
Annie promptly turned around to run back the way she came. We followed, past the magic portal, past the giant mushrooms field and into the murky woods.
Our fears of the dark forest submerged to the urgency.
Without them, we could re-enter the magic portal. We would be stuck here.
I set aside my anger toward Annusia for allowing this to happen. All senses and efforts focused on finding them.
We stopped, panting. Annusia began to describe the animal. Our eyes widened as she spoke . . .
By John Brennick
An animal had taken them in its fangs...
An animal had taken them in its fangs. Had made them fight to free themselves. No longer the slow poison of everyday exploitation. The state gripped them tight. Pierced the skin. Policed them until they bled. Seared them with the hot breath of poverty. Too tight. They began to struggle. At first the pain intensified. The fear intensified that they would plummet into the belly, burn and be lost. But soon when all knew they were equally in danger. When all were equally hurt. When blood flowed from all. When they were torn and terrified and hopeless. Then. Then they fought with all they had: throwing hands, feet and voices; throwing off the complacency of prey; shredding the beast from the inside.
By Gemma Weekes
An animal had taken them in its fangs...
“Come out with your hands up! This is the FBI magic department. I repeat! Come out with your hands up!!” a voice shouts outside my house with an easily-identifiable hatred in his voice.
'Not these idiots again! How do they keep finding me?” I say to myself as I half stumble, half fall out of bed and drag myself into my basement. “It's way too early for this,” I say out loud while I tap a slightly discolored piece of stone on the far wall of this cold and unfurnished stone cavity. It shudders and slides out of the way, revealing a small glowing ball that radiates power.
The core.
And behind it a gigantic statue of a hellhound so large it could kill a hill troll by rolling over it. I nonchalantly grab the golden, glowing core and stick it behind the hellhounds frankly terrifying jaws as I scramble down the ladder. I hear its clay heart start to beat, its belly now acting out a slow rhythmic breathing. I grab six portal scrolls off my work bench and use them all in conjunction with one another to destroy the army's worth of imbeciles outside.
I point my finger and with all my animosity say: “Go fetch.” And as the last ten people are swept into the hound's jaws, I say rather patronizingly: “It's your own fault. You should have listened to my extensive warnings and just. Given. Up.”
By Isaiah Weekes (age 14)
An animal had taken them in its fangs...
Ravenous, and unpolite this city was loud. The untamed road which encircles it, winding and long like a dragons tail. The siblings arrived by bus, clothes sticking to their skins they longed to shed. Elbows rushing past, round hips bumped, rucksacks and shopping bags bullying the pair along the market. Not one apology whispered. The market traders spotted the new arrivals instantly, with their straight backs, wide eyes, mouths like exclamation marks. Yes, this city had taken them in its fangs
Survival shoved them deeper into the mangled cities mouth. Shotta-bus conductors calling destinations, slamming the sides of their already sardined vehicles, stray dogs in packs weaving between feet, a heap of pineapple skin attracting fruit flies, a leather chair with the soft bits exposed, a pigeon with maggots feasting on its guts- from afar you could mistake it for a bowl of sticky white rice.
By Ioney Smallhorn
(All rights reserved by the authors. Not to be copied or reproduced without permission. ) (Edits by Vanessa Walters)