THE SECOND SIGHT – EPISODE 7

THE SECOND SIGHT EPISODE 7

®20+ SNVL

SAMSON’S TAKE

Location: SAMSON’S ROOMS

Yaw Boat, once again, is afraid.

He cannot disregard that evil pastor as being mad anymore.

What madman is capable of writing such a letter that has predicted the future happenings so frighteningly?

Boat wishes so much that his father is around.

His father will have answers, and he will provide the kind of help Yaw Boat needs.

Ordinarily, Boat is quite a strong lad, not given to hysterics, and with a pretty smart head between his shoulders. He is independent, strong-willed and certainly not superstitious. That is why he simply cannot understand what is happening, or accept it.

To him, there is a trick somewhere, a knot that needs to be untied to solve the mystery. On any given day he would have forgotten all about it and never given it another passing thought.

However, it is different now. Try as much as he can, he simply cannot get Anderson and the whole scary happenings out of his mind.

Suddenly the night feels dangerous.

Yaw Boat is feeling strangely claustrophobic. He wishes he is back in his apartment, free to pile up on drugs and alcohol, and retreat into the woozy refuge of hallucinations, and satiate his unquenchable lustful cravings on Mary’s pliant body.

Suddenly the prospect of going out, getting into his car and driving through the streets is suddenly both loathsome and scary.

He realizes quite suddenly that he is indeed quite scared.

He gets to his feet, cramming the letter into his back pocket, and his eyes suddenly fall on the gold-framed clock on the wall.

It is half-past eight.

Less than four hours to midnight.

Boat goes out and rides the elevator to the ground floor, then walks out to his car. As he is opening the door his eyes pick up the bright lights from the windows of the detached house way down the little path leading to the beach, nestled amongst the royal palms and exotic flowers.

It is Samson Basoah’s house.

He is Boat’s father’s personal chauffeur, bodyguard and friend.

Samson Basoah is aptly named because he is a real giant of a man. Well over seven foot, he is broad and incredibly muscular. He looks more of a mini giant than a man.

Completely bald, he has a ragged, horizontal scar running from the edge of his right ear-lobe to the side of his mouth.

It is a scar that gives his face a mutilated look, and makes a rugged, once-handsome face now terribly wicked and harsh.

Mr. Joe Boat had offered to foot the medical bill to have the scar removed through plastic surgery, but Samson had declined the offer.

He prefers to have the scar on his face. To him, it represents a former life of hard crime before Joe Boat had found and helped him convert to Christianity, and given him employment at Golgotha Heights International.

He had showed his gratitude to the senior Boat by being a permanent fixture around him, rendering all kinds of services. He was well-paid, but has chosen to remain celibate.

His character is in complete contrast to his physical appearance. He is unusually gentle and soft-spoken. He abhors violence in all its forms. He is his middle-aged, and he is like an uncle to Yaw. With no family of his own, he is considered as family in Joe Boat’s house, and has his own quarters on the property.

He is a great cook, and takes care of food in the house. He has been with Yaw Boat for as long as Boat can remember. Due to Joe Boat’s frequent travels, Yaw Boat had spent more time with Samson since infancy than with any other person.

Looking down at Samson’s house down there, Boat is glad that he at least Samson is home to help him out.

Samson will have answers, that is for sure.

Yaw Boat gets into his car and drives down to the beautiful house. It is to the western wing of the main mansion, nestled way down in the magnificent woods his father had surrounded his house with.

It is also a short distance to the beach. It has a wonderful garden, though not so glorious as the one behind the main house, but Boat has always felt good in this portion of his father’s estate.

Samson appears in the doorway even before Boat stops the car.

Samson Basoah has the tallest doors in the world.

Joe boat had allowed Samson to design his house, and the giant, tired of having to bend all the time to enter doorways, had designed his doors in such a way that they are very tall and wide. They can probably accommodate an elephant.

He is smiling broadly as Boat gets out of the car.

Samson is wearing a long flowing white African gown. Obviously he had been preparing to retire to bed.

SAMSON

(warmly)

Yaw, my boy! What a surprise. I’ve really missed you. Welcome home, my boy. Do come in, Yaw.

He embraces Boat with arms as huge as tree trunks. Boat had always been amazed at Samson’s size and evident sheer strength.

Boat often wondered how Samson would have been like as a criminal. He had once asked him how he got that ugly scar on his face, and he Boat that the person who had inflicted it on him had died immediately afterwards.

Samson had never explained how that person died, but Boat had once heard his old man telling Miss Bondzie that Samson, cut and bleeding profusely, had reached out, grabbed the man by his chin with just thumb and forefinger, and snapped the man’s neck with a single movement.

With a broad smile on his face Samson thumps Boat fondly on the back.

They enter his beautifully-furnished living-room. There is a soundless video showing on the huge screen. It is, as usual, a Christian channel.

Boat drops into one of the deep chairs and stretches his legs. Samson pushes a huge Bible and some magazines to one side of the chair and sits down beside Boat.

SAMSON

(concerned)

Would you be staying the night, Yaw? Your father will be back from Canada on Monday. You know he travelled to Canada, right?

Boat nods.

BOAT

Yeah. Miss Bondzie told me. Wanted to see him. That’s why I came down.

SAMSON

Your Pop is really concerned about you, kid. He was telling me that he could sense something wrong coming on, and it has to do with you. He wants you back home now that school is on break. I think he wants to be with you, to discuss things with you.

Boat feels the fear settling like ice in his guts.

Now his father is also having visions. This thing is spiralling out of control, and he is not in the frame of mind to deal with it.

BOAT

I wish he were here too, Uncle Samson.

Samson looks at Boat sharply.

SAMSON

(gently)

What is it this time, Yaw? You’re not in trouble again, are you? Listen, my boy, I love you very much, but I’m just about done bailing you out of trouble. You need to start towing some lines of discipline and self-control. I know about your deals with this Bob drug dealer, and I’m convinced you even use cocaine. Listen, Yaw, I’ve been there, okay? I’ve lived the life of crime and personal gratification, but I’ve come to realize that nothing is more fulfilling than being a Christian. So make your father happy and become a good Christian and stop all that nonsense you’re involved with.

It is true, of course.

Uncle Samson had gotten Boat out of some pretty tight fixes in the past, and if there is one person who knows more about his sordid lifestyle, it is Samson.

He lectures Boat about the need for him to completely repent of his sins for a while, but Boat barely hears him, although he keeps nodding to convince Samson that he is listening with rapt attention.

When a little silence creeps in, Boat hits him with the question on his mind.

BOAT

Uncle Samson, you’ve been a Christian for a long time, and you know all about some of the crazy stuff in the Bible and the Christian life. Have you ever heard anything called the Second Sight?

SAMSON

(puzzled)

The what?

BOAT

(earnestly)

The Second Sight. It is supposed to be one of the gifts God gives to His chosen servants. People with this kind of gift are believed to be … unblinded, you see, and they are able to see evil spirits and principalities, whatever the heck that is, which ordinary people with ordinary eyes cannot see. In other words, people with the Second Sight can see into another spiritual world, a realm of life which cannot be perceived by the naked eye.

SAMSON

(carefully)

And that can’t be an ordinary interest, especially from you, can it? Why don’t you tell me really what is bothering you, kid?

Boat takes a long breath, and debates briefly whether to tell him about Anderson.

He looks out the windows and sees the gloom out there, and knows he needs a semblance of sanity restored to before he can venture out there alone, particularly since his nerves are a bit frayed at the moment.

BOAT

(nervously)

Well, I met a crazy pastor on the highway today, goes by the name of Paul Anderson. He told me that some evil forces are preparing to inhabit my body, and give me some dark powers to hurt … well, strong Christians. I didn’t believe him, of course. So he told me that on the stroke of midnight today God will give me this Second Sight thing, you know, like I’ll be unblinded, as he put it. And with this supposed gift I’ll see into the spiritual world, and see spirits and demons and things. Apparently, only privileged few have this gift. According to him these guys are known as the Unblinds, and they are warriors for God, fighting evil forces from the spiritual realm.

___________________

AFTER MIDNIGHT

Location: BOAT’S APARTMENT

Accra is in the weekend mood when he hits town. The streets are jamming, the clubs were radical, and the atmosphere is electric.

He calls Elaine several times, but her phone is still off.

Boat stops at a restaurant to grab a quick bite, and ends up tossing down four glasses of alcohol down his throat.

He is just revving up for the weekend, and the feeling is jamming just right. Slowly he is getting into the spirit and walking toward his crown.

He is on a good roll, baby, and Pastor Paul Anderson is already beginning to seem like a bad dream with all his nonsense.

When he hit the streets again he is roaring drunk.

He drives straight to his apartment.

His door is already unlocked when he puts his key in.

He smiles through his drunken stupor. Mary, of course.

She has a key, and she is determined to have her wild night.

Boat finds her in bed.

The lights are low, and she is wearing a wicked see-through negligee that gives him an instant dose of heated desire, and he feels himself getting so hard that the front of his trousers is soon threatened with permanent distended damage.

She looks at him lustfully, slowly spreading her legs, giving him a blast of smooth thighs and tiny, crotchless, sheer panties.

Yaw Boat rips off his clothes and pounces on her.

She meets him half-way with a violent grunt of desire that takes his breath away in its intensity. She is a big girl, and likes to play it rough.

He tears off her negligee as her hot lips scorch a blazing path down his belly, and soon they are doing our best to devour each other!

Hers is a smooth silky body, rounded for love – wickedly bended – and craving to please. Her fingers frantically seeks hot spots on his hardened body.

She flings him down on the bed with a grunt, and then she rears up, looks down at him, and then her lips descend.

She takes him deep in her throat, slobbering, grunting, driving him mad.

And then she moves up, and his hands go up and grasp her sweet breasts.

She is wet and ready as she lowers her inner core on him, impaling herself fully on him, whipping her head from side to side as she rides him with the violence of a rodeo rider.

They groan in their passionate sin as the bed toils under them as they maul it.

It is not love. It is hard, and it is bestial, and it is uncontrollable … and they are two beasts, and they love it.

She contorts herself, and suddenly he is behind her, grabbing her waist as she bends over, mauling her hips as she thrusts back against him with her breath held as pleasure rocks her body.

They both explode together, screaming with total abandon.

They rest a while, and then they drink a little wine and sniff a little cocaine, and then she rolls on top of him in a 69 position …and they begin the beast-love all over again.

Yaw Boat – drugged, sexed, tired, drunk – falls asleep finally.

He comes awake and lies in the darkness.

Mary is sound asleep by his side.

He turns his head and looks at the luminous face of the bedside clock.

01:00 hours!

The huge clock on the catholic tower faintly strikes the hour, a single echoing dooong, the sound faint but perfectly audible.

It is one o’clock at dawn, and for the first time in seven days he has not had the nightmare.

The room is strewn with their clothes, glasses, bottles and cocaine residue. Mary’s limbs were still intertwined with his.

As he gently extricates himself from her delightful curves, he knows one simple fact.

It is past midnight. An hour past, in truth.

His eyes feel normal, his room feels normal.

He feels normal.

He feels good.

BOAT

(whispering)

f**k you, Anderson. I’m alright!

But his head is aching him quite badly.

It is as if his head is being split open by a million blunt chisels. His throat is parched and dry, and he feels physically drained.

He carefully disengages Mary’s legs from his and gets out of bed groggily. He sways, and shuts his eyes to prevent the sudden dizziness and terrible nausea which assails him.

After a while the dizziness passes, and that is when thoughts of Anderson suddenly buffet his mind.

Anderson had not been really far from his mind all the while, I has to admit. Even when he was so engrossed in the soft and sweet body-world of Mary, even when he was revelling in her amazing bends, Anderson had been up there somewhere, hovering, refusing to be pushed off by his lustful bliss.

Boat looks around the room tentatively.

His eyes pick out familiar things. There are no strange hues to objects, no funny shadows, no saint-like halos … nothing. No ghouls, no screeching poltergeists with knives for teeth, no blood-dripping, decay-faced zombies … nothing!

Boat heaves a great sigh of relief, cursing the man profoundly for the fear he had given me.

Uncle Samson had been right all along. There is nothing to fear. It had all been one great hoax.

It feels good.

Life has returned to normal, to the regular, to his own home turf. He can look at the whole Anderson experience as just a bad dream.

Boat, still naked, shambles into the bathroom to relieve his aching bladder. He kicks up the toilet seat, reminding himself to let it down again when he is done. He is in the habit of leaving it up, exposing the cold ceramic.

Mary hates it when she has to rush to the bathroom in the darkness and sit on that cold slab.

It irks her to damnation, especially if Boat had left some urine drops on it. There had been a couple of times when she had been so grenade-eyed that she had walked right out the door without making love again, anger overcoming passion.

Boat finishes urinating, does the double toss and reaches out with a foot and pulls down the seat again, and then he turns to go back to the bedroom.

And then he feels it!

And hears it!

There is something behind him!

He feels its presence!

And he hears its heavy breath-sigh, just behind him, in his ear…

A breath-sigh from an alien throat, so hoarse and sea-weedy, repugnantly stale, inundating his nostrils with rank horrific odours that make him think of rotten meat!

Yaw Boat is suddenly filled with a terrible premonition of doom. It feels like the temperature in the room has dropped a thousand degrees. The cold is so sudden and unexpected that Boat almost feels ice in the air, and all the hair on his body seem to stand up.

The scream rise in his belly, but becomes firmly blocked in his throat. He knows without a doubt that there is something behind him, something nasty and sinister, something ancient and dripping, something really bad!

Boat feels the tingling sensation at the back of his neck, but he cannot move a muscle although he is struggling so hard to move, to flee from the bathroom. He is so paralysed raw terror!

Funky Grounds has come alive!

Suddenly he feels a blast of air around him, moving fiercely from the bathroom and passing into the bedroom, disappearing into the atmosphere somewhere, and he smells the sickening blast of rotten seaweed again, and then, thankfully, it is all gone, whatever the hell it had been!

It is only then that he realizes he had been holding his breath. He gasps, the oxygen forcing its way into his lungs, and he almost blacks out.

He reaches out, holds the sink, and then vomits violently.

He is choking as he fights for air and the will to remain conscious and sane. He vomits again, and feels nauseated by the stench of alcohol that he has vomited out.

He dry-retches for a while, and then he turns on the sink tap and lets it wash the vomit down the drain. He splashes water on his face, and slowly his breathing stabilizes.

His face feels hot, and somewhere in that fuddled brain of his he makes the sudden and unbidden realization that he had never experienced such latent terror in all his life.

There is no denying it. He had not dreamed it, and he had not imagined it…

Something evil had been in the bathroom with him!

That sudden realization makes Boat stand up and blast out of the bathroom, slamming the door shut. He stumbles to the bed and sits down, and starts taking deep breaths as the air-conditioned room slowly cools his forehead.

Gradually he calms down, and the terrible panic subsides a bit, but it doesn’t vanish altogether. Maybe his mind is beginning to play games with him, fuelled by Anderson’s silliness, but he knows he just can’t brush what he had felt in the bathroom aside.

Something had happened, and it had not been an extension of his imagination.

It had been real.

He had felt it … and he had heard it!

For a moment he considers rousing Mary up for a gentler session of dawn love-making, but his libido is on a sudden ebb, and he feels a great urge to breathe in some fresh air, to escape the claustrophobic confines of the bedroom.

He stands up, picks up his boxers from the floor and pulls it on, and then he saunters barefooted to the huge French windows which let out unto the balcony. He pushes then aside, enters the balcony, and then he lights up a cigarette.

Alcohol, drugs and wild sex with the exuberant Mary has drained him of energy considerably, and his tongue feels like an elephant in his mouth.

The cigarette smoke tastes like clay, and he drops it in an ashtray he keeps on the balcony and savagely grinds it out.

He walks to the balustrade and stands gazing out across Accra.

The apartment next to his, on his right, has been rented out to a man called Ralph Stebbins. He is a tall, thin man who doesn’t talk much.

Mary had once informed Boat that Mr. Stebbins is a security guard working for one of the airlines. He is gone most of the time. He keeps pretty much to himself, and Boat likes that about him.

Boat and Stebbins had shared a few drinks and exchanged a few pleasantries now and then, mostly in the late hours of the night when they found each other on their respective balconies, which are separated by tall floor to ceiling railings made from hardened and tempered steel, making it impossible to move between balconies.

When Boat looks through the bars of the railings he sees that Stebbins is lying in a deep sofa on his balcony, wearing a pair of black jeans and singlet.

There is an almost empty bottle of whisky on the floor beside him, and a tall tumbler lying on its side. The remnants of whiskey in the glass has formed a small pool around Stebbins’ left hand, which is dangling over the side of the sofa, and brushing the floor.

He is snoring loudly, and Boat shakes his head with a smile, and then turns his attention back to watching the lights and buildings of Accra at dawn.

The night is calm, and the air is refreshingly cold and he welcomes it after the torrid moment he just went through in the bathroom.

The air drives the stuffiness from his throat and relaxes him, calming his taut nerves. He tries to identify some of the sights of the town by the blinking neon lights. His ears pick up the faint sounds of music in the air.

The weekend craze is still going on, and out there revellers are still having the time of their lives.

Boat suddenly sees a hazy green light hovering over the catholic tower.

Boat, who can identity most of the lights on the buildings, has never notices that green neon light before, and he wonders briefly if the Catholics have erected a neon sign over the tower now.

Of course they can do it. These Catholics are full of surprises. He chuckles and turns away.

He walks into the kitchen and takes a bottle of cold beer from the fridge. He

opens it and walks back to the balcony, drinking the chilled beer with much enjoyment.

When he looks into the dawn skies again, the green light he has seen hovering over the catholic tower now seems to be moving slowly through the air in his general direction.

Boat swallows a mouthful of beer and glares at that green light.

His first thoughts is that it might be the lights of an aeroplane, but that is absurd because he would’ve heard the sound of its engine and no airplane moves that slowly anyway.

The probable answer is that it can be one of those flying gas-powered balloon baskets. A crazy couple maybe, eager to experience the thrill of making love in space.

His beer is now forgotten as he watches that green light drawing nearer, near enough for him to have seen if it is trailing a basket, or flying a balloon … but there is nothing.

There is no darker structure to indicate that something is casting that light.

It is just a green light, cast by nothing, hovering in the air.

That, to say the least, is not normal!

Boat is aware that he is very cold, and he is also aware that he is beginning to be very scared.

The light is quite near now.

This is no ordinary light. It has no source, and has no shape. It is a dense, amorphous structure, glowing with an inner strength that is quite disturbing.

Parts of it keep bulging out as if something wants to get out, or that there is a struggle of some sort going on inside it.

The beer bottle slips from Boat’s hand, crashes, breaks, and cold beer slide beneath his bare feet.

He barely feels it. He is gazing.

There is no doubt about it now. The green light is headed for the balcony.

Boat wants to turn away, to flee inside and close the windows, but he is rooted to the spot. His legs just won’t move as his terror slowly takes hold.

Now the green light is almost on top of him, bright and blinding, and yet Boat can’t shut his eyes, and then the fear slams into his guts suddenly!

He moans and whimpers as a paralysing panic sweeps through him.

The light has a source after all!

There is something which is giving off that light.

He can see it in all that brightness, just beginning to materialize, to take shape, to form!

There is a creature inside the green light!

To be continued…

©Aaron Ansah – Agyeman

All Rights Reserved.

 

ALL EPISODES OF THE SECOND SIGHT

5 Comments

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Back to top button
error: Content is protected !!
Close

Turn Off Data Saver

To enjoy the full functions of our website, kindly turn off your data saver or switch to mobile browsers like Chrome or Firefox. Reload this page after turning off data saver