I’m NAA’MAN

I’m sorry for the absence, guys. I’m not even going to tell you I’ve been busy. No, I’ve been plain lazy.

But here, I did this 500 word story. It’s the first time I wrote something short and maybe meaningful.

Hey, why don’t you check to see if it’s meaningful.

---

It seems I’m always running out of time. I’m yet to understand the trick involved in preparing early for school. It’s 7:47am and I can’t remember where I left my school bag. School begins by 8am and getting to school takes thirty minutes. I’ve literally lifted the house over my head and given it a good shake. I’ve looked everywhere there is to look for that bag and…

Oh! The store.

I march straight to the store, and there…
There, it must be inside the big, old and ugly wardrobe where I keep my old clothes, spoilt toys and used school texts. I kick a pack of Golden Morn cereal lying on the floor, its content spray everywhere. I curse and wonder momentarily how the pack of cereal came into the store. Nobody comes in here except me.

I expect to be hit by the dank stench of moss infested books and hot, putrid air but I’m surprised at what hits my left foot. I scream loud enough to get my mom rushing into the store but surprisingly, she doesn’t come. A rat has just landed on my foot and it’s as large as the pack of cereal I had kicked earlier.

I watch in horror as the rat clumsily struggle to reverse its position on the ground. It had landed with its back on the ground and its legs kicking air. After successfully accomplishing the task of getting to its legs to the ground, it fixes me a pointed stare and spreads its mouth open in a snarl, displaying sharp fangs totally unlike those of rats. I retreat until my buttocks smack the door of the wardrobe close.

The rat advances towards me in slow strides, walking on its hind legs. It has its fore legs poised in defense like Praying Manthis. I start to scream again but couldn’t find my vocals; my heart hammered in the cage of my heart. Twitching sounds like tiny sparks of electric wires fill the air and I think: I’m electrocuting. The atmosphere is heated up, enough to support the electrocution belief.

The twitching sound is the bruxing of rats as they make their entrance into the store from every opening in the store – windows, doors, boxes, cracks and holes in the wall, holes in the ceiling. They stream in in rivulets, their bruxing gaining momentum until it’s like the droning of swarm of bees. My eyes grow larger than my socket can contain and it darts every direction at same time.

I still can’t find the voice to scream. The rat tugs at my trouser, so tightly that I can’t shrug it off. It climbs up my body, closely followed by thousands of rats and soon I’m a rat-castle. In my panic, I think: God, I’m defiled, I’m infected, I’m unclean, I’m Naa’man. I scream at last.

My mom drags me out of the bath tub and water splashes the floor.

“You’re drowning yourself again, Chiboy. What’s wrong with you?” She scolds.