THE GODS

In a foreboding, dimly lit expanse, a creature emerged from the murky depths of the cavern, emitting an eerie presence. Draped in a lengthy, tattered cloak, its appearance was grimy, resembling fabric that had been roughly handled, almost as if snatched from a dog's jaws. Possessing a hunched posture, it relied on an aged, weathered stick for support, its skin clinging to its skeletal frame, resembling a desiccated twig devoid of nourishment for an age. Veins protruded prominently across its emaciated form, reminiscent of weathered tree branches etched upon its body. Its sunken, shadowed eyes emitted a hauntingly forlorn aura, while its overgrown, grime-laden nails protruded sharply. Moving with deliberate, unsteady steps, the frail being gazed upon the barren, arid landscape. This creature, known as Bumba, had languished in sickness for centuries.

Suddenly overwhelmed by nausea, Bumba convulsed and expelled a startling emission—an intense, stunning, yet scorching and relentless sphere of fire. Astonishingly, this radiant display began to sear his clothing as it...

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" exclaimed Bisi, interrupting. "Please don't tell me he puked out the sun," Ohi remarked, his hand pressing against his forehead. "Yes, he spewed out the sun," she replied confidently, wearing a radiant smile. "Grandma, if you're going to spin a tale, at least make it believable. How could someone vomit out the sun without burning their throat?" Abeni questioned, her expression serious. "Guys, let grandma tell her story," Asipitar intervened, shooting them a cautionary glance. "Then the moon, stars... "Please don't say humans were spat out too," Bisi pleaded, clasping her hands together as though praying for her life. "Bisi!"

Asipitar raised her voice and shot Bisi a disapproving glare. "Fine, I'll tell you a different story," she conceded, her grey eyes gleaming like the night sky and her smile as serene as ocean waves. Clad in a long-sleeved silk dress of a deep blue hue, she sat on a plush, milky chair, while her grandchildren gathered on a soft, golden and cream-colored rug, facing her.

The living room exuded spaciousness, adorned with a stunning combination of golden and cream-colored walls that harmonized with the chair and rug. Polished brown tiles gleamed, adding to the room's allure. Across the space hung a large-screen TV on one wall, while an expansive family portrait, captured a few weeks prior to their grandfather's passing, occupied another wall. The portrait, framed in ornate gold, depicted the family clad in white lace attire. The men adorned agbada, a loose-fitting Yoruba traditional robe embellished with vibrant red beads adorning their hands and necks, while the women wore buba, a loose top with sleeves almost reaching the wrist, complemented by a wrapper and a miniature red Ipele draped over their shoulders. Each woman sported a beautifully tied headgear.

"The story is about a god known as Oludumare, also known as Oduduwa." Ohi muttered to himself, anticipating an absurd twist. His words, however, didn't go unheard. "Ohi," Asipitar called in a hushed tone, nearly a whisper, "how could you say that?" she scolded. "She can't hear me," he countered. "Guys, grandma is narrating," Beni interjected, informing them.

"Oduduwa, a strikingly handsome man with a sculpted jawline and a flawless physique, stood clad in a white cloth wrapped around his waist, his chest adorned with straight and horizontal painted lines. Turning to Obatala, a less striking figure with his head bowed, he commanded, 'Make them look like us.' 'Are you sure?' questioned Obatala. 'Yes, absolutely,' affirmed Oduduwa.

'Can I use clay to create them?' Obatala inquired. 'Use whatever strikes your fancy,' Oduduwa replied, flashing Obatala a playful grin. 'Why so serious all the time?'

'Huh,' Obatala muttered, looking perplexed. 'It's fine, go do your job; I have other tasks to attend to.'

"So, this story tells us that Obatala fashioned us from clay," Asipitar pondered aloud.

"Yes, while Oduduwa crafted the earth and utilized his powers to create the clouds, moon, sun, stars, and so on," confirmed the narrative.

"There's also Eshu, the god of technology," Asipitar continued.

"But technology originated in Egypt," Bisi interjected.

"No, I think it started with the Greeks," Beni countered, looking puzzled.

Well, the Yoruba believe that Eshu introduced technology; he's also a trickster, a deceiver, and known as the king of disguises," Asipitar explained.

"Wow, he sounds intriguing," Ohi remarked, nodding in agreement.

"But he tricked Oduduwa into losing his power," Asipitar continued.

"What?!" they all exclaimed in unison.

"How?" questioned one of them.

"But Oduduwa is supposed to be the strongest," another added.

"But you're forgetting that Eshu is a trickster. The gods eventually grew weary of his deceit and schemes. They stripped him of his powers and cast him down to live as a human," Asipitar elaborated.

"So, he's among us?" Bisi asked, her expression brimming with excitement, while the rest shook their heads, unable to believe what seemed impossible.

I'll find him," asserted Bisi.

"But he's not real," Beni rolled her eyes in response.

"Well, I'll know if I look for him and don't find him," countered Bisi, seeking confirmation from her grandmother. "What does he look like?"

"He's huge, with dark skin complexion, and sports gigantic Dada (dreadlocks) on his head," described the grandmother.

"One thing's for sure, he won't be strolling around with such massive hair," remarked Ohi, letting out a yawn.

"I could tell you about the guardians," Asipitar offered, her ever-charming smile illuminating her face. Before she could continue, Eniola entered.

"Why are you all awake? It's past eleven, and Mom, you're supposed to be asleep. Have you taken your meds?" Eniola scolded gently.

"I forgot," the grandmother admitted, sounding somewhat childlike.

"Everyone in your room, Mom. Let's go," Eniola directed, ushering everyone off without further ado.

********************************

Beneath the sea lay an ancient mansion, its paint faded and weather-worn. The cushions inside were riddled with numerous holes, clad in tattered green material. Broken remnants of a lamb chair and table lay strewn across the floor, their surfaces marred and scattered with rusted nails protruding from the damp, decaying wood. The walls, now adorned with a motif of holes and cracks, showcased the mansion's decay. A somber staircase ascended, leading to the chamber of the mermaid queen.

The queen seethed with anger, forcibly tearing a mermaid's head from her body while bellowing insults at them, causing the other mermaids to cower in fear. Atika, standing behind a pillar, observed her older sister's frenzied outburst. "And you, what's your excuse?" the queen demanded.

Filled with murderous intent, her eyes ablaze, the queen, the most hideous among them, exhibited slimy green skin oozing an odd fluid, and possessed a snake-like tongue entirely black. Grasping one mermaid's neck, she flung her across the room before slowly advancing with a haunting tune on her lips. Amidst the scattered debris of broken chairs, tables, and shattered glass, she approached another mermaid, humming as she caressed the girl's face, inducing shivers. "Lalita, Lalita, Lalita," she sang in a tuneless, eerie voice. "Why did you fail me?" she whispered into the girl's ear before abruptly twisting her neck, emitting a sickening snap.

The young mermaid, Pigibi, who had survived, wailed and pleaded for mercy, flapping her green fishtail against the rusted bars for support. "Please spare me, my queen. I'll do better," she begged. The queen squatted down, patting the girl's head, displaying a maternal concern reminiscent of a worried mother comforting her child.