SOLOMON'S BRIDGE {Part II/WORK IN PROGRESS}

THE CUSTODIAN *24*

A very loud ringtone shatters the silence. Bobby answers his call from Trombone, his boss. He stands to his feet, listening to the man's furious tone, then says something placatory before ending the call, "I have to rush to the office at once," he coughs apologetically, "Sorry about this argument, Eddie! Idara tends to get a bit passionate in her man-hating vocation."

"I don't hate men!" the thing hisses through clenched teeth. He chuckles, patting a portion of your big, bouncy afro fondly,

"Oh yes; you do! But I'll be right back in about thirty minutes, to prove it to you!" To me, he asks, "Can I get anything? Ice cream? Pop corn? Cakes? Idara likes me to get her candy."

"I like yoghurt, thank you." I could tell that he was a real gentleman, and his offer was sincere. It came as a bit of a surprise to see how close my two afternoon guests are. You are both like, a brother and a sister. I drink my hot coffee, watching him close my front door.

You are quiet, studying me as I sip my coffee from delicate china. An awkward moment crawls past, unsure of its final destination. The entity watches me, surreptitiously. Can you see me? It seems to ask, in a loud voice inside my mind. Can you see me?

"Yes I can see you, clearly."

It recedes behind and you emerge, dazed, "What did you say?"

I ignore you, speaking to the culprit because I know it's still in there, "Bobby's simple explanation, innocently said, doesn't wash well with you, does it? The truth erodes the hatred you have cultivated. You know the driver very well, don't you?"

It was back in a flash, a hint of a smile relaxing your face, "What if I do?"

Had no-one noticed this foul enemy habituating inside you, all these years? Because it's too confident; acclimated. Like a disease festering for too long, undisturbed. Yes, Years. Even its gravelly voice is distinct; deeper, taunting and filled with hatred. Could Bobby not have noticed this? It's smugness rankles. I sigh inwardly. Battle, is engaged, "Are you ancestrally linked to her?"

"What if I am?"

"How long have you lived in there?"

"Since university; well over ten years."

So Rage took over way back in school, but you came to live and work in Canaan city almost two years ago... I fire the next questions, "How many of your kind are there with her?"

"Whose counting? Can you handle the number?"

"But, why...? What happened, to her?"

"She was framed, and falsely accused, then gang raped. I found her on the brink of death. She let me in!" lifting your chin, it challenges me, "What's it to you?"

I probe further, "She let you in; just like that?"

"Well what do you expect of a fatherless, and a faithless, traumatized girl? Personally, I hate those resilient types that accept the Almighty Will despite whatever you do to them. They're not the usual normal. They've got that messiah element, like you!"

"But, was it the Almighty Will, that was done, to her?"

Rage hisses, throwing up your hands in mock defeat, "Oh alright! You got me!" It frowns, chest heaving, "Yes! It was all arranged, by the networking covens! It's all ancestrally linked!" Angry beads of sweat gathering on your forehead, alerted me to the rising danger. It ranted,

"Way back in Eden, he never thought straight, he had a job to do, and he slept right on it, which suited us fine. But The Son! And now! But you! Ah! Ohhhhh it's a game changer!"