For those who are eternal

2

"For though you walk through the valley of shadow death, you will fear no evil!" the preacher informed.

He was middle-aged, probably in his late 30s, with few grey hairs here and there. If I remember correctly, he was called Father Emeka; a reverend father of some sorts in this village.

"Whom so ever believeth in him shall not perish but have eternal life," he said, "Brethren if you turn away from your evil ways, you will live forever in heaven."

*What was so great about living eternally?*

This was the year 1918 and I was 118 years old but still looked 20. For the past 100 years, I had never fallen sick; not even a mere cough nor catarrh.

I had left Ghana during February of 1916 after Jonah died. We were age mates and he left aged 116 still cursing me for killing his sister; even in his dying breath.

My parents were dead, and so were my cousins. I was all alone. Ghana became too choking to live due to the stigma I faced. I was called a sorcerer and a demon.

I remember on my 92nd birthday, waking up to my house on fire. I later found out that the village boys had burned my home as per Jonah's orders. I never hated him. I was even upset that I woke up. I was a coward then and was afraid of taking my own life, so being burned would have been a fitting escape from this curse.

Anyway, running to Nigeria seemed like the only option. Although I still answered Kwame Daniel, I changed my date of birth to December 12th 1900, so to everyone who just met me, I was 18 years old.

"With long life will I satisfy him and show him my salvation," Father Emeka rode on.

Honestly, I don't know why I was feeling attacked. I didn't even want to go to church. I was here because of Emilia.

22 years old and wheelchair-bound was she but it didn't bother her in the slightest. Oh don't misunderstand, she wasn't crippled she had a minor accident saving me.

"Is there a problem?" she asked as she squeezed my hand.

I shook my head negatively.

The church was finally over and I wheeled her out only stopping for her to greet church members. Some tried to talk to me but I dismissed them with a smile. I was so glad to leave the synagogue's stuffy atmosphere.

We got to her house and settled down.

I prepared some Jollof rice.

"Mmm, so delicious," she exclaimed, "Aren't you having any?"

I wasn't in the mood to eat. I stared at her as she took another bite and held her cheeks as she relished the taste.

My eyes focused on her hips that were dislocated because of me.

I bit my lower lip as I remembered when we first met.

Two months before this time, I finally dared to take my life. I made my way to a nearby bridge and jumped. Someone caught my hand;

"It's not your time yet!" she yelled as she tried to pull me up.

Although she saved me, I was guilt-ridden.

"I told you not to think about it," she said sternly, "I just happened to be at the right place and at the right time."

I sighed and looked away.

She wheeled over to me and grabbed my face and kissed me.

I blinked twice and raised a brow.

"I'm not a paedophile," She chuckled softly, "I'm seriously in love with you Kwame. And although I'm older than you, I'll be willing to submit."

She tried to kiss me again but I looked away.

"Kwame? Is everything alright?" she asked with worry in her tone

I couldn't tell her anything. How was she going to accept the fact that I was the paedophile here?

I got up to leave.

"Kwame? What's wrong?" she grabbed my hand, "Don't leave, please."

She didn't have to beg.

I heard her groan.

I turned to her and noticed she had gotten on her feet.

I was about to tell her to sit down but she hugged me.

"Stay, please," was all she said.

I was shaken but I accepted her invitation with a hug. She smelled so nice.

She had a mirror behind her and I thought I saw something but paid it no mind.

I took her to her room and after her pestering, decided to stay the night.

That day around midnight, I went to drink some water when the mirror caught my attention again.

Looking closely, I noticed a woman dressed in white, sitting on the dining chair's reflection.

A closer look was all it took to make me realize who it was as the glass in my hand shattered on the floor.

"You finally looked at me again," said Yvonne with a smile.

God is probably a sadist.