"Thief" "Thief"
I drowned in the noise as their voices chorused my fate. I did not look back. From their screams, I knew that a bloodthirsty mob followed me. I saw nothing, punching through anyone who tried to stop me. Oh; I could fly! Jumping over the roadside gutters and market tables like a gymnast. But I would never live to boast about these stunts I pulled. They were wild, ecstatic. For a moment, I realized I had the spotlight on me; I was the cynosure of the day and the man of the moment. I felt like an animal chased by a band of hunters. And literally, I was; they would roast me and devour my flesh if I fell into their hands.
I sped past the church. Churches were no more sacred. In my adrenaline, my life flashed before my eyes. I knew it was the end. The okada men (or should I say “motorcycle riders"?)had joined the wild goose chase.
They would never know my hunger which was now forgotten. They would not even care that I had a family at home and a dying mother. It was the sad reality but no one cared. I felt the phone clutched in my left palm, the one I had stolen. I flung it away; it was worthless to me now, I was going to die. Then, it hit me.
I was too dazed to struggle when they lifted me, too afraid to feel the pains as the planks landed on my flesh, sending shocks to my bones and shivers down my spine. There were too many hands, all fisted, reaching for my face and jabbing my ribs. When the rod landed on my shoulder, I felt it pop. I fell again, surrendering to death as the cold liquid baptized me. Petrol! I could recognize that smell.
They were lost, too passionate to listen when I whispered “Please! Please!”
I braced for the heat, hoping I could die with a little dignity, not wriggling like the last man I watched burn. He had run a long distance with the fire flaring on his garments, screaming till he fell, still twitching. Then I heard the sirens. I struggled to open my bloodied eyes. The mob hurriedly dispersed. I had been given a second life