A Collection of Short Stories

Fourteen Years
Bankole Banjo
The editor froze and peered into the darkness. No one had called him Davo since he had
been smuggled out of the country years ago. And no one had, since he returned 8 months
ago.
“It’s been a while, brother,” the voice said emphatically. Following those words, six silhouettes
stepped out of the shadows. Five of them held small axes, while the sixth was armed with a
sawed-off shotgun. David could barely make out the bandanas on their heads.
Hyenas!
“Guys, please. Don’t do this. Please my brothers…”
The eerie slide of metal over metal stopped him as the one with the pump action readied his
weapon. Ignoring his growing panic, they began to recite the Creed.
“…to do as told, to defend as needed, to fight, to die, to kill, to protect, whatever it
may cost me...”
He had forgotten all about the finality of the Creed. In that instant, he broke into a run.
The pump action rifle went to work with characteristic aplomb. The first bullets carved a fistsize
hole through his spine and slammed his fleeing frame forward against the tiled floor. The
shooter stepped closer to the fallen man. Ignoring the feverish twitches of his victim’s body,
a desperate sign of death subjugating life, he pulled back the barrel, chambered the next
cartridge and pumped another round of shots into the editor’s forehead, splattering his brains
all over the pool.
Satisfied, they faded off into the shadows. They had earned their legend.
***
The text message had just one word: DONE. Fourteen years of pain and vengeance had
been finally put to rest. Literally.
Rasheedah rose from bed, and did ablution. She then threw her hijab around her head and
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Tales from the Other Side