A terror seized spirit

Nightfall quickly descended blanketing the physical world.  Stillness dominated behind the black iron gates as a cloudless night gave way to the low hanging moon spilling its illumination on to the material world.  Looming shadows concealed the unearthly and their malicious agenda.  Resentment centuries old seethed with animosity.  Vexed by memories weaved of cruelty and violence it lusted for vengeance for having a cursed destiny. 

Slumped over against one of the oldest head stones in the rear of the cemetery a half concealed figure remained motionless on the ground with its legs folded beneath it while its arms rested at its sides. The head hung at an awkward and unnatural angle.  The blue swollen hands looked as though they tried to push itself up from the damp ground, but gravity won out over all efforts. Slowly gravity began to draw down its body fluids.  Deep within the spirit of Jose Rivera he fought to understand what had happened to him and who was this other that pushed up against his consciousness as his physical body had ceased functioning some time ago.  Such force an anger he had never known before was upon him in his final stages of death pushing him from his physical body.  Terror seized his spirit as he looked down at his motionless body slumped over.  Time had lost all meaning to him.   His confusion was vast and endless.  Panic-stricken; his spirit cringed as words no longer were the way of communication.  Only deep sorrow accompanied him as he continued looking down and feeling how wrong it all felt being a part of the darkness that dominated.  Continuing to gaze at his motionless body, he could still feel the other presence.  Unable to move from where he hovered, he had no other choice then to watch on in horror as the unspeakable began to take place before his very spirit. It was something that went against the laws of nature defying creation itself.

Thick gold carpet cushioned her feet as she closed the vertical blinds across from the contemporary art that lined the walls.  Brass lamps softly illuminated the living room giving the white leather sofas the appearance of suede.  Scented candles and crystal figurines sat on brass coffee tables.  In center of everything, a black lacquer entertainment center housed an expensive media system with a 50-inch high definition television.  The opposite wall housed rows of books from ancient African history to the civil rights era, and spirituality to the paranormal with six small yet powerful speakers meshed in between them softly circulated the music of Miles Davis while she made herself comfortable reading the autobiography of Malcolm X.  The worn and beaten book was one of her favorites.  After six years in the department, she continued to remain unaffected by the department's silent intolerance of strong African descended women.  She prided herself in taking charge of her own life and not submitting to the constant family pressures in settling down getting married and starting a family like so many women in her family from the Bayou.  Sierra Sheldon felt quite comfortable with her life the way it was. 

The soft leather caressing her body brought out a sigh of contentment as she turned the pages of her favorite paper back.  "Hummm I think I'm gonna change my name to Sierra X...yeah," she chuckled to herself.  Hours later, her eyelids grew increasingly heavy as the words on the page blurred, and her surroundings dimmed. The book now rested on her chest as her breathing changed signaling that sleep had now claimed her opening the way for the dream-time to become her reality during the night.  Behind the closed eyelids, another world began to form; another era pushed its way to the foreground.  Silently she stood watching the activities unfolding before her.  Black people dressed in tattered and worn clothing.  A great sadness had engulfed them as they went about their task, hard and heavy work burdened their bodies bending their backs and breaking their spirits.  Everywhere she looked, she witnessed anguish and sorrow that felt contagious.  “I gotta get outta here,” she said looking around desperately, "how do I get outta here?"  The next thing she knew; she felt strong hands grabbing her.  "What da hell do you think you’re doing...jus standing around like you ain’t got nothing to do," the voice said.  As she turned around to meet the face that spoke, she was shocked as she was man handled.  "This niggra needs a lesson bout wasting time on this here plantation oughta throw you to the gators in them swamps," he said spitting the wad of brown saliva on the ground from the chewing tobacco; red faced and obese she immediately recognized the man.  Utter disbelief fell over her like lead, as she was being drug toward the field.  She heard the others weeping calling out the name Shelby.  "Who is this Shelby? Are they referring to me?"  Then she was roughly thrown down to the ground as she looked up she saw three other faces she recognized standing over her; speechless and horrified she watched as a cowhide whip was cracked over her then suddenly a voice cried out," she's momma Tutu's!  Boy you don’t wanna do that," one of the white men said.  "Well she ain't got no cause standing round shiftless wit fields needing tending to," he said spitting on the ground again, "get up niggra," he shouted as the others laughed at him.  The familiarity was eerie their faces she had known but how? Moments later the white men left and a large broad boned woman almost the color of night picked her up from the ground as if she were a rag doll.  Her speech was strange yet familiar.  The melodic accent told her that she was different.  She felt powerful and strong.  Soon others gathered around her.  Their warmth was comforting to her.  "Their faces," she thought to herself," I know these faces, but not from here," she mumbled as the terror drifted away from her.  "I know you...I know all of you," she said.

"Of course you do girl...much as ol man Reese and momma tutu been looking after you...keeping you outta trouble," a young man said laughing. 

"Awe now Rufus stop teasing her."

"No...I know you from somewhere else." she insisted until the ring of an annoying phone woke her from the dream.

"Woooo," she said still startled and amazed from the dream's content, breathing heavy looking around wide eyed as if the players of the dream would reappear again to confirm her thoughts as she ignored the ringing phone.  "Damn what time it is?" She strained to see the illuminated digital numbers reading 7 am.  "Damn on my day off…gimme a break," she said sitting up with the book still in her hand.  "Awe man what'da hell?  Her mind raced trying to make sense of the dream and all of its players.  Bit by bit it all came back to her, the pieces began to fall in place sounds, smells, feelings, and emotions.  She rubbed her forehead as more of the pieces of the dream returned to her.  "The 1700s?  No, that can't be right."  Then more and more of the dream's scenery flashed in her mind's eye confirming her worst thoughts, hitting her hard leaving her feeling dumbfounded.
 "A slave...I was a slave?"  Her face frowned as she wrapped her mind around the concept.  Glancing down at the book, she still held questioning its contents as to weather or not the book had influenced her dream.  "That's impossible I've read Malcolm's stuff a hundred times over...and it never made me dream I was a slave before," she mumbled, and then a familiar face came to the forefront dropping her heart into her stomach.  Then all of a sudden she remembered a fear so intense flooding over her, rough calloused hands that man handled her throwing her to the ground as if she were nothin more then trash.  Remembering the faces of her tormentors that stood over her, she could feel bile rising up in her throat.  She fought back the urge to expel her early morning stomach contents.  "Sonuvabitch!!! The white boys just transferred...but how can that be?"  Bewilderment and disbelief rendered her almost motionless, still sitting on the couch.  "Could this be De Ja Vu? I knew it was something about them that just didn't sit right...damn," she said getting up to pace the floor.  "No, this can't be right, I must be tripping." Just then, the phone rang again; sucking her teeth with a sigh she picked up the cordless phone to check the LCD screen W. Jackson read across the miniature window.  "Oh cool...yo...you ain't gonna believe this dream I had...man it was the weirdest," she said becoming silent as the words from the other end demanded her silence.  Seriousness then etched across her face.  "What? You gotta be shitting me...you too... no way Jackson...no way.  This is too weird...what...who...momma C."  Then she remembered among all the faces one stood out clearly, it was the one that picked her up from the ground.  "Momma Tutu they called her," she mumbled to herself, forgetting she was still on with Jackson.  Then another familiar face came to her, "Serg too," she said snapping from her waking dream state.  "Yo...Jackson.  "Alright see you in a little bit," she said hanging up the phone.

what'cha doing now...I'm coming over...we gotta talk," she said pausing for a response from

I hoped you enjoyed this excerpt from book two of the series
"To Avenger and Resurrect"  available at amazon.com
 http://astore.amazon.com/wwwicosochch-20 and you can visit me at
www.wix.com/soyinkaiyabo/chaoschronicals 

Cruel and unusual Punishment

Three quarters of the way partially constructed the new police administration complex stood ominously over the ill-acquired land, resentment contempt and malice furnished the atmosphere casting a constant gloom that hung over head.  Despite its centrally located area vehicles and pedestrian traffic was almost nonexistent.  The pad locked gate and chain link fence topped with razor wire seemed almost unnecessary; as no one dared to trespass onto the ill-fated property.  Talk among the construction workers of bizarre and strange accidents circulated throughout the community.  Children that would normally find ways behind secured fences found elsewhere to create mischief.  Drug addicts and crack heads looking to steel what ever a construction site had to offer for their fix avoided the area like the plague; as did prostitutes and their tricks that normally had no qualms about where they conducted business also avoided the area.  All avoided the area except crazy Crilly who was prone to delusions of grandeur.  Most times he still considered himself Louisiana’s  most distinguished, and prominent top criminal defense attorney; that charged elaborate retainer fees that allowed him to live a life of luxury in the French Quarters as he greased the palms of judges, politicians  and other officers of the court.  When he was not rattling off verdicts from past cases, he seemed to suffer from multiple personality syndromes and other behavior disorders.   Frequently seen pushing his shopping cart from one area of the town to another, spewing racial insults as he went along, retaliation for his remarks was accompanied with bottles, or bricks leaving numerous scars concealed beneath layers of filth.   Pushing his cart to the police administration complex he stopped before the large pad locked gates that barred his entrance.
 "How the hell am I suppose to get to court," he snapped eyeing his wrist for an imaginary watch.  "Gonna be late again," he yelled ramming his cart into the gate.  "Gonna put them coons away for good.  Open the god damned gates," he ranted before the locked gate shoving the cart into it several times.  "I'll get somebody out here to open theses damned gates...somebody's gonna get these gates open," he said completely oblivious to an ever growing doom that he summoned with the offensive racial slurs he continued to hurl into the atmosphere.  "God damned conspiracy by them jigaboos an pick-ninnies keeping me locked out with affirmative action and civil rights...niggers ain't got any rights that us whites got to adhere to.

"You might wanna rethink that with your little feeble, jacked up twisted mind, and I know you better get your stinking ass moving Crilly," the voice said from behind. 

He was so emerged in his petty ranting he never heard the police cruiser arrive or the officer exit the vehicle; startled by the voice he spun around blinded by the headlights.  He flinched and attempted to shield his eyes from the cruiser's dome lights.  Seconds later, another cruiser arrived.  "Yo...Shields you alright man?"

"Yeah Hassan I'm cool...just this dirt bag over here with his shit.  I just ran his ass from outta the Armstrong plaza not to long ago.  He was messing with the vendors. Them vendors are gonna kick your ass if you keep calling them towel heads," Shields said agitated.

"They ain't from this country...they ain't got no real rights...they just sand niggers wit affirmative action...that's how they get in this country and ruin it."

"Ruin? Oh you gotta be shitting me," Hassan said stepping closer to the man despite the steady offensive odor reeking from him.  "Let me tell your devil ass a thing or two.  First of all as soon as that Mayflower bullshit ship rolled up all holy shit has jumped off. Native Americans slaughtered left and right.  Stealing their land all in the name of Christianity.  Ya slaughtered people that helped your devil asses to survive, and then your devil asses go to another  land and steal the people to do the labor on the land that your blood thirsty savages soaked in blood because you devils were to damn lazy to till the land yourselves so you enslaved the Africans.  See everywhere you devils go ya stir up shit and ruin an other wise peaceful existence all in the name of Christianity, and god.  Ya don't know how to live in harmony with nature or any other human beings; ya bring destruction everywhere ya go.  So don't tell me about anybody ruining shit...now get your ass outta here before you become a hospital case and then get locked up, and become a hospital case again," Hassan said with the intensity of an on coming firestorm.  Completely disconcerted appalled and shocked Crilly's face turned almost burgundy as speechlessness dominated him. However, with the on set of another personality anger began to well up in him, suddenly he over turned his shopping cart sending a loud clatter into the air and then stomped off grumbling beneath his breath. 

"Yo man you better come and get this shit before somebody else gets it," Shields yelled out with humor coating his words, "ya dirty bastard...no, make that ya racist dirty bastard."

"See man...what I tell ya...as soon as the moon is full it makes'em really crazy...six kinds of crazy.  I hate working at night when it's a full moon, or a new moon… all the freaks come out," Hassan said looking up at the sky.

"Yeah and that little dirty bastard has been running around here for as long as I can remember...spouting the same old shit.  I don't know how many times he done got his ass kicked messing with people…they gonna throw his in the swamp one day, and that’ll be it for his dirty ass."

"I'll tell ya one thing he's pushing his luck out here....he can keep messing around out here if he wants to, but I get a bad feeling about this spot, and I ain't looking forward to our district house being  here either," Hassan said with apprehension.

"Yeah I know that's right...especially after that guy getting accidentally hung and his body going missing...like the shit just vanished."

"Oh and don't forget about the bull dosser...that was some freaky shit too," Shields said with a shutter.

"And you know what else," Hassan said looking around as if afraid he would be heard by the unseen, "when I come out here to do a property check I get the strangest feeling that there's somebody here...I never see anything but it feels like somebody's watching me, and I don't mean like cameras. I mean like I can feel a presence," Hassan said glancing around the deserted site.

"Let's get the hell outta here...consider this place checked and let's roll."

"You ain't said nothing but a word brotha," Shields said making for the cruiser.

"Wait what about the nut job across the street?"

"Shit...man he's on his own...let' em come and get his own shit," Shields said getting into the cruiser with Hassan getting into his as well.  Crilly watched the cruisers disappear into the night before scurrying back across the street to retrieve his belongings.  "Affirmative action darkies running this great country...what's the world coming to," he said setting the cart upright. Within minutes, he was picking up his meager belongings placing them back in the cart, but as he was preparing to leave voices in the distance caught his attention.  Peering into the darkness he called out, "who's out there?" Again, he heard muffled voices.  "Bet them coons are in there stealing from the judges chambers...humph civil rights my ass...shoulda kept' em slaves that's all they good for anyway,” he said leaving his cart to search for an opening in the fence.

"Psss...Ned...over here," the disembodied voice said snapping Crilly's head around to see where it came from.  "Huh...what' da you say?"

"Over here," the voice came again more distinctively drawing him to the more secluded area of the site.

"Ned…over here."  Crilly followed the voice until he found an opening in the fence. "Finally...let's see what we got here," he said squeezing through the opening.  His eyes adjusted to the darkened area.  "So this is where the new court house is gonna be," he laughed to himself standing there gazing up at the unfinished structure, with windows and doors still waiting to be set.  As he stared on at the unfinished structure, a strange and peculiar sight flickered into view and disappeared just as quickly.  "What the hell?"  He shook his head and the images returned, and vanished as suddenly.
 "Damned jigaboos play’n tricks...come outta there I know you shiftless slaves is in there trying to steal."  Suddenly the translucent face of an old woman faded into view.  Her lips moved angrily disconcerting Crilly forcing him a step backward as his heart raced trying to gather his composure  Then other voices invaded his ears, "he's one of them," a disembodied voice growled.  He spun around trying to see where the angry words came from that seemed so close to his ears.  "Who's… who's out there?"  Fear began to creep toward him coloring the night with a malevolent air as angry voices continued to express their displeasure.  "That's it I'm getting the hell outta here."  Suddenly another face appeared illuminated by the intense full moon.  Hostility accompanied the full body that made itself visible fading into view beneath the scornful face.  Denser and denser the figure became causing Crilly to shutter as the hate-filled eyes glared at him before disappearing into the night.  "This was our land...these were our homes."

"Who is it?"  Then he felt a powerful force shove his shoulder almost knocking him from his feet.  Rising up through the building’s newly laid concrete foundation a dozen translucent figures marched toward Crilly then faded before his eyes.  Confusion unhinged the already waning sanity.  In attempting to flee, he ran screaming to the building's far end around the side of the fence.  In complete confusion, he had forgotten where he had come in at, and groped at the chain link fence while attempting to keep panic from over powering him again.  However, out of the darkness another powerful blow shoved him into the fence.  "Hey Ned how's it feel...ain't got master protecting you.  That's what you and the rest of' em use to say to me."  Crilly looked around wildly, "who's Ned," he questioned looking desperately through the darkness.  "Jus leave me along," he pleaded bouncing off the fence.   Immediately he set off running blindly around the building.  Another face appeared and disappeared again sending an uncontrollable fear through him.  "Help me somebody please,” he whimpered trying to run stepping on the shoe laces of the worn out boots he wore.  "What...What 'da want from me?"  No sooner then he finished his sentence his head snapped backwards almost sending him to the ground, “please...please."

"They just wanted to live in their homes in peace, but they forced them off their land and out of their homes," a faded image of an elderly woman said with anger as tears streamed down her face. Once more, the image faded from view replaced with another, a face that seemed unmarked by age.  The flow of time was different around it.  Another era emanated from it as it bore down on Crilly.   "You have some unfinished business with that one," the other face said looking past Crilly into the darkness, and then at Crilly again. 

"The way he died was horrible, but the way he lived was just as horrible.  How a human being could do that to another human being is unthinkable.  But we know you and your kind aren't human beings...you're a kind of a man, but one without consciousness,” the face hissed.  Crilly's heart raced in his chest threatening to explode.  He grabbed his chest thinking to himself that he was going to die of a heart attack," you’re gonna kill me I'm gonna die," he moaned as the disembodied voices conversed among themselves. 
"The dead like you don't exist in our existence like they do with the living," the scornful face spat indignantly,” looking past Crilly.  Then Crilly was suddenly grabbed by the scruff of his neck and drug backwards. 

I hope you have enjoyed this excerpt from the series "To Resurrect and Avenge" available at amazon and you can visit www.wix.com/soyinkaiyabo/chaoschronicals