Fela in Versace ~ Crossing the Chasm (Loosely based on AKA)

Chapter 3 ~ Room 21

Inside the hotel room, a soft golden light cast a warm glow over the rich wooden accents. The air was filled with an inviting subtle scent, befitting the opulent textures of the room.

The plush king bed was embellished in pristine whites, punctuated with pillows that were dressed in silk pillowcases to adorn the headboard. A sleek pure cashmere overthrow rested cozily on the bed, whilst a rustic arm chair sat obediently in the corner.

Pacing back and fourth, the balcony drew Kenny’s attention, it beckoned for him. His footsteps heavy and measured, he stopped momentarily, his posture stiff, he locked eyes with the lonely chair.

Their countenance matching, seemed to mirror the dull fabric and the faded upholstery. In that moment, Kenny and the chair were one, bound by their shared misery, they had both endured too much, and now, existing in a state of a quiet resignation.

His hands were restless, running through his hair repeatedly as he exited to the balcony. He stood there in a leaning posture, his heart heavy with despair. His fingers gripping the cold metal of the railing, his body tense, as if it was bracing for what was to come.

The noise of the bustling city below seemed distant, muffled by the weight of his thoughts. As he looked seven floors down, he heard convincing whispers from the wind, “You can end it now…… end it now!”

The whispers carried a binding spell, he couldn’t resist. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and for a moment, there was a strange sense of calm, a strange stillness. When he was about to throw himself, his cell phone rang. It was his mother.

A mother’s intuition.

Clearing his throat, “Yes mama, I am fine, I was about to call you, I arrived safely and all is well”.

He lied.

Kenny was a mama’s boy, everything in his program, he ran through his mama even though he had a manager. Mama loved him unreservedly, he was the beacon of her life.

With a heavy heart and a hefty burden, he stepped back from the edge, sobbing silently. Mama could not tell, though on the other end, she felt maternally burdened.

Kenny was a genius at hiding his emotions, since the death of his ex-girlfriend, he had been emotionally distant, he buried untold secrets inside the caverns of his heart.

His left hand found its way back to his hair, brushing through it again and again, searching for something, clarity, maybe, something to hold onto.

His hands moved with the rhythm of someone who had done it a thousand times, slow, deliberate, pulling at the roots as if trying to pull the tension out with them.

The strands slipped through his fingers, some clinging to his palm, almost soothing, but it did nothing to quiet the raging storm inside his head.

He walked back in the room and closed the balcony door. He could have sealed it, if he could.

Struggling to make sense of the phone call interruption that had pulled him back from the edge of life, thankful, he texted his mother, “I love you Mama”.

Inside the room, something had changed, it was like whatever that had called him to the balcony had followed him inside.

The walls suddenly looked sombre and lethargic as though they were agonized by the same torment. Despite the whistling air conditioner, the room had become as airless as a tomb.

In profound sorrow, he took a big breath, put his cellphone down and slouched in the chair. His shoulders slumped, weighed down by the burden of his thoughts, the room was echoed with the hollow silence of loneliness.

Unable to break free from the grip of his emotions, his thoughts haunted him and replayed the nightmare over and over again. He couldn’t stop thinking of his ex-girlfriend who had passed away, seeing her in the nightmare had brought back an avalanche of emotions.

When she died, she had accompanied him to a gig and died during a heated argument, the balcony was her exit to the afterlife. No one knew exactly what really transpired, only the two of them knew the untold story.

Since her death, he had had series of nightmares and post traumatic stress disorder episodes, but nothing quite like what he had just experienced.

The scene of her death played over and over in his mind, he was suffocated by an immeasurable guilty.

Every night and day, he heard her piercing screams of terror from the tenth floor balcony and the shuttering thudding sound to the ground. For the past two years, he had tried to find peace and numb his thoughts by staying occupied with friends, family, consuming alcohol, regular therapy sessions and his new love, Nandia.

He tried everything else to cure his depression except calling the name of Jesus Christ. He was not saved, he did not believe, seeking Christ was not his priority.

Here and there, in between life, he ceremonially recited the Hail Mary prayer as a ritual, taught by his Catholic grandmother.

He did not believe in Mother Mary fully, not in the way some Catholics believed, with unshakable faith. There was something about the religion, that clung to him.

It was as if the act itself, the ceremonial rhythm of it, was somehow important, even if the belief was not fully there.

He had always been skeptical, pragmatic, and faithless. From a young age, he questioned everything, always trying to reason his way through the world. Faith, to him, had never made sense.

There was no evidence, no proof, no reason to believe in anything beyond what he could see or touch or measure.

Faithless and lonely, a prisoner of his own thoughts, he sat on the chair, in the silence of the room, waiting for the dinner date with his friends before his club appearance.

Outside the hotel room walls, life continued to move forward, his friends were oblivious to his mental troubles. He longed for a glimmer of hope to pierce through the darkness that consumed him.

He longed for someone to share his burdens and alleviate the crushing weight of his sorrow but he could not utter a word to anyone.

His nose irritated by the scent of the chair, he sneezed and immediately the hotel room land line rang. “Hello”, he answered.

“Bless you”, a cold eerie voice echoed followed by beeping sounds.

He jumped off the chair in terror and looked at the phone reproachfully, before he could think twice, it rang again, he intended to ignore it but he had no will power.

His voice shaking, “Hello”, he answered.

A quantifiable silence followed and as he was about to put the phone down, a chilling voice murmured, “Wherever I go, you go, remember the quicksand”.

Immediately all lights went out.

An icy breeze filled the whole room and a rush of euphoric adrenaline swept through his muscles. He grabbed his cellphone and left the room within two point six seconds, without giving a backward glance.

Written by Rudo Muzondo, Extract from the Novel ~ Beyond the Veil of Death’

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