***

At the bark of the tree hid someone. Whoever it was seemed to have a keen interest in what Anaya was doing. She felt it. Someone must be watching her. No, she knew it for sure but she couldn't quite place where.

When the whispering sounds ended abruptly just as they had started and the only sound she could hear was her overwrought breathing, she knew that was her signal to get out of there.

Then, she heard movement from beyond the trees. Again.

It was formless and indistinct, like a swirling piece of shadow. She threw the spade on the freshly covered grave as if she had no respect for the person in it and made her way out.

Within seconds, she was out of sight.

***

He crept around the corner from the darkness and stood at the exact place where Anaya had stood a few seconds ago. The man wore a dark fur-lined cloak that made it hard to see his face clearly from the darkness. He looked at the freshly covered grave for a few seconds without moving or uttering a word then picked two broken tree branches and made them into a crucifix. He walked over the grave and planted the crucifix into the head of the grave.

Another streak of lightning struck. This time, it revealed part of his face for a brief second before everything went back to total void.

He was like a spook. One minute he was there and the next he was gone. Vanished.

It was as if he was able to dissolve into the very air itself and blow away with the breeze.

***

Anaya was back in the car and already on the road thinking about her next course of action. It wasn't clear what the latter part of the letter wanted her to do but there was an address and some sort of instruction.

"You must find him.

The one who knows all but tells none.

Make him show you the way.

The way to where it all began and

where it can be ended.

The son of Man arrives. Beware.

Don't worry, I will be here."

She didn't know what that meant or what she was to find at the address she had been given but she knew one thing for sure — she couldn't go anywhere else in the clothes she wore. She needed clean ones. With that thought came another one she hadn't realised was lurking at the back of her mind. Home. she had to go home. That wasn't the best idea but she couldn't think of anything better.

The rain had started when she set off from the cemetery and it was still going. Soft splashing droplets of water struck to the windows and windshield of the car as she drove forward. The weather was cold — extremely cold. Her lips would quiver at every second interval.

After a few minutes on the road, she finally got to her first destination — home. The house, her home, where all her life's memories lived stood a few steps away from the streets. From there, it was bricks and mortar overlaid with tiles. The same as any other. From the outside, the house looked old and in need of maintenance but there was also something about it that looked accommodating.

Anaya made her way out of the car and into the rain.

Her dishevelled clothes were wet in seconds. Instead of running to find cover, her mouth curved into a smile as the rain touched her skin. She stood there and let it wash over her. Unmoving. Just smiling. It took the passing of another car before she remembered that a stranger in the middle of the night was nothing her neighbourhood treated lightly.

Stealthily, she began to approach the house, her eyes fixed on the opened window at the back.

***

She had made her way into the house through the window and was now approaching a room.

On the couch in the room, its back facing the door sat a woman and a young boy of about ten years old. He'd relaxed into her arms so fully it was like they were one body, melted together. Sadness marked his face, but the woman's expression topped his.

Struggling to hold back the grief, tears flowed steadily and calmly down her face. She felt burnt inside, numbness, emptiness, as she moved her fingers across the picture frame in her hand. A beautiful young woman, dark skin, beautiful brown eyes, carefully chiselled nose with long dark hair and wearing a smile stared back at her from the frame.

The death of a child may be the worst trauma a mother could experience but what is worse than that is when your child goes missing. When you don't know whether they are dead or alive but have been told by many to believe the worse.

Every mother feels responsible for the well-being of their child. And so when this happens, they don't just lose a person they loved. They also lose the years of promise they'd been looking forward to. The years of living to see their child become all that they wished they'd become.

It had been a month already when Anaya left the house to go to the cemetery; an act Mama had warned her against but Anaya seemed to never listen.

"That place gives me peace. It gives me comfort, Mama," was all she got any time she brought that up.

It was hard for Mama to understand the sort of comfort or peace her daughter would get from being at the cemetery but clearly, she respected her daughter's decision. Even if she was against it.

Growing up, Anaya has never been a simple child to be with. She would question almost everything and be curious about everything. She was a smart one. Her teachers liked her so much — at least until the point, she would question them on something they were teaching or say something they thought a child her age shouldn't say.

However weird everyone found her, Mama always told her the opposite. She never once made her feel unwanted or different.

Her father disappeared mysteriously before her younger brother was born. To their mother, that coward of a man didn't want to take responsibility. The truth is, no one knew what happened to him and no one — or at least Mama — cared about what might have happened to him either. It wasn't like he was any help to them when he was around.

He made alcohol his daily bread and got himself fired from every job he got. He was no good. So, none of them had felt his absence. Not by anyone.

After their father left, Mama decided to be everything for her children — the father and the mother. She worked all her life to give them a good home, food and more. They were never left wanting for hugs, smiles, laughter and acceptance in the four walls of their home. They were never raised the old-fashioned way typical of an African home— the "you spare the rod, you spoil the child" way. Mama spared the rod and many criticised her for that but she never once let that influence her.

She would always reply with, "My children hold my soul in their heart, and my heart is forever theirs. They listen to me and I listen to them. There is no need for violence in my home."

The other mothers would always look at her disdainfully as if they wanted to the old African adage that says, "Children will hate all those who give all things to them." or even the Akan proverb, "If your child is dancing clumsily, tell him: 'you are dancing clumsily'; do not tell him: 'darling, do as you please." Whichever it was, Mama didn't care. She loved her children and she knew that was enough.

All these memories flooding back to Mama's mind brought more tears to her eyes. She felt like the entire world was going to collapse.

Watching them from the door, Anaya couldn't hold back her tears either. She dropped down silently on her knees and sobbed as tears ran down her face like the waters rushing down from a waterfall. He stopped when she saw her dog coming towards her from an adjoining room.

"No...no...no...Ed, not now." She muttered under her breath.

Ed's eyes were fixed upon her as he walked closer. It was as if he was trying to figure out who she was and it just didn't work for him.

The dog came closer to Anaya's outstretched hand and after a few sniffs, began to bark.

His barking got Mama's attention. She turned and asked, "Who is there?"

She stood up and walked towards the door when she heard no one speak but Ed's constant barking. She knew someone was in the house. 

Chapter proofread by KanishmaRay
Edited by SavvyDunn