I need no introduction.
From the exterior there was no semblance of an ongoing war in the room with the partially closed window in the penthouse apartment. There was none on the interior either. I could tell you it had scaly, parched feet with brownish-grey talons but my sub-conscious must have registered this. They were pressed firmly on the midriff of my plump, fair-skinned naked body whilst I lay on a bed mumbling a few incoherent words struggling with an arboreal descendent of the Leviathan.
With eyes partly open, I could see its blood thirsty clenched teeth, dark brown light-absorbing scaly skin, in contrast with its incandescent anger. Body parts unknown to me were the infinitely endless body that extended far beyond the reach of my penthouse and even my world. Parts I would not recover from if I saw. This was an angry demon. If Succubus was a wicked demon, this was her god.
In a battle with a spiritual being, physical weapons are useless; the only word that came to me: ‘Jesus’. But this had been anticipated for; there would be absolutely no need for such a word. Fierce, firm and furious, the demon fought me as the rest of me lay rigidified till my mouth faintly tried to mutter the only word that could save me; ‘Jesus’
Slowly, my head turned away from its face the image of a clergy, a man appears in my sub conscious. My captor’s anger is amplified, lets out a wild cry, disintegrates and disappears.
The air I take in, the loud thumping of my heart and the reality that I am naked brings back memories of my lover’s naked body next to me a few hours ago. I swing my feet off the bed, supporting my plump frame with my palms on the edge of the bed. Wondering how the image of just one man could, in such a manner, frighten a demon so powerful away. I grabbed and pulled on my fallen night robe from the floor beside my lamp stand. I needed a drink.
Solemnly, I wondered how the image of one man, a pastor could destroy such a powerful demon.
I hated pastors.
The magnitude of this demonic visit was directly proportional to the kind of legal ground that had been open. I had been tried to be delivered but with my knees on the ground, hands in the air and the upside down invisible cross there, deliverance was futile.
I,Eche had been served and I was not surprised but fear wouldn’t let me go.
I was Succubus’ puppet.
The praise session had ended when Pastor Alex ascended the altar and began to mentally make plans to shorten the time allocated to the ensuing thanksgiving session, After all, the General Overseer could reschedule plans whenever and not be questioned. As the congregation settled, the word of knowledge came to the tall, middle-aged clergy, “God says there is someone here, by tomorrow there will be an important visitation that will change your life”
Shouts of ‘Amen’ filled the air.
In the office of the General Overseer.
Pastor Efere walked briskly to the G.O’s side whispering about a young woman needing counselling. All Efere heard from his boss was a response of a person deep in thought when he passed the information.
Pastor Alex’s eyes and fingers were still working the final drafts of her soon-to-be-released book when the young lady was ushered into the office. The middle-aged woman in flowing navy blue, gown with white frilled bands at the sleeves gave a firm smile as her guest sat opposite her.
“I am sure you already know who I am”, the younger lady said as she sat down. Her voice was clear and austere.
“I am not sure what you mean”, the older lady said trying to maintain eye contact with her guest, whose eyes were fixed on her desk name plate. ‘G.E Alex, General Overseer’, it read. The younger woman slid her hand into her purse, brought out a bottle from her purse, paused for a second and took a swig of alcohol from it.
“Is there something you want to speak to me about?” said the puzzled older lady asked.
“I am oppressed”, the slightly drunk woman blurted as she slid her hands again into the purse; this time coming up with hands caked with congealed blood and a lit cigarette. The rules of counseling in a mega church as Pastor Grace’s involved cases been taken to other senior pastors wherein only difficult cases or cases absolutely insistent on been attended to by the General Overseer where taken there. It had been two years since Grace Alex assumed position of G.O from the now deceased former G.O, only thoroughly screened cases were brought to her. The media had not been friendly. There was no way this young woman had been screened.
“I was paid a visit by a very terrible demon, legal grounds hard to seal have been opened. It must not return”, said the young woman in progressing stages of skin bleaching, took a puff and blew out grey smoke rings into the air making Pastor Grace grimace with each wayward plume of smoke from the ring. For some reason, she found it hard to caution this woman, but her spirit was vexed within her, as she listened to her speak about her life and demon worship. In contrast to the turmoil within her, her words were serene, slow and chosen carefully.
The younger woman got up and began to pace around the room as Grace spoke, making a stop in front of her bookshelf, grabbing a thin crystal silver golf figurine from the shelf; and instinctively smashing it against the wall.
Pastor Grace leapt to her feet from her revolving chair in an instant; shocked and angry. Her only relic to her golf days smashed in an instant. The younger woman immediately picked her purse and got ready to leave.
“I’ll hand you over to Pastor Efere, he’ll follow you up”, Grace said still visibly shaken and shocked.
Walking to the door, a void suddenly seemed to set them apart. The young woman stopped few steps to the door, with her back to the woman in the flowing gown and spoke in a still, rumbling voice. “Eche, I am glad you made it, it was all me never you, I qualified you. You answer to me”.
The crazy young woman stepped out of the room.
Silence descended in the room as Grace Echeta Alex swooned and steadied her body on the pole bearing the flag of Nigeria in her office. The room still in perfect order just as it was before the day began.
“’Kaego, Can I, please have the details of the woman who just came to see me”, Grace said pressing her secretary’s intercom key.
“What woman, ma? No one has been here to see you all day.”
Shoes flying off her feet, she rushed out of her office to her
secretary’s, scanning the visitor’s entry to see only one word boldly written in the last filled entry ‘Eche’, written and signed in her own handwriting.
The younger, crazy woman needed no introduction.