I stood, few feet away from my seat, hands pocketed, staring into the fireplace.
The bright flames danced happily on the red hot coals, and they make cracking sounds as the fire slowly replaced their blackness with white ashes.
How much I’d love to see a man tied up in there.
A smirk lingered on my face as I watched him struggle. His limbs, restricted with thick ropes that are slowly succumbing to the persistent heat of the flames. As the ropes melted away, so did his strength and clarity.
I made memories of the moment as the fire greedily embraced his body. I watched on as his skin burned, and his blood slowly turned to vapour. I stood there, smiling, while the delicious scent of his roasting flesh filled my lungs and kindled my brain.
The clothes on his body are completely gone now. I could not recall if he was bald, or the fire had made him so. How satiating it was to gaze on while he begged, with hands stretched out for mercy.
It was a glorious vista.
The priest’s footsteps jerked me back into reality. He stopped at the coffee table to fill a cup, as he does for all our sessions. The thick ropes on his robe looked familiar. The cup hit the ground as soon as the shovel thumped the base of his skull.
The aroma was far more delicious than I had imagined. He was not a bald man, but the now happier flames were fast making him one.
He had made me believe I was getting better. Yet, the sins of my dreams have followed me to his home. I am vile again. I am worse than before, and any hope that I had left is gone.
Akinpelu, Adewunmi O.