The Long Road

By C. N. Obinna

The Long Road
When Rami, a not-so-typical teenager, encounters a strange hut in the middle of a bush path on his way home from school, he becomes plagued by a strange voice, sleep-walking and nightmares. His parents take him to seek help from a witch doctor but on the way there, by some weird circumstance, their car breaks down.
Rami once again encounters the hut but this time is lured inside by an evil entity which tries to take his skin. He is able to escape this but soon finds himself at the end of a long road, in a strange place. Here he comes across strange creatures unlike any he’d ever seen, and soon learns that he has to find the creator before the white moon sets, if he is to ever have a chance of going back home.
Rami’s bizarre journey soon takes him deep into the strange place, where he unwittingly has to defeat strange foes, form new bonds and avoid a certain stranger fast on his track and, while at it, find a way back home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C. N. Obinna
• Release date: Jul 28, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463228722

C. N. Obinna

21 years young, writer and author. I love books, especially fantasy and books on magical realism. Stephen King, Dan Brown, Neil Gaiman, Sidney Sheldon; these are authors that have influenced me over the years. And my very own Nnedi Okorafor of Nigeria.

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The Long Road

C. N. Obinna

Copyright 2018 by C. N. Obinna

This book is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the author, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be direct infringement of the author’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance between the characters and persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter One: The Beginning

Chapter Two: Dreams and Nightmares

Chapter Three: The Real Beginning

Chapter Four: Severed Heads don’t Talk

Chapter Five: Ala Mmuo

Chapter Six: The thing about Witches

Chapter Seven: Sinister

Chapter Eight: A Gathering of Witches

Chapter Nine: Paranoia

prologue

There was a hut, and it was strange. It was strictly made of red earth, dry on wet days, and glistening wet on dry days. It had a raised thatched roof of dry, brown raffia and a lone, crooked door made of some sort of wood, white and powdering from the termites that lived within. The body of the hut was lined with intricate markings, handmade it seemed, of circular patterns like a rising sun, with sharp edges sticking out of the circle.

The strange aspect of this hut was that no one seemed to notice its presence: when it disappeared or when it reappeared. No one knew who lived in it, how would they? It was just a relic from an age long gone; a neglected structure stuffed beneath thick bushes, fading with time.

So it was strange enough that a little girl stood by the edge of the bush path, clutching a small basket of green oranges. It was even more strange, the fact that the little girl thought she'd seen someone move into the hut. She tried hard to recall what had mother had told her about this hut; nothing. She'd never heard of it.

The wet grass stuck to her bare feet as she wriggled her toes to rid herself of the sticky grasses that lodged between them. She shouldn't be here, she knew that. But there was something about the eerie silence around the hut that made her take a step forward. The grass around her feet gave way, curling back like the slimy eyes of a snail and creating a small space for her next step.

She wondered about this; her mother had once told her about witches and the devil, and the strangeness of the world they lived in. But her mother was dead. She took another step forward, just in time to hear a long, throaty mumble come from within the hut. It didn't sound as scary as she thought it would be. It just felt like an old folk song, or an ancient rhyme being recited. She moved even further, unaware of the path behind her curling and covering up, just as the one before her gave way.

A low creaking sound began to fill the air as the lone door slowly opened inwards, darkness seeping and taking its place. The little girl looked on, still a little distance away from the hut, now without her basket of oranges.

She began to hear a crackling sound, like someone roasting maize over an open fire. She did smell roasted maize. It made her curious, she loved roasted maize.

Not thinking now, like an unsure animal stepping close to a treat placed within a trap, she walked towards the open door. There was indeed a fire deep within the hut–really deep. The hut seemed bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. She was aware of the darkness within the hut and the strange figure hunched over the fire. But she could also see a gauze placed carefully over the fire with a couple of well-roasted maize crackling over it.

Come on in, a voice said, one she recognized as the throaty, mumbling one.

She stepped back a bit, shocked at the thought of someone living in such a dark place. But the roasted maize.

Don't be afraid now, the voice said and the hunched figure rose up and approached her. Do you like stories? I could tell you one. He was standing close to her now, a pale-skinned old man.

She licked her lips and glanced to her side. With a sigh, as if her decision made, she made her move. Just as she placed her foot into the hut, a darkness, like a shadow engulfed her and pulled her in, her scream barely lasting a second. The door of the hut slammed shut, and the only reminder of the girl was the fallen basket of green oranges outside a strange bush path.

CHAPTER ONE

The Beginning

The boy's name was Rami. He stood outside the gates of his school with a brown leather satchel above his head to shield him from the icy drops of rain beginning fall. His eyes searched the road for his parents; they'd forgotten to pick him from school, again.

Maybe they'd been serious when they'd told him he was old enough to walk the distance from his school to the house. He was fourteen, after all. And most of his classmates did it; trekking longer distances and all so seemingly happy and content with it.

But he had that stomach thing, he'd forgotten what the doctor had called it, but his parents had called it excuses. His chest really did hurt whenever he trekked for so long, or ran, and his stomach always felt squeezed like he'd just been punched.

Still here, Rami? Jonah, the security on nightshift asked just as he leisurely rolled in his archaic bicycle–which,