Ehi

By Eyitemi Egwuenu

Realms of reality intersect. . .
A young man wrestles with his destiny. . .
Love swims through a river of broken melodies. . .
An aeroplane takes a strange turn in the sky. . .

In the shadow of war,
in the sudden abyss of a long frozen night, when Hell walks the streets,
redemption may come from the malice of an enemy,
and destruction from the embrace of a friend. . .

These are a few of the worlds you will enter in this collection of short stories.

From the fascinating to the mysterious and back . . .

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Feb 23, 2018
• ISBN: 9781504395014

Eyitemi Egwuenu

EYITEMI EGWUENU is the author of The Brimming Chalice, a collection of poetry. He trained as a Medical Doctor, has a PhD in cardiovascular neuroscience, and is a prolific writer. He is currently working on a second novel.

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Copyright © 2018 Eyitemi Egwuenu.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Balboa Press

A Division of Hay House

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.balboapress.com

1 [phone]

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-5043-9500-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5043-9502-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5043-9501-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018900272

Balboa Press rev. date: 02/23/2018

Contents

Author’s Notes

Ehi

Gate Of Chronos

Osu

The Shadow

The Day Before

The Ship

A Stifled Sneeze

Children of the Stars

If history were taught in the form of stories,

It would never be forgotten.

Rudyard Kipling

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Seven unique stories exploring a range of human experiences. From the fascinating to the mysterious and back. A panoply of emotions that will linger in your heart and mind long after you have closed the last page.

For

Elon Musk

And the journey into the future.

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EHI

Parting is all we know of Heaven,

And all we need of Hell.

Emily Dickinson

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If death is beyond words, so is life.

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M y name is Aimiuwu.

That was the name my parents gave me at my birth. It was a simple name, – as bare and unadorned as a name could be.

It’s meaning?

For my people, names usually reflected the circumstances around a child’s birth.

Aimiuwu means, ‘this one will not die’.

But this was not always my name. In fact, this was the fourth name my parents have given me at my births. Yes, … my births.

I have been born four times. And I have died three times.

I was one of those restless children who couldn’t make up their minds whether they wanted to stay in the world of the living, or the world of the spirits. Through numerous cycles of interrupted repeats, we transited between both worlds in alternating deaths and rebirths, relishing the joys that each realm had to offer, but never contented with either.

Erroneously misnamed, the world of the dead, the spirit-world was not an end in itself, or the destination for dead humans. It was the starting place for all life.

The world of the spirit was not a long, silent night. It was a realm, beautiful beyond words, where bliss and lush gardens of variegated light were our reality. We lived forever, unperturbed by the strife and suffering that beset the lives of mortals.

But forever is a very long time.

And when one has lived in a monotonous eternity, seeking a change of scene, even to a harsh, physical world, wasn’t a terrible idea, especially with the knowledge that the stay in the physical world would be temporary.

Mortal humans think living for one hundred years is a long time, but from the perspective of the spirit-world, such a miserly lifespan would not even register. Human life, however long it might seem when one is mortal, was like a faint whistle in a hurricane – a brief interval in the enchantment of forever.

And for spirit-children, their lifespan was even shorter.

You see, when human spirits wanted to take a break from immortality, they volunteered to be born into the world, – as physical beings, – as humans. They declared their intentions to the Creator; they chose how long they would stay on Earth, – chose if they wanted to come as men or women – chose which parents should give birth to them, – chose whether fame, fortune, both, or neither, would be their lot while on Earth. They chose every aspect of their life without interference.

The Creator never dismissed, subverted, or mandated anyone’s choices.

He only affirmed it with the words, Let it be as you have said.

Once the spirit had declared its wishes, the Creator bound all of its choices into an entity, an alter-ego, a spirit doppelganger of the would-be human. This entity is called the Ehi, and the Creator embedded the Ehi within the spirit-form of the human, and housed both in a physical body.

While a baby is in its mother’s womb, the foetus and its Ehi still had access to the spirit-world. And for the first few years after birth, the same access remained, but the connection was more tenuous. The day a child uttered its first human words, in any language, the final cord with the spirit-world was broken; consequently, the human no longer had any memory of the spirit-world from which it had come, and it had no recollection of the choices it made when he or she was still a spirit.

But the Ehi, also known as Destiny, always remembered.

Ehi knew the choices, but never revealed it to the person. And while the Ehi remained silent within the human, it guided him or her, inevitably, towards their Destiny, regardless of how ardently they unknowingly tried to change it by their actions.

Some spirits found this ignorance of their fate during a lifespan on Earth disconcerting. So, they chose, before they were born, to die while they were still young, usually between seven and ten years old. They considered this early demise a fail-safe option that would guarantee their return to the spirit-world in quick time, if their life on Earth became too boring. Dying was their reason for living.

I was of this kind: four times already, I had chosen to come as a male child.

I had chosen to die on my seventh birthday in my first three incarnations.

And on this, my fourth iteration, I chose to die by my thirteenth birthday.

A human’s Ehi was unchangeable. It was an inevitable Destiny.

How was it then, that I would be sixteen years old in three weeks, …

And I was still alive?

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When disaster is in the offing,

even an egg will break a stone.

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Life is a river. And so is death.

This river had carried me in unending cycles, faithfully, steadily, and with currents that were strong, and graceful, and beautiful.

My parents did not know I was the same child that had been born four times already. How could they? They received each new birth of a child with a joy weighted by anxiety, and a fear, they themselves were afraid to admit; a fear of the future – a fear of the unknown – a fear of the fate of this bundle of life who was at once their happiness and their sorrow.

I did not hate my parents. I was not unaware of their grief the three times they had lost me to death. I knew my repeated coming and going was a harrowing experience for them. But, from my point of view – from the perspective of the spirit-world, – the grief they experienced only seemed an unnoticeable wrinkle in the vast tapestry that was the cycle of life and death. Of course, one saw things differently after one was born into the physical world, but after birth, it was too late to change fate, and from the age of three years, you remembered nothing of your choices before birth.

Once you were born, you were only a wheel, locked in the inevitable spin of Destiny.

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On the day that one will go astray,

One does not need to travel far.

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It all changed for me when I met Amenze.

It was three months to my thirteenth birthday; I wasn’t aware of it at the time, but I had only ninety days more to live.

The village stream was one of my favourite places. I loved to recline on a branch within the trees and watch the day and nature pass by in tranquil quiet. It was here by this river, on a fateful evening, that I had first met Amenze. She had come to fetch some water with her friend, Osayi. Obscured by the trees, I did not see them as they approached the stream, but I could hear their cheerful banter. Eventually, the happy voices revealed the faces of their owners.

Does any man forget when he comes in contact with true beauty? Not the beauty that roused the senses to brute conquest and acquisition, but a beauty that moved you to stand, that stilled you in motion, that stirred your heart to such quiet that you forget all that you are, forget all but the fact that you are just one man, – one man, with a love-throbbing heart.

I knew they could not see me on my perch in the trees. I watched as the two ladies negotiated the sloping terrain down to the river’s edge. I watched both, but I had eyes only for one; one who walked in the sombre light of the evening and illuminated it.

I was enchanted. The sun’s rays ran their fingers through the locks of the evening breeze. It seemed the trees around me faded from view at her approach. She was the sylph of these magical woods – dark and graceful, with lips, set in a perpetual smile.

She walked knee-deep into the river. The water, as if glad to be so honoured, rippled all around her, extending outwards until they broke in a shimmer of evening light upon the shoreline. Her bowl brushed the surface of the river, she tilted it and water rushed in to fill it. She waded the bowl gently to the river’s edge, talking to her friend, Osayi, as she did. Her voice was like merry bells. She laughed. It was like the tinkling of crystals.

I remained silent. Hidden from view.

She waited at the riverbank for Osayi.

I could have sworn the sun paused in its fall across the sky to take one more look, – to capture one more image of her before it slipped from sight beneath the horizon.

She raised the bowl of water with both hands and carefully balanced it on her head. She turned around to begin the climb uphill. She had taken three steps, when she slipped. And fell.

I found my voice.

I barely heard myself speak. I came down quickly from the tree and ran towards her, slowing to a walk as I got close. I reached out with a hand and pulled her up to her feet. The spilled water carved out rivulets in the sand to join the river. She looked stunned, but she began to laugh as her friend teased her. I mumbled my sympathy.

The ground here is slippery, I said.

Certainly. I have found that out first hand today, she replied. The remnant of a smile lingered.

So, we start again? I asked, picked up her empty bowl and headed towards the river. I returned with it full.

I will take this uphill for you before I place it on your head, I said.

No, no, you don’t have to, she protested, as her hands found the edge of the bowl and gently tugged it from me.

Please, I insist, I pressed, just up the hill, and I will give it back to you.

I didn’t wait for her consent. I picked my way through the gullies and craters that lined the gentle incline. They followed me. Her friend already had her own bowl on her head. We reached the hilltop.

My name is Aimiuwu.

Amenze she replied, her eyes intentionally avoided mine.

Ah! … Amenze. Perfect! I said, "Your name means, ‘water of the river’."

She was silent.

Is it possible to see you again? I asked.

That will depend on why and where?

Just to make sure you are okay. You took a hard fall.

I will be fine.

Whose daughter are you?

My father is Osahon. I must go. It will be dark before I reach home.

Take care. I will see you again.

I watched as both of them walked away from me towards the village. I went back to the tree to collect my machete. It was strange; I felt full and empty at the same time. It was as if Amenze left her presence with me and took a part of me with her. Evening was falling fast, but my excitement rose faster. My heart yearned for this lady who I only just met. Her image played on my mind for days; the bright friendly eyes, the beautiful smile, and the unforced majesty of a slight, regal form – all these were hers.

As the days progressed, so did my conviction that I could see a future with us together.

I made plans about how to see Amenze again. I resolved that I would woo her, and hopefully, see my affections returned.

Unknown to me, my current plans were against the Destiny I had chosen for myself, – in a place before here, and at a time before now.

My Ehi was silent.

Ehi never speaks. It only acts.

Silent but resolute, Ehi guides the willing and compels the unwilling.

While I planned for a life on Earth, Ehi plotted my return to the land of the spirits.

Human life was a shadow, – an echo of a forgotten dream, – a fleeting impression with the lifespan of a dewdrop.

Death was certain. It was the precise hour that was uncertain.

Death may come slowly, it may come limping, but when it arrives, it pounces!

Against the optimism of a growing love, Ehi was devising a plan to beat me back again to the dust from which I came.

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It is at the