Novel by DadaDupeola - You RIP what you sow AT THIRTY ---Chapter 8

Chapter 8

King Tyre

Scientists call pregnancy a biological process to give something they can't explain a name but everyone knows conception and the birth of a child is a miracle. One hundred million of sperms released for only one to achieve its goal. What are the odds of that happening?  What if the egg is not open for business at the right time when the lucky single sperm wanders its way into the Fallopian tubes?

No one can explain how a child is formed in the womb for  nine months for-instance boiling raw egg in water for a few minutes and when it's done like pregnancy, you get something solid.

 Babies are pure miracles and when born, a star lights up in the sky to celebrate its success.

So every human being owns a star up in the sky. Baby Jesus had one, and those after him were no exception. Curiously, if you follow a star, you are sure to find the location of the baby it belongs.


Amongst these stars, two stars fight daily for these miracles; the  day star and the morning star, good and evil.

 So if miracles do exist, it's safe to imply that these stars exists too.

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Celestial images begin to form as one moves swiftly in the darkness. The King of Tyre; hasn't had a wink of sleep ever since he lost the war thousands of years ago. The feeling of defeat burns through his entire form so he must get as many souls as he can to be ruined with him when the time comes.

He hasn't accepted total defeat even if he knows inevitable. He let one little star slip by him thousands of years ago and it cost him the keys to his abode and without the keys he had no chance of winning the upcoming war. He is a sore loser, and that makes him angry, ruthless and evil. So, day and night he looks desperately for those naïve enough to join him in his lost quest for victory and his job gets easier with each passing generation.

The Tyre King glides through the walls and makes an abrupt stop. He has been summoned by fools willing to trade souls for something superficial and he wasn't going to miss this opportunity.

If this humans knew what they had inside of them was more precious than what they seek. Fortunately, what he seeks they have and what they seek he has, so for decades they just exchange one for the other.

The irony is that what he has to give is temporary but what they give him in exchange is eternal but that's their loss not his.

He reaches his destination and watches a group of men in a circle wearing only wrappers enchanting something stupid at 2 in the morning. They have blood in the center of their gathering and they won't stop the chants until something happens.

So the King raises the pail of blood placed in their middle and perceives it. The group can only see the pail rising and they increase their chants knowing that the King they summoned is in their midst.

Tyre King smells the blood. It is the blood of a human being just as he requests. What a waste of life, he thinks to himself and flings the pail on the floor to grab the attention of the men.

The men stop chanting and they all bow down with their faces to the ground.

It is a pathetic sight because they were greater than he was but looking at them worship him aroused his ego.

"What do you want," the Tyre King asked

One of the men, whom he is conversant with and they refer to as babalawo raises his head and speaks.

"Some seek money, another political power and the others seek children," The babalawo says

"What do i get in return?" The Tyre Kings asks rolling his eyes

"Eternal devotion and whatever else you ask for," The babalawo responds

"I want more blood," the Tyre kings says even if he has no use of it but just the thought of these stupid beings killing themselves for something trivial makes him happy.

"They have brought me the blood of complete strangers. I want them to bring family members. Only then, will i oblige," The King Tyre says as he brings out his journal and counts the souls present,they were fifty in number.

Just fifty souls? If he wants to win the war he needs more than fifty souls a minute. He wasn't happy with the turn out of souls and this makes him angry.

"I want more blood," Tyre yells as bars of iron from the graveyard where they were flew around and slashes through some of the men with wrappers as they fall to their death.

"Oh well, they were as good as dead anyway," the King tyre thought to himself and leaves their midst.