Gust ‘n’ Dust

Sitting at the edge of the stool, Chewe leaned forward nearly falling close to the mbaula. The clear, blue sky blanket of day had been whisked away, leaving behind it a dark, and cloudy night sheet. One with not a single star in sight! Chewe sniffed, and leaned back making sure not to succumb to the chills, or much worse the whispers from what was either something that was nightlings, or worse still— daemons- *shudders*. Chewe slowly began to whimper, and with clasped palms began to utter underneath a trembling breath:

O Nyambe

God of our Babas

That dwelleth

In the Heavens above

How majestic ye be

Thy Village folks wander

Yonder~ seekin’ the sangomas

Thy hand is needed

To redirect them back

Toward the golden path

That leadeth toward immortality

& not toward the absolute chaos

Or netherworld realm

But these folks need to see

Thy holy iridescent face

Thy who sitteth by

Thy own golden pearly throne

For all eternity…

Before the final words could be said, a gust rushed in ’nd blew some loamy dusty soil into Chewe’s eyes. Chewe shrieked, as the dust clogged the mortal’s blood vessels causing them to burst…leaving a trail of blood that ended up rising to the heavens.