The Apprentice Ep1

It was a damp morning in the university of Ilorin, the 3rd day of September. School was sparsely populated that time of year as most students were still away on the long break. The few who roamed the walkways and classes were either staff or students whose sad lives were wrapped in the pages of old texts and students who had messed up academically and were crying for help from one office to the next. I wasn’t any of them, I was just in school for the luxury the solitude offered.

This break had been spectacular, not in any way most would expect but spectacular nonetheless. It was the first time I would stay back in school on a long vacation. I had barely even gone home in the course of the session, only once; and that was during Easter. My mother protested my decision to stay back in school but I gave her an excuse about working on a project for extra credits (scoffs), it’s not like she really cared. She hadn’t cared for much where anybody but herself was concerned, not in a long time anyway.

I was out one evening, taking a walk along the main car park. Jay-walking really, enjoying every bit of being alone. It was enough work to put on a smile every day and to be chatty with course mates, just so much work, so that was my moment of rest. Between counting my footsteps and stargazing I got lost in thought, the cool air and that rainy season nighttime scent after a recent downpour drew me back to my childhood.

*

My childhood days weren’t exactly filled with fond moments of time with siblings, and the pranks we played or the times we all got punished for doing something silly. Growing up was hell for me. As an only child my parents never stopped with the errands and punishments. Especially after my father died, he was murdered right at our doorstep. There is no love lost between my father and the memories I have of him, the gambling drunk who got off on the many blows he landed on my head when he came home every night while my mother stood and watched, discipline they called it (spits), discipline my ass. One thing he was useful for was his wealth and I lacked nothing I wanted which wasn’t much anyway. After my father’s death, mother; laid back as she was conveniently put all the responsibilities on the shoulders of a ten-year-old. Whenever I had anything to say about it her reply was always something about me being the man of the house. All this went on while she had fun with her snub of a friend Mrs Tolu Adewale. All they did was party with men their younger brothers ages.

My friends always looked up to me being the son of the wealthy musician Dele Olaleye or D-Jazz as he was popularly known. They felt I had everything and that I could want for nothing but they were wrong, I craved solitude and I never had it. My father threw house parties all the time. He never needed a reason to, being rich was more than enough reason. His death was the end of those raves though, disgust for those parties was the one thing my mother and I had in common. My father’s killer was never apprehended, blew his brains out with a shotgun right on our doorstep. I was the first to see him dead that night and I didn’t feel the tiniest bit of sadness. I guess I’ll see him in hell.

*

I had unconsciously wandered onto the bank road, it’s was getting late and I could hear a few sounds familiar to nocturnal beings like me. The particular road I was on was the loneliest one on campus and I went there from time to time, however it wasn’t my initial plan for the night. The road is a long walk for most people as it leads all the way from the banks to CIS, the faculty of Communication and Information Science.

As I walked past I heard strange sounds coming from the faculty of agriculture’s greenhouse. It was strange at that time of day for anybody to be around that area as it was usually deserted so I decided to check it out. As I neared the greenhouse the sounds got louder and I narrowed their source to the far left corner of the greenhouse. I heard pots crashing and metals clanging. I also heard grunts, signs of a struggle between two people so I took cover behind a tree close enough that I could still hear them and hidden enough that I couldn’t be seen unless I wanted to. In a crouching pose I watched patiently, looking for visual confirmation on a struggle and then I saw it, two figures wrestling their way around the greenhouse knocking over pots and other breakables. It wasn’t two figures that I saw as much as two shapes because the shadows only shone on the wall of the greenhouse, but the grunts were very human like thus my conclusion. I had no clue as to the reason for the fight so I watched on for about a minute before silence, dead silence. All I could hear was my ever irregular breathing, it was as though everything living and non-living were in some unspeakable communion at the whim of some unseen force of nature.

I was frozen in place; my mind ran wild with theories on what had just taken place. After waiting for what must have been fifteen minutes, a man emerged from the greenhouse. He was tall, dressed in what looked like a priest’s robe. As he stepped into the light by the entrance of the greenhouse I saw that he had dark skin from the light that shone on his hands, blood stained those hands and I knew the other person wouldn’t be leaving the green house, at least not on his own two feet. This strange man’s face wasn’t clear as the robe was hooded and the hood covered most part of his face. In his hand however, he held a hand trowel and it was stained with blood at the tip. He didn’t seem to have suffered any damages as far as I could see, apart from a tear or two on his robe. After a few seconds adjusting his robe he looked up, straight in my direction and it felt as though he could see me. After a few seconds he walked away but suprisingly without haste. He took every step in pride, he commanded the air around him, perfectly comfortable in the cover of darkness or so he thought as he disappeared into the night.

I waited a few minutes after he was gone before I left my hiding place. Part of me wanted to follow the mysterious man but I wanted to see what happened in that greenhouse. Stepping into the greenhouse, I felt like I had entered another world, the nightly sounds drowned out by the hum of a machine at the far end of the green house. The air was much warmer in the greenhouse. I walked around looking for a clue as to what had happened just a few minutes ago but everywhere looked normal until I saw it. A trail of blood leading just around a corner, just around a tall plant was what must have been the other figure. I could not believe what I was seeing, the man was dead but that was much less important when compared to his body’s position. A garden pitchfork went right through his neck just below his jaw and exited at the base of his skull, the arm of the pitchfork was set at an angle so that his face was upright even as his body lay on the ground. As I looked into his eyes I was mesmerized, the whole scene; as chaotic as it might have seemed to a random mind was in perfect order in mine. The display conveyed an aura of emotionless conviction and power. It was a statement piece and I heard it loud and clear. In that moment I found a strange part of myself. I found the display beautiful.

My name is Bosun Olaleye and I am the apprentice.