The Last Full Moon

 There is no greater way to write a book than to write it in the manner it wants to be written. You may feel the need to cultivate a story with a good ending and still end up messing around with the plot as the story unfolds. It was not until I realized that there was a way to tell a story without actually paying reference to the cause that I first thought seriously of writing this story. Three items of my experience combined to make me become aware of the presence of a life form that moves freely in the dark without being noticed. Before I begin this story, I must pay some respect to three wonderful women in my life that has shaped the existence of this story. I honor Leah Fisher for her undying contribution and unmatched love. I honor Rooman Tariq for her constant reminders and unending praise. Finally, I honor Lyv Aiken for her professionalism and years of creative experience. Without their help, this story would have been nothin

Igboland, 1781The first feeling of discernment may not be easy to deal with. Living alone in the outskirt of a large village where everyone interacted with each other but avoided a particular person based on some rules is even harder to deal with. The loud cry of condemnation can terrify a human soul to the point of suicide. The village in the east was not far from the village in the west but they did not live in harmony because of an ancient history that told tales of wars with bitter endings. Apart from the village that lived in the north, the village in the east was not at peace with any other village. True, they had large farms with fertile loamy soils that could turn a yam tendril into a full-blown adult at one thrust. Still, they didn't have the capacity to maintain order in their village.The time for wars had come and gone. Men were only interested in drinking to stupor. Women were only interested in distinguishing between old clothes and new ones. C

Igboland, 1786Nwakaego did not have a bright start to her life like many women of Igboland would boast of. After running from the village owned by the people in the east, she took refuge in a village named after the first man to kill a python in Igboland. The name of the village was Umuaka. It is true that great people are created to face challenges because without the fear of falling apart after a long walk to freedom, they may never understand what they were created to achieve.Nwakaego was not from a great family. She was not special in any way but she had been visited by a man with a skin color as white as the snow. She could remember the night clearly when he pressed his body against hers and promised to never leave her. It was five years ago but the memories were still fresh in her head as if it happened yesterday.Nwakaego was tired and sleepy from the exhausting experiences she had the previous night. Finding a home in Igboland especially when you are a fu

Pennsylvania, 2018"Where is my hat? I dropped it on this table."Maria moved slowly as she spoke to her students. The class was filled with thirty students that were evenly distributed into fifteen girls and fifteen boys."Did any of you see my hat?" She asked again as she looked from one drawer to another.The class was silent. At that moment, It was clear that no one had seen her hat. "It is under your desk," a boy said, pointing his finger in the direction he spoke about.Maria sighed as she picked her hat up, wondering how she had managed to not spot the thing that covered her head throughout the day. Was she turning blind at a tender age? Carefully, she looked up at the boy. He was small and timid."Well," Maria sighed. "I suppose you are blessed with a good eye, my child. What is your name?""John," the boy replied."John who?""John Bleat!"She looked at him as though she had heard the sound of something

Pennsylvania, 2018"I saw it in my dream. I am as sure as hell that I saw a strange creature in my dream," Maria explained."You have to do more than talking for me to believe what you are telling me," Uju said, lowering her head so that Maria could watch the shampoo out of hair.Maria brought the hot water closely, and within seconds Uju could feel her scalp burning lightly."Did you heat the water above a hundred degrees?" Uju asked, feeling agitated."I maintained a stable temperature. You have nothing to worry about."Uju felt relieved as Maria assured her that the water was safe for her hair. She had learnt a few thing about taking care of her hair in a month with Maria than she had learnt in the entire twenty-six years she had spent in Nigeria."So, tell me about your dream again," Uju urged her as she relaxed a bit for the water to fall freely and land inside her bath tub."I saw a man who was like a wolf. He had claw