The Goddess is awake

"I'm not sure what you mean." Nana was shocked. "How come I can't hold you?" "What exactly is going on?"

"You're delusional." Jasmine explained.

"You created this delusion yourself; you blame yourself for what happened to me and have always wanted to make things right; you wish you could have saved me that day."

"So this isn't true?"

"This is as authentic as you want it to be."

"I don't get it."

A smile spread across Jasmine's face, and then she was gone, everything else faded and crashed, leaving Nana in a fountain of fog.

"Jasmine!" she yelled, continuing to scream until she felt a hand pull her up.

She quickly opened her eyes and returned to reality.

“Nana.” Wilson yelled as Nana's eyes widened. Nana tried to move, but the bruising on her face made it impossible.

Just then, her thoughts caught up with her, and she instantly reflected on the battering Jackson had given her.

She stared at Wilson, puzzled, and reflected on where she had been minutes before.

Wilson wept and embraced her firmly, "I thought you were dead."

"I encountered her." Nana spoke into his ear. "I met Jasmine."

**************

SAHAMARADAN (The goddess is awake)

The breeze blew by, causing her tail to tap on the water.

Before she opened her black predating eyes, her fins stood straight.

When the women in red who had patiently waited for her to recover saw this, they all bowed down.

"The goddess has risen." One of them yelled, and the rest followed her with accolades.

Her long tail tapped forcefully on the water, and little by little cracks appeared on the tub until her tail gave it one more hit, and the tub split in two, water spilled out and flowed passionately on the ground.

She snarled in her fish form as she moved her predatory eyes around, her bones snapping as she painstakingly transformed into her human form.

After finishing, the women in red raced to her with a cloth, which she took and examined the wounds on her body, the scars left by bullet holes; only then did she recall her name, Mamila. Mamila is her name.

THE END IS NEAR.

***********************************************************

This had best be correct.

A glass of water John had collected from the kitchen sink before heading out to answer a phone call lay on the sturdy table.

He took a long breath and reflected on what had transpired earlier, the wind, and the horrible beast that had graced them with its presence.

He shuddered before grabbing the cup of water from the table and walked into the sitting room.

Charles grunted as he attempted to get out of the chair, pain coursing through his body, reminding him of what had happened, how the creature had buried its claws into his stomach.

"Be careful there," John says as he approached him with a glass of water. "You got stitched not long ago."

Charles let out a low grunt as he struggled to stand, reaching for his stomach and running his finger over the stitches.

"Here," John replied, handing him a glass of water, and Charles drank a few slugs before dropping it.

"Where has the prophet gone?"

Charles inquired as memories, still fresh in his mind, began to muddle his reasoning; he would have been a dead man if the prophet had not hit the monster on time.

"Outside with the doctor, I guess," John said, his gaze falling to the stitches, his mind returning to that terrifying moment when the monster appeared.

"Has the doctor already left?" "He went with the prophet after he stitched you up, we thought you were going to die, it's a marvel you're still alive," John replied.

The prospect of dying terrified Charles to his core; clearly, the monster was after him, his safety was jeopardized, and he was correct.

When the prophet returned to the house, he knew he was willing to go to any length to save himself before the horrors unfolding before him overtook him.

"How do you feel?"

With a glance at the compass, Prophet Silas inquired. Charles knew he'd be lying if he said he was OK; he'd been framed, pursued by the police, and now he's being pursued by a monster, an awful beast from the bottom of hell.

"Are you sure that thing, whatever it is, won't come back?" John inquired.

"I'm not sure."

Prophet Silas responded. A chill ran down John's spine. "What do you mean you don't know?"

"It might or might not return."  replied Prophet Silas. "And if it returns?"   Prophet Silas sighed, cringing at Charles.

"Well, we know who it'll be for." John's gaze was drawn to Prophet Silas' eyes, which were fixed on Charles.

"I'm prepared."

"If obtaining the ashes would save me from whatever has befallen me, then I am ready," Charles muttered as pain blazed across his face.

Prophet Silas took a step nearer him, lowered his attention to the stitches, and then returned his gaze to his face.

"I'm delighted you made this decision." Charles sighs, unsure whether he made the right decision or not, but he knows one thing for certain: that creature, whatever it was, came for him, and it might come back, and if what the prophet says about the ashes is real, he's willing to do it.

Prophet Silas' lips curled into a smile before he asked John, "How about you?"

He inquired of John.

John shifted his focus to prophet Silas after looking at Charles as if his response was on him. "I'm prepared."

**************

Inspector John's eyes shifted from Mr Asare to his son Jackson before returning to Wilson and Nana who was badly bruised, despite the fact that her bruises had been treated, she was still in so much pain.

Wilson had gone down to the station to report what had happened; he then drove with him to the hospital, where he became enraged when he discovered Nana was gravely injured.

Who could possibly have notified the deceased brother that the suspect is Nana, he couldn't wait for the day to pass before sending a message to Mr Asare, alerting him to bring his son along on his route to the station?

Wilson gazed at Jackson with daggers as Jackson mounted his angry eyes on Nana; if eyes kill, there would be three graves dug up already.

Wilson wasn't prepared to stand by and watch if Jackson made a move against Nana, and neither Jackson nor his father were willing to grab the silent bull by the horns.

"This was completely uncalled for, an unethical thing to do," Inspector John stated quietly, his anger burning through him.

"And your son might be arrested for it; he's lucky she's not charging him." "Did you say lucky, she killed my sister?" Jackson scoffs furiously. The last words made him growl.

"She didn't kill your sister," Wilson said, his rage boiling inside him and threatening to burst at any moment.

"What was she doing with the knife then?"

"Just shut up," Jackson responds. "Going to her house to beat her up is an offence, and it's really wrong of you," Inspector John adds.

"Offense can kiss my ass," Jackson sneered. "Keep up your attitude and let your father watch me send you behind those bars." Mr Asare fixed his focus on Nana before shifting his gaze to Inspector John.

"Do you believe my son was wrong?" Inspector John frowns, "Are you cheering your son for striking her, look at her, look at the bruises?"

Mr Asare glanced at Nana again, feeling no sympathy for her and praying that she does not turn out to be the murderer of his daughter.

"I came here yesterday to inquire about my daughter's murderer."  said Mr Asare

"I told you we have a suspect, not the killer," answered Inspector John

"You never told me she had the knife that sliced my daughter's throat," Mr Asare cringed at Nana.

Inspector John glanced at Nana, who was sitting in pain from the injuries; he pitied her; if only he could protect her, but the case was becoming increasingly difficult, and he fears she will find herself in jail.

“That.”

Looking back at Mr Asare and his son, Inspector John remarked, "Still doesn't make her the killer." Mr Asare snarled.

"The murder weapon was found in her hand, and she was caught red-handed; isn't that cause enough to pursue her, and make her bear the weight of killing my daughter?"

"I did not murder her."

Nana managed to speak out, reflecting on her dream in which she saw Jasmine: "She was my buddy, my best friend."

"Then you'll have to defend yourself in front of Ugazala diety."  exclaimed Mr. Asare.

"What!" Wilson yelled.

Mr Asare gave him a lethal glare. "She stated she didn't kill my daughter; if she says she's innocent, she'll have to swear in the ugazala shrine."

Nothing will happen to her if she speaks the truth, and this will all be over."

"I can't swear," Nana stated emphatically. "Then you're the murderer." Jackson came in abruptly. "And we're not going to stop until you pay for it."

"That is enough," Inspector John yells angrily, his animosity returning full force.

"I merely invited you here to warn your son not to pose any further threat to her." "She murdered my sister," Jackson yelled, slapping his palms on the table.

"You expect us to ignore that fact and play the bereaved nice guys." "She didn't kill your sister," Wilson shot back.

His rage grew and he moved closer to Jackson; previously, he couldn't stop Jackson since all he cared about was getting to Nana, who was seriously injured.

The memories of how badly Nana was bruised "I've kept quiet and watched while you run your mouth," Wilson said, wrath coursing through his veins.

What is wrong with you, she didn't kill your sister, do you need a soothsayer to tell you that?

Jackson's blood raced, and he couldn't wait for Wilson to finish before slamming his right fist across his face, fracturing his nose as his palm collided with his face.

Wilson was thrown off balance by the surprise punch, and as he fell towards Nana, Jackson ran towards him, seized him, and slapped him across the face with his open left palm.

Wilson took a step back and then steadied himself, but before he could counter the attack, Inspector John intervened, pulling Jackson away, and Nana quickly moved in front of Wilson as he attempted to make a move against Jackson.

"Wilson," Nana yelled, shoving Wilson backwards as a tear streamed down her eyes. Jackson moaned, but Inspector John restrained him.

"He just lost a sister," Nana mumbled sharply, her gaze fixed on Wilson to pacify him. "Damn right you do," Jackson said over his shoulder.

"Because you murdered her, you bitch." "I did not murder her." Nana yelled, her gaze shifting from Wilson to Jackson, tears streaming over her cheeks, "She was my best friend."

"Who you murdered?"

Mr Asare adds brusquely. "If you're as innocent as you claim, swear before Ugazala's shrine."

"I'm not going to do something like that."

Nana reacted angrily. "You won't" Jackson fought to release himself from Inspector John's hands once more, but Inspector John pinned him to the table.

“Enough”

"Enough of this hissy fit!" exclaimed Inspector John. "Let me go," Jackson sighed. "Calm down," Inspector John responds, "or I'll have to cuff you." Jackson sighed but said nothing.

Inspector John let go of him for a few seconds before regaining the serenity in the office.

"Everyone, please relax."

Inspector John said, his attention shifting from Nana to Wilson, then to Mr Asare and Jackson.

Wilson spit blood from his broken nose as he stared at Jackson. Inspector  John inhaled heavily and, after a brief silence, spoke out once more.

"We're here to sort out what happened, not to fight amongst ourselves." "Problems solved!" Jackson says it again fiercely. "I cannot and will not resolve any issue with my sister's killer."

"I didn't kill her," Nana said before she realized it, her breath rising and falling shallowly, and she gulped before continuing.

"Would you like to know who killed her?" Both her father and son glanced at her but said nothing.

"An evil power killed her," Nana continued, knowing full well that they won't believe it, but she's so tired of feeling terrible that she had to let it out; whether they believe or not is no longer a choice.

Every second that passes, she blames herself for Jasmine's death; if she hadn't met Mamila, her friend would still be alive; if only she had refused Mamila's request to leave the hospital.

"The Mermaid"

She continued, tears falling from her eyes in beads. "She was murdered by a mermaid." "You're not just a murderer, but you're also insane." Mr Asare was enraged.

"You murdered my daughter and then made up this nonsense narrative, don't you have a heart?" "She is speaking the truth." Wilson interjected before Nana could respond.

"Oh, stop talking."

"You two are in cahoots together, you both killed my daughter," Mr Asare snarled.

"Mr Asare," Inspector John says, but his comments are cut short when Mr Asare speaks out.

"I'm giving you twelve hours," Mr Asare continued, his angry eyes shifting from Nana to Inspector John.

"Twelve hours, and if this murderer isn't apprehended before then, I'll have to resort to the old methods."

"Good day, Mr Asare." Mr Asare hushed him, summoned his son, and they walked out of the police station, with one last look at Nana.

***************

After the phone call ended, Pastor Alfred blessed himself and proceeded to eat, taking only a few spoonfuls of the meal before his wife Beatrice joined him at the table.

She just sat there for a bit, watching her husband eat the wonderful supper. After a while, she broke the stillness.

"We have to talk," Beatrice began as she poured him a glass of freshly blended fruit juice. Pastor Alfred gave her a brief glance before returning his attention to his meal.

"This is serious matter, Alfred." "What exactly ?" He requested a serviette to wipe his mouth. "Don't act as if you don't understand what's going on; people are still talking about that video, and our numbers are decreasing."

" Pastor Alfred exhaled deeply before returning his sight to her.

"You said you had it under control." "I believed I had it under control." Beatrice explained. "Who would have guessed that bitch's son would vanish?"

"Oh, he's vanished." "My men are looking for him; when he's apprehended, he'll be sorry he didn't take my threats seriously."

"I see," he mumbles as he grabs a cup of water. "Henshaw," Beatrice continued, "his wife called." Pastor Alfred dropped the water and gulped a dry lump in his throat, the moment he killed Chief Henshaw flashing across his mind.

"She is concerned that something has happened to her husband." Beatrice continued.

"I see, what did you tell her?"  "What would you have wanted me to tell her?" Pastor Alfred stared her in the eyes but said nothing.