Death Mark

[Robert Obikanyi]

THE DEATH MARK

They surrounded me on that dark and moonless night. I could hear their loud croaking out in the forest. I banged my fist against the door but the person I was after was either dead or deaf. Either way, if she didn't open the door they'd get me. I shivered as I scratched at the speck on my cheek, thinking about what I was about to do. Then with my shaking hands, I brought out a razor blade from my trouser pocket, and, gritting my teeth, pulled on my skin where the death mark was and began sawing it off. As I did, the things in the woods let out a blood-curdling shriek and rushed out. I could see the fury in their eyes, and the thirst as they poured out of the woods, hollering.
My face was covered with blood that drenched my shirt, still, I worked fervently to rid myself of the mark. But in my haste, the razor blade slipped out of my hands and disappeared in the underbrush. I squeaked and turned to pound on the door, but the door was open. Instead, my fist met soft wet unmoving flesh.

It all began in Asaba, Delta State where I served as a Corper of the NYSC. I was a poor boy from a poor family, but things were beginning to change for me. I had multiple tech job offers and a steady stream of Freelance income. I also had several long-term crypto assets. My eyes were set on the stars. I should have looked a little closer to home.

One day, I got a notification on Facebook. A girl wanted to be my friend. Usually, I don't get a lot of friend requests both online and offline. I suffer from high-functioning autism, so it's never been easy for me to socialize. The last time I chatted anyone up was around two years ago, and that was with my Grandma before she died.
She'd hurriedly bought a phone and then somehow learned to join and use Facebook.

I recall clear as day the one and only message she sent me. The text was filled with typos but the words jumped out of the page and screamed at me: Obinna! Beware the death mark! They are coming for you next!

I could scarcely believe my eyes. She must have made a mistake. I almost dropped my phone as I punched in a flurry of texts, trying to coax some sense out of her. But I never got a reply.

She died in the early hours of the morning. The house boy living with her said she left to harvest cocoyams from her farm and never returned. People got worried and a search was organized for her. They didn't look far. The stench was all over the village. They said her skin was gray like charcoal, severely bloated, and already ripe with maggots even though it'd only been hours since she died. Everyone knew it wasn't natural. It was Amusu, witchcraft.

I recall the many sleepless nights I had thinking about this incident. I cut off all contact with everyone and lived in isolation. I was sure I was going to die at any moment. It was only a matter of where the death would come from. But for two years nothing happened. Two lonely years.

When I got the Facebook notification, I quickly looked up the girl's profile picture. Man, she was fine! I mean, I thought she'd look atrocious like some of the ogres that had come knocking on my door late at night. But this girl was exquisite. She had a face that looked to have been molded to perfection. Her skin was deep rich ebony that was accentuated by full lips painted black. Her hair was cut low and, God! Was she packing front and back!
I'd never won the lottery so I didn't believe I'd suddenly gotten a stroke of good luck. It just didn't hold for someone like me. But still… she must have looked up my profile picture before sending a request. I'm a skinny guy with a bushy beard and shrunken cheeks that happened as a result of my not having enough sleep. Why would she want someone like that as a friend?

Still, curiosity killed the cat. I was aching to send her a text but I didn't want her to sense just how eager I was, and then figure out that I was nothing but a poor loser. I kept my fingers at bay and busied myself with other things.

Two hours; I couldn't stop myself. I opened Facebook, and there it was, one new notification. Could it be her? I clicked on the message, and my heart jumped up my throat. It was! My finger trembled as I opened it.
The message read: Hi. A single word, but enough for me to have a heart attack. I also saw that she was online, so there was no way to escape her. I calmed myself enough to reply in kind with a "Hey." She wasted no time replying, asking how my day went.

After a couple of back and forths, she arrived at her destination: Her name was Franca. She was a bored girl living in Asaba, and she really needed me to call her. Maybe we could meet face to face. This girl needed me badly, and I was resolved not to screw it up.

But my anxiety hit me like an anvil. How could I call her? What in the world would I say? Even worse, what would happen if we met? She'd totally freak out when she saw me. She might even insult me in public, ridiculing my appearance in front of everyone. I'd be forever disgraced. But I said to myself, pull yourself together, Obinna. All you've got to do is be honest with her. If it works, fine. If it doesn't then it was never meant to be.

I'd read somewhere in a blog that honesty was a good way to win close friends and even form lasting relationships.

That evening, I chatted Franca up and laid myself bare. I told her that she was unlucky enough to meet the 1 in 125 people in Nigeria with Autism. She didn't believe me at first, saying that I didn't look autistic. But after explaining that autism isn't something you see on the face, she surprised me by telling me how she was really looking forward to meeting me. That although she wasn't autistic, she was also very shy around people and that made her feel lonely and bored.

We did a voice call on Messenger. Her soft-sounding voice melted my heart and I found myself falling in love. We agreed to meet that same evening. It was a meeting straight out of a romance novel, but it also ended...should I say...strangely.

We met at a small restaurant on Okpanam road. It was a cozy place with high seats and spaces separating each compartment, giving each guest a level of privacy. My God, Franca was even more beautiful in real life than I imagined. She laughed at everything I said, always looking at me and looking away shyly. Many times she'd unknowingly stroke my hands with her manicured fingernails as they rested on the table. When I asked if she'd like to come over to my place, she eagerly agreed.

This was the first time I'd ever had sex with anyone. I always thought having sex would open the doors to my autistic brain, and I'd finally get to be normal. That I would finally be able to score as many chicks as I possibly could.

I didn't know that it'd be the last time I ever had a moment of peace.

Now, you'd like to know the strange thing that happened. After the girl had left the next morning promising to call me, I noticed a mark on my cheeks as I hurriedly prepared for work. It wasn't there before. I studied my reflection in the little mirror I held. The spot looked almost like a spiderweb. I thought it must have been one of the charcoal flakes that had been drifting out of the sky that morning and had somehow landed on my face. I tried to rub it off, but it wouldn't come off. I even scrubbed my face with a sponge and soap. Nothing. It's like it had always been there. But I knew my own face. I didn't have that birthmark. Could I have maybe ignored it all these years? I shrugged it off and hurried to work.

After a while, strange things began to manifest in my life. I began hearing whispers, words that sounded Igbo yet held no meaning at all. Other times I'd feel someone watching me, but when I turned to say hello I'd realize that there wasn't anyone there. I told myself that I was only overly anxious to meet her again, but then I'd hear more bone-chilling words in my ears.

By the time it was time to leave work, I'd begun to go a little crazy. Franca hadn't called me since she left my apartment that morning. I tried calling her but she wasn't picking up my calls. I felt wounded like I'd been played a fool. I waited the rest of the day for her call, but it never came. It's like we'd never met.

The next afternoon, after having very little sleep the previous night due to the constant whispering and the irksome feeling of being watched, I suddenly recalled that she'd written her address on a sheet of paper before she left and had told me to visit her. I decided to take up her offer, if only but to set my mind at ease.

I got to her place after dark due to heavy traffic on the road. It wasn't easy locating the place as it ran through several villages. A time came when I had to ditch the rickshaw driver because the road had thinned to a footpath and the man began charging an arm and a leg to continue taking me on my journey.

But at least I finally got to the place and breathed a sigh of relief. Only too soon, I heard a guttural croaking sound coming from way out in the bushes.
"Hey!" I called thinking it was the driver of the rickshaw but no one responded. I switched my phone's flashlight and aimed it at the sound and nearly fainted when I found that I was surrounded by forest trees on all sides. The only sign of civilization was the old rickety house behind me. The house was unpainted and had a rusted corrugated roof that kept flapping in the night breeze. The sound was like the beating of a bird wing as it tried and failed to fly. It sent shivers up my spine.
I looked up in time to see the moon vanish underneath storm clouds, plunging me in pitch darkness.
I felt eerily certain that someone was watching me, and turned to face the forest. I could see nothing but then lightning flashed through the sky and I saw a sight that made my skin crawl. There was someone there. Naked, pale, and as tall as a tree. So tall there was no evidence of its head as its long neck disappeared into the branches. But I saw what I saw!
I'm not going mad. I'm not going mad. I muttered to myself.
I banged at the door, calling her name.
"Franca are you home? It's me! Open the door!"

Whoever, whatever it was that was behind me was getting closer. And I could tell that there were many others. My fears were confirmed when I heard a booming croak.

It was immediately followed by many others until it formed a chorus of horrors.

I had to get out of the outdoors at all costs. I was about to pound on her doors again when my phone suddenly rang. It was my mum. She sounded terrified. She said that a mark had suddenly appeared on my sister's cheek. She told me that it was no ordinary mark. It was a death mark. A curse placed on someone by an evil relative and once the person becomes infected, he would be tormented to death by Ekwensu and his demons. Even worse, the mark would slowly manifest itself in the person's family wherever they are in the world. One by one they would all die.

She cried frantically, asking me why I met them? Met who? I thought. I was sweating buckets and couldn't, wouldn't believe her. But as I turned to knock, the door suddenly creaked open and what stood before me was not Franca but a tall monstrous woman with spindly arms green with veins and ending in sharp talons. Her face was gaunt, her eyes hollowed sockets, and her mouth looked like it'd been sutured shut!

She wore old tattered clothes and slowly undid all the buttons, revealing a wrinkly mass of flesh with fat maggots crawling in and out of her massive skin pores. I opened my mouth to scream, but she grabbed my face with her long talons and pressed it to her lips.

I checked my bloated corpse afterward, before joining my relatives in the woods. The death mark had disappeared.