His mind, however, had a lot of weight on it. So his fears had been true! Human beings being cursed in perpetuity with a selective memory process, Papa Barna could only recall that he'd always had doubts about Maria, his first daughter. How could she really be his when she looked so tall and fair when both he and his wife were short and dark? She had been born ten years before Baba and it had taken five years after Baba's birth before the twins, Ruth and Esther came along. And that had been after numerous sacrifices to the gods. He sadly recognised the truth; only Baba had his blood; Maria, as well as Ruth and Esther - already showing signs of being every inch as tall and as fair as their elder sister - were ... Oh! How would he live with the shame?
Mama Barna had a few seconds to scream and utter a plea before the machete silenced her with one blow. Papa Barna looked at the blood-spurting body without feeling as he wiped the machete on the bed sheets. In the manner of a malfunctioning automaton, he now functioned purely on a dispassionate programme detailed to terminate the fleeing tall and fair Oyigbo ...
It is inevitable that a crowd should follow. This, after all, is just a small village. However, not even the younger, more agile men can keep up with the two shooting stars. Oyigbo, on a primordial self-preservation race simply can not be bested. Papa Barna, on a self-divined, holy-inspired mission of honour-preservation is ready to pay any price in his bid to exact the ultimate price. In such company, leisurely folks seeking amusement are in no position to keep up.
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