FIVISUHUNUNYAME: West African Folk-Fiction

Anobokiti's Blog

Fivisu 2

Fivusu was startled awake by the howling of wolves. He shot up from the make-shift bed he had made out of palm fronds and looked about him, but his eyes registered little in the darkness. His bonfire was all about dead; only a fading trail of smoke curled its way up from the ashes, stretching as far as it could before disintegrating into nothing. He sat up and dragged his weighty buttocks closer to the tree he had been lying in front of, leaning against its bark. There had to be no more sleeping that evening, he knew it by the thumping in his chest and the sweat on his face. With a loud sigh, he scratched the ground with his palms, gathering up a good number of small stones, and began flicking them into the dark.

Gradually, the howls faded into silence.

It was the third day, and still…

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