Malaika by van Heerling Read Free Book Online

stopped.
    “She’s playing!” I implored, back of the mob, desperately peeling them off as I made my way to her. I weeded through them until I finally held her. With Absko at my side, the mob begged off, giving us space. Most were cheering. I wept. Her body mangled. Pierced so many times. Her blood staining my hands as I looked into her eyes. She was alive barely. Her tongue hung out as she weakly panted, blood filling her lungs. I wailed in my grief and a few in the mob too felt my loss. I could hear Absko explaining she was only playing. She was only playing. Most didn’t care.
    I felt a familiar hand upon my shoulder. As I turned, peering through tearful eyes, I found Abasi, mellowed and mournful. In his other hand was a pistol. I shrunk into myself, wailing “NO!” as I held her closer.
    “My friend,” Abasi whispered to me, “it is time. You must help her pass. Stop her suffering.” I felt him slide the cold metal into my palm as he helped me to my feet. Reluctantly, I stood above her and in her agony she stared at me. “Why?” I heard her say in my mind.
    “I am sorry, Angel.”
    BANG!
    She slumped as her body released the pain of the world. I collapsed to my knees as Abasi retrieved the pistol from my grip.

 
     
    Abasi told me that Sanura had her baby and Absko was filling the shoes of fatherhood nicely. I hadn’t seen them in some weeks. I’d asked them not to come. My supply of coconut milk was gone. I couldn’t stand the sight or smell of it anymore. I blamed myself. I asked her to come back. This I’d never be able to get over. If it weren’t for Abasi bringing me supplies, I’m not sure I could have endured the demons circling in my head.
    As I sat with Abasi one evening, I asked him why he gave me the pistol. Why he just didn’t do it himself. Why I should have to endure such a betrayal against a friend.
    “Because if I had done it,” he said, “you might never have forgiven me. And if a farmer had done it, it would have seemed like murder. Only a true friend has compassion enough to put another friend out of their terminal misery.” I thought about that for a moment, not fully understanding, but at least I understood his intention in handing me the pistol. “I must apologize to you.” I turned to look at him, wondering what he had to apologize for. “I mistook her for a demon—for the demons that have killed members of my family—but it would appear you were right. She was an angel, and we—man—were the demon.”
     
    That evening I heard a cry beyond my meadow. It was the cry of the patriarch. I recognized his roar. As the sun met the horizon, I trekked to the perimeter of the meadow and beyond from where I stood, just ten feet, were The Three. I felt completely vulnerable. I fell to my knees and sobbed. They held their composure, staunch and strong, as they witnessed this weaker species before them. As I looked into their eyes I felt their loss. I hoped they could feel mine, for I truly repented of the trouble I had caused. In the pit of my stomach I knew they knew what had happened, the moment it occurred. Their spiritual connection with Malaika must have been ripped from their collective consciousness, never to hear from her again.
    The magnificent beasts rose to their feet in unison. The females left with their heads tilted down but the king remained. He moved one step closer. I opened, I would not resist. He raised his head toward me in distain. He then turned slowly and caught up to the females, where, I hadn’t noticed before, there were several other lions among them—all youngsters. I assumed these could be Malaika’s offspring. One after another I received a stone-faced expression until all left me to wallow, alone.

 
     
    I sagged in my chair, cigarette in hand. I relaxed and stared into the birthing sun as it rolled into the sky. I don’t recall closing my eyes, but I must have as the sky transformed into a baby blue hue, scraped with gentle pastel fuchsia