Today on Microdosing our prompt is TWINS!
Write a story in 50 words!
Don’t forget to tag me if you follow along with the challenge.
My face stared back at me from the casket, flooding my mind with an avalanche of memories.
Everything since birth has been lived by two souls, and when one got snuffed out, the other went, too.
Life now seems empty and cold; any feeling just reminds me that I'm already dead.
Why does there even need to be two of them?
I’d wondered.
Long cotton dresses, long braids, sensible shoes, the TWINS are surrounded by kids in the sunshine, with babes in arms.
Then they sing:
“Lord help the mister
Who comes between me and my sister
And lord help the sister who comes between me and my man.”
It’s for the song, the sun,
The progeny in harmony.
Twins
They'd found Abisola dead on a Monday morning. Nothing stood out about the death but the look scribed on his face; terror poured from his eyes, his mouth contorted, his tiny body huddled into a rigid foetal position.
The village was accustomed to losing children young - as accustomed as you could be to the passing of a child. But this was different; Abisola had been born eight years earlier, his twin, Adelola, had died not an hour after their birth. This was another tragedy for the family, upon the village, upon the tribe.
In Yoruba tradition, upon the passing of a twin, an Ibeji was carved to hold the half of a soul the dead twin carried - it was believed that twins shared a soul, and without housing the other half, death was likely for the survivor.
Abisola had lived with his twin at his side, he sat on his bookshelf looking over him each night, he took him away with him, he'd fave him towards the TV when Spiderman was on - Adelola had continued to live on.
Abisola would often talk to his brother, tell him stories, sing him songs; he'd even dress him up, leave him scraps of food, draw him pictures of what he'd missed at school.
That Monday morning, Abisola’s mother had entered his room to wake him, found him still sleeping - and allowed him to rest for another five minutes as she prepared his breakfast.
She called out his name, he did not stir.
An hour later, his body had been moved to the living room, all of the village elders in attendance, praying for his safe travel.
Not a thought was cast to Adelola; but if they'd looked closer upon that shelf, they'd have seen that he was smiling, a maniacal smile etched from one disproportionate ear to the other.
If they'd have taken the time to listen, they'd have heard the echo of his laughter upon the wind - a childlike giggle, finally, reunited with his twin.