Ten children, none above twelve
Ten children, into whose lives we shall delve.
Ten children, taken from their beds
Their mothers unaware, their bellies all so fed.
Ten children, put in one city
With motives undefined, commence animosity.
Ten children, one shall survive
Alone in depravity, only one will thrive.
Ten children, then comes the game
Asides from death, none shall be the same.
I am your narrator. I have watched these children carefully and effectively for far longer than one can imagine possible. Why? They are precious pieces and I love them beyond reason. If I was sighted by you as I write this narrative; noting my rumpled hair, ruffled shirt and scrawny legs, you would likely tend to assume I’m an underfed casualty with excess time and nothing to do with it. In a way, you would be correct. Remember this. But if you assess me as you perceive through this narrative, you would conclude that I was condescending, evil, uncaring and borderline crazy. That would also be quite accurate.
You can call me Ajordi. I like rhymes.
CHAPTER ONE
Ekene
Ekene Ajordi, master of the track,
With face so defined and hair so black.
His eyes dull brown, his nose quite large,
He holds his tall body as his shining badge.
Expressions fairly vague, irritations well hidden,
Dear Ekene Ajordi was created for bidding.
“Hey, my name is Ekene and I solemnly swear that I am up to no good”, Ekene recited almost absentmindedly as he was allowed into the small canopy for the first time that month. They called themselves The Marauders; not trying in the slightest to feign the source of their title and passcode.
He was chosen because our names are similar
Treading swiftly because the freshly cut leaves tickled his bare feet, he flung half-hearted greetings at whomsoever would have it and headed towards the back, where his seat — an overturned empty crate of soft drinks — still remained from its last usage. Pointedly ignoring the murmurs Ekene’s entry stirred amongst the tent members, Paul, resident of the house beside Mama Kene’s shop, continued his rant about their diminished activity.
Nobody liked Paul very much. I should have chosen him
The Marauders were the self-proclaimed defenders of the neighbourhood. They are of tremendously little importance to this narrative but I spray light on their existence to enable Ekene to be seen as more than what he becomes after the game.
During that month, for reasons beyond even I (though I bear suspicions against Paul), Ekene had maintained almost total abstinence from their weekend meetings at the white canopy with numerous scribbles in Paul’s compound. It was an unspoken but otherwise important rule among the Marauders to always attend meetings without failure.
For a bunch of teenagers/teenagers to be, they took things pretty seriously. Comical
And as expected, after his tirade, Paul directed attention to Ekene’s presence. “Where have you been?” Paul demanded angrily
Before we continue with Ekene’s story prior to his invitation to my little game, I want to tell you about his family. I have quite the extensive knowledge of little Ekene’s family. I know who his father mistakenly killed. I know who his mother is sleeping with. I even know about her little abortion back when he turned 11. I wonder why she chose that particular day to kill the growing child. I guess I would never know. I know about his sole elder sibling. Ebube. I really liked Ebube. He was good natured to a fault and really intelligent. But alas, he was too old for my little game. He did make a special guest appearance in my game. But be patient my beautiful readers. Be patient. I know how much Ekene loves Ebube. How much he envies him. How he seeks to be just like him, nothing more. I also noticed how Ebube was the person whose name he cried on his first night in my little city.
Little Ekene. He was never truly as loved as Ebube. He never for once suspected the obvious breaking apart of his family. Youth provided his paradise in ignorance. The young Marauder. Ekene Ajordi.
Feeling ever so conspicuous in his matching red shirt and shorts, Ekene shuffled his feet as he mumbled his seemingly rehearsed excuse. “I was sick Paul, it won’t happen again.”
Next,
