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She believed she could fly. So, with much determination in her heart, she set herself to do it. Before she stretched, she thought on why she was doing it. Why fly? She could have waited till her guilt consumed her and led her to taking her own life. Not that she had not done that before. And she had heard that third time was a charm, so, why not go again?

That was when she heard his voice. Beyond the pain and the strong compulsion to take her life. Beyond the sounds of the plane crash that took her family. Beyond the voices of people expecting her to do something big and miraculous because, she was the only survivor of a terrible plane crash. Beyond the drugs. Beyond the noisy neighbours who always wanted to pick a fight. Beyond the mechanic at the end of her block, who never missed a beat to hit on her so aggressively, every day that it could be called harassment. Beyond all that, she heard the voice that said “Come unto me, and I will give you rest”.

She was delusional for sure. The first incident happened when she heard her father call unto her while she was in Chemistry class. It was her SS2, and she was preparing for her mock exams. His voice had filtered through the humming chattering of her classmates and filled her head, whispering to her “Jessica, meet me at the roof top”. That was what she told her guidance and counsellor teacher, after they brought her down from the roof. No one believed her. This was three years after the accident. She was just 16. And that’s when she started hearing the voices.

This made her reconsider flying for a second. But she remembered her mother’s dying words as the plane went down. “Jesus loves you sweetie. Don’t forget that”. She never did and that was why she questioned God every day “Why me?” She’d often look up at the ceiling, straining to hear a response that never came.

It was after another session of questioning God and lying down deflated with disappointment, that she heard her mother’s voice say “to make you.” It couldn’t be real, but she was on so many antidepressants she couldn’t tell if pigs could fly or not for certain. This was two years after the first jump, she was 18. And her uncle, her mother’s brother, graciously took care of her and her studies. Till 22, when she dropped out.

“Why did you do it?” Her uncle had folded his arms beneath his bosom, a long sigh trailing his question
“He told me too.”
“Who?”
“The man with the still voice”
“So, this man with the still voice told you leave school and follow him?”
“Yes”
“To where?”

“I don’t know. I just kept walking.” Her uncle shook her head and sent her away. That was the end of her 5 years of law school which she had 4 months to conclude.

She heard the sound she always heard any time she wanted to jump. She used to think that it was a baby with a terrible voice that was crying. When she heard it again and finally saw what made the sound, she then knew that was what had been calling all those years The black bird.

“I didn’t ask you to jump before, but now I am” she heard his voice again. She looked up and saw his hand. She was not crazy, at least not at that moment. She looked down and saw the kids from her block playing ten-ten and she smiled, remembering that she was once happy.

“You can be happy again” she heard him say. She doubted it. It had been 10 years she last smiled. October 2nd, 2010. When her father kissed her on her forehead as her mother wrapped her neck with a muffler to keep her warm, before they boarded the plane.

“I keep my promises, because it is who I am. And because I love you. Take the step.”

She looked to the bird coming towards her with its obvious rage. She looked to the big palm open in front of her and in that moment, she knew who to follow. She spread her arms wide open, closed her eyes and let every other thing fade away. She stretched her right foot out first and the bird, seeing that she was close to his palms, tried to race to stop her. But it couldn’t move any further. She placed both of her legs on his palm, completely ignoring the voices of children and adults beneath her, shouting “don’t jump. Don’t do it.”

She believed she could fly, so she flew. And when she hit the bottom, she opened her eyes. Her father’s lips were on her forehead and her mother’s hands were around her neck. Her father was placing a kiss on her head, her mother was wrapping a muffler round her neck and she was 12. The plane to Abuja, Nigeria was calling for passengers to start boarding. That was their flight. She knew what she had to do when her father grabbed her hand and said “let’s go”.

“No! We can’t. If we do, we will die!”

Favour Igwemoh

Favour Igwemoh is an author and screenwriter from Nigeria. She started her writing journey in 2017 and has entered several competitions for poetry, spoken words, and other fictional contests. Out of the many, she came 2nd in the Freedom Vibes for Africa contest. She is also an aspiring filmmaker who believes art can change the world. She is very passionate about her writing.

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