THE TRAPDOOR

They all huddle around me for a better look at the book.
I squint to read the wording.

I see markings above and beneath some of the vowels in each sentence.
Understanding dawns on me. The words are not written in English.

"It's ancient Yoruba," I supply to my perplexed and curious friends.

"Really?" Owen gushes, his eyes bright. Then he turns and observes me quizzically. "Wait! How did you recognize it?"

They all look at me eagerly, waiting for my response.

Brief recap. A few decades ago, all tribal languages in Nigeria went extinct. It's a complex story, but like I like to say, I wasn't there to witness the events that led to it. The new system of governance decided that our tribalism was doing more harm than good, so they banned all use of any other language than the globally accepted language-English.

I sigh and run my hand through my curls.
"I have a penchant for history too, at least to some level." I say that last part to myself.

Cordelia blinks her eyes repeatedly as though she cannot believe me. Though she considers herself my best friend, honestly, we have so little in common. Somehow, I have managed to keep a lot of things a secret from her.

Yes, she knows I'm a Christian. Though she is what I'd call a freethinker, she doesn't have an issue with my faith. In fact, her being my best friend, as popular as she is on social media, is what keeps the suspicion and pressure off my back.

"How come I don't know about this?" she asks.

I shrug and give her an apologetic grin.

"It's my secret indulgence, I guess," I mumble, still examining the document in a bid to avoid her piercing gaze.

Owen looks so amazed and thrilled like he wants to jump up and hug me.
"So, you understand it? Can you read it?" he says.

I nod.

"Well then, go on already."

My Yoruba is rusty, but they don't know that so I go ahead with reading it. I pick a part that seems to be highlighted.

As I read out the words of the manuscript, pure fear runs through my veins. I pause.

"What does that mean?" Oscar asks when I pause.

I begin to translate to English.

Psalm 11:3 If the foundation be destroyed, what can the righteous do?
Ps.127.1 - Except the LORD build the house, they labour in vain that build it: except the LORD keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain.
Ps.127.2 - It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrows: for so he giveth his beloved sleep.

"Okay, I'm not a religious geek, but that doesn't sound too optimistic," Cordelia notes.

Ignoring them, I flip through the pages faster and settle for a place where I notice another highlighted portion of the manuscript.

This time, I translate directly to English to save time. I read out each word carefully.

Joel.2.28 - And it shall come to pass afterwards, that I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh; and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions:
Joel.2.29 - And also upon the servants and upon the handmaids in those days will I pour out my spirit.
Joel.2.30 - And I will shew wonders in the heavens and in the earth, blood, and fire, and pillars of smoke.
Joel.2.31 - The sun shall be turned into darkness, and the moon into blood, before the great and the terrible day of the LORD come.
Joel.2.32 - And it shall come to pass, that whosoever shall call on the name of the LORD shall be delivered: for in mount Zion and in Jerusalem shall be deliverance, as the LORD hath said, and in the remnant whom the LORD shall call.

I gulp and throw prayers upwards in my mind.
'Oh, God! What does this mean? Why is this coming now?'

"Okay, so do you have any clue what that means?" Jadiel asks, curiosity brimming in her eyes. I can sense that it's as if she has an idea of what this whole charade is about but wants me to refute it.

As I open my mouth to break down what I think it means, I feel the ground beneath me begin to move. I halt and frown.

It's a small tremor at first but then the movement increases in magnitude.

My friends are in panic mode, as I am. Dart is barking hysterically.

"It's an earthquake!" Cordelia cries.

"Everybody, down!" Oscar yells. We all drop to the floor in a quivering huddle.

The shelves at this nook begin to rattle and books begin to fall.

Dust and fragments of concrete and POP rain down from the ceiling.

My heart slams into my throat.

Oh, God! This isn't happening to me! Please let this be another version of my horrible dreams.

Despite my prayers, the shaking continues. In fact, it seems to get worse with each passing second. I fear that it will escalate so badly that the entire building of Lukan High Library will cave in and collapse on us.

About five minutes later, the shaking subsides and I lift my head to check on my cowering friends. My breathing is ragged. Is Cordelia on the verge of tears?

"What in blazes was that about?" Oscar's attempt to hide the terror in his voice is largely unsuccessful.

Owen adjusts his spectacles that were formerly askew on his nose.
"That was strange. Nigeria rarely experiences earthquakes. Ever. Not even in the histories..."

Cordelia is now trying frantically to place a call through to the outside world. I am amazed she has managed to save her iPad from falling and shattering to bits.
She seems to be having no success.

"The lines are down! Damn it!" she says in frustration.

Again, the crescendo of the earthquake comes back.

Cordelia shrills when it begins again, clutching her iPad to her chest as she buries her face to the cold tiles.

"This is not looking good. We have to get out of here now!" Oscar says above the din and commotion.

"Guys! Come over here!" Jadiel calls in a harsh whisper.
That is when I realise that she has crawled to a further corner of this nook.

Still crouching, we quickly file towards her.

She places her entire right palm and fingers on a strange-looking tile on the floor.

A click. A whirling sound. A sliding of a tile to reveal a trap door.

My eyes widen when a hole wide enough to allow the passage of a giant opens. Cordelia does the honour of shining her flashlight into the hole.
Dusty stairs that lead to a dark basement greet us.

Jadiel crawls in on all fours and enters the space.

"Don't waste time! Come in!"

I jerk out of my stupor and I carefully make my way into the space that is quickly making me feel claustrophobic.
Dart obediently follows, and so do my friends.

When Oscar, who is the last to enter, has descended the stairs, the trapdoor above goes back to its original position and we are thrown into partial darkness.

~~~

Author's note: Hey guys! How are you doing?

I apologize for the long wait.
Yeah, it's been days since the last update but I have been very hard on myself lately.

I have a target for this story and I have reached nowhere.
Writing inertia is real, but I declare over myself that I have the Speed of the Spirit because the Lord's hand rests upon my mind and my hands.

So, yeah! After that prophetic boost, I don't feel guilty anymore for being so far behind.

See you in the next post, guys!