Short Stories

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DARE GO DOWN!
Long, long time ago in the days of the ogres, a boy child was born in a small village overlooking a small city. The night was serenely quiet with a cold breeze stealing through the cracks on the tiny hut’s walls. Alone in that little hut the mother gave birth to the child. As he broke the night’s silence with his greeting cry she gave him the name Wahinya.
He grew up like any other boy in the village, indulging in every boyish activity and games as all boys love. He scaled every tree that could be climbed and picked every neighbours fruit that he could get his hands on, on his way from tending his uncle’s sheep. He challenged and fought every other boy as is common with village boys.
However, something extraordinary begun to develop in Wahinya’s life. He was always wiser and swifter than his peers.
One night a hungry lion stealthily jumped into his neighbour’s ‘boma’ and grabbed one of his best young bulls. It was Wahinya who first heard the commotion about a hundred yards from his ‘thingira’. He quickly jumped out of his bed and armed himself with his sword and sped after the beast. Everybody else was snoring the night away including the owner.
On spotting him the lion was so enraged that it sprang on him throwing him to the ground. He quickly bounced back to his feet and in the dim light of the fading moonlight ran the sharp sword into the beast’s side splitting its heart into two! The powerless animal somersaulted and landed on the ground. It rolled over tearing the night with deafening roars and then sprawled on the ground, dead.
By the time the villagers appeared with torches and machetes, Wahinya was sitting on a wooded log nursing his wounded arm. Everyone broke out in loud cheers and a feast was organized the following day.
Such was Wahinya’s prowess.
One day when he was old enough, his mother called him to her old thatched hut where he was born. She threw open the small sooty window that overlooked the city below.
Nothing much was said about the city by the villagers. None dared to go down there and those who did barely came back to tell the tale. The survivors never told a thing about their experience but lived miserably the rest of their lives. A mystery hung over the small city. No smoke ever rose to the sky or even the sound of playing children ever heard in it.
The aged who knew about the mystery of the city never told it in fear that a bird might carry the word to the city. They simply referred to it as ‘the black stone’
With time, a rumor spread like bush fire that the small village was in the verge of being overrun and annexed to the ‘stone’ adding to the fear and dread of the villagers.
Every window and door in the village was put in the opposite direction away from the city except mama wahinya’s which also was rarely opened.
When she opened the window it ironically revealed a magnificently beautiful city. She turned to her son and said, “Son, come and look out to that city. It’s true that a dark cloud hovers over it and none ever want to risk his life to venture into it. It is said that, that gloomy town you see down there was once a haven of peace to thousands of people from every nation including our village. It offered excellent business opportunities, health facilities, clean water and a myriad of other services that brought joy to everyone who got there.
However, as the tale goes it is said that a dragon emerged from the earth and sat at the heart of the city. It swallowed up all the children in a single gulp and assigned a day for every resident to be transformed into its daily meal. It is said that it hampers some mystic powers that keep people from running away or others venturing into it. Everyone lives miserably waiting for their turn to be turned into its breakfast, lunch or dinner. Escapees never tell a thing. A good example is old Karuiru across the street. He was once a lovely young man but he was never again after he attempted to cross river Guthera into the city.
Now, sit down and I will tell you about your father. He was a mighty warrior and his heart daily burned for the welfare of that small city. That was a couple of months before you were born. He was determined to set it free.
He and some other young men of his age set off for the liberation. The day he crossed river Guthera was the last I ever set my eyes on him again”. She broke down in tears and sobbed bitterly. Wahinya bit his lip and waited patiently. “The young man who managed to escape came back a pitiful form and died a few days later without telling a single word of what happened to them. I never stopped crying when I remembered your lion hearted father”. She stopped and wiped her tears with the back of her hand. She remained quiet for a while and turned to her son again.
“Son, you are a man now. You don’t have to be afraid. I believe in you. You can accomplish what your father started”. Wahinya’s eyes widened. He never expected that it would come to this. His heart pounded and his mind raced with a thousand questions.
Somewhere deep within him a surging wave of bravery gripped his father’s undying dream to save the small city.
“Go down”, his mother continued, “Transform that ‘black stone’ into a sparkling jewel for the coming generations. Let the sound of children be heard in it again and then give it a name…” “Mum”, Wahinya interrupted, “Don’t you care that I might go and never come back to you also?” She turned her face away to muffle her grieve. She didn’t say a word but blankly gazed at the small city with tears rolling down her chicks again.
After a prolonged silence she turned to him and said, “Son, I have wrestled with the possibility of letting you go down the same road that your dad did but every time I come to the same conclusion. The future of that city lies in your hands. Remember, thousands are doomed to fateful ends every dawning day. They can never enjoy a meal or the song of birds greeting the day every morning like we do here. That is how bad it is. Dare go down; I’ll watch and pray from this same window until it’s done.
Wahinya moved over to the window and for a long time gazed at the mystery city. Can it ever be liberated? Can life ever return to it again? Could it be that he would be the liberator? All these and many other questions swirled in his head almost making him dizzy. At one instant he saw a liberated city but at another he saw himself perishing in the ugly angry craws of a ruthless monster and his aged mother pining away to death a miserable old woman watching through the window desperately expecting him to come back in vain.
At length he sighed deeply and paced to and fro across the hut and back to the window gazing at the town for the umpteenth time. He turned to his mother and said with a resounding finality that almost made her reconsider her request, “OK, mum I’ll go; tonight”
He then thoughtfully walked out of the old hut a step at a time never aware that he would ever get in it again.
That night he could hardly sleep. His mother’s words echoed over and over again in his mind robbing him of every little sleep. “Son, the future of that city lies in your hands”. In his dazed mind he tried to scan through the whole village in a bid to find a suitable partner but not a single brave man seemed to qualify in this dangerous unpredictable venture.
When he had almost given up trying, he remembered Waruhiu his fearless old time friend down the hill. The two grew up together, made childhood bows together; jumped hurdles together, hunted together, and did targets together.
“Yes”, he said to himself jumping out of bed, “Waruhiu is the man”
He quickly put on his lion skin gown, took his bow and arrows and his warrior’s sword. He hurriedly ran down the hill to Waruhiu’s ‘thingira’ and woke him up.
“Who is it?” Waruhiu inquired from inside grabbing his spear. “It’s Wahinya, just open up”
“Is everything OK, you sound furious” Waruhiu said raising his head to pick up every little sound in the quiet night. “No”, Wahinya said, “It is only some… a smell of blood” he said using the common expression for a pending war.
He told his friend the whole story and his impending plan. Waruhiu the man of action didn’t raise a question. Both of them had talked about the city before but not from this perspective. The story gripped Waruhiu’s wits and without a second thought he quickly dressed up. The two quietly matched out into the dark night towards river Guthera along the now gully filled and overgrown road that led to the mystery city.
At the river they sat down to thoughtfully sharpen their weapons on the smooth stones. They discussed their strategies in low tones. They decided to involve a few residents of the doomed city in the fight for freedom though they weren’t sure they could cooperate. They could be useful to lead the way to the seat of the fearful dragon.
As they pondered the possibility, Waruhiu recalled the old proverb; “He, who watches the wind, will never sow, and he who keeps an eye on the clouds will never reap”. “We better move on” he said to his comrade “We have no choice but to go; whether we have any support or not”.
In the dark hours of the morning the two stealthily crept into the small city unnoticed. The myth was that the dragon had supernatural powers that could detect any intruder no matter how secretive. It had royal guards who had been exonerated from its list of consumption and to whom he had distributed huge amounts of wealth. These were posted to guard on regular intervals.
Somehow, the two young men got past the first and second sentries unnoticed but before they made their way past the last one a guard just drifting to sleep caught sight of the strangers. They quickly dealt with him before he could raise any alarm.
They hurriedly mobilized the few who caught their vision though majority resisted out of fear of the deadly dragon.
“You are out of your minds” they said, “Get it loud and clear; you can never get out of this dungeon”.
At the dragon’s palace, guards were leisurely strolling about while others slept. They could hear the terrifying snores of the dragon meters away from the sleeping chamber. A trick was necessary.
Two of Wahinya’s allies were send to drum and sing wildly a hundred yards away. In a couple of minutes an excited and unsuspecting guards scurried to the site to explore this strange sight leaving the compound unguarded. Such a scene had never been witnessed or heard of before.
Wahinya and Waruhiu easily tiptoed to the dragons sleeping chambers. Surprisingly, two guards were still standing on the doorway chatting excitedly about the scenery outside. The two warriors would have escaped their notice if Waruhiu in anxiety didn’t stumble on a bone and roll over. The two guards simultaneously shot at him but he managed to escape crawling on his belly to a nearby room. There was no time to wait. Wahinya swiftly found his way into the sleeping monster’s chamber.
What a sight! He stopped on his tracks and his courage almost melted away. Never in his life had he imagined that he would come into contact with such a fearful monster. It was forty feet long and its bed was a twenty feet wide platform. Smoke rose out of its nostrils like a steam engine and the smell in the room was unbearable. It had scales all over the body and its toes were deadly swords smeared with blood. Two monstrous canines stuck out its mouth like tusks. Human bones were strayed all over the room and a few pieces of fresh flesh at its bedside, leftovers of a previous meal.a
A voice told Wahinya to flee for his dear life, but his mother’s words kept whispering to him; “Son, the future of that city lies in your hands”.
Trying a sword or spear on the dragon wasn’t the primary option at first. He quietly and courageously locked up the steel doors and set the room on fire.
Presumably the dragon had one of the heaviest meals the previous night because the fire burned and spread on its bed without a single stir. Wahinya knew that this was the opportune time. Like lightning in the sky he drove his razor sharp sword into the monsters belly. Hot blood gushed out spraying his face and body throwing him to the wall. In confusion the monster woke up causing the whole room to tremble. He rent out a cry that shook the entire palace. By then the fire was becoming unbearably hot. Wahinya chose two of his poisoned arrows and shot randomly. One of the arrows got through an opening on the scales to the heart. The second boomeranged. By now Wahinya was almost suffocating. He gathered all his waning strength, pulled open the door and jumped out. A jet of fresh air streamed in fanning on the fire and demobilizing the badly wounded dragon. It managed to hurl a bone at Wahinya driving it right into his right shoulder. He staggered to the compound where there was total confusion.
Everything was in total disarray. People were hurrying and scurrying about fighting each other. A few yards into the compound he found his faithful friend Waruhiu flat on the ground too wounded to rise to his feet. He only managed to whisper; “comrade go on ahead… but if I don’t make it, never forget my family”.
All over the place the entire town was stirring up to the realization of the fate of the fearful dragon. They all joined in unison setting every structure on fire. The uproar could be heard thousands of miles beyond ridges and valleys. Those who knew about the fateful city rallied behind each other into the battle field. Men of courage confronted the now dying monster and sprayed it with poisoned arrows. With one sweep of its tail it killed hundreds but it couldn’t hold on for long. It raised high up one more time but helplessly landed to the ground never to rise again.
Meanwhile, Wahinya lifted his friend to his shoulders and carried him all the way occasionally stopping to take a breath.
As the streaks of dawn crept into the earth, joyous crowds flocked the streets of the city singing and dancing celebrating the demise of the monster.
None of them noticed Wahinya and his comrade staggering homeward with painful and bleeding wounds. All Wahinya wanted was to see his aged mother and say the simple words, “It’s done mum”.
At river Guthera he lowered his friend and gave him some drink. Behind him shouts of joy echoed everywhere and clouds of smoke rose high into the morning air. In the first light of the morning he looked and saw his mother’s hut a far off illuminated by the sun. The window was still open and he knew that she was still there praying for him.
He grabbed his dying friend, hoisted him to his shoulders and tramped on.
There was never a happier village like his.
He went straight to his mother’s hut and without saying a word embraced her, his bulky bloody body almost enveloping hers completely. “Its done mama” he whispered, “it’s done”. “I know son”, she said letting out a long sigh of relief.
Waruhiu died a hero. Several months later, the streets and playgrounds in the village were filled with kids named after him and Wahinya.
Wahinya was honored as the new ruler of the small city and he named it after river Guthera meaning clean.
Children were again heard playing and singing in it but as always; very few remembered that heroic night of liberation.

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