Dancing With The Masquerade

Rage consumed Kasiemobi Ejindu as she marched, jerrycan of fuel in one hand, matchbox in the other. Her heart pounded, fueling her resolve. She’d always been the dutiful daughter, quiet and compliant, but no more. This was too much.

“Kasie, where are you going?” Her mother’s voice, laced with dread, came from behind her, Uncle Chimdi beside her. Kasiemobi didn’t stop. “I’m going to do what someone in this family should have done years ago.”

Her steps quickened as she neared the rusted gate. The dreadful hut, made of brown clay with a faded zinc roof, stood before her, an embodiment of pure evil. She unlocked the gate, rushed in, and began pouring the fuel, the acrid scent filling the air.

“Kasie, what are you doing? Please, think about this first.” Her younger sister, Jachi, pleaded, standing at a safe distance with the rest of the family. Kasiemobi ignored their fear. “No, there’s nothing more to think about. This is going to save us all. The elders are too scared.”

As she emptied the jerrycan, she pulled out a matchstick, ready to light it. “Kasie, no!” Her mother cried, eyes wide with terror. But Kasiemobi saw him then, behind Uncle Chimdi, the one person whose faint smile felt like encouragement. That was all she needed.

She lit the matchstick. “Please understand, this is the only way.” As her mother begged, Kasiemobi turned to the hut. The dark figure of the masquerade, the one that had haunted her life, stood within, daring her. “Go to hell,” she declared, throwing the lit match. The flames erupted, engulfing the structure.

A profound sense of liberation washed over her. This was her fight, and it was just the beginning.