Thirst Trap

Ekow Manuar
1 min readApr 16, 2023

Let them come eat me. I will expose my body. My hands stretched to the very tips. My legs spread wide. I can sense them planning their move. Stalking from their corners. Hiding behind veiled masks. Contemplating.

They see my body splayed and vulnerable. They will come. They can not resist it. My gnash, delightfully puckered up. My thighs, free for the sinking of teeth. My eyes closed as in sleep.

I can sense it. They can not deny the opportunity. To penetrate my skin. That icky itch. To take from me what I can’t take from them. They are committed.

Slap!

Blood is smeared.

A body is crushed.

A grin cracks my face.

‘Next’ I think. Another and another whiz onto my body. Another and another are killed by my swift slapping action. One by one, I will kill all these mosquitoes this dumsor night.

Walayee Hashalala. No one can stop me.

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Ekow Manuar

The stories we tell have a life of their own and they work between the realm of what is real and how we conceive that reality.