From the manuscript of 'The Freemason and The boy' by Kwaku Atta Crayon.
Chapter Three.
A candle?
Yes, a candle. Burning its height to liquid white. And back to solid white wax again.
That's interesting. What else?
It's fire could not illuminate the dark. The room was dark. It emanated a beautiful and tiny smoke.
Smoke? Wait, did you say smoke? Did the smoke make romantic gestures to the darkness?
Yes, it was twisting its waist amorously in the dark like a dangerous stripper on a pole. And was dancing to the heavens. Wasting the candle off. It didn't mind. I mean the candle, the smoke didn't care about it. I watched its die. It was sad. What a romantic smoke could do to a gigantic candle, which stood perfectly erected and lighted, though its light was just not enough for the dark.
Hmmmm, go back to sleep son, when next you have such a strange dream, pray and forget about it all, for where the name of God is invoked, we trust no danger can ensue.
Though the boy retired to his side of the bed, sleep was not an option to consider. He had seen more in the dream than he had narrated to his father. He saw his dead mother and he saw the Freemason too. In what could not be clearly defined as a dialogue, he listened to the Freemason preach to his mother, salvation after death and baptism for the dead.
He abruptly recollected his encounter with the Freemason the previous day.
It was in the twilight of day. When the sun was fast nearing its rest in the west. It was strangely windy, but there were no signs of possible rainfall. It was usual of the boy, to sit under the mango tree on the other side of the road, opposite the Freemason's house.
He thought about his loving mother, about how he missed her warmth and how life could be with her. He, sometimes, thought he would have been in the university if his mother existed. The boy had planted his jaw in his palm and was unconsciously staring into the sky, thoughts. He was awakened from his stargaze by the horn of the Freemason's car. He drove the latest 4 × 4 fortuner, a 1999 model. The man had blown the horn as an alarm for entry into his house. His son, Karl, came to open the metallic gate. When Karl spotted the boy, he beckoned. His own way of greeting the boy, whom he has known all his life. The boy was three years older than Karl, but the boy was skinny and smallish. Sometimes it was jokingly said he didn't eat at home.
Mr. Otchere, the Freemason, decided to, for the first time in four years, talk to the boy, whom he saw every day in the same sitting posture under the mango tree, opposite his house. He gesticulated the boy's admission into his home.
At first the boy was nervous and thought of taking to his heels, but he gathered in himself some courage and made an involuntary and rather reluctant approach. The Freemason urged him to follow him upstairs. The boy was uneasy and it showed in his steps, on his face and was more confused in mind.
It was a rumour in the community that, Papa Lodge, (that was how the neighbours called the Freemason, though in his absence), sacrificed humans for his blood money. In one of the many scuttlebutt, it was said that he was responsible for the death of his mother in-law. Stories of this nature scared the boy as he ascended the winding staircase which led to the living room of the house.
After he had gained summit of the winding staircase, he arrived at the door of the hall, which he found opened. He was ushered in by Karl and was offered a seat on the sofa. The large sofa. It stretched from one end to the other of the room. The boy was taking a quick excursion of the pictures displayed on wall. He saw many portraits of Jesus Christ and that of the Freemason being ordained as a priest of the Anglican church. He was not sure of his eyes. He saw another. And this particular picture caught his interest. He stood from his seat and tip toed to the wall. He wanted to have a vivid view.
Yes, that was taken after my initiation into Freemasonry, Mr. Otchere said as he walks in from his bed room. He had changed into a casual wear with the writings; 'Jesus is the master of my home' printed boldly at the front, and at the back was 'On the level' with the all famous Masonic signs,the square and the compass.
The boy was tensed by the mention of the word 'initiation'. Initiation? Yes, my initiation in the lodge, I mean. Lodge?, the boy was sweating profusely. He didn't know what to think again of the moment and of the man. Of course, the Masonic lodge, the Freemason said.
Just by that picture hanged another of the Freemason. He was being baptized in a water. This was during my baptism in the Anglican church. Was that before your initiation? Yes, some 21years before my initiation. You can see it for yourself. I was a boy as at my baptism but already was a man at my initiation.
The boy was battling thoughts in his head. At the other half, he wondered if the Freemason was indeed as evil as the rumours surrounding him in the community, and the half of the stories the pictures and his shirt seemed to be telling him. "Papa Lodge is such a cool gentle man, God fearing and even an Anglican priest", the boy thought.
Come and dine with us. The Freemason invited the boy to a round table supper with his family. The Freemason instructed them to hold each other's hand while he said the Grace before meals. That was a powerful prayer, the boy thought. The boy was relieved of his fears and was no longer tensed. He felt very much at home. When every one had been refreshed, the Freemason ordered the boy to say the Grace after meals, which he did with some level of difficulties.
The Freemason, after the supper, employed the boy in a tete a tete under the summer hut in the lawns. It was a beautiful sky, adorned with little little stars and the moon was majestically governing the night. They talked about many things. About the boy's mother in particular. Her death and what actually was the cause.
She was a good woman. Though she was not a Christian, she believed in God and his son Jesus. The boy continued with how his mother's deaths had caused him his life.
Do you believe the Bible? The Freemason asked. Yes, I do but don't get the chance to read it often. Well, the Bible promises us of salvation and baptism for the dead.
Suddenly the lights went off and the place was thrown into darkness. The moon had mysteriously evanesced.
Karl brought them a candle and the Freemason lighted it up. The smoke was seen dancing sexually with the wind and towering into the heavens. It was a beautiful scene. A silly thought crossed the mind of the boy. A stripper stripping her way to God in heaven, he thought and smiled but only for a brief time.
............................
Cover Designed by Shika Nornoo
Watch out for the novel 'The Freemason and The Boy' by Kwaku Atta Crayon. (aka Oppong Clifford Benjamin)
Chapter Three.
A candle?
Yes, a candle. Burning its height to liquid white. And back to solid white wax again.
That's interesting. What else?
It's fire could not illuminate the dark. The room was dark. It emanated a beautiful and tiny smoke.
Smoke? Wait, did you say smoke? Did the smoke make romantic gestures to the darkness?
Yes, it was twisting its waist amorously in the dark like a dangerous stripper on a pole. And was dancing to the heavens. Wasting the candle off. It didn't mind. I mean the candle, the smoke didn't care about it. I watched its die. It was sad. What a romantic smoke could do to a gigantic candle, which stood perfectly erected and lighted, though its light was just not enough for the dark.
Hmmmm, go back to sleep son, when next you have such a strange dream, pray and forget about it all, for where the name of God is invoked, we trust no danger can ensue.
Though the boy retired to his side of the bed, sleep was not an option to consider. He had seen more in the dream than he had narrated to his father. He saw his dead mother and he saw the Freemason too. In what could not be clearly defined as a dialogue, he listened to the Freemason preach to his mother, salvation after death and baptism for the dead.
He abruptly recollected his encounter with the Freemason the previous day.
It was in the twilight of day. When the sun was fast nearing its rest in the west. It was strangely windy, but there were no signs of possible rainfall. It was usual of the boy, to sit under the mango tree on the other side of the road, opposite the Freemason's house.
He thought about his loving mother, about how he missed her warmth and how life could be with her. He, sometimes, thought he would have been in the university if his mother existed. The boy had planted his jaw in his palm and was unconsciously staring into the sky, thoughts. He was awakened from his stargaze by the horn of the Freemason's car. He drove the latest 4 × 4 fortuner, a 1999 model. The man had blown the horn as an alarm for entry into his house. His son, Karl, came to open the metallic gate. When Karl spotted the boy, he beckoned. His own way of greeting the boy, whom he has known all his life. The boy was three years older than Karl, but the boy was skinny and smallish. Sometimes it was jokingly said he didn't eat at home.
Mr. Otchere, the Freemason, decided to, for the first time in four years, talk to the boy, whom he saw every day in the same sitting posture under the mango tree, opposite his house. He gesticulated the boy's admission into his home.
At first the boy was nervous and thought of taking to his heels, but he gathered in himself some courage and made an involuntary and rather reluctant approach. The Freemason urged him to follow him upstairs. The boy was uneasy and it showed in his steps, on his face and was more confused in mind.
It was a rumour in the community that, Papa Lodge, (that was how the neighbours called the Freemason, though in his absence), sacrificed humans for his blood money. In one of the many scuttlebutt, it was said that he was responsible for the death of his mother in-law. Stories of this nature scared the boy as he ascended the winding staircase which led to the living room of the house.
After he had gained summit of the winding staircase, he arrived at the door of the hall, which he found opened. He was ushered in by Karl and was offered a seat on the sofa. The large sofa. It stretched from one end to the other of the room. The boy was taking a quick excursion of the pictures displayed on wall. He saw many portraits of Jesus Christ and that of the Freemason being ordained as a priest of the Anglican church. He was not sure of his eyes. He saw another. And this particular picture caught his interest. He stood from his seat and tip toed to the wall. He wanted to have a vivid view.
Yes, that was taken after my initiation into Freemasonry, Mr. Otchere said as he walks in from his bed room. He had changed into a casual wear with the writings; 'Jesus is the master of my home' printed boldly at the front, and at the back was 'On the level' with the all famous Masonic signs,the square and the compass.
The boy was tensed by the mention of the word 'initiation'. Initiation? Yes, my initiation in the lodge, I mean. Lodge?, the boy was sweating profusely. He didn't know what to think again of the moment and of the man. Of course, the Masonic lodge, the Freemason said.
Just by that picture hanged another of the Freemason. He was being baptized in a water. This was during my baptism in the Anglican church. Was that before your initiation? Yes, some 21years before my initiation. You can see it for yourself. I was a boy as at my baptism but already was a man at my initiation.
The boy was battling thoughts in his head. At the other half, he wondered if the Freemason was indeed as evil as the rumours surrounding him in the community, and the half of the stories the pictures and his shirt seemed to be telling him. "Papa Lodge is such a cool gentle man, God fearing and even an Anglican priest", the boy thought.
Come and dine with us. The Freemason invited the boy to a round table supper with his family. The Freemason instructed them to hold each other's hand while he said the Grace before meals. That was a powerful prayer, the boy thought. The boy was relieved of his fears and was no longer tensed. He felt very much at home. When every one had been refreshed, the Freemason ordered the boy to say the Grace after meals, which he did with some level of difficulties.
The Freemason, after the supper, employed the boy in a tete a tete under the summer hut in the lawns. It was a beautiful sky, adorned with little little stars and the moon was majestically governing the night. They talked about many things. About the boy's mother in particular. Her death and what actually was the cause.
She was a good woman. Though she was not a Christian, she believed in God and his son Jesus. The boy continued with how his mother's deaths had caused him his life.
Do you believe the Bible? The Freemason asked. Yes, I do but don't get the chance to read it often. Well, the Bible promises us of salvation and baptism for the dead.
Suddenly the lights went off and the place was thrown into darkness. The moon had mysteriously evanesced.
Karl brought them a candle and the Freemason lighted it up. The smoke was seen dancing sexually with the wind and towering into the heavens. It was a beautiful scene. A silly thought crossed the mind of the boy. A stripper stripping her way to God in heaven, he thought and smiled but only for a brief time.
............................
Cover Designed by Shika Nornoo
Watch out for the novel 'The Freemason and The Boy' by Kwaku Atta Crayon. (aka Oppong Clifford Benjamin)
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