The Red Clay: Part Two ©

OK it's 3 am and here is the Sex Talk some of you asked for and if there is any typos tough, I'm half asleep, horny am off to bed alone and I got a wedding in the morning where there is going to be 900 people from what I am told, it should be interesting.

So if I post part two now there won’t be no more complaining, right?
NOOOOOOO, don’t you read on until you go down there and tell me yes.
I trust you.

The slave traders hid in the bushes watching the villagers eating, drinking and dancing around all night waiting for the moment they could jump out and capture them.
Jonas was their leader; this is how he made his money, in the selling of human flesh and any precious artefacts he could pillage from the villages he decimated.
He held his people back to let the villagers get tired and drunk then pounce on then while they were off guard and take them with little resistance.

With his binoculars he scanned the village making notes in his head and calculating how much money he will get for each one of them when he sold them in Lagos.
He had left Britain a wanted man because of their anti slavery stance and operated out of Lagos but the British still patrolled the waters off the coast of Africa looking for ships transporting slaves to the Americas.
With the next shipment he figured he could take what money he made and had saved then buy a nice state in the Americas and live like a king, maybe like the King of England himself.
As he watched he saw a young couple get up and walk off towards a cluster of huts.
The woman was beautiful; she would fetch a nice price if he didn’t keep her for himself or maybe he would just keep her for the trip across the ocean and then sell her when he was done with her.
Putting the glasses away he sat down to wait for dawn’s early light before they strike.
They will go in before they could get to their wits and put up a fight.
The idea would be to limit the casualties and increase the profits, it’s all about the profits.

The witch doctor was the first one to emerge from his hut like he did every day.
He stood out in front breathing in the fresh are and clearing the drink from the night before out of his head.
He was proud of Thilivhali and regarded him like the son he never had.
While standing outside in the fresh air he started feeling uneasy, there was something wrong and he couldn’t put his finger on it.
Walking out more and closer to the edge of the jungle he stood there listening, there was no sound, none.
The birds should be singing at this time of the morning and the chatter of the monkeys should be heard throuout but there was nothing but silence.
He walked closer to the edge and just them a man jumped up and brough a machete down on him cutting his chest wide open, he turned to go away but he fell right there on the ground.
As he lay there he could hear the yells of the slavers as they charged through the bushes and the screams of the villagers as they were being attacked in their beds, killed or beaten.

His eyes opened to a dark sky with the stars high about winking down on him.
He tried to get up but a sharp pain in his head sent him realing back to the ground once more.
Turning his head to its side he scanned the area looking for any movement but all he saw was the darkness of night so he rolled over on his stomach and started to crawl to his feet, fighting the nausea building up inside him the whole time.
Stumbling to his feet he grasped at the side of a hut but missed falling back to the ground with a thud passing out once more.

She was brought to a cloth covered hut and shoved inside, she got up and ran to the opening once more but was thrown violently back in.
She was laying there naked on the floor when Jonas walked in ten minutes later with the smell of something on his breath.
Shivering with cold and fear she lay there on the ground, all their clothes were left at the village when they were marched out.
Jonas took a long draw from his bottle then reached down to touch her face but she slapped his hand away.
Jonas laughed out loud before he took another drink from the bottle.
Her screams could be heard through the jungle for most of the night until they died off to a whisper, or was that the wind crying in the night.

It was pitch back when he opened his eyes once more.
Was it the same day or was he dead and this is the new home of his forefathers?
A breeze swept over his body giving him a busrt of energy to get up.
Once more he rolled on his stomach and pushed himself up with the aid of the hut until he was hugging a corner.
His head still hgurt but not with the same intensity as before.
The night was dark and with no moon in the sky he couldn’t see a thing or any one.
For the first time in his life Thilivhali felt alone in the world, he didn’t know if his father was alive.
The last thing he saw was his father being beaten to the ground by strangers, probably and invasding tribe but their leader was different, he was white.
Thilivhali started venturing away from the hut but his ears where alert, listening for any sounds.
Mentally he tried to remember where every hut was in the village and made his way to his hut.
When he got to his hut he called for Ada, hoping to have her fly into his arms but no one came, no one called out to him.
He stumbled back out of the hut and started screaming Ada’s name to the night sky and waited for a response but none came.
Frantically he walked through the night calling out the names of those he has loved all his life and nothing called back to him but his own voice.
Reality started creeping into his head and he started to run screaming Ada’s name the whole time and was running full speed when he tripped over something and went flying through the air and came crashing to the ground.

He started to stir by mid morning and got to his feet once more.
Turning he looked back to see what he had tripped on and that’s when he saw the body of his father, he had almost been cut in half.
Endless memories of his father rushed through his head, gripping his heart with a tight fist of pain.
The tears flowed from him as he lay over the still body of the man responsible for his existance on this earth.
Slowly he stood up once more and went to a nearby hut and came back and covered his father with a blanket.

He walked through t he village and counted 23 bodies so far out of about 200 villagers that were there.
As bad as it looked, this was a good thing because he didn’t see Ada’s body or that of his mother and sisters or brother among the ones he had found.
He didn’t find the witchdocors body either so he may have helped some escape and was taking care of then even now as he looked for them.

He decided to go to the witchdoctor’s hut and get some medicine to put on the gaping wound on the side of his head that the white man gave him when he confronted him.
He still didn’t understand the weopon he used but understood how deadly it was.
Stepping through the opening of the witchdoctors hut he slipped on something and fell to the floor.
Putting his hand down to push himself up off the ground he felt the wetness beneath him and upon looking at his hand he could see it was blood.
Crawling the rest of the way into the hut he saw the witchdoctor propped up against the inside wall of the hut and he was still alive.
Rushing to his mentors side he looked at the slash across his chest and immediately went to work on the old man.
As soon as he had him bandaged up he picked him up and placed him on his bed then started building a fire to make something for them to eat.

While the pot was cooking he went out and started putting the bodies of the dead into the main hut where the elders used togather for meetings.
After almost two hours he had all the bodies in but one.
Going to his hut he gathered up his lion skin from the day before, came back and wrapped his father in it before carrying him to the hut and placed him inside the door.
He then went back outside to the witchdoctor’s hut to find the witchdoctor out of his bed and on the floor there he had found him digging into the ground with his bare hands at the same spot where his blood had soaked into.
Thilivhali ran to him trying to pick him up but the old man shoved him aside and picked up the blood soaked clay in his hands and started molding it into a form.
Thilivhali not knowing what to do stepped back and sat on his haunches and watched what the old man was doing.

When the witchdoctor had finished what he was doing he tried to get up but didn’t have the strenth to do it so Thilivhali slowly went to him and helped him up and brought him back to the bed.
The old man lay back into the bed and held out the clay figure to him and told him to throw it in the fire.
Thilivhali did as he was asked, and then the witchdoctor told him to bring him his pouch and to sit down in front of him.
Giving the pouch to the witchdoctor Thilivhali then sat down in front of him as instructed.
The witchdoctor opened the pouch and pulled out a vulture’s head and held it to his chest and started chanting to himself.
Thilivhali listened closely and he knew that the old man was conjouring up a demon because the the nature of the item he was cletching and the dark spell he was chanting.
The wind outside began to pick up and it was beginging to get hotter inside the hut as well.
Reaching into the pouch once more the witchdoctor took out a folded leaf and opened it exposing a powder.
Still chanting he tossed the powder into the fire and watched as the flames shot up into the air.
He told Thilivhali to get him the clay figure from the fire and to bring it to him quickly.
Thilivhali using two sticks drew the glowing figure from the heart of the fire and dropped it next to the old man to cool down.
Without fear the old man bent down and picked up the red hot clay figure and pulled it to his chest, his flesh was scortched for the intense heat.

The old man looked to Thilivhali and told him he was going to die and when he does, he was to take the clay figure and give it to the man who did this to them.
He or who ever steals the figure after that will suffer the witchdoctor’s curse to forever pay for their greed with blood.
The witchdoctor held out the figure with both hands to Thilivhali and as he took it the old man grabbed his hands.
Just then a hot wind burst through the hut and all around the village setting all the huts on fire.
Thilivhali got to his feet and ran outside while the hut he was in, his village were engulfed in flames.
Grabbing his spear outside the hut he ran for the jungle and only slowed down to look one last time at his father as the hut burst into flames.

The snap of the whip sent moans and screams from the long line of people being herded down the trail.
Ada stumbled along behind lost in her mind, no one can touch her there, there she is happy and in Thilivhali arms, safe and away from this nightmare.
She walked along down the path following the survivors of her village, heading to their fate, she stumbled and fell but the crack of the whip made her move as quick as she could get to her feet.
As she was getting up she looked to the back trail and she could see a colomn of smoke rising in the distant sky.
Where was Thilivhali?


To be continued ………..

Not to worry Angel, the Sex Talk will be here soon, I’ll even put dancing in it just for you.

Have a nice weekend


Walker