REAL SCENTS

I could smell the lie from afar off. It was a potpourri of flavours and scents - lime, ginger, turmeric, apple, hibiscus, and mango. It was designed to draw you in, and entice you into forgetting what you were looking for, albeit vaguely, like a man waking from sleep. It was designed to make you forget.

I do not know how to forget, neither do I know how to deny those who are mine - cords knotted together by those who are the stuff of myth. But these people forget, they're always in a hurry. I sometimes wonder how their souls cope with the unhurried pace of the netherworld. They have no patience here, everyone is hurrying, everyone is hustling and they're all angry.

It is a sweet form of blindness. They do not see what is in front of them, nor can they tell apart the fake from the original, not even the ones that are designated 'experts'. They fear what they do not see and assign emotions to what is not human. They are an intelligent lot though, they try to use their practicalities to solve unanswered questions and their curious minds spell their doom, sometimes.

The lie smelled good, a professional one, and I wondered who its mark was. Humans are gullible, you know. And then it saw me.

"I do not quarrel with you. Allow me to do my job, and I'll be on my merry way."

I scoffed, "As if. State your business and then leave this place."

"The world doesn't belong to you child, it does not uphold your virtues, your tenets anymore. You are fighting for a lost cause." It began to change forms. Lies, like their verbal selves, are sweet to look upon and to hear, but underneath all that silver is a thick, slimy black, a rotten river that threatens to swallow all that is good and true. This one was no exception and its true form was intimidating.

"You don't scare me. I have faced down much bigger evils than you. You will leave this place now and take your rot with you. These people are gullible enough without your added presence."

"But you are afraid. It smells delicious, your fear. You are trying to hide it beneath this thin layer of bravado. Perhaps, I'll woo you instead." It slithered towards me on smoky tendrils, slowly rendering itself into the face of a man I knew. A man I had loved to distraction. I felt cold at once.

That was when I opened my eyes to see Aunt Amaka standing over my head, an empty bucket in her hands and a pensive look on her face.

The End?

You guys!

I don't think I have written anything like this before. Anyway, I am in the middle of an emotional spiral, so the words are not coming together like before. I apologize for not uploading for a while, I'm adjusting to a new life (of sorts) but I'll be back to posting stories regularly soon.

What do y'all think of this one?

And that picture up there belongs to Skyler Ewing on Pexels.