Margaret with the Neck

Before I begin permit me to say this in peace and don't judge please. I stopped being a gent when my mental strength tested and failed with immense stress by a female guest. Her name was Margaret and it was on twenty first of September, I first intercepted her at a deserted boulevard looking depressed with wet eye sockets.

Minding my own business I intended to progress without acknowledging her presence, but her particularly worn out countenance kept my conscience fresh.

"Hello miss, I notice the earth and its surface hasn't blessed you good today it seems," I say to her, knowing deep down I didn't give a damn. But just two seconds in, I’m swamped by pity and drawn into her realm. She educates me about her plights and traumas, and apparently not even based in Africa, karma relocated her to yonder forever.

The next ten minutes had me feverish. As she recounted her impoverished history, all my senses started to retreat. She was good willed but her actions deceived and wearing her heart on her sleeve, I was spared no details as she made me believe her side of the story was legit.

But perceiving us conversing in person was becoming too serial, I showed initiative. I told her I was nameless with two initials, but my friends call me Flames cause I have a burning desire to weight lift. I want the world on my shoulders, but back to her.

During the winter solstice she crafted poetry pieces hoping in the lyrics she'll find solace. But she was banned from being creative. Born and raised without a deity, she learnt without literacy and grew up native.

Shooed and raced in and out of orphanages, her shoelace had in place, dirt from different states through various stages of her life's phases. And she had no friends. She had come to terms with the fact that only the voices upstairs in her head cared about her fears.

Under the tent of her seventh parents, she was teased from right to left about the length her head stretched. One day at a morning shift she saw a beautiful dress and went ahead to try if it fit. A random miss spotted her and alerted the other hers, and they began to shout "all hail Maggi the wannabe superstar" and she broke to tears swearing on her hair that one day destiny would make amends and give her revenge. The random her was Aretha and frankly she just wanted respect. She felt making jest of someone else's predicament would get the other girls to clap their hands, but she ended up being a knucklehead.

Back in real life, I checked my time and realized I was late by two miles and if I wasted anymore hours I'll be in for a surprise. I told her a sublime lie about me not having a dime, but she sighed and said my attention was more important in changing her life than any paper my generosity could rise. I said fine. I have somewhere to be but you can tag along my journeys family tree and wage me your tragedies. But please be snappy cause my attention has a limit. With a nose sniff she proceeds.

In search of greatness she became less afrocentric as she crossed borders to be with her great niece. Apparently babysitting could give her ugly and downward career a facelift. Her niece was Dorothy, a then newborn daughter of her aunty. She particularly loved Dorothy and liked to hold her in her arms; her diminutive nature helped her put her woes into perspective and comforted her grief. One day, a week into her stay, at the early evening her aunty asked her to prepare herself for a meeting, saying she should dress pretty, befitting of the presence of a king.

That was how the story got messy.

The meeting was attended by Daddy Leo; a man old enough to be her father, asking her to do things that could only be done by someone old enough to be her mother. And her aunty, who was supposed to be a mother figure, was only concerned about the figure the situation would bring forth. Margaret cared only about her future, and dreaded what had to be done. But she acted as though she wasn’t sure of what was being mentioned. Her aunt reminded her that she really didn’t have any other option, except she wanted to return to her former life of torture. And also, if a Baby Leo situation ever occurred, she could always resolve to abortion.

As it turned out, Margaret was good at her new job, cause her customer base became the largest after a month. And word had spread that she was particularly good with her head. Though she didn’t talk much, her orals were the best. It was during her market boom that a new boy occupied the next room. His name was Jesús, a hispanic who had also escaped doom. Over time Jesús and Margaret grew quite fond of each other but were not exactly brother and sister. Jesús had feelings for Maggi and she knew, which brought about a whole new experience for the two.

He asked her for advice, she told him what to do and gave him an extra head. This blew his mind and he fell in love to the death. Maggi asked ‭Jesús to come to her room by 9pm later one night, that she had a surprise that would blow his mind.

By 9pm, she heard a knock at her door. She asked the person to proceed and Daddy Leo walked in. He seemed particularly eager to get to business. As he started to get down, another knock came at the door and it caused Daddy Leo to frown. The door opened immediately and ‭Jesús walked in excitedly. Daddy Leo was instantly disgusted, asking Maggi who she thought she was for him to be insulted. As he was yelling, Maggi picked up a sharp tool from a side stool and slammed it into his temple. He instantly went cold blue.

Unknowingly to her, her customer had a body alarm that went off when he was harmed and suddenly everything went HAM. Before two minutes siren noises became vivid.

When the cops came, they met Margaret and Jesús. “Freeze!” the cops yelled.

Margaret skipped the details of the arrest, but said the cops arrested the guilty one and the person cried every night in the cell. She also said her aunt came to the scene, and out of anger, attacked her with a knife that cut through her skin.

Back in real life, Margaret asked me to hold her bag for a while, as she showed me a scar left by the knife. I collected the bag and she began to raise her skirt up, exposing her thighs. As this happened, before a minute siren noises became vivid. As the cars skidded to a halt around us, Maggi pulled me closer with my hands so close to her as though I was checking her pulse.

When the cops came, it went haywire again. “Freeze!” they yelled. They said I was under arrest for theft, and I should raise my hands above my head without any argument. Immediately, Margaret began to weep, saying I was about to frame her for a deed she didn’t commit.

The cops dragged me into their car and I was left to tears.

But just before the cops drove away, I asked Margaret one last time;

“If you weren’t at the cell all those nights, who was the person that cried?”

She looked at me, and with a cynical smile replied, “John 11:35.”