Grief Child

It was midnight. The little village of Susa slept in darkness in the heart of the forest farms among the tall trees. The mahoganies and sapeles stood tall in the dark sky, providing a canopy over the village and deepening the density of this pitch-black night. The dying moon had done her job earlier on by providing faint light to the children who played in her glow and later listened to stories from their grandmothers.Now, after roaming about in the trees awhile, the moon was far behind the mammoth mountain. The children of Susa snored in their mothers’ bosoms.Adu turned in his bed, coughed slightly, and threw his hands about. He was a child of Susa-the village-and he too had been snoring. When he turned, his right hand fell heavily on his little sister’s face. Yaa woke up, frightened. Who had hit her? It was her big brother again. This was one thing she hated about him. Adu didn’t know how to sleep. He was always restless in bed and disturbed her own sound sleep. At ten years, she felt she was old enough to have her own bed but Birago, their mother, wouldn’t hear of it. She had not only put them in one bed but had even put the bed in her room. ’You children need watching over,’ she told them.Yaa took the heavy hand from her face and flung it back to its owner. The sudden gesture woke twelve-year-old Adu. He grumbled an insult and stretched full length on his side of the wooden bed which creaked noisily in the silence. As he began to doze again, the little village of Susa slept on.From a distant cluster of neighboring villages, Adu heard a dog bark. Another dog howled. He ignored them. In this village, midnight was a dangerous time. It was better not to be awake or to hear noises.