Illusions Of Freedom

1.

Tonight, we are birds. Folarin has chosen the form of a nightjar while I have gone with my favorite form, that of a barn owl. Tonight, we spread our wings and tour the night sky. We fly above the clouds, to a place beyond judgement and hatred. Tonight, we are free.

2.

By day, we are prisoners of self. We are conscious of the watching eyes and pointing fingers. There is too much attention on us. We cannot take off the human flesh that drags us down and whisper our tired selves into the form of a free creature. By day, we are not free.

3.

It is a terrible thing to be marked by the eyes of the world.

It is known, in this village, that witches are the only ones capable of changing their shape and there is a standing rule concerning witches: they are burnt at the stake.

Folarin and I were careless one night. We slipped back into our human forms while a hunter watched. He alerted everyone in the village. Since then, suspicious eyes have followed us everywhere. They want to see us slip into another form, to confirm what the hunter said. So we have been more careful. To confirm what they have heard would be as good as signing our own death warrants.

There are many who believe that the lifeblood of those like us possesses magical qualities. These people watch and hound us as well, waiting for us to let our guard down, so they might creep up on us in the dark, a sharp knife ready to reap our souls.

Thus far, we have evaded them. We are still free.

4.

The second reason why we are watched is because we have found love in the most unlikely of places. Our love is frowned upon by the people of this cruel world. Our love is called an abomination. They watch us, grinding their teeth, waiting for the day they can feed our bodies to the fire.

These people—our people—believe in the cleansing power of fire. They burn haunted houses, rapists, witches and abominations. In their eyes, what I share with Folarin is a stain on their collective white garment that can only be washed away by the flames.

Two girls were once caught making love by the river bank. They were marched into the village by the people and pelted with rotting fruits.  The hearing was brief. The judgement was predictable: death by burning.

A priestess from the cult of Oshun, the goddess of purity, presided over the burning. I was there with Folarin. He wouldn’t look at me; we had argued on the way. He wanted us to change shape and save the girls somehow but I refused. Folarin was younger than I am and rarely thought of consequences.

The priestess said a prayer of cleansing and made a motion with her hand. There was a collective intake of breath from the onlookers as the terrified girls were set on fire. I shut my eyes but their agonized screams pierced my heart. Folarin's hand found mine and I squeezed it reassuringly.

That night, we ran into the fields and chose the form of snakes. I became a king cobra that night and Folarin was a brooding viper. He turned his cold reptilian eyes to me sometime during the night and spoke in his hissing voice and I could hear the worry in his voice.

“Tolu, promise me we won't end up like that. Promise me.”

I looked at him, at the love of my life, curled up and anxious in a barren field under the night sky. I couldn't give a reassuring smile as a snake so I just touched my mouth to his.

“I promise, my love.” I hissed. “Someday, we will leave and never return. Someday, we will be free.”

5.

We know how this will end. It is like a play we have seen too many times. There is no plot twist that can take us by surprise.

The both of us have made our decisions. Folarin has chosen me and I have chosen survival. I will do whatever it takes to keep us safe. Tonight, we are free. We are birds, singing of freedom from the sky. We will shed our wings and feathers and slip back into our bodies before the sunrise.  We will kiss each other goodbye and go home. We will endure the stares and whispers and pointing fingers. And at night, we will meet again and decide on which form to take.

We will do this over and over. And maybe one day the knife that walks through the dark will find our hearts. But before that happens, we will witness these semblances of freedom each night, as long as we can.

Before we die, we will live.

© 2021 Oluwatomiwa Ajeigbe

About the Author

Oluwatomiwa Ajeigbe is a writer of speculative fiction and poetry and a reluctant math undergrad. He has work forthcoming in Star*Line, The Future Fire, Fantasy Magazine and elsewhere. He lives in Lagos, Nigeria.