Centino:
SEEING THINGS


The hawk spread its wings and owned the air. It glided through the night skies like the king it was – majestic in its presence as it reconnoitered their dark and chaotic dwelling. Actual nocturnal birds saw it and wondered. It was not the typical dark coloured nighthawk. It was the diurnal hawk, green, with twenty times the vision of man, that normally did its business in the day time. This one defied nature. It should struggle to see at that time, but you would not think so by the deftness of its flight. The feel of the night air on its beak and feathers was exquisite. The hawk was enjoying its flight.

But it was not supposed to.

It was a form it had not taken in decades. Indeed, it had not taken any form other than that of a homo sapien in decades. This outing was necessary to achieve an aim. Therefore it needed to rein itself in and return to the vantage position from the neighboring compound from where it should see when the boy attempted his stupidity and then do what it needed to do.

.

Centino:





“My son. Leave this matter. No be every time you will be boiling like cocoyam inside pot. Sometimes you have to keep quiet and do like mumu. I beg you make you learn this. Calm down. If you sabi only one tune, you no go fit dance till day break. ”