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It wasn't supposed be this way. Nothing was. She was supposed to live a normal life, an ordinary story but fate had other plans.  Taken from the life and people she knew and loved, thrust into a world she believed not to be real, into a world of blood, slavery, pain and death, will Imani find a way out and back to her loved ones or will she find something new and unexpected along the way. This story contains blood, heavy gore, graphic scenes and depictions of slavery, abuse and trauma, all of which may not be suitable for all audiences. 18+ Read at your own risk.

Horror / Fantasy
Uzomah Chelsea .N.
Age Rating:


©2021 Uzomah Nmesomachukwu Chelsea
Genres: Werewolf, fantasy, thriller, suspense, horror

This book is copyrighted. All offenders will be prosecuted by law.

Steal my stuff and I will find you.


The morning was cold; the sun had not fully risen yet. The sky was only streaked in wisps of orange and yellow that signaled the sun’s soon arrival. I felt the chill because someone had left the window wide open. From it, I could see the path of small breezes that blew by, the movement of the grass and leaves giving their position dead away. I could also see the formidable forest that lay beyond the open fields. I was not bothered though, the view was nice and familiar. I liked the cold sometimes and adored the wonderful peace that sometimes accompanied it each morning
I was in bed just appreciating it when someone shouted at the top of their lungs, effectively shattering the amazing calm. “Miola come down here and help me with this!”
That, someone, was my cousin, Clarissa. I would not say she was my cousin per se. She was my cousin’s husband’s niece’s daughter. And since there was not a title for that I just mentioned her as my cousin when anyone asked.
My actual cousin, Thea, was okay with that and so was her husband, Ramos.
Clarissa’s mother, Ramos’ niece died when she was three years old. Neither mother or daughter had any siblings and Ramos’s younger sister and her husband had passed few years before.
Clarissa’s father refused to care for her, said that he wanted nothing to do with her and anything that reminded him of the past a.k.a his dead first wife who he never wanted, cared for or loved, and daughter who he never wanted as well and repeatedly kept saying things would have been completely different if she had turned out a boy.
The statements earned him a trip to the hospital and a stay for over a month and Ramos, unfortunately, in jail for a week. Thea and Ramos had no other option than to take her in and they were happy they did. At least someone was happy.
“Miola! Get down here!” Clarissa shouted again. I am very sure some just birds flew out of their nests.
“Clarissa, Miola is not coming down here to help you with anything. You are doing your work yourself. Stop screaming like a banshee and do it quietly.” Natalya said. Her voice, much quieter than Clarissa’s but still loud and recognizably stern enough to clearly hear the command in it.
She, just like I did, enjoyed the early morning quiet.
“She is supposed to be here helping me-I mean us with the chor-” Clarissa could not complete her words. Her voice had gone down significantly but it was too late to restore the quiet. It was ruined.
“She has a broken leg and three fractured ribs, Clarissa. She needs to rest. Now stop your yammering and get on with it. We still have a lot to do before people start going about properly.” Natalya concluded, leaving no room for discussion. Clarissa did not say another word but she did stump around.
The footsteps she heard told me someone was coming towards the room Clarissa and I shared. The door opened to reveal Natalya. Her extremely curly brown hair tied in a messy bun behind her head, some loose strands coming to her face. She brushed some of them behind her ear with her right hand. Her grey eyes looked at me with care and worry.
Natalya was Thea and Ramos’ first daughter. She was thirty years old. Eight years older than Clarissa and ten years older than me. She had two sons, twins, that were barely six whom she treasured so much after her husband’s death two years ago.
Her husband, Patrick, was a good man, nice too, with hair as straight as Natalya’s was curled, brown eyes and a bit of a crooked smile. He had a good eye for enterprise and became well off, he showered his family with luxuries, us included. Ramos and Thea were so happy and thankful that they made the match.
Everything was going splendidly until Patrick set out for a meeting in the nearest city and did not come back for a whole three months.
Natalya was a mess wondering where he was, sending out people to look for him, asking around, even going to the Sheriff of the city Patrick had set-off to.
Three weeks later, the Sheriff came back to tell her that they’d found Patrick half buried several miles away from the city stripped of his clothes, money and fingers.
Natalya went into shock and since she was in no state to identify the body, Ramos went instead. He came back in solemn and in tears and with confirmation that it was Patrick. There was no way to explain the blanket of grief that covered us that day. A week later Patrick’s body was recovered and buried in the town cemetery. It was a closed casket ceremony. Natalya was still in shock and the doctor said she might not come out of it. Another blow to the family.
Before Patrick was a week in the ground, some fellows, about six of them, claiming to be his city friends came demanding money, said Patrick had taken a loan from them for an enterprise that had not even begun, threatened to take all he owned too. Ramos already had his machete out, and the men had their swords. With all the red on his face and the evident fury in his eyes there would have been blood. Or worse.
Thank goodness both Sheriffs was there at the time, they were investigating what happened to Patrick. They diffused the situation and questioned the men.
The filthy snakes claimed Patrick gambled and drank a lot, asking for their help on such occasions which they happily gave because he always reimbursed them in multiple folds. They claimed he borrowed a substantial amount for an enterprise, a staggering twenty-five thousand gold and three thousand silver coins. That was more money than my ears had ever heard off. That was more money than anyone this side of the kingdom had heard of. It was unheard off. Unbelievable.
Something was off with their story though. Patrick never drank, even when other men his age did. Even when Ramos invited him for a pint or two. He always said he could not. Even Doctor Owen said he could not. Something he said about his body not able to take half a thimble full of the stuff, that drinking that much could potentially kill him.
And Patrick was never good at things like gambling and betting, he had the most rotten luck when it came to that and with Patrick being the sensible sort, he stirred clear away from it.
More investigations by the sheriffs revealed that Patrick never dealt with gold coins. The highest amount he had ever handled was just below five hundred silver coins. That was still a very high amount but nothing close to what those men had called.
All three men cried wolf and said they would bring the Grasté city court into it if we just did not hand over the money. The Sheriff of said city did just that and after a close look at records kept the six in jail for debt and embezzlement. A little more digging in and possible torture, they confessed to killing Patrick and multiple other business men. They thought they could get something from his family if they played around with the same trick they had used all their criminal lives, being friends he owed. That still did not explain why they took his fingers. They offered no explanation for that.
They were hanged and buried in the prison yard.
Natalya had been recovering from it all, staying with us those eight long months helped greatly. We were all happy to see emotion in her eyes again.
“How are you Miola?” She asked, closing the door behind her.
“I am fine Natalya, how are the boys?” I asked, trying to keep my morning breath down.
“Bounding around like calves in the open field.” She smiled. “They are doing fine.” Her smile faltered. “If only Patrick could see them.”
“I am sure he would be happy with what you have done so far.” I said trying to lift her spirits. “How are you holding up with Clarissa?” I asked, knowing all too well what her answer would be.
At that moment her mood changed.
“I can’t believe she is still this way up till now, it is like I am dealing with a bossy, selfish, self-centered eight year old all over again. She really hasn’t matured at all. I can’t believe we all have to deal with this until she gets married.” She said exasperated.
The sunlight had grown in strength now, orange had turned into bright yellow, and quickly got to work warming me up.
“That’s going to be a tough one.” I said, gently laughing so I would not cause myself more pain. Clarissa had set her bar particularly high. “She said will not settle for anything less than a count.”
“She’s living in a fantasy then.” She scuffed, getting up from the bed. She turned to me. “I will go get your bath ready.”

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