The More You Look, The Deeper You Sink

The More You Look, The Deeper You Sink

Our choir leader was as spiritual as one could imagine, body, spirit and soul. He was a man devoted to his choir but I think he took spirituality too far.

“That was how the devil got in . . .”

Read: My Uncle’s Dead Baby that Did Not Die

It was 5 O’clock that evening, the usual time for choir practice. There were the early birds already seated on white plastic chairs inside the church. Our choir leader was standing on the altar, talking with a queer little man holding a guitar, a man he would later introduce to us as King.

Everybody liked King immediately. He had such a rich deep perfect tenor that brought the heavens down when he sang.

After choir practice, our choir leader told us King had something to say to us.

For twenty or thirty minutes, I think, King spoke to us of sanctification, righteousness and paradise. He was so eloquent and charismatic, no one wanted him to stop.

He promised us he would come again.

And so he did. Every Wednesday at 5 0’clock, we met him at church.

He was highly spiritual; our choir leader respected him a lot.

King knew a great deal of The Prophecies. He told us how the POTUS was not the Anti-Christ but a mere forerunner. He said many things against the Roman Catholic church. Oh, he told us so many deep and exciting things that stirred up our spirits and captivated our minds.

He also had gifts of various kinds, he could tell you what wrong you’d done before you came for choir practice, and he was always right!

But . . .

I started getting uncomfortable when the one hour allotted for choir practice was gradually reduced to twenty minutes and then less.

No other person seemed to mind as King always had something captivating to say.

His messages weren’t always peaceful, sometimes, he grew very aggressive (claiming the Holy Ghost had descended heavily upon him) and once threatened to break a bottle on the head of a boy who was not paying attention.

Other times he had bouts of, I don’t know, something strange, that his whole body shook violently, foaming heavily in the mouth while speaking to us in a voice that sounded as though there were three people speaking to us instead!

He soon replaced the names of “God” “Jesus” and “Holy Spirit” with “The Great One”.

Something was not right, I reasoned and so relayed my fears and suspicions to our choir leader. But he shut me up almost immediately, telling me not to speak so foolishly about such a Great Master.

Oh, the vices of that wretched beast King! Oh, the evil he brought upon us! Numerous were they but I cannot state it all.

“My people perish for lack of knowledge . . .”

It was staring us in the face. King no longer practised Christianity. He called himself Jesus, the son of Buddha. He was another Jim Jones, only I hadn’t read about that one until recently.

One Wednesday, King made them lock the doors of the church and then from his backpack, brought out eight candles. He lit the candles one after the other and brought them to stand on the pulpit.

He began with our choir leader; a sharp cut to his left wrist and he asked the man to place said wrist directly on top of the dancing fire.

The scales suddenly fell off and my heart sank! Surely, this was an initiation into the world of darkness!

I looked about and saw fear in the wide eyes of the others.

Oh God, help! I cried.

A sharp pain jutted through my abdomen. My period had come.

I slowly raised my hand up and told King of the situation.

He looked at me like he would strangle me and then yelled at me in a thundering voice to get out.

That night was a difficult one. It didn’t help that my parents were away. I prayed and anointed the room over and again.

11:50pm and a thumping heart, I suddenly remembered Mum’s words;

When you surround yourself with holy songs, the devil flees your territory.

I unlocked my phone, browsed through my playlists and began to listen to Don Moen till I slept off.


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