Read Aloud

Read Aloud

By

Gavin Matthew

           “Try reading that one aloud.” said the odd librarian as he slid a book across his mahogany desk. He smiled at her as she looked over the title, his brown eyes gazing from behind tinted circular glasses. Mira didn’t like the feeling of not knowing. The tall slender man before her had been operating on a level of omniscience since the very minute she had arrived. Odd was too simple a word to describe her whole predicament. Only a few hours ago Mira was on Vine St. protesting the beating of a local mother who had been a member of the Panthers, just like Mira. One thing led to another, and the police showed up with guns and clubs. That’s when the weird started. That’s when her body started to glow and things started to move on their own, cruisers and uniformed men tossed by invisible powers. It was as if her fear and rage had manifested into the air like a sudden storm. When the hurricane of chaos was over, three women had shown up in a brand new 73’ black Cadillac and whisked her away. They weren’t dressed like G-men and nor did they even roll by the police station. Instead, they drove an hour and half east to the city of Marigold. A quick walk into a tall building and an elevator ride down, and she was entering the creepiest library Mira had ever seen.

           “Can you read it?” the librarian asked, his calm words snapping Mira back into the moment at hand. The book was old and green. It was worn on every corner and leather bound. At first glance, the title looked like gibberish but then a second later and the writing cleared up.

           “It says Mouth of the Balancers.” Mira said.

           “It says Voice of the Balancers but close enough. Now, open it up and check it out.”

           Mira found herself being hesitant to follow this strange man’s directions but then something about him emitted comfort. His afro, it being larger than her own, indicated some level of Afrocentric beliefs. Despite it being a popular look nowadays, the natural was still met with a stigma in upper crust and government circles that narrowed down the kinds of people who would style it. He was also wearing a black turtleneck with purple bell bottoms. Mira, herself, was wearing a similar look but her black jacket covered her top and her pants were jeans. There was comfortability in seeing someone with a similar outfit. Aesthetics had far more value than some people would ever understand. Or care to admit. Mira felt oddly safe. She wasn’t worried about being left alone with the librarian, her escorts having taken the elevator back up a while ago.

“I’ll read it but first tell me what’s going, dig?” Mira said with a raised eyebrow. “Where am I? Who are you people? And why am I here?”

           The librarian smiled and sat on the corner of his desk, having given the young women his chair when she showed up.

           “The sistahs who brought you here didn’t say anything? They picked you up from KC and drove all this way without filling you in?”

           “Not a single word. Crazy, right? I asked but they just stayed quiet.”

           “Well,” the librarian started as he touched up his immaculate halo with an afro pick. “Welcome to Marigold, Missouri and welcome to the O.R.I. Midwest headquarters. My name is Maceo Moreland, but everybody just calls me Pookie. A lot more will be revealed after you read that book aloud. Don’t worry. There is nothing to be scared about.”

           “What is O.R.I. exactly?”

           “Read the book and find out.”

           A beat of silence passed between them. Mira had not noticed until now that the library’s aisles seemed poorly lit and endless. Odd figurines and peculiar curios rested on stands here and there. A draft lulled about the room but went nearly inaudible as it breezed across them. Pookie was mysterious, an oddity to say the least, but he never seemed threatening or dangerous. Mira sighed as her hands finally picked up the green book. She opened it and began scanning the written text. Just like the title, the words first appeared as something foreign but then changed to English. It read like poetry to her. Phrases dripping with subtext and metaphor. Yet, something deep inside pulled at her heart. It was as if each word she read pounded at her heart like a stick to an African drum. Her chest was beating a full percussion performance by the time Pookie reintroduced his presence.

           “Aloud. Remember? Read the text aloud.” Pookie repeated.

           “Right.” Mirah replied with a nod. Her mouth moved and read aloud, but the sentences were not English. They were a language she had never heard before. Some of it seemed familiar, reminding her of the few Yoruba classes she had taken at the Black Panther office. Most of it was altogether something else. Still Mira knew what she was saying even if it came out in a way she had never identified before. Her body began to glow green as she completed phrase after phrase. Energy flicked from her and licked at the walls of books that lined the hollow place. Paper fluttered and slipped about as Pookie stood up, his eyes watching closely. Mira wanted to stop reading. A feeling in the back of her head tugged at her to stop, but she could not. The words released all the pressure from her heart and replaced it with vigor. Pride. Power. Her cadence grew rhythmic and louder. Mira’s voice started to echo through the aisles. Then just as this internal force seemed to grow limitless, this mighty power gripped at the woman’s mind. It twisted and squeezed like a massive vice wrestling to control a serpent. Instantly, the woman stopped her words and shut the book. The growing gale of green power ceased and dispersed as soon as the text was closed.

           “What the hell was that?!”

           “That was you.” Pookie replied. “Well, one side of you. That groovy display of action just now means you have a real unique heritage. Rare, really.”

           The beanpole of a man grabbed the book and returned it to a near by shelf of old texts. He knew he was playing with fire whenever he encountered a woman like Mira. Her lineage was dangerous to normal people, but he had not lied to her. She had nothing to worry about. She was perfectly safe. Him, not so much.

           “This is what O.R.I. does.” The man said as he returned to his perch. “We investigate and manage supernatural phenomena and events all over the world. Our origins are from the heart of what we now call Africa, but this place here is the Midwest headquarters of the United States Branch.”

           “So, you’re African-African?”

           “Well, no. I’m from New York originally. While most folks working for the organization are Black, it’s been hundreds of years since they were all strictly from the Motherland. Ya dig?”

           “And what about me? What’s with all the green . . .”

           “Ashe? Yeah, that’s your spiritual energy extended into our reality. You see, long ago there was a powerful Orisha named Ogun who had daughters. His daughters would give birth to a clan of warrior women who strode between the fabrics of realms in search of balance. They were called by many different titles like the Daughters of Ogun and the Iron Path Makers. We tend to just call them the Ogunde.”

           Mira cocked her head, her face a puzzled portrait of comments. She could not deny the unnatural things she saw. The green energy erupting from her body was proof of something unusual, but it was hard for her to start believing in ancient African beings. It wasn’t that she inherently wanted to disrespect traditions. She just never put much stock in the spiritual or religious, African or otherwise.

           “Okay.” Mira said. “What are you selling? I hear you trying to rap about ‘fabric of realms’ and ‘Yoruba gods’ but honestly this just sounds like a bad trip. I know I saw something come from me but come on. Are you saying magic is real? Demons? Angels? Heaven and Hell? I’m sorry but life has taught me to deal in what I can see with my own two eyes.”

           Pookie smirked and stood up from his desk. He then disappeared down one of his peculiar aisles. The librarian returned seconds later with a large bound tomb with an obsidian cover. Mira found herself standing next to him to get a better view of whatever he was about to show her.

           “All of everything you just said is true and real. I have battled demons, talked to angels, and seen more than my share of ethereal realms. This is another Ogunde text, but I warn you this time. Unlike that toddler’s manual you were just reading, this one will fully unlock your other side.”

           “And what does that mean, man?”

           “The Ogunde are not bad but nor are they good. They are forces of nature. Tall and muscular, these fierce women sense what they perceive as unbalance and manifest themselves into different worlds to correct the scale. You dig what I’m saying? They are powerful, quick, and relentless warriors who wield unimaginable strength and agility to kill and destroy whatever they deem the source of the universe’s unbalance.”

           “I get it, Mr. Pookie. These ladies are big bad ass killers. Get to the part that has to do with me.” Mira was in no mood for storytelling. It wasn’t just her life that was changing, but the life of her children as well. At home, back in Kansas City, her twin daughters were safely being babysat by their grandmother. She was supposed to pick them up after the protest but now she had so much more to think about and contemplate.

           “Occasionally when they enter our world, they have human offspring. Your bloodline leads back to one of those offspring. Because of the human part, you don’t have a clear path to your power and its basically a fraction of what a full-blooded Ogunde would be. Then, on top of that, your spirit is split into two halves. The human half and the Ogunde half. This book here will open your Ogunde half.”

           Mira gazed at the odd book. What did it mean to open the Ogunde half? Would she still be herself? The concerns ran around her mind like ants devouring fallen prey. The woman’s thoughts trailed from her own future to the future of her children. Even her mother, who had no idea what lurked in their blood, came to mind. Then she thought about Mrs. Uhuru. She was the mother who had taken a beating by racist police. Mercilessly, that Black woman was bashed and kicked within an inch of her life by armed men. What could she have done with just a little bit more power? Mira remembered the damage she had done at the protest, and that was on emotional impulse. The image of the of flying cruisers and uniformed bodies brought a slight smile to her full lips. Power was what had made a difference. How could that change be bad? What was the worse thing that could come from reclaiming her heritage? If everything this odd slender man was saying was truth, then this Ogunde ashe was Mira’s by birthright. To grasp such a force was not introducing new challenges or dangers. It was going back to fetch something that she had not known was lost. This was something, a treasure, that she was supposed to reclaim.

           “What happens after I read this one aloud?”

           “You unlock something deep within you. O.R.I. will help you master it. Survive it but then the organization will ask for something in return.”

           “Yeah? Like what?”

           “Service. Just like in other groups, you will have to contribute. Sistah they will send you out to battle the monsters and enemies that go bump in the night. You won’t do it alone but that will be a part of the deal. Gain a powerful opportunity, but work to keep the world safe.”

           Mira scoffed and grabbed the obsidian text.

           “You ain’t said nothing but a word.” She replied, opening the book. Before Pookie could warn her one last time, Mira had already begun to recite verses aloud. Green ashe flicked from her again. This time it emitted a low hum in the air and the whips of energy folded back onto their source. Green lights cocooned around the young woman like a spinning illuminated egg. More force and energy drummed into existed with every passing second. Pressure pressed into the shining egg, imploding waves rhythmically beating towards its center. Pookie took cover behind a bookshelf as Mira’s cocoon began to spin harder and faster. The waves pulsated with quicker rhythms, it’s humming becoming a piercing whine. Then, just as the library could take no more, the emerald gleaming egg erupted in an engulfing explosion of blinding light and stardust. Books, shelves, Pookie’s desk, and several stands with curios were blasted back by the rebirth. After the light subsided, among the mess stood a lone figure. Mira was anew. Her once average height was now a towering 6’8’’ that had torn her jeans into shorts. The petite figure she had once lived with was now a smooth cut of muscle and posture. Even her afro was transformed. The once decently size crown was turned into a storm cloud of natural beauty, a weightless halo hovering with ease.

           “Mira?” Pookie groaned, digging free from a mound of fallen texts and trinkets. “You cool? All copacetic?”

           A vibrant green aura flickered around the impressive figure before the librarian. She almost appeared not to acknowledge the man. Then, with a whimsical afterimage, the titanic woman turned to face him.

           “Who are you that dares to summon me?” Mira said as she looked Pookie up and down. The arrogance in her voice reminded the librarian of so many creatures that automatically assumed they were humanity’s betters. He had faced vampires, impundulu, adze, and even Nkisi warriors who all thought themselves superior to his skill and knowledge. The only difference between them and the Ogunde descendant was that Pookie knew how to defeat those other beings. With an Ogunde, you just had to hope they appeared before you by accident and that the unbalance in the world was not your fault. As if hearing his thoughts, Mira moved towards him. She picked him up in one quick motion, cradling him by the neck.

           “You have made a grave error, little man. I will crush your skull and then I will lay waste to your little room. For these items, these books, and whatever else you have here is cursed. I will deal with the wickedness I sense here by obliterating all of it.”

           Pookie sighed as he struggled to get free. The grip was too powerful despite Mira’s lackadaisical effort. It appeared that he would not get his chance at freedom as the woman’s hand squeezed. Then just as the hold started to become fatal, a twinge of feeling shivered through the warrior’s spine. The sudden sensation through off her focus as she dropped her quarry. Emerald orbs of light speckled into existence and rotated slowly around the library.

           “Stop!” said a distance voice, echoing through the air as if lost in a well of time and space. “That is my body! My mind! So when I say stop, you stop!”

           The orbs of energy spun into a cyclone of fireflies, bobbing all around the superwoman. They licked at her defined muscles and marked her body with illumination. Instead of being worried or furious, the Ogunde descendant simply smirked. The spirit wasn’t upset. She was impressed. The display of power was a simple test between the ancestral spirit and Mira. With a thunderous boom that shook more books free of shelves, Mira returned to her original form in another vibrant flash.

           “What now?” Mira asked, helping Pookie to his feet.

           “What now?” Pookie started, rubbing his throat. “All in all, that wasn’t too bad as far as first attempts go. But then again, I’ve only witnessed one other first transformation. In any case give me five on the Black hand side.”

           Pookie held out his hand with a smile and waited. Mira raised an eyebrow, simply staring at the man. He had been mere minutes from death and shrugged it off like it was another Tuesday occurrence. Again, she felt an odd kind of comfort from him but this time it came with something else. Her inner force, the ancient ashe that was now meshing with her new reality, came with a key to the librarian’s mysterious feeling. It was not only an emission of safety but a calling invitation as well.

           “And what’s this mean?” Mira asked as she slapped him five.

           “It means welcome to the Midwest branch of O.R.I.” Pookie said, smiling from ear to ear.

End.