The Children of Thunder

Dec.1989 Another bout of pain wreaked through my body, waking me from the sub consciousness into which I had fled, how have I fallen so low, I bitterly asked myself as I glared at the group of men in long white coats studying me from the other side of the steel cage I was trapped in, holding clip pads and staring unconcerned at my plight.Why wouldn't they be? for they fashioned the cage in whence I was trapped, Alas, nothing had contained me until this day, they made the tools that gave me pain, Alas, pain was a thing long forgotten before my capture, never have I hated men like the likes before me, but none compared to the hate reserved for their leader, the man they called doctor Mugabe, every time they come for their sacrilegious experiments on my body, he never forgets to remind me how well my blood samples and cells had made the world a better place and how much more scientific breakthroughs to be made.They mistook my silence for submission,

May.2050The nightmare woke her again, she groaned as she stirred lazily to check the digital alarm clock beside her colt. It was 4am, she groaned again. Drilling starts by 5 and she knew there was no chance to steal a little bit more sleep, she lay back down to ponder over her constant dreams, dreams which she had begun to get used to that she didn’t wake up screaming in terror anymore, it had always been the same nightmare every night, the blood curdling screams of a tortured man, flashes of lights and the grim goggled faces of people in long white coats.She had been trying valiantly to bare it all in silence, but the constant bouts of sleepless nights were already telling on her performances at the daily drills, if there was somebody to talk to, she would have done that already but the fear of being taken back to the lab, prodded, injected by the painful probes to find out any malfunctioning in her system had kept her lips sealed.

An intended cough brought them all back to attention, the drill instructor Fortuna Monroe frowned down her nose at them arms akimbo; her long hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Her face would have been pretty if it wasn’t scrunched in a permanent scowl; the children disliked her, she mutually felt the same towards them and made it her priority in life to make their life miserable.Without further ceremony she barked orders at the children, as they were placed under the supervision of instructors who in turn were watched by her sharp eyes. Orchid’s trainers were having a difficult time putting her under control until Fortuna had no choice but to take over her drill in person.Orchid’s lithe fragile looking body and slim snow colored wings gave her an innocent appearance of perpetual harmlessness like her name.“Looks can be deceiving, look at Orchid” was the constant gossip among the facility’s staff.Sh

I groaned as I dreamt, the mortal pain from which had I fled followed me into the world of dreams, gods do not dream. We simply used it as tools to commune with men, manipulating their present, past and future, but sometimes we retreat to these fascinating realms in mockery of slumber, to garner rest and grow strength.I fled there often to escape my anguish during my captivity. But now I dreamt of my youth, long before I became a deity; a Yoruba warrior prince of the old Oyo Empire, I was the youngest son, the eldest; Eweka, ruled as the Oba of the kingdom of Benin, the second; my older half-brother Ajaka, was crown prince of Oyo, shackled by duties of state, watched me with jealousy as I gamboled round the empire and beyond, carefree and wild, the parties and dances were where you would find me.I was not far from skirmishes, conflicts and adventures, the duties of a prince were the least of my problems, that burden was for another. When our fathe

Obiora returned to drills after a week in the labs, pale and spent but happy to be once more united with his siblings, the 5th generation children were allowed to eat and be together for a few hours thrice a week, asides that they only saw one another at drills and classes where they were taught by grizzled old professors and learnt different languages under the watchful eyes of their handlers.Omotola’s handler, Katie was kind to her and sometimes told her about her own life outside the institute which was against protocol; Amaka, Babybaby’s handler adored her and spoilt her terribly. The rest of the handlers took their jobs quite seriously and Katie once said they feared the children and their abilities but feared the institute more; she would expertly change the discussion to new topics whenever she tried to get her to talk about the institute.It was after Obiora’s porcupine stunt that the doctors began wondering if they could force the children t