Shading Black
“You! Stay outside.”
Ibekwe watched as the chief priest fidgeted inside the shrine, looking at him with narrowed eyes that seemed to yell at him for not bowing down to the statue of Igweka-ala with all his might and affection.
Ever since the death of Peter Stonefield, Ibekwe had been curious to find out what the black pot contained. Once, a year ago, he brought the matter up in front of his parents, but they warned him never to talk about it. Even with the warnings, he was still not satisfied. His mind was not at peace, knowing that one of the most wonderful persons he had met in his life was killed because of a simple pot.