THE CRUSADERS

               EJIBE, JANE

He watched her with a gleam of laughter in his eyes as she struggled to free herself from the chair. Her desperation fascinated him. His eyes were bright with amusement as he saw her became more frantic. He had tied her on a cane chair with a cord very firmly wound around her slim quivering body and he was lunged leisurely on a table facing her, his legs crossed at the ankle and his arms folded across his chest.  She tried so hard to loosen the rope around herself all to no avail. He allowed his mind savor the picture her desperation presented before him for future use. It was so amusing to him that he chuckled out loud. Then he laughed hard clutching his side.

He felt like a predator, and Mobi was his prey. The feeling was so good.  The predator and the prey.

How sweet revenge could be. He thought amusingly. He loved the job of been the predator. He had once been a prey, but now it looked like the situation had been reversed. It was an exhilarating thought. It gave him great pleasure and satisfaction from seeing Mobi struggle. There was something very different about her that bewildered him.  She had not shed a tear ever since he took her. She had so much spirit.

‘Spirit of a warrior’ Eman muttered to himself. Yes, she had the Spirit of a rebel. If  only she was not the enemy, she would have been great for the common cause

He listened to the patter of the rain on the roof, and the howling of the wind outside. It had been raining for the past three hours, ever since he kidnapped Mobi. He saw it as a sign of approval by the spirit of the brethren who had departed. He looked around him and nodded pleasantly. This was his ‘sanctuary’ a place to carry out his escapades. The only source of light came from a bulb at the far end of the room.  The room was bare with only two chairs and a table. The other was at the far end of the wall and the table was at the center of the room and on it was what Eman called his ‘torture collection’.