Here-There 3: The Death of the Otherman (Fin.)

James Northcote - Tiger Hunting

For Miss Brown, a pseudonym, and the four hyenas who chased me into solitude.

This is the 3rd and Final Part of a 3 Part Series. Read Part 1 – here and Part 2 – there

“God gave me dreams, ones so vivid I would wake up tasting lips kissed in an otherworldly bliss, wishing I could live inside of my own head” – Kofi.Somuah


From some distance, the lights of his Chevrolet came on at the press of a button, permeating through the thick darkness of forest around him. He cursed under his breath; the balance of a subconscious developed in his other life proving again more powerful than that of the unlimited possibilities he had here. The car should have been closer, not his Chevrolet, a four wheel maybe.  The ground quaked underneath his feet, followed almost immediately by the crashing sound of trees being swapped aside by giant hands. She was coming.

He run towards the light, turning around, almost slipping, finding his feet again.

Where was he? The black boy had been with him before, guiding him on what to do, how to react, then was gone. Disappeared into smoke as suddenly as he had revealed himself. This was not rocket science, he knew this was some sort of trial by fire. He was going to survive this, he was going to leave here.Here where there was no time, just a constant change in everything, constant battles with demons he had faced in the real world, ones who now came at him with jagged teeth and monstrous appetites.

He slammed the drivers door shut, starting the engine with quivering palms. The ground quaked again, sounding closer than it had before, shaking the car so vigorously he slammed his head into the steering wheel. The wind screen came in and out of focus, even as he changed gears to drive and stepped on the acceleration. Transparent trees intertwined in quick nauseating motion. He felt his throat choke with a bitter bile, vomit  coughed out over his hands and legs.

He did not feel the car suddenly elevate, its tires running still between fingers as a large eye peered at its driver. Swooning, he lifted his head: the picture, like tetris tiles, filing into focus. He screamed!


From atop what I now thought to be my favorite tree, though until now I could not remember ever coming across it anywhere, I watched my god scream. This was an interesting situation, where I had to help my “owner” tap into his own strength. Often I wondered while staring at him make a fool of himself, how powerful he truly must be. To make me so aware, and yet so confused at the same time. He controlled everything I told him, every decision I made, even this thought that went through my head now, and yet, he himself was lost. I was not motivated to help, he would probably figure a way out. Or, he would die, and I with him. I stretched my hands, and a bright yellow orange appeared. A part of me wondered whether one day I would stretch and nothing would happen, a part of me wondered where I would go if he did die.

A wail thundered through my thought pattern, rustling the tree with its intensity. I almost did not notice my orange slip out my palms, bounce of a branch and fall where I could not see.

The boy was on top of the woman’s head with what looked like an enormous sword. She reached giant fingers into her long flowing hair, clamoring to find the source of the sting. He climbed up her fingers and jumped, piercing the blade into her scalp again as he landed. Her wail was ear shattering. She flipped her head down and up in a hurried frenzy, felling about a dozen tress in the process. Somuah was going all out now, he kept at hurting her, over and over again, flesh and blood spurting out with each stab of the blade.

I jumped from tree to tree to get a better view, swinging on vines and branches.

Somehow, he was on the ground now, a tiny dot beneath the feet of a naked giant. He was not moving at all. He had his eyes shut tight, so much so, a thousand lines formed around its corners. What was he doing? The woman seemed to have finally calmed. She swished her head around her, finally settling her gaze on him. Screaming, she lifted her feet.


With the ripping sound bones make inside of a dogs mouth, Somuah ascended in height. I stopped frozen on a vine, the strain on my hand without feeling. He grew and grew, till he was the height of the woman, then she was at his chest, then all I could see was his waist, disappeared into the clouds. The woman looked up confused, their roles now suddenly reversed. We both did not see when the foot came swiftly down, caving her into a grounded paste of mashed meat, gushing out from underneath his feet. He morphed back down to his actual self, breathing heavily, a smile plastered on his face. He stared directly at me, I nodded back at him, for some reason smiling too.


“Kofi Agyapong, Daniel Kankam, and this just last night, Deril Alero”

Dr. Ankapong dropped the printed sheet on the table. He stared at the General, who slowly ate his breakfast, holding an egg down with a fork and slicing it clean, and then away from him to the spread of green growth beyond the balcony. They remained that way until Jaffah was done. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and finally looked up at the doctor.

“So everything is going as planned.” He dropped the napkin and leaned back into the woven chair, “Doctor, you knew this would happen, you told us this would happen”.

Ankapong turned to the General, a lost look in his eyes, as if having only just come upon some new discovery. “Yes, yes. I guess I did. He is becoming more powerful. His power, accelerating more quickly than anticipated. Look at the deaths…” He took out some files from a bag beneath his feet and spread them across the table, “…they are far from ordinary. At first it was Kofi, a single stab wound in his chest, and then Daniel, his jaw ripped up over his head, and now Deril. The man who found her wasn’t quite sure what he had come across when he opened her door. A mash of bloody goo…” His voice drifted off, his face falling with it.

Jaffah took out a pair of spectacles from an inside pocket and pulled the picture of Deril from the doctors fingers, raising it up into the light.

“It seems Somuah had more secrets than he let on. Deril is, or should I say, was, a Satanist, and a prostitute. She called herself the Devils Cunt, tattooed it on her waistline. Somehow, she and the boy have some connection” He sighed and looked from the paper to the face of the doctor, “He is fighting his deepest secrets and desires Mr. Ankapong, his insecurities. Everything his brain has ever tormented him with. Again, as you said would happen. It is not becoming of you to feel any form of empathy for these persons. Collateral damage, think of the bigger picture here.” He dropped the glasses and began folding them into his pocket, making to leave. The doctors voice stopped him.

“Soon he will gain complete control over his senses, and with it, a control over the balance between our reality and that which he has control of. If he ever finds his way back here…” He looked up at the general then back to his interwoven fingers, “…by the time he finally finds his way back here, he would have tapped into the subconscious completely. Gaining the ability to will matter into being. He will be a god. Jaffah, the closer we get to achieving this…who are we? To be creating gods?” He cupped his face with his palms.

“Like I said Doctor, it is not becoming of you to feel empathy, no matter where directed at. You came to us, you asked, ‘have you heard the taurus excretum theories?’, you told us a story of the human brain and its’ endless, albeit undiscovered possibilities. You told us about people born capable of extraordinary things, miracle workers, preternaturally gifted artists, people fortunate to have been born with certain portions of their brain, that should be available to all of us really, available to them. While so many of us founder, hapless, talentless apes, waiting to die. You told us you had found a way to gain full access to the human mind, to make us immortal. Fund me, you said, find me a creative mind you said, and I will show you, man is capable of making himself, god. The emphasis on god here Doctor, you knew this would happen. The boys mind in defending itself is allowing him more and more access. Soon he will find his way out, and with it be able to bridge the gap between there and here, his subconscious and our damn reality. Mission complete. Scientific breakthrough achieved. Now if you would excuse me”

He got up to his feet and stared down at Ankapong, “I’m sorry it is far too late to change your mind on this. The project goes on with or without you. I advise you comply.” He walked away from the doctor, the clicks of his shoes disappearing behind the slam of the door.


From the second floor of the male ward, a whistle climbed up the stairs unto the third. With it, a baseball cap, and then a middle aged man in a guard’s uniform. He trekked the hall slowly, occasionally breaking his whistle with hums and the thuds of a baton hitting against khaki. At every room, he creaked open a door and checked on a patient, then took notes on a small notepad he carried. This over and over again, with the calmness of a man accustomed to tasteless routines.

He stopped at room C4. This was where the Somuah boy was. He knew because he was the reason why the shift runs had changed today. The reason why he had been reassigned from the female ward; where so often urges could be satisfied in broom closets with Divina the slut or Boatey Blowjob Ako, to the male ward. Management had refused to tell them what happened, but the rumor going around was one of the house officers responsible for medicating the patients had somehow skipped c4. That, the Somuah boy had woken up while Sampson was taking inventory and bitten a chunk of his neck off. Swallowing saliva, he opened the door.

Somuah was seated towards a window, his back to the door. The moon illuminated through blinds, drawing a zig zag of shadows over his sickly frame. He turned as the officer creaked the door open.

Festus was stunned. He stood motionless, his brain screaming at him.

“Where am I?” The boy held a calmness he did not expect. His eyes, staring at him from inside the cave of an emaciated face, had the sadness of a wounded animal.

“You’re in the hospital son. You’re not well”

“Is this here or there?”

Festus paused at the question. “What do you mean?”

He turned back towards the window. Seconds passed in silence. Festus looked around the room. For some reason, he was unwilling to leave just yet.

“Are you having a lucid moment?” He had tasted the stupidity of the question on his tongue even before it came out.

The boy did not reply, only staring still beyond the windows blinds. It was a moment before he spoke, and when he did it came out a choked whisper.

“I know where I am”

A blue light began to grow around the front of the boy, its rays surrounding his sides and the top of his head, it grew off of him unto the ceiling, then to the walls, till it reflected across the entire room.


Just as suddenly, the light died.

The boy flopped sideways, crashing unto the side of the bed then unto the floor


Nothing has happened in what feels like a very long time. I fear my purpose is finished and soon the boy will have no use of me. A part of me wonders why he is still here. A larger part of me, why he still keeps me around. For company? I doubt.

Yesterday we returned to the beach. The same one we walked by before, while he tried to settle on the place where I would tell him where he was and how I would help him. Only, it looked more beautiful than it had then, and it did not go as suddenly as it came, and he did not need my help.

We sat on top of a rock staring into sparkling water, flicking stones that skidded on the blue surface forever. He turned to me and smiled. I still have so many questions I want to ask him but don’t. I wonder if he does this to torment me? Give me questions that he does not allow me ask.

In the evening, he created separate tents and a bonfire with his hands. It was large, made out of wood and dry leaves. He willed it into being without so much as a cursory word. Not even the “by the power of my father” which he has for some reason chosen to be his trigger.

Somewhere at dawn, I woke up and he was standing on the shores of the water with a woman. They both stood naked, holding each other in a lovers’ embrace. It took me a moment to realise who she was. Deril Alero…the giant he killed. Only now she was his height, and his lover.

In the morning, she was gone.


“I think you should have a name. What name do you want?”

He took a bite off his bread, reaching his hands to his side for the bottle of coke. I drew mine from my lips and pondered a while.


He smirked at me and nodded.

I do not think he will ever leave. I think he will be with me forever.


Part 1: Here-There: A Science-Fiction Experiment

Part 2: Here-There 2: A New Beginning (Extended Cut)


Art Credit: James Northcote – Tiger Hunting 

2 thoughts on “Here-There 3: The Death of the Otherman (Fin.)

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