CHAPTER 35 – THIS FAMILY CALLED MINE: COLOUR US UP

© Opeyemi Akintunde
As Inspired by the LIVING WORD

We didn’t sleep much that night.

The weight of what was coming kept us alert. We had returned to Setemi’s house. My husband had called me an uncountable number of times. I told him he had to bring the paintings to Setemi’s house. Overnight, We prayed in turns. We anointed ourselves. We walked through the house, declaring scriptures. Setemi even poured anointing oil on the paintings in her house.

“Tomorrow,” she said through gritted teeth, “we take back our peace.”

The morning sun filtered in slowly, like even it knew the gravity of what was about to happen.

By 8 a.m., we had all gathered outside in the compound. The paintings were piled beside a large steel drum we had found at the back of the house. Deji and Setemi’s husband who was clueless about what was happening had helped us bring it all out. I had sent gone to Morayo’s room at her brothel to pick up the paintings she took.

Aunty Favour stood beside us, holding a small bowl of anointing oil mixed with water.

“These paintings are portals,” she reminded us. “Objects that were dedicated…sacrificed, even. This is not just firewood. It’s a funeral. A burial of evil.”

We nodded solemnly.

Setemi walked forward first. She picked the most expensive painting, Looking at It at that moment gave me chills…too much colour, too much life… It was obvious… it had stolen its vibrancy from human blood.

Pamilerin followed next, dropping one after the other. I took mine last the one Father had named “Red Waters.” I had loved it as a child. Now it disgusted me.

“All gone,” I whispered.

Aunty Favour prayed over the paintings, anointed it, then signaled me to light the match.

I struck it once. It died.

Twice. It sparked and faded.

“Try again,” she said.

The third match burst into flame…and I dropped it.

The fire caught quickly.

It danced wildly, almost too wildly. The wind picked up.

We watched in silence as the fire ate the cursed beauty, curling the canvas, blackening the oils, turning colour into ash.

Suddenly, the wind grew stronger.

Then…

A shriek.

Pamilerin screamed. “Did you hear that?!”

“I heard it!” Setemi said, grabbing my arm.

It wasn’t just a shriek…it was like a chorus of screams, as if the spirits tied to each painting were wailing in agony as they were released… or resisted release.

“Stand firm!” Aunty Favour shouted. “Don’t be afraid! They are being stripped of their legal hold!”

We began to pray again. Loud. Violent. Declaring scriptures. Pleading the blood of Jesus.

Then… silence.

The fire burned gently now, like a soft whisper.

The paintings were no more.

But as we turned to go back into the house, I felt it.

Peace!

A New Identity!

To be continued…

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