The Writers Hub September Contest (Entry 8)


The Writers Hub

We each have our devils; a force dark and sinister that’s peculiar to us. It knows us inside out, it’s aware of our greatest shortcomings, it revels in our failure. It glories in our shame, it prides in our tears. It presents as one with a listening ear, comfort for a weary soul, attention for the lonely, succour for the depressed, a shoulder to lean on. And while you rest in its seemingly embracing arms, it gently strokes your head with perfectly manicured talons attached to the most gnarled of hands.

If you could see it’s face, you would see that it’s bared teeth lies dangerously close to your ever pulsating neck. It’s fangs are dripping with saliva as it anticipates that first bite. All’s well in love and happiness as long as you rest. The moment you lift your head, the fangs bite down.

Perhaps you sense it’s foul odour. You cleverly detach yourself and you run, you run so far away it can’t ever find you. You run and you bump into yet another devil. This one has a different mission. He’s come to kill.

The devils know themselves, and their fellowship has but one aim: bring him down! They put up a farce, they struggle within themselves but be not deceived, it’s all a ploy. They are on the same side of the chess board. They proudly wear their black.

We do not understand that we are but pawns in this play of devils. How needlessly we waste our lives trying to attain what was never meant for us, and neglect the fruit that was handed down on a royal platter. We honour our devils, we pride them around, we reverence the very thing that has the power to destroy us. We are not ignorant, nay, we know what we are doing. We shrug it off, “it doesn’t matter,” we say. What we don’t realize is that this is intentional. It’s a play of devils, see, and they’d rather you not win.


Oghosa-Gold Osadebamwen AKA Chrysta is a Nigerian undergraduate who believes she lives, walks and breathes novels.

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