“Those small boys beat you, and you are crying?” Aunt said, then gave her permission to beat them back next time. “Let them also cry and go and tell their parents.”
The boys did not disappoint; the next time she was down the street one yelled “baby girl” in that accent, his brother said “my fine-fine wife” and one of the two flicked an African almond fruit at her. It made contact, which was what she had been waiting for.
She rushed at them with the fury of a creaking lorry.
“Pow!” and one of the boys was on the ground. The other she tripped with her knee to the back of his leg – Taekwondo. He dragged her down with him, but her free hand, then the other hand, went to his throat. “Say sorry,” she said, between massive gasps.
As the other boy landed blows on her back, she only pushed down harder and repeated her demand, “say sorry!” in a voice now transformed into a witch-like howl.
“Sorry. Sorry. Chi-hu-so sorry.”
The fighting stopped. A lizard nodded. Before getting up, Chibuzo wanted assurance. “Which one of you will stone me again?”
“Just leave my brother alone,” said the younger, while his brother caught his breath. “We will never disturb you again.”
I wrote this fight last month and submitted it for a flash-fiction prize (the Etisalat prize), but it appears to have disappeared from the contest, so I'm posting it myself.
Advertisement: Read my books. ###Three Sisters, novel #1 here###