“Is so… go go go go go shorty”

During the dancing the men would occasionally scream 'HOYA" when things were deep in the groove.
They didn’t know that they were in fact calling on the God, Oya. who had been buried much too long ago to remember the line between life and death was

A spell away.

And so at the club, drunk and dancing to 90s hits from the US, they stomped and stomped until their ancestors rose and they began to remember their culture.

A boy in a denim jacket and an awkward want to dance calls panic stricken “Hokoyo! Hokoyo!”, feels the floor tremble with the weight of hundreds falling feet first to the beat of a forgettable song, sees those in earshot inch away. He’s two beers too many and indecisive about leaving, unsure where the others are, somewhere in here. Maybe things will pick up. Maybe the ceiling will cave in with the vibrations. Maybe something, something will happen. He’s on the lookout, between sways to and fro and a hankering for chicken nuggets with mayonnaise. He finds the wall, wonders if this is it, if life has turned against him, if there’ll be something better to do tomorrow.

“Oh yeah! Hoya!”


You Called?

He never heard this in ‘words’ exactly. It was more a passing scene on the sidewalk, one covered in a veil, surrounded by cars with lights and men in uniform. It filled him in a manner that cast a wonder on his heart and a question on his mind. He didnt have clarity of intent or belief…not after everything. But she has spoken to him. All the same, he continued the day, without any marked difference. After work he bought a bottle of the cheapest whiskey, finished it and passed out in sad merriment, with a glimpse of the toe he lost to diabetes.