Chapter 5 Prophet on Phone
Manny woke up to banging on his door like the world was ending.
He rose upright on the thin mattress, heart slamming against his ribs. Sunlight was already forcing its way through the cracked window. His body felt like it had been dragged through fire, arms heavy, skin tight and burning. He looked down and cursed under his breath. The glowing cracks had spread further overnight,they now ran from his wrists all the way up to his shoulders, faint but visible under his dark skin, like glowing lava veins cooling down.
The banging continued. But harder this time.
“Open this door!” a voice shouted. “We know you’re inside!”
Manny stood up slowly, every muscle protesting. Flashes from the alley kept hitting him, the confessions, the screams, the way those men burned from the inside. He could still smell the smoke on his clothes. He pulled on a long-sleeve shirt to hide the marks, even though the morning heat was already brutal, and cracked the door open.
A small crowd had gathered in the narrow corridor of the face-me-I-face-you compound. Ten, maybe fifteen people. Some he recognized as neighbors. Others were strangers holding up their phones like weapons.
One woman pushed forward, eyes wide with something between fear and hope. “Is it true? Did you burn those men with holy fire last night?”
Before Manny could answer, another man shoved his phone in his face. The video was already playing at full volume. Shaky footage from the alley. His own voice roaring “ENOUGH.” The three men dropping to their knees. The confessions,the screams,the fire.
The title on the video read: “EX-CON PROPHET RETURNS,Kirikiri Man Burns Gangsters with Prayer!!!”
And it already had over forty thousand views. Comments were flooding in.
“Is it a real miracle!”
“This one an end time prophet.”
“Fake! Photoshop!”
“Let him come to my church abeg.”
Manny felt sick. He tried to close the door but more people pushed forward.
“Please,” an old woman said, grabbing his arm. “My daughter has been sick for two years. If you can burn evil, maybe you can heal too.”
A young boy, no older than fifteen, looked at him with shining eyes. “Teach me how to do it, sir. I want to burn all the bad people in my area.”
Manny stepped back into his room, overwhelmed. “Leave me alone. I didn’t ask for this. Please… just go.”
But they weren't ready to leave. Some looked scared, like he was a bomb that could go off at any moment. Others looked excited, like he was their ticket to breakthrough,and few were clearly filming him right now, live video.
His phone, the cheap Android he bought the day he got out of prison, started ringing. Unknown number. He ignored it at first, but it kept ringing. Again and again,on the fifth time, he picked up.
“Hello?”
“Brother Emmanuel?” A smooth, excited voice on the other end. “This is Pastor James from Victory Fire Chapel. We saw the video. The Lord is using you mightily! Can you come and minister in our service this Sunday? We have a big crusade coming. People need to see this power!”
Manny stared at the wall, speechless. “I’m not a pastor. I’m nothing.”
“But the fire! The way those men confessed… that is the Holy Ghost fire! We can be partners. God has raised you for such a time as this.”
Manny hung up without answering. The phone started ringing again immediately. Different numbers this time.
He sat heavily on the mattress, head in his hands,this was supposed to be his fresh start. Quiet work,cheap room,trying to forget. Instead, the whole of Lagos was watching him burn three men alive in an alley.
The Voice stirred in the back of his mind, calm and satisfied.
They see now,they feel the weight of their sins,this is only the beginning.*
“Shut up,” Manny whispered fiercely. “Just shut up.”
He stood up and went to the small mirror hanging on the wall. His eyes looked bloodshot and haunted. As he stared at his reflection, something shifted. For the first time, he saw them clearly.
Black veins.
Not on himself, on the reflection of the neighbor standing behind him in the open doorway,the man had come to watch the commotion but under his skin, dark, ugly lines pulsed slowly, spreading across his neck and chest like rotten roots,corruption,guilt and hidden things.
Manny spun around,the black veins disappeared when he looked directly at the man,but when he glanced back at the mirror, they were there again.
The neighbor noticed him staring. “What? Do you see something?”
Manny’s mouth went dry,he stepped back, fear crawling up his spine,the glowing cracks on his arms flared brighter under his shirt,he could feel the power pushing again, wanting to force the truth out of this man too.
“Get out,” Manny said, voice shaking. “All of you. Get out now!”
The crowd murmured but slowly started backing away. Some were still filming,some prayed loudly,and the old woman kept begging him to visit her sick daughter.
Manny slammed the door shut and locked it. He leaned against it, breathing hard, sweat pouring down his face,this thing inside him wasn’t going to let him hide,it was growing,getting stronger and now the whole city knew his name and what he could do.
He looked at his glowing arms, the new scars still pulsing with angry light.
“What are you?” he asked the empty room, voice breaking. “And what do you want from me?”
The Voice answered, low and deep, like distant thunder:
Everything.
Outside, more phones were ringing. More people were coming,the news was spreading faster than fire.
Manny slid down to the floor, terrified of what he was becoming,and even more terrified of what would happen when he couldn’t control it anymore.
