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2006-02-05 20:18:19 ET There's only so much that I can fit into this email. I don't know whether or not I will be believed nor do I know if anybody will read this but I am writing this down either way to, I hope, keep my sanity and grip on what is real and what is not. I am NAIROBU ATAWANI, son of the ousted former prime minister of Nigeria. In my entire life I have never set foot in Africa, the continent of my forefathers. I was born to a white woman who was seeing my father when he was staying in Londoun, avoiding those who wished not his former political power but his head as a means of revenge for the economic plague that had befallen upon the country during his rule. I now know that this economic recession was not caused by my father but by forces of darkness working against humanity. But I get ahead of myself. I must start from the beginning. Barely over 2 years ago I had recieved news of my father's passing and of a meeting on the distribution of his inheritance that was to be held a couple of months later in an obscure town in Massachussetts called "Arkham". I have never heard of that town until then but a call to my father's lawyer surprised me with the news that I had a large concentration of relatives living there in a large colonial mansion barely in the outer edges of the town. The mansion was understandably known as "Atawani Manor" and I was to be flown there to split the wealth that was left not to any person in particular but to the entire family as a whole. The time for the trip came eventually and so I packed up a suitcase and took a flight to Logan Airport in Boston. From there I took a cab to the decrepit Arkham and that old manor that held an unknown branch of my family. But I do not have time to go into specific details of the situation because even now I hear a scratching against the walls of this house and a pecking on the glass. I must write fast for fear of fates worse than death! They were all seated around a circular table. Dressed in blackish grey, funeral wear for a lack of funeral. All strangely silent, barely moving, bones creaking like old arthritics. And the family lawyer. Black suited, with pincers on his nose, looking more like a funeral director than a man of legal action. Their faces I could not see and I now know why. The lawyer took his time reading the will and I glanced about the room taking in the images of my unknown relatives, sitting there, under the darkest clothes in dim lighting. My father had left us all 250 MILLION DOLLARS to be split between us all. I tried to make them listen to me! To trust me with their shares but... THEY WERE NOT HUMAN! THEY LUNGED AT ME FROM THEIR SEATS AND I, IN MY PANIC, STRUCK THEM WITH MY FISTS ONLY TO REVEAL THEM AS THE DEAD CORPSES OF MY ANCESTORS! MY DEAD FATHER WAS NOW ONE OF THEM! HE WAS THE STRANGELY SILENT ONE SITTING NEXT TO THE LAWYER! I BURNT DOWN THAT HOUSE AND EVERYTHING IN IT DOWN TO THE GROUND. YOU MUST UNDERSTAND THAT IT WAS FOR THE BEST. THEY COULD'VE COME BACK! I think they alrady did. Even now I hear footsteps upstairs. I have locked all windows and doors and keep a revolver by my side at all times. I need your help in acquiring the 250 MILLION DOLLAR INHERITANCE left to me by my father. I entrust you to pose as the family lawyer and to provide a 200 THOUSAND DOLLAR down payment for the bank transfer. For your actions I will reward you greatly with a handsome payment of 20 MILLION DOLLARS once my inheritance money is recieved. But please hurry for my ancestors will not rest peacefully in their ashen graves. I fear I will not live before the next midnight! Your truly, NAIROBU ATAWANI |
