PEGGY OPPONG BOOKS The Angel of Death

It was pitch-black outside and there were no stars to bedeck the mid-June sky. Occasionally, a strong wind blew shaking the branches of the few trees around and also causing the louvre blades to rattle and the curtains to fly in confusion. Leaflets flew in all directions and the soft-cover books on the dining table opened up by themselves showing off a few of their pages in apparent excitement. Following hard on the heels of the strong wind came a fierce rattling noise on the roof like the marching of a battalion. This commotion coincided with the baby's cry.