This is a work of fiction written in the first person. Dialogue is not much instead, I used narratives to show what is happening and the main characters feeling.


Its a very short story and am not sure how good it is. So please read, comment, like and most importantly criticise.

God bless

All rights reserved.
No part of this work should be used or reprinted in any form whether electronic or otherwise, without the due permission of the author

(1)


Life have never made sense to me. I've never fully understood the concept of loving, dying or living. To me those three things are at the core junction of human existence. Although I may seem worldly smart but the truth is that I know next to nothing about the things that are most important in life. Often times I think am so good but then something happens to show me how stupid I really am. Something that would have otherwise been inconsequential. And because of my unsure thinking and life, I never really grasped how much Mama loved me and how empty my life was till....
We lived in four bedroom bungalow building that Dad had managed to build a few years after my youngest sister, magdalene, was born. The compound was small and could only accommodate a car and mama's small garden. But to me it was enough. The sweet calm of sleeping under the shield of the orange tree, always made me feel refreshed as if I had just drank water from a spring after been deprived of the precious fluid for hours. The resounding silence of the compound and the breeze propelled by the plant made the compound my paradise. But it wasn't going to be paradise for long. At least for me.

In the rainy season of 2009. I was 21 and had just returned from school due to the interruption of our academic calender by ASUU strike- a much welcomed break I must confess. As usual the house was cooling quiet. But the quietness was laced with something. I can quiet name it. But it wasn't good in the least bit.
Obioma my immediate younger brother, chikamso my sister, kelechi and magdalene were all at home but the usual distinct chatter and banter of sibling wasn't present. They were all staring at the coloured TV but I could swear that they weren't really seeing whatever it was they were watching. Magdalene was the only one that seem to be herself. She hugged me with her usual craziness when she opened the gate for me, took my bag and then began to tell me all that had happened during my absence. That girl could make the devil laugh with her over exaggerated stories and gestures. Whilst she talked, she searched my school bag. She promptly pocketed the gala and apple that I had bought for her and despite my protest she took the coke I had bought for myself.
Her face contorted sharply,her bright eyes dulled somewhat and her chattering stopped as we reached the living room. Chikamso gave me a brief distant hug, I shook my brothers, although I still managed to pull kelechi to the ground before shaking his hands. After all, to me he was still a small boy despite the fact that he had just gotten admission to study law. Strangely and quiet unusual, he offered little resistance to my ploy.
Mama was a staff at the education ministry and my father was a lawyer. So my sibling and I had a fair share of education. We were all well read and breed in a manner that only children of well educated parents would understand. "Kedu nu" I asked my sibling. The question was general , not specifically addressed to anybody.
"We are fine" obioma answered. I often felt challenged by Obioma. He was unbelievably smart, collected and cool headed which were a slight opposite of my personality. But we got along by respecting each others opinion but in truth, our relationship was at best, formal. I envied him of his decisiveness and discerning ability. The fact that Mama would tell him first if she had a problem didn't help matter but I understood why she always called him first and it challenged my position as first son. While I'd say "charge, kill, conquer and subject the enemy", obioma would say "analyze, calculate, position well first, attack later".
Who in all honesty wouldn't trust such a person? Obioma could also be a holier-than-thou-annoying prick. You get the feeling that he was been condescending when he addressed you. He was also a straight forward and by the book guy.

Ngozi okafor !

Tapout: whistling and walking majestically to the front seat with tampico juice and bush meat**

BUSH MEAT! You gat dat? Ebola things straight.

Tapout:




actually it's goat meat....but since it was roasted and prepared in d bush i guessed it was better to call it bush meat .....besides no animal goes by d name "bush"

Nyc 1 man! All bush meat roasted n prepared in the bush RT?. It seems that's your little perspective wit goat meat.

NinoBrown888: Ngozi okafor !

Wetin do ngozi okafor.

"Bro are you hungry" chikamso asked me with a feeble smile.
"No. I'll eat later" I replied "where's mama?"
"In her room" she answered
That was quiet unusual. Usually, mama would have bounced out of her room on hearing my voice. She would have danced around the compound for the act that her son had returned from school. She'd then run into the kitchen to rustle something up for me and then she'd launch into a litany of trivial complaints -while I ate- beginning with how slim I had become again, what magdalene had done again, if I had collected back the money I lent that my friend and she'd end with her classical question
"Who was that girl that answered your phone when I called?"
Have I done something again? Was she angry at me? But I couldn't remember anything I had done wrong. Mama wasn't the temperamental type but she could hold a grudge if she was crossed more times than necessary. She rewarded the person, who had annoyed her, with a silent treatment that hurt more than words. The person would just pray that she at least shouts at him or her. If she talks about the problem then its no more a case. That's my mother- garbage in, garbage out.
I walked up to mama's room. Opening the door a small way I peeped in. Mama was lying on her bed with her back. Her light colour skin was flushed and almost chalky white - ghostly pale. In her hand, she clutched a white handkie. She most have been crying.
"Mummy" I called.
But she didn't answer. Mama didn't answer. She never looked at me. Not once. She didn't call me " nna m( my father)" in her high toned delicious voice. Mama didn't.
I dashed into the room. Calling out her name more loudly. My voice most have attracted my siblings and they all came running into mama's room.
I shook her shoulders;
but she neither bated an eyelid nor made a
sound. I shook her harder.
'Her pulse,' something was whispering into my mind's eye, 'check her pulse'. She had one but it was low almost unnoticeable. Her heart beat was also faint. Kneeling on the bed beside her, I applied small pressure on her chest.
"Call Dad", i shouted at obioma. But he just stood there transfixed on the spot. His eye fixed at mama. Somebody sprung into action, I realised later that it was kelechi, he took mama's phone and called dad. I could hear his voice as he spoke on the phone but I couldn't really hear what he was saying
"Chikamso!" I bellowed "magdalene! Hold her hand. Talk to her. Say something" but chikamso was on the floor crying silently, her hands on her shin as she looked on with tears in her eyes. Magdalene came immediately, took mama's hand and began to sing. Her twelve year old voice immaculately rich and resounding as she sang lionel ritchie's Hello.
My hands faltered and a tear drop fell on mama's blue blouse. Magdalene sang on. She sang beautifully. She sang.... Oh she sang. She sang mama's favorite songs.
"Love is in the air" my sister was singing. The world stood still and the heavens grew silent.
Mama's eye opened a bit. She smiled.
"Nna m" she whispered. "Nno" (welcome). She placed her right hand on my cheek and with her right hand, she squeezed magdalene's hand. "Baby do you remember that song we learnt yesterday?"
Magdalene nodded her head.
"Sing it for me"
And magdalene did. Mama closed her eyes and died. Her daughter's voice singing the eternal song of peace, love and heaven in her ears.
she left us all.

Tapout: whistling and walking majestically to the front seat with tampico juice and bush meat**

Thanks bro.

Tapout: whistling and walking majestically to the front seat with tampico juice and bush meat**

Don't forget to criticise majestically

Dad came home later. And swung into action.
We were all sitting at our previous position when he came. Magdalene had stopped singing.
He put mama's body in his car. I entered the car and we left for the hospital but it was like going to the farm after pest and insects had destroyed your plants.
*** **** ***** *******

Obioma told me later what had actually caused mama's death.
Daddy was an insecure man. So he took out his fear on us children and his poor wife. He harassed us and dished out insults to us, though he spared magdalene. When we were much younger, he used to beat mama but as we grew older he stopped and recoursed to verbal abuse.
Mama knew that he had a mistress outside. That her husband spent more on other people than he actually did on his family. That her husband didn't know the middle name or date of birth of any of her children or the school they were in, didn't make her leave him or love him less;
"God will change him" mama would always say "yes God will. He never forsakes anybody that calls on to him"
But God never changed him. And she was forsaken.
In my first year of university education, mama had began to suffer Hypertension and bouts of acute depression.
And when she heard that michael- her husband- had married a new wife in umuahia, her poor heart couldn't take it anymore. So she took the easiest way out. She cried her heart to death.
Heart attack was the official cause of death. but I know better. She left because she was tired of life and a loveless marriage.
***** ***** ******* ******

I shook her shoulders, but not an eye lid
or a sound did she make.

This sentence construction is strange and weak. You mean she didn't MAKE an eyelid? I'll rephrase it as: I shook her shoulders; but she neither bated an eyelid nor made a sound.

Furthermore, I think you have to pay attention to your punctuations. You present interrogative sentences without question marks, switch dialogues without commas and end what should be sentences without full-stops.

These are the two I identified easily because I haven't really read the story. When I do, I'll comment some more.

All the best!

slap1: This sentence construction is strange and weak. You mean she didn't MAKE an eyelid? I'll rephrase it as: I shook her shoulders; but she neither bated an eyelid nor made a sound.

Furthermore, I think you have to pay attention to your punctuations. You present interrogative sentences without question marks, switch dialogues without commas and end what should be sentences without full-stops.

These are the two I identified easily because I haven't really read the story. When I do, I'll comment some more.

All the best!

Thanks bro.
Ur correct about that line. Its a huge error on my part.
I have a huge problem with usage of punctuation, can u drop a few pointers or guards for me
. Also what do you mean by a sentence being weak
I'll put ur observations into practise. U da best.

Her funeral was loud. Too loud for my liking.
At a point it turned from being about my late mother to centring on my father and his new wife. Dad basked in the lime light. Drummers accompanied him where ever he went and he flung money at them. Money that I never knew that he had so much of
"Wait later. Am expecting some business to finalise tomorrow" would have been his response if we, his children or mama, ask him for money. Strangely, tomorrow for my father never reached.
I began to hate him and his barbie doll face wife.
After the burial we moved to umuahia to live with him and his wife. But I couldn't stand him or the wife- though she was very nice to us and very motherly to magdalene.
Instead during holidays and breaks, I went to my maternal grandmothers house in Enugu. Soon obioma, chikamso, kelechi joined me there.
I still blame mama for her death. Often time I alternate between hating her and loving her. She let herself be bullied. She was too weak to fight. She trusted only in God, she never trusted herself. Other times I blame Dad. And then I blame obioma for leaving her alone in that room to cry. then I blame the world for being cruel and then God for not answering her prayer.
And now looking down at my father as the grave diggers poured mud on his coffin and the rain falling heavily into his grave, I feel sorry for him. His life had been empty. His funeral emptier.
None of his children-except me- came for his funeral. And the only one that cried was his poor old mother. His trophy wife had left him years ago, taking with him his last daughter.
He died a crumpled old man that complained about everything. I had expected him to be sorry but he wasn't. But I've looked beyond his stubborn exterior and seen the pain in his hard case shell. And I've forgiven him. For in forgiving him, I learnt to love myself and others more.
Now am a father and a wife and I hope I do well by them. As a doctor I hope I save more lives, not the way I couldn't save my mothers'. As a son, I can't do much else, than pray for my parents repose. And that Dad finds freedom from the ghost of mama that hunted him for years.

emeka94:

Thanks bro.
Ur correct about that line. Its a huge error on my part.
I have a huge problem with usage of punctuation, can u drop a few pointers or guards for me
. Also what do you mean by a sentence being weak
I'll put ur observations into practise. U da best.

The bolded sentence should end with a question mark(?), to start with.
A weak sentence lacks force and directness. It fails to clearly thrust its meaning on the reader.
Let's examine the sentence I quoted earlier. It is obvious that the rephrased version is easier to understand than the original version. When you write a sentence, ask yourself if you could have written it better. Attempt a rephrase of it (if you're not sure ) and compare both of them to ascertain the one whose meaning is clearer and better than the other.

This is an excerpt from my story:

www.nairaland.com/1855225/little-things-excerpts-novel-progress


Pay attention to the dialogue and observe how they are punctuated. You should learn something from it.

slap1: The bolded sentence should end with a question mark(?), to start with.
A weak sentence lacks force and directness. It fails to clearly thrust its meaning on the reader.
Let's examine the sentence I quoted earlier. It is obvious that the rephrased version is easier to understand than the original version. When you write a sentence, ask yourself if you could have written it better. Attempt a rephrase of it (if you're not sure ) and compare both of them to ascertain the one whose meaning is clearer and better than the other.

This is an excerpt from my story:

www.nairaland.com/1855225/little-things-excerpts-novel-progress


Pay attention to the dialogue and observe how they are punctuated. You should learn something from it.

WOW. I thoroughly enjoyed the story. You flow seamlessly without hiccup. I so envy you.
I did learn a thing or two about the use of punctuation and sentence structure. But I did notice that you use more of complex and long sentence with lots of comma, why? Am very much afraid of long sentence - to avoid wrong usage of commas though I made an exception in this story.
What do you think of my writing ability, the story line and narration?
Where in th SE are u in?

emeka94:

WOW. I thoroughly enjoyed the story. You flow seamlessly without hiccup. I so envy you.
I did learn a thing or two about the use of punctuation and sentence structure. But I did notice that you use more of complex and long sentence with lots of comma, why? Am very much afraid of long sentence - to avoid wrong usage of commas though I made an exception in this story.
What do you think of my writing ability, the story line and narration?
Where in th SE are u in?

I live in Aba.
Your storyline and narration is good. However, there are some mechanical errors in the story. When I log in with a PC, I'll try and highlight as much as I can. Good luck!
You should also pay attention to details. See the post below, for example.

Now am a father and a wife

For real?

slap1: I live in Aba.
Your storyline and narration is good. However, there are some mechanical errors in the story. When I log in with a PC, I'll try and highlight as much as I can. Good luck!
You should also pay attention to details. See the post below, for example.

Awesome.. I stay in Aba too. These finally answers the question "can anything good come from Aba?".
You've helped me a lot. Can't thank u enough. Can't wait for the corrections