Not to detract from those already doing a great job. These are flashes and very short stories of mine. Some are quite old, written when I was still cutting my teeth. Some might come in series but will never be more than 4 parts. Have a good read


Copyright © 2015
All rights reserved. These pieces or any portion(s) thereof may not be copied or reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the writer.

[b]Where did it all go? [b]

Silence, except for the clattering cutleries.
“Can you imagine what she later did?” The man asked pausing before taking a sip from his teacup.
No reply.
“She apologized baby, she said she thought I was going to leave the company and so was very scared; and in being scared she reacted that way. Can you imagine?”
“I see,” the man’s wife finally replied.
“I know it’s still too early but perhaps I might push for a salary increase.”
“Hmm…”
“With a salary increase, we can do so much. Travel to places, engage in…”
“Can you please pass the ketchup?” Interrupting her husband, the woman stretched her hand towards the ketchup bottle that was quite out of her reach.
“Baby, are you even listening to me?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“What kind of a reply is that? And why are you not even showing some degree of interest in the subject? I am trying my best- God knows I am- to satisfy you but nothing seems to work… nothing! You just sit there and do your best to spit out one worded replies…”
“It’s called monosyllables,” his wife replied unable to stop herself.
“Yes, throw it at me whenever you can. When you are not darn correcting me over imaginable offences, you are correcting my grammar. Perhaps you are too perfect for this world and you think your class higher than mine but you are my wife and I deserve some respect in this house!” On that final note the man’s fist hit the dining table hard causing the contents in the two teacups to slush over.
Apparently having enough of the whole drama, his wife makes to leave the table.
“And where do you think you are going?”
The wife doesn't reply.
Standing, the man grabs his wife’s arm in a bid to hold her back.
“Take your hands off me, Lekan.” The disgust in his wife’s voice quite obvious.
“And what would you do about it?” Lekan asked, a bit uneasy at the apparent calmness from Bola, his wife.
“Nothing, perhaps we need a break. I think I would travel to see my parents this weekend.”
“You are travelling nowhere Bola, nowhere!”
“And what do you want me to do Lekan, sit in this house and pretend that all is well? Sit here being the perfect housewife while you strut around in the corporate world feeling indispensible?”
“Is that what this is all about? You hate my work?”
“No…I don’t hate your work. I just hate what you are doing to me. I hate how I am dying inside and how you are doing nothing about it.”
“What do you want Bola? I provide for you just like every woman wishes her man would provide for her. Do you know how many corporate women would long to have what you have, time to do whatever they want?”
“I don’t care about what those women want. Lekan, you close your eyes to everything. I have begged, cajoled and tried to persuade you to listen to how I feel but each time you tell me I need more money. We have been in this marriage for 5 years Lekan and it doesn’t bother you that I have not even had a miscarriage. Have I not begged you to go for tests with me and when that failed, counseling? I have bought every video seminar for couples and even movies that should perhaps open your sense of reasoning when clearly I have failed to do so. I have told you how miserable I am and when I try to communicate, you shut me out saying I whine a lot.”
Lekan’s grip on his wife slackened a bit. “Look, I don’t want to deal with this now.”
“Then when do you want to deal with it? When do you want to face the fact that all is not well with us or that your wife is not a happy woman?”
“Babe, kids are not everything, okay?”
“Really, why not tell it to your mother who constantly nags at me for not giving you children? Why not say it to your twin sister who constantly calls me barren and spits at my feet?”
“They would all come around okay. Times have changed couples now have only females and live happily. We can still be happy without children.” He replied, not meeting her eyes. Trying to gather her into his arms.
In anger, she pushes him away; eyes blazing. “Look me in the eyes Lekan. Look me in the eyes when you say that!" Her voice rose with each sentence. "What then are you making all the money for since we are not sharing it with any offspring?”
“Bola, leave it alone. You are just angry now but you and I know how crazy we are about each other.”
“Crazy? Crazy is wanting to know everything that bothers me. Crazy is making sure we are both on the same wavelength. Where did it all go, Lekan? Why are you putting a wall between us?”
The questions seemed to hit Lekan hard. With no words to reply his wife who now had tears coursing down her cheek, Lekan stormed out, leaving his relationship worse than before perhaps with no hope of it ever being repaired.

spywareczar:

Enoquin:

wah?? I like it na

You forgotten, that's how we smile in the caves

spywareczar:
wah?? I like it na

THE TRAVAILS OF MFON

I

“Mfon, get up! The pastor would soon be here.” My mother gently shook me awake.
I dreaded the visit of the pastor for whatever reason and could never be enthusiastic even for my mother’s sake.
Standing up grudgingly, I stretched and yawned as my mother bustled around our small room. For reasons I cannot readily explain, she seemed to perk up whenever there was a visit from the pastor. I had initially thought she had ulterior motives regarding the pastor but it seems mother was just happy and excited whenever anyone came to visit and that’s to say how very few our visitors were.
“Mummy good morning,” I greeted, trying to fold my mat and put it away.
“Mmesierende,” she replied trying to push our cooking pot under the bed properly.
“What’s the pastor coming for? I thought we had finished all the assignments that were required from us?”
“What kind of question is that? Can the pastor not visit again?”

I disliked the pastor especially when he looked at me. I didn’t like him coming to our house because I didn’t see any good the numerous assignments had done to us. We still owed the house rent and I have had to stop schooling because there was no money.
We, my brother and I, were chipping in to help mother but there didn’t seem to be any improvement. Ever since my father died, we’ve all done crazy things to survive and that included begging, hawking, menial jobs and recently working as a maid.

I stretched again. The previous day had been terrible; the woman who I worked for had nearly scorched me with boiling water just because I kept her child waiting for breakfast. I had held my peace even though I had nearly tossed down the spoon I was holding in anger and disgust. The only thing that kept me mute was the image of my mother kneeling and pleading with the woman that I’ll be good if she’d just take me as a maid.
I had told myself then that I would try to be good but then I didn’t bargain for her rotten grown kids. The first child tried to be nice and always said ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ but the rest were probably born to be brats because they always competed amongst themselves to make my task arduous. The other day I had to go and buy sanitary towels for one of the girls and still had to wash her stained underpants and trousers.

“Mummy, there’s no kerosene. Should I go and get some?”
Today was Saturday and I was usually allowed to go to work later than usual because the family I worked for always went to the gym quite early.
“Hmm…buy akamu and akara too.”
The pastor had already arrived on my return and was exchanging pleasantries with my mother.
“Sir mmesiere,” I murmured hoping he’d hurry on what he came for. Breakfast would have to wait till he had gone.
“Mfon morning, how are you?” He asked his eyes roving all over making me feel quite uncomfortable.
“Fine sir,” I replied, dropping the contents of my purchase beside the bed.
“Alright, get your scarf on and let’s be in the mood of prayer.”
Mother already had a scarf on and I quickly tied my scarf happy that the pastor wouldn’t stay long. The prayers started in earnest and I was singing with gusto when suddenly the pastor asked for silence.
“Mfon, sherikanmba… hmm…hmm. What dreams did you have last night?”
Dumbfounded I opened my eyes “No…no…nothing,” I hated being singled out and anytime it happened I usually stuttered.
“Do not lie to the man of God and do not be ashamed for God has sent me to deliver you.”
Now I was getting angry. I clearly remembered my dream for it was of me pouring very hot water on the woman I worked for and that was reasonable since I had gone to bed angry. Since I couldn’t very well tell him that, I still settled for “nothing.”

Coming menacingly towards me, he started dancing round me and held my head in a bid to push me to the ground. Laughing, he removed his hand and stopped singing.
“Your child,” he said turning to my mother “would need a big deliverance. She has a husband in the spirit world that is holding on to her destiny for she is to be the shining star in this family. You must pray for his hold on her to be broken or else you still remain in poverty. They have been meeting in her dreams that is why Mfon cannot tell us the dream she had last night.”
“That’s not true.” I spoke out, my anger harder to rein in and therein lay my mistake. For immediately, I spoke out, I wished I hadn’t since I realized that I had fallen into his trap.
“You see!” The pastor shouted with glee. “The Mfon you know would never talk this way but her spirit husband is making her to be quite stubborn.”

Laughing wildly, he resumed dancing and singing with my mother fervently praying. Stopping again, he put his hand on my head and pushed me with his leg giving me a slight tackle from behind. I fell to my mother’s shouts of 'Halleluya' and then the pastor asked my mother to go and get a bottle of olive oil.
Forcing me to down the whole contents of the bottle, the pastor touched my feet and shrieked at me “Where did you go to?!”
Determining not to fall into any trap, I kept mute.
“You went to the water world, didn’t you?” Beckoning to my mother, he motioned for her to touch my feet and after she agreed that they were indeed cold, he proceeded to tell her that my deliverance would take longer than expected and that the next stage required that she step outside so that the demon from my body wouldn’t enter hers.
Even though things were getting fishy, I still couldn’t lay my hands on what it was until I felt the fingers stroking my womanhood and one finger forcefully inserting itself inside me; only then did I scream and hit the pastor with the olive oil bottle…

HMMM....NICE...KEEP THEM COMING ...i'm enjoying oga Pastor

Good job, and no grammatical blunders either! That's a huge relief

You no even pity Mfon, na Oga Pastor you wan hear about Thank you. It's just a 2 part short story

henryukwa:
HMMM....NICE...KEEP THEM COMING ...i'm enjoying oga Pastor

Thanks

5minsmadness:
Good job, and no grammatical blunders either! That's a huge relief

II

The pastor apparently surprised by my attack yelled incoherently. Rocking on his heels, his probing fingers stilled, he glared at me. Pushing myself away from him, I dragged down my skirt that had ridden up during the ‘deliverance’. The Pastor’s next words filled with contempt were not only disturbing but chilled me to my marrows.
“You do not want to be delivered from darkness?”
“But…you were touching me down…” My embarrassment wouldn’t allow me continue.
“Shut up there! Touching you where? How did you think the snake in your stomach was going to come out?”
“What snake? I thought you said I was from the water?”
“And so they don’t have snakes in the water? Or are you telling me that you didn’t know that the ones that have marine husbands usually have a snake in them?”
“God forbid!” I replied shuddering, there definitely was no snake in me.
“Ha ha! So you think calling God will save you?”
“Then, I want my mother here! I also want to see the snake when you pull it out.”

The Pastor paused for a while and then taking me by surprise stood up, raised his hands towards heaven and yelled in a loud voice.
“Oh Lord God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob; bear me witness that I have tried to help your daughter! Whatsoever demon just spoke out of her right now, I command it to be arrested in Jesus name!” Striding towards the door, he jerked it open and called for my mother.
“Eka Mfon,” he said to my frightened mother, “this deliverance is going to take longer than I had thought. Mfon will have to come and do a three-day vigil in the church.”
“No! I am going nowhere. Nothing is wrong with me.” Realizing that I sounded very much like a demon, I paused, took in a deep breath and spoke calmly. “Mama, remember that I have work to go to. I do not want to lose my job.”
I hoped that the thought of losing one of our means of livelihood was going to change my mother’s mind but apparently it did not.
“What is that job compared to your deliverance? Don’t you know that when you are delivered everything would change, God will smile on us and even give you a better job?”
“Yes,” the pastor added “everything will change even her weight and complexion. For you see, this is not her true weight given to her by God. The marine world has taken part of her true self.”
“Mama, I will not go! The pastor…the pastor…he tried to…I don’t know mama, please I will not go.” I couldn’t bring myself to say it.
“Praise the lord, the marine spirit is getting confused. I tried to remove the snake in her stomach from her body but she resisted and instead a demon spoke out trying to stop me. I stopped because I didn’t want the snake crawling and hiding somewhere and coming out to attack any of you when you were spiritually down…”
“God forbid!” My mother interjected shuddering.
“That is why I want her in the church. In the house of God, the devil is powerless.”
My mother turned towards me torn between a mother’s love and what she thought was a mother’s duty.
I cannot readily say what would have happened next if not for the fact that at that same moment, the landlord’s knock that I always dreaded suddenly was a blessing.
“Iya Mfon?!” The landlord’s voice at the other side of the closed door startled my mother.
Opening the door, my mother greeted the landlord. “Good morning sir.”
“Morrin Iya Mfon. There is meeting upstairs o. Where is James?”
“He is not around sir, I sent him somewhere.”
“Ehn, if your son is not around, you come for meeting upstairs now now. Mfon nko?”
“She is fine sir.”
“Ekaaro Baba Kenny!” I shouted from inside.
“Oh jare, Iyawo omo mi; okay Iya Mfon now now.”
Closing the door, my mother apologized to the pastor, who had already picked up his bible.
“Sir mbok, let me go for the meeting upstairs. We will talk later. Mfon, prepare the Ogi and if I don’t come back fast, you can eat and go to work, hmm?”
“Yes ma.”
After the door had closed, I breathed a sigh of relief even if only temporarily. It was going to be fine but it wasn’t.
For days, mother and I played the ‘silence’ game. Even though she didn’t speak further of the incident, I caught her many times looking at me blaming me especially when she started muttering that the landlord had just increased the rent for no just cause.

I noticed her attitude going cold towards me. I tried but finally capitulated to her silent pleas. I agreed on going to see the pastor but on the condition that she came with me. And that is how I was ‘delivered’ of being a mermaid and having the invisible snake leave my stomach. And if you are wondering if things changed, I would have to say that they did.

I slapped one of the brats at where I worked and so got fired, we could not pay the increased rent and so we were evicted from the house but in all these, it couldn’t beat the satisfaction I had when I saw that the pastor was annoyed that my mother accompanied me to the vigils.
Regardless of all our troubles though, my mother was happy, happy that finally my deliverance will herald the beginning of a new and positive change to her household in the near future even when months later, I lost my brother mysteriously to the cold hands of death.

THE END

sad end cool story though, great imagination...nice.

please keep them coming

Great iimaginations! Wonderful writing prowess! And you do this in the most simple way, almost effortlessly. Go girl, keep doing your thing.
You ROCK!

Heart touching and great!!kip it up

Sad end? Na so life be for some people oh
Thanks

henryukwa:
sad end cool story though, great imagination...nice.

please keep them coming

Almost effortlessly? Darn
Thank you so much

Otunbakay:
Great iimaginations! Wonderful writing prowess! And you do this in the most simple way, almost effortlessly. Go girl, keep doing your thing.
You ROCK!

Thanks

Jollyjoy:
Heart touching and great!!kip it up

This is refreshing, really. It's nicely written and makes for an equally nice reading. I didn't want it to finish.

I must also commend the development of the characters in particular and also the plot. It's not that easy to achieve within the given limitations of space.

Enoquin, thank you for making your stories easy on my eyes. I didn't have to squint my eyes in horror or cringe in disgust at some avoidable spelling or punctuation errors.

#well done

#oshey

#waitingfornext

#okthanks

#okbye

[quote author=sammoe post=28912462][/quote]
#Oshey
#Thanks
Short stories are tasking. What's with the hashtag...?

Enoquin:

#Oshey
#Thanks
Short stories are tasking. What's with the hashtag...?

Hehe
It came upon me in one of those infrequent moments of epiphany...




#nextquestionplease

#differencebetweensickandunwell

#okthanks







#okbye

[quote author=sammoe post=28914581][/quote]

Epiphany? Grammar Nla

#differnencebetweendoctorandherbalist
#roadtobananaeyeland
#Okbye

This isn't a short story/flash but I am partial to this piece

SWEAT, TEARS and BLOOD

Gasping for breath,
Breathing in slowly,
Mouth agape to take in more air,
But it’s not enough.

Stiff and sore,
My legs in protest go numb;
And as I try to beat them into revival,
I am drenched in my own SWEAT.

The silence is deafening.
The waiting game gets more intense.
The door slowly opens and I am dragged out;
My hands outstretched to stop the blows that are being rained.

The blows land with terrible accuracy;
And I try to take it with dignity,
God knows I try,
But even he cannot stop these TEARS.

The waves come for me and I gladly follow,
I want to drown in it and never return,
Perhaps a better place exists,
Perhaps the moans I hear must be from someone else.

Something is wrenching my insides.
“No, not again; please stay,” I plead silently.
But perhaps my baby is scared of coming into a turbulent home.
And now, I watch helplessly as my unborn child leaves me in a pool of BLOOD.

A TINY DEATH

My heart beat loudly in my chest as I saw him come in. I tried to smile but it seemed as if the muscles in my face were revolting against me.
“Good morning sir,” my voice croaked out in greeting.
I felt my boyfriend’s gaze but was in no mood to return his gaze and reassure him with a smile. We had come to the point of no return or had we?
“Good morning sir,” my boyfriend’s voice rang out, too cheerful for my liking.
“Good morning, how are you and what’s your name?” The man asked looking at me over the top of his glasses.
“Bola,” I replied, lying and still refusing to look at my boyfriend. My boyfriend had come to make inquiries earlier in the week.
“How far along do you think you are gone?” The man whom my boyfriend had said was a doctor asked me.
“I am 2 weeks late sir.”
“When last did you see your period?”
“On the 5thof last month sir,” my eyes strayed to his hands and I shuddered in revulsion to think of those hands touching me down there.
“Okay, the bill would be 10,000 naira.”
I looked in shock towards my boyfriend who seemed to finally find his voice, “Sir that is too much. We are students and are quite new to this town. Please help us out, sir.”
The man seemed to think for a while before scribbling something on a paper and passing it to us. 5,000 naira was written on the paper and between my boyfriend and I, we had 6,500 naira. That was basically all the money we had and I knew that I couldn’t dare call home for any money.
“That is the final amount.”
“But sir,” I was trying to stall, perhaps other avenues would be available in removing the …, my thoughts froze as I didn’t know if to call it a baby or a fetus.
“Yes, what is it?!” The man’s voice rang out a bit impatiently.
“Aren’t there other means? I have heard that there are drugs or injections that can be used since it is still a bit early.” I blurted out.
“And who told you that? Do you think the drugs would be as effective as actually removing the fetus? Do you want to risk using those drugs and coming back again when it doesn’t work?” The man asked glaring at me as if I had just said the most stupid thing.
“No… sir,” I stammered out a reply.
“Look I am doing the both of you a favour seeing that you are quite new in town. I have even agreed to do it here and not in my clinic to save you the shame, so let me know what you want as I have patients waiting in the clinic for me.”
“We are ready sir,” my boyfriend replied, a bit too quickly.
The man had directed us to this place, a room in a faraway place I had never heard of before today. What if I died here? 'God, I know this is so wrong but you would have to bear with me and not let me die.’ I prayed silently.
“Alright, get up remove your pants and lie on this table.” The man said whilst getting his equipment that were in a bucket of water and disinfectant ready. “Spread your legs up so that I can see inside clearly and not make a mistake.”
The effect of what he was saying had hardly sunk when I felt the cold metal on my skin and then a probing rod.
And then it all began. I screamed as I felt the indescribable pain. I vaguely heard the man's scolding and my boyfriend's pleas.
"Hold her still, it's for her own good" the man kept saying.
"Baby, please do you want something to happen to you? Lie still." Frank said as he held my legs.
After 30 minutes of screaming, scolding and admonitions; I emerged shaken and sad. I felt nothing when Frank squeezed my hand and smiled at me and even when the man offered to drop us back in town so that we wouldn’t have to trek back. The man and Frank joked on how strong I was and Frank nervously looked back every now and then to check how I was doing.
I, on the other hand, was lost. I was in a numb world where I felt nothing, not even hate. Perhaps later, I was going to emerge with the realization of what I had done but now I felt nothing. Perhaps then, when I might have realized what has been done, the tears that were lurking behind would fall but then, I was in a world of nothing.

THE END

what a refreshing story...kip it coming

A STRANGE FUNERAL

The weather was fair, perhaps too fair for this kind of event. The heat from the sun wasn't intense. The day seemed suited for a day of light hearted fun and not one for this kind of event but that didn’t stop those who saw this kind of event as a place to show off recent fashion styles and a meeting place for intending couples. Oh yes, couples met at funerals, morbid as it sounds; perhaps the thought of a corpse made it imperative that new bonds with the living be made. Bonds that might bring forth a new life circle.

“And now we call on the Chief Mourner to read his tribute, after his tribute; the deceased’s father will read his.”
The Emcee announced – a strange thing, since the tribute was always read only by the chief mourner, in this case, the deceased’s spouse - whilst moving on to a corner to confer with the church minister who was in charge of conducting the funeral.

The crowd waited expectantly and yet the Chief Mourner did not make a move to stand and walk to the podium. He seemed not to hear that he had been called to read his tribute. He sat, staring ahead, resplendent in white attire, oblivious of the crowd. When the silence in the crowd had gone on for a long while, the Emcee announced again – a bit anxiously - for the chief mourner to read his tribute, this led to murmurs from the crowd.
The family for the deceased sat together unwilling to move and none turned to look at the chief mourner, who sat a little separately from the deceased’s family; and yet most of them did not seem as preoccupied with sorrow as they were wont to.
Most in the crowd noticed this, and more than a few eyebrows were raised causing more murmurs. The minister stopped conferring with the Emcee and moved to where the chief mourner sat.
“Sir, please it is time to read your tribute. There isn’t much time as I have to attend a burial in another parish.”

Not getting an immediate reaction, the minister shook the chief mourner gently but firmly as if to rouse him from sleep. The chief mourner turned and looked at the minister; his eyes which were a bit dazed couldn’t focus for a while till the minister shook him again, making a sweeping exasperated wave towards the podium.
While all these happened, none of the family moved or showed any form of concern save one but that one tended more towards embarrassment; and now that one came to join the minister.
“We all know you miss her dad but your mild show or drama is not going to score points for anyone neither will it make her wake, just go and read the tribute so we can all go home.”
The chief mourner turned and looked at the one who now spoke to him whilst the minister looked on in consternation. The chief mourner shook his head as if to clear it from many dazed webs and then stood and moved to the podium.

He looked at the crowd that had come for the funeral of his wife. The crowd was a large one. The funeral was done in an open field and so even stragglers had strayed in; anything for free food and drinks even if it was at the expense of someone’s sorrow.
The chief mourner opened the programme for the funeral and looked at the words that had been written for him by another. Words that were a blur and meant nothing to him; he tried to focus on the words but couldn’t.
“I guess I am to read this tribute that has been written by someone else for my wife. I would not have written these…these bare words that are devoid of emotion. So, forgive me, if I do this.”
At these words, he tore ‘his’ written tribute off the funeral programme. This action produced two set of reactions; it caused agitation amongst the deceased family members and amidst the Officiating Ministers but it caused silence amongst the chattering crowd perhaps because they knew that they were at a somewhat different funeral than what they were used to and that if they kept quiet without distracting talks they might have a story that’d be told to those that missed even if in slightly varied versions.

The Chief Mourner seemingly unaware of the reactions his actions had caused – an unsure thing though since a gleam of satisfaction flitted quickly across his face – bowed his head for a moment. When he finally raised his head, it was a changed and charged man that stood at the podium. Everyone held their breaths even if it was for different reasons.
“You all are gathered today to mourn my wife with me and even though I am impressed by the turn-out, I must ask you all this question, ‘who invited you?’” Hearing the crowd gasp, he looked around more defiantly, his demeanor daring anyone to utter a protest.
“Yes, I have to know who did because I certainly did not. I did not write a tribute and certainly did not invite anybody nor would have I wanted to. You may think me callous but then who are you to judge me and decide if I am indeed callous?"
"How could I have written a tribute when I now live in darkness? How could I have invited everyone when all I want is to be alone? Alone to grief for the jewel I have lost. For how can you all know the anger that festers in me, festers against the ones who claim to love her but gather as vultures waiting till - in their warped morality - she has been committed to the earth before revealing the ugliness that is barely hidden by their attires?”

The Chief Mourner bowed his head a second time and when he looked up this time, the naked pain on his face caused everyone to look away. When he spoke this time, his voice was somewhat subdued as if ashamed of its earlier outburst and yet this time, it wasn’t to the crowd; it was to someone else.
“I miss you so much it hurts. The way you wanted attention always and yet strangely remained detached. How we’d argue about gender equality and the next minute, you calling me to fix the light bulb and saying all the while that it was a man’s job."
"How you’d scold me for always looking for my socks and stuff and the next minute, you’d stand in front of me posing with that childish pout and declare that you couldn’t find your glasses. How you’d come up with crazy recipes and insist that we try them out saying that a couple was supposed to go through trials together. How you saw the good in everyone, myself, the kids, your family, everyone; how we’d call you gullible telling you that not every action was one of good intention.”
At these words, some members of the deceased’s family starting sobbing, they knew how true the last statement was.

The Chief Mourner seemed unaware of the fact that his last statement has caused a reduction of the tension that had earlier been thick. Perhaps, if he had known or cared he might have stopped there and not gone further but in his seeming madness, there was a method to it.
“But my darling you were gullible because the family you thought highly of is waiting for your coffin to be covered with sand before fully baring their fangs."
"Your elder sister made a subtle move to take most of your jewelries, she has been going through your things; who does that to the one they claim they love? Your elder brother has demanded for a cow and several crates of alcoholic beverages, a demand that has left me wondering how someone who is supposedly grieved could make up a list that is set to impress his drinking buddies.”
Some members of the family could be seen trying to restrain the deceased’s elder brother but the Chief Mourner continued speaking seemingly unaware of the commotion his words were causing.

“Your younger sister is the only one who hasn’t demanded for anything but that could be due to the fact that tradition does not recognize her position in the family. Your father has asked if you had any lands.” The crowd gasped. This was more than what they had imagined; it was truly beyond anyone’s dream, a scandalous funeral.
“I wonder if the fact that you were married and belonged to someone else meant nothing to him. Your mother is silent but we both know how sly a person she is.”
“The kids are getting unruly; they blame me for letting you die. They say a doctor shouldn’t have let his wife die of cancer and when they say this, I am tempted to believe that perhaps madness or cruelty is a trait of the family and yet there is this belief that perhaps they have received tutoring from the mad people in your family seeing that I have no family; a fact that I have been constantly reminded of these past weeks. ‘A child from the orphanage’ they deigned to whisper the first few weeks but now they say it loud especially when I refused to capitulate to their demands except of course to bury you here in your hometown than in a neutral cemetery.”

The crowd remained quiet still perhaps knowing that the Chief Mourner’s speech/tribute wasn’t over. The only agitation came from the family’s elevated stand; things were not going the way everyone had expected.
The Chief Mourner spoke again, this time his voice broke with grief.
“I want to grieve alone not with this crowd half of which know you not. I don’t want to have to grief according to anyone’s wishes. Mourn you alone for how can I eat, drink as if to shut out my grief?"
"Why would anyone want to shut out the pain of losing a loved one? I wish death had an appeal court; I would sell all I have to make a case for your return. I want to see you throwing a tantrum, looking up to me when you had doubt not because you did not know what to do but because you believed in and trusted me. I love you and always will. Sleep well my darling till we meet again.”

With these last words, the man looked round as if waking from a daze. The atmosphere was quiet as a graveyard except for the occasional chirping of insects. Yes, it was for a funeral that they had gathered but this was not the way funerals were conducted. This wasn’t the formal reading of a woman’s life and achievements. This was the cry of an oppressed man.

The Emcee was not one with a quick wit and
fumbled for the right words to say that would cover up the awkwardness but his words were not heard. The outcry from the crowd was overwhelming. It was true that more than half of them did not know this woman personally but they felt an overwhelming sorrow for the man who had to deal with the loss of the woman he loved and with overbearing in-laws.
When order was again brought to bear, it was obvious that the scale had been tilted. The man was the only one amongst the deceased’s family who sat with his head held high; the rest of the family had their heads down.

Later, when the coffin had been lowered and the required obligatory duties carried out, a family meeting convened for the reading of the will. The setting was as before, the man on one side, the remainder of the family on the other with the lawyer right in the middle.

The implication of the unusual tribute had dawned on the family. This was a man that wasn’t going to roll-over for anyone again. This was a man with nothing to lose especially after the will had been read and the deceased had left all her estate to her husband.

THE END

Desdevice:
what a refreshing story...kip it coming

Thanks. They'll keep coming

cool... I love short stories.


Nice works Enoquin.

Happy New Year

prof800:
cool... I love short stories.
Nice works Enoquin.

O shey!