Ghosts and Shadows.

Author's Note:
I am no LarrySun. For on him was bestowed guardian of witty crafty words. I speak in plain tongues, for I am mortal while the former is a god. I must confess, perhaps I would be pardoned, inspirations from Larrysun's works stood this work on its path and set it on its course and I must yet confess again, as at writing this, I still don't know its destination.
I am not a deep thinker, neither do I think at all, still yet, I know not what I have become, only that I love telling all creation of my ideas.

Hope you see what I have seen in my head.


DEDICATION

To my late sister, how I wish you would see what I have become.

Prologue

The Ghosts knows the future but won't tell us - Larrysun

It's always so enormous a task to differentiate between bravery and sheer stupidity, and if ever it comes down to me giving an opinion, it's always perplexing, to say the least, in pitching my tent.
Often times, I let the outcomes of various events swing the pendulum of decision to it seeming appropriate end and yet, times, most often, I remain scrupled with my stance.

I'm at seas to what we delineate as bravery and a train of questionable doubts, barge my feeble reins, to what we portray as foolishness. Perhaps, we let the result of every action influence our choice of answer. Yet, I ask why?

In this perfect world we inhabit, when a man achieve a feat in an unseemly possible mission, oh, the brown earth comes alive. Ladies, young women and children rise up to play, stamping their imprint on earth's hardened body while the men tell the stories. Every creature lauds him with the highest honour of bravery and his songs of praises, soars to the high heavens, but let his fellow man fail in such same quest, the story is different.
The earth reeks of his naivety, nature, herself, abhors him and no creature wants to partake in his fame of misfortunes. Not because he failed, rather because he was so stupid to have ventured against a task everyone knew was impossible. His foolishness is recited as a poem among the younger men and the children are taught his story.

This has been my bane for acquiring knowledge. To understand why the mind behave thus.

I sat at the shore of the river. The Sun danced across the sky while the clock was striking thirteen. It was there he reminded me of a golden lesson I had forgotten in the sands of activities.

Barely 10, dark in complexion and in a red short pant, he stood by the bank of the river. He gazed intently at the boisterous water and set his gaze at the shore beyond. My thoughts soon gave way as my focus was centred on him.

"Hey lad", I called out to him, hoping to break his concentration, 'isn't it beautiful?"

I got no response.

And then, he turned to me and smiled. It was the perfect smile I had seen that day and his voice afterwards was melodious,

"Life isn't beautiful", he said, "but the effort you put in is the difference."

'The effort you put in'. That was playing in my head when he said,

"See you on the other side."

He plunged into the riding waves.

I shot to my feet like a loose cannon. If he was trying to get himself killed, well definitely not on my watch, so I ran to the bank of the river but stopped at what I saw.
He swam like a fish, for he was at the centre and I thought he was going to make it but then he began to drown.

I screamed for the lifeguards.

I couldn't go into the water, for I couldn't swim neither did had I a death sentence over my head.
I watched as he was carried back to the river shore and was given CPR. I began to wonder if he was so stupid to have swam against the currents.

Supposing he had died? What was he thinking? But then, supposing he had succeeded? At this point I wondered.

Right there, like David's sling of stone, it hit me like a series of torrid avalanche, 'The effort you put in is the difference'. All you have to do in life is to try.

The young lad never knew if he was going to make it but he tried. Was it stupidity or was it bravery? Now I realised, they don't matter anymore. What matters is the beauty of TRYING. If you fail, admit it and then try another way.

Don't expect life with its austere pack of waves to give you a melodious and innocuous ride. Life is not that beautiful. It always cast a shadow on every man and it takes only a try to step out of the shadow.

Yet, not everyone would make it.

Not everyone with a gory-tale background ever and will always make it to the surface of success. Many have and will still die on the way; many will give up. Many, still, will make it. The young lad never survived at the end.

You don't know if you would make it. Be it bravery or stupidity, you just have to try.

..................................................... ONE.

SHADOWS.


For what we achieve are just shadows, reflected by the light of our actions - Endurance Godsfavour.




Too often I hear, some men are born kings, while some are made kings, whichever side you choose, I have come to know, that no man ever wakes up being king; for even princes must prove their worth through wits and feats, not to talk more of a man with an obscure background.

When he was born, March 18, 1987, there was nothing exciting about him that the cosmos should give attention to. There were no thunder claps to applaud his welcome, neither were there resounding cries when his feet touched the earth. Life, itself, cast its blankets of dark shadows upon his unframed destiny, for at the age of 5, fate still had no plans for him.

It was all about living for the moment and allowing tomorrow visit with all its baggages.
At the age of 8, he had grown to accept his environment and his skin colour was a perfect reflect of his surroundings.
He had never had to bother about anything, for he left those thoughts at the table of his parents, even his sleeping and waking up. There was absolute no point of harbouring the thoughts of becoming a better man than the way he was.

The dilapidated building they abode in was almost angled at 30 degree and they were at the mercy of the silent wind that patrolled that vicinity. The only fear they had was for the building to crumble upon them while they slept. Still, all these never affected his vivacious spirit. His parents were all that mattered to him.

At the age of 10, life threw the first stone.

.......CONTINUED


In my head, it is perfectly easier being the hero than the villain. All you have to do is make sure you do no wrong; but in the real world, it is totally the opposite.
As a hero, you are constantly running, saving the day, rescuing a damsel, worrying and feeling guilt about every decision you make but as a villain, all you have to do is to lurk in the shadows waiting for the hero to run by. And when he does, you knock the cold out of him and you walk away....it is that simple.

Yet, do we ever consider who the real victims are??

Whoever life had a spat with, the telling effect was on Eric. Talk about two elephants wrestling and the ground pays for hosting the show. Eric's life was obliterated.

He waved his friends goodbye as he hopped to his house. He held his white report card under his dirt ridden brown school uniform as he giggled. His parents would be proud of him and finally he would have what he had so much ached for.

Half way to his house, he bolted like a flash of lightening as he saw a myriad of people camping in front of where he lived. Without greeting anyone, he flung the door open and raced into the house. He couldn't find his mom. He came out of the house and saw her lying in a pool of her own blood. He was speechless.

There had been a robbery at the bank opposite where he lived and the police had engaged them in a combat of bullets. People had scampered for safety, of course, no one was willing to meet the creator anytime soon but Mrs. Stone was not so fortunate, for she had been blessed with slow legs.
She was sitting in her stall when the rain of bullets carved holes on her feeble temples and life wasn't fair enough to allow her take a final moment before she embarked on another journey to the afterlife.

People encompassed Eric as they tried to placate his troubled spirit, yet, he did not cry. His father would know what to do. That night, July 16, 1997, his father would not return home.

People never knew why Mr. Stone couldn't be found but much later, life would lift the lid it placed on that secret. For it would be known that Mr. Stone had eloped with another lady after he had blame Mrs. Stone for the abundance of misfortunes cultivated and harvested in his life. This was the same day Mrs. Stone eloped with death.
If Mr. Stone would ever turn out to be successful, Eric wouldn't know, for he never came to seek forgiveness.

Life kept on eructating its death portions like a venomous adder, and Eric had no armour against fate onslaught.

Eric cried out of loneliness for the first time.
Perhaps, fate has found a new toy to play with, in the shadow.

Well! I will follow this story to see if it has the real stuff,so welcome my AUTHOR

babaireti:
Well! I will follow this story to see if it has the real stuff,so welcome my AUTHOR

Wow. So thrilled to have you here. I hope I can at least match half of your expectations.

**following**

Paragraphing is the key

kitnah:
**following**

Paragraphing is the key

Wow, thank you ma, I'm thrilled

I'm loving this. Don't stop, sir. Your choice of words is mature.

LarrySun:
I'm loving this. Don't stop, sir. Your choice of words is mature.

I am very humbled to have you grace this thread with your words sir, I am vey much open to corrections.

..................CONTINUED


How cruel could life be? I have always wondered, just how vindictive could this twisted fate smile? Is it all about confining one to the quagmire of despair or relentlessly throwing its punches??

Let me show you.

Have you ever been in that position where you have nothing else to live for? Or what was once your beacon of hope mysteriously fades away, leaving you in that valley of shadows? Have you ever been under a cloud of doubt, where you don't have the luxury of making a choice not to even talk about choosing from any available options, and then suddenly life smiles at you?

At the age of 11, life embraced Eric with a kiss.

Eric was perplexed. He had no idea if he was to give up or keep fighting. He had never fought any battle on his own, so he sure didn't know how to start a war with fate.

The building where he stayed still managed to stay with him. Nobody was going to chase him away from there, even though it wasn't legally his inheritance, people still pitied for him. They who had enough food to spare, provided his daily bread.

It seemed like life was tired of bullying him around.

February 13, 1998, Eric sat by the doorsteps of his building. Whatever he was thinking, no one knew. His gaze was on a car approaching his direction from his left hand side.
The car stopped in front of the building and the driver disembarked.
Eric stared at him for a moment.

The driver, chocolate in complexion, wore a green native attire. He spoke for few minutes and soon Eric realised, he had an uncle!
What a perfect time to ask, where in God created planet have you been all my life?

Life was giving Eric, a helping hand.

After much conversation, Eric agreed to bid farewell to the place he had come to call his home and set out for another. If his fortunes were getting any better, he wouldn't know, but living for the moment was his only desire.
Not so long, he found himself in front of 'the golden' gate, for he thought he had arrived heaven.

As he got out of the car, Eric was uneasy, for he feared he may soil the adroit ground with his unworthy feet. Carefully, he placed his feet on the ground and realised, the ground wasn't screaming for insults. So he relaxed.
His uncle watched as Eric scanned the environment. Everywhere looked almost green from the tall trees around, even the very air they breathed was perfectly clean. He was certain of Eric's naivety.
Without further contemplating, they went through the gate.

If there was one word Eric could use to describe what he saw, I doubt mortal men would know, because Eric literally refused to go into the house but offered to share the same room with the gate keeper. Though amused by his behaviour, his new family would have none of that.

Eric's uncle introduced him to his wife and two children, and Eric found warmth in their embrace. Everything was peaceful as life kept on patting Eric at the back while fate played it card.

In his new found space, Eric thrived, and at the age of 15, he excelled at everything he did. In school, he was a force to reckon with and at home, he was endeared to everyone.
Little by little, Eric learned to give his strength to those who needed it. He helped around the house, making meals and washing dishes and he was finally entrusted with the health of his new family. Everyone loved it when he cooked. Not that he was the world's best cook, far from it, try tasting his food, you may decide to drink water all day, but he knew how to make everyone smile while they ate.

Fate saw an opportunity to kiss him.

Have you read the account of the bible where Judas kissed his master? If by now you still think by any chance that kisses are meant for those you love, wait till you read what happened at the end of that story. It wasn't anything near beautiful.

..........................CONTINUED



Have you ever wondered what would happen to a man with a will or purpose? I guess your answer is in conformity with mine.
Here's a life fact; no matter how much we try to play fair, life conveniently finds a way to screw us over. It molest some of their dreams while dumping many into a cauldron of boiling trouble. Whichever way it chooses, it uses what you love the most.

Mr. Chris came in from work Dec. 23, 2002 and ordered Eric to bring his food into his study. Free spirited as he was, he danced into the kitchen. Since Eric had begun living with them. His vivacity had spread like butter on a bread surface, astonishing everyone with it magnificence.
He prepared the food like he would do for himself and soon knocked on Uncle Chris's study door.
With his permission, Unlce Chris, Eric gained access into the room.
Piles of books decorated the far corner of the room as the wall shelves were stacked to the high heavens.
Uncle Chris closed the door behind him as Eric placed the silver tray on the brown big table. Uncle Chris moved behind Eric and in a weird manner, rubbed his waist.

Eric has never been electrocuted before, but as if a bolt of electricity cruised through his veins, Eric almost shot into the mid air. He became tensed as the air around him began to heat up.
Uncle Chris placed a finger to his lips as he cautioned him to remain quiet or face sudden death. Eric still had no idea what was about to happen.

Uncle Chris advanced stealthy to Eric as Eric's back was against the shelf. Eric wondered why his Uncle behaved thus.
Finally, only a feet separated both bodies for each other as Uncle Chris caressed Eric's chin with his hands. His hands were too strong to spark any flame in the young man but he wouldn't mind.

Soon Uncle Chris dropped his hands and in an instance, he took off his clothes, revealing the new undies he had bought last week.

Eric opened his mouth to make a sound when he saw his Uncle getting aroused and just then, the door flung open.

.................CONTINUED


There are no prince charming in this world, neither are there towering castles anymore; for life just can't hand you the keys to the kingdom on a riding white horse. Honestly, I sincerely think Disney is misleading so many people.

Talking about a prince waltzing in to save the day, or in Eric's case, a princess saving the day, so it would seem like when Mrs. Chris came into the study.

Both men stood in utter shock as Mrs. Chris stepped into the room. For Uncle Chris, it spelt doom but for Eric, relieve. Talk about a saviour when you need one.
Mrs. Chris was astounded at what she saw as a million and one thoughts fought for her attention. Both men looked at her.

Mrs. Chris came into the study fully and shut the door behind her. If she was going to kill anyone, she wouldn't want anyone hearing her victim's voice.
Mrs. Chris walked to where both men stood as Uncle Chris stood side by side with Eric.

Few metres separated her from the men as she gazed on her husband. Eric felt so elated. He could imagine the disgust she must have been feeling at the moment for her husband. All he wanted was for him to get out of the room. The next course of his life would be decided later.

He stopped thinking.

Mrs. Chris looked at Eric and shifted her gaze back to her husband. Then she smiled. Uncle Chris smiled back. Eric was confused. The silence was awkward.

In a flash, Mrs. Chris became unclad, revealing all her glories meant to adore her kingly husband. Eric's jaw dropped. Yet, he couldn't find his voice.
Uncle Chris moved forward as he and his other half engaged in a tongue twist. Eric made to excuse them but Mrs. Chris caught him by the collar of his brown shirt. Eric was stupefied.

Like a troublesome rat caught in a trap, Eric tried to wiggle his way out of her hands but was conquered by the strong assistance of Uncle Chris.
Before Eric would cry, he was stripped unclad and shame was the only blanket he could use to cover himself.

Right there, that moment, fate assaulted him.

Uncle Chris and his wife became the devil Eric was preached about in sunday school, 'cos the pain they inflicted was just too real.

While Mrs. Chris attacked from the front with her mouth, her husband penetrated from the back and Eric screamed to the high heavens as the drunken fate danced around with a glass of darkness. Eric was about to give up; he had already given up but with little strength, his hand rested on the tray of food.

Oh the tray.

His fingers found the knife he had placed on the tray and soon his hand grasped at it.
Before fate would know what was about to happen, Eric stabbed Mrs. Chris at the neck. She screamed.

There was a moment silence in the cosmos.

Eric turned to Uncle Chris but fate quickly jabbed him with a punch from Uncle Chris. He fell unconsciously to the ground but he had mistakenly misplaced his knife in Uncle Chris's tummy.

The three bodies laid on the floor, with which person's blood mingling with each other.

Fate was not done with his toy. Not just yet.

Eric woke up later. He looked around. All he saw was concrete wall.
He was in the prison.

What was the reason for his arrest? His head ached as he thought about it. He passed out again.

Fate still thought about what to do with him.

Tow days later, he woke up.

Two different news awaited him. So he chose the good new first.
Good news, that very day was Christmas. He smiled, at least he was grateful for something.
Bad news; his Uncle wife was the reason he was behind bars. What was his offence? No one would tell him, only that much money wields enough power.

Eric sank to the earth.
He would be here for a very long time, fate thought, confined to the chains of nothingness.

Now I ask again, just how cruel could life be?

At times, life doesn't just put you on ur back and keep on pounding you on the chest, times most often, it helps you to your feet and when it feels like you have taken the right corner, you realise, 'oh my god', I've been acting that movie 'Wrong Turn'. Then fate knocks the sunlight out of you. That's how rancourous fate could be.

Don't expect a smooth ride on this bumpy road.

..................To be continued.......

Dude, you just got me glued. Wowww was all I kept saying before my bloody phone went off yesterday.

Keep it up, the sky is you limit. I can only imagine.

Joey..!

FoxyFlow:
Dude, you just got me glued. Wowww was all I kept saying before my bloody phone went off yesterday.

Keep it up, the sky is you limit. I can only imagine.

Joey..!

I'm guessing you are the author of 'Bright Night'. That piece was epic.
It feels refreshing to be encouraged by great writers like you. I'm thrilled.

I need more

kitnah:
I need more

Lol!! Good to have you here again. I would try to do it tomorrow.

Simplicity101:

Lol!! Good to have you here again. I would try to do it tomorrow.

Breakfast or lunch

You are a good writer.

kitnah:

Breakfast or lunch

You are a good writer.

I would try my very best to do both.

Thank you for the compliment. I do hope to become a beautiful writer someday.

.................CONTINUED.


'Count your blessings, name them one by one and you would be surprised at what the Lord has done'. Yea, I remembered when we sang that song as little kids and in the process we count our fingers, it was fun.

Not to long, I listened to an award winning singer, Adele, one of her hit track caught my attention, 'Rolling in the deep'. The part that intrigued me the most was 'Count your blessings to find what you look for' and in Eric's case, it perfectly made sense, although Eric's predicament was more of counting his misfortunes, for his very existence was a burden on himself.

Stacking Eric's woes with his hopes, side by side, seem to be an unfair comparison, imagine staging a cat versus Lion's fight, even the unseen spirits would know the winner, and if they were to be hung on a balanced scale, the whole world won't be surprised at the outcome. Using the word 'terrible' would sound merciful, for it was that brutal.
Naming his woes would be all about finding out if he had yet been hit by the worst or if whether he was set for a collision course.

Perhaps we should find out.

Eric sat on the sandy ground, shared with his co-room mates, Rats! In order to live together, they both had to come to a mutual agreement, 'DON'T CROSSOVER TO MY SPACE' and interestingly enough, they seemed to have gotten along.

Eric bowed his head as his hands covered his face, and for the first time, he began to actually think about his life.

He wasn't born with any spoon in his mouth. A silver spoon was perfectly impossible for him to have purchased and a plastic spoon was a privilege he could afford. Wooden spoons would have been by a stroke of felicity but he was a man with a curse, sitting dock under the cover of darkness.

He had no family anymore. His runaway father and deceased mother had left him at the mercies of strangers only for the demented Uncle Chris to take over. His body quivered at the thought.

Friendship was very expensive for him to get from market and he envied anyone who could say 'that's my friend'.

He was a killer. Whether it was an error on his part or Uncle Chris deserved it, the fact still stood, 'He had killed his uncle'. No amount of preaching can erase that; he would have to live with that forever.

Being hungry was more than a hobby; more like a habit. It never bother him, for he had already mastered the art of staying hungry.

To crown his achieved feats of trouble, he was a convict. Above all else, he hated this achievement. Well, these achievements just succeeded in cancelling some items off his '50 things to do before I die'.

As Eric sat on the cold floor, he wept. There was nothing he was living for. No hope to have anchored on, no dream to have pursued. He was definitely being drifted about by the currents of life.

Fate could only smile.

In his two feet square room, he wept profusely. Nothing good had happened to him, he thought. He needed to change that, and for the first time, he shot at fate.

''I am going to be the president''.


The wind paused on it journey, and the earth became still. The celestial bodies looked down and the heavens paid attention.
Did a man just find a purpose? Did a man just find his Will? Did he just find something to live for? Has he just seen the light?

Fate clenched its fists and its gnashing of teeth could be heard throughout the silent cosmos.

Fate hate being controlled.

................CONTINUED.


When walking through the valley of shadows, remember, shadows are cast by light. Find the light and the shadows disappears.
Set your face towards the sunlight and watch the shadows fall behind you.

While fate takes a celebrated pleasure in controlling people's destiny, it hates people that can control it but immensely avoid those that create their own fate.
Talk about destiny bending to the will of a determined man, it would take efforts of the combined heavens to stop that man. The Tower of Babel was a great prototype.

Eric laughed at his self-cracked joke.

Whether he was high on frustration or perhaps he was as sharp a marble or he was being serious, fate had to look for a plan to horde him into the abyss of darkness.

Little by little, like sparks of electricity, his will bubbled inside of him. He could feel the sensation cruising through his bloodstream. He paced about his prison cell, trying not to incur the wrath of his cell mate, Rats, as he mused over his new found belief. All he needed was a miracle.

The miracle came at the turn of the new year.

January 3, 2003, Eric was bailed out by the only person he knew, Mrs. Chris.


At first, he was reluctant to leave the cell. Not that he had come to love the cell or might end up missing his cell mates, in fact the rats sang praises for his departure, for it meant more space, he had vowed never to do anything with his Uncle's family.

After remembering what he had willed to do, he decided to follow her but kept on pondering on ways to escape her clutches again.

Neither of them spoke to themselves as they got into the car and so it was on their 45 minutes journey to the house. Eric could only observe that his Uncle's wife, Mrs. Grace had gotten prettier.

As they got into the house, her two children were noticeably absent, Mrs. Grace took that opportunity to beg for forgiveness.

Caught of guard by this sudden move, Eric wondered if she was truly sorry. Her beautiful face melted Eric's stony heart and he soon dispel every ill-feeling he had concerning her.

For reasons he would later come to know, Mrs. Grace became entirely nice to him. She cared for him like he was the only person in the world and at least once, her own children harboured the thought that he had charmed their mother.
That did not deter her in her effort to please him. She became more of an interested girlfriend than a concerned mother. Eric did not mind, for to him, it was just a means to an end.

Eric had keenly observed Mrs. Grace's behaviour. He suspected something was wrong but could determine what it was. He decided to keep his distance.

March 23, 2003, Eric knew what it was.

She had just come of the bathroom when she summoned Eric in her room. Flashbacks of event that happened the last time he was in a room with her played in his head. So he stood by the door.

Mrs. Grace sat on her bed looking tired. It looked like she had just swallowed a house and when she broke the new with the very little strength she had, it was more than a house.

She was pregnant.

Eric wasn't surprised when she said she was three month pregnant, he had suspected it when he had always seen her frequent the toilet more often than the kitchen, he was rather astounded when she said he was the father. That study room incident flashed back.

At 16, August 21, 2003, Eric fathered his first child. A girl.

..................CONTINUED.


The brightest flame cast the darkest shadow; and most times too often, the most beautiful things of this world are hidden in those shadows.

But what would your good do if there were no evils? How would this earth look like if there were shadows?
Perhaps we humans would spin around like broken compasses, wobbling to and fro the earth like drunk devils looking for our destinations. Perhaps, we need to find our shadow in order to discover our light.

November 17, 2003, Eric got admitted into the University of Jos to study Political Science. His happiness could not be quantified, not because of the admission, rather because at least he would keep a considerable amount of distance from Mrs. Grace back in Lagos even though it meant him leaving his child with her. He had something he was going after, perhaps if he gets it, he would go back for his daughter.

Eric tried to be serious while he was in school. Honestly, unless you would expect him to gorge out his eyes and become selectively deaf, I see no reason why he won't be distracted.

Little by little, Eric gained his footing. His vivacity created roads where there was none and soon, he was propelled to the annex of the popularity poll.
In his studies, he was at the forefront and it was no surprise to the angels when he was unanimously voted as the SUG president at the beginning of his third year.

He held on to his light.

Being the SUG president had its advantage and lots of opportunities came across him. Talk of the fame and the respect he gain and not forgetting the intoxicating drink of power.

Determined to create a legacy of his, Eric worked tirelessly to the extent that even his cabinet members thought being a president was a generation's heirloom passed down to him; and in his first 3 month as president, even the fading grass on the field became greener.
It would seem like fate had finally submitted to his will.

Just no matter how much one try to be accommodating, there would also be those who are drunk with spite and would look for every convenient way to upstage a good man. For not once or twice but on multiple occasions, amidst the funs and joys, Eric ran into troubled waters.
Sometimes during the day, his assigned office would be vandalised and at nights his body, assaulted. Still he wouldn't back down.

While walking through hell with a smile, life decided to reward him for not taking a rest.

He had his first girlfriend.

This could be the start of a beautiful end, Fate thought.

A big thank you to all that are taking their time to read this work. Your views alone are encouraging. Albeit, I can not do this perfectly without you pointing out my errors and giving me your criticisms. But I take God beg you, take am small, small.

Thank you all. More updates coming in soon.

Cc.
Larrysun
Ishilove
Royver
Dyoungster
Kingphillip

This is awesome!

This is beautiful.

LarrySun:
This is awesome!

this one the boss himself call awesome lemme follow to read later in da day

LarrySun:
This is awesome!

You are far too kind sire and I deeply appreciate your encouragement.

I still need your criticism.

elantraceey:
This is beautiful.

Did you just mention beautiful? This is the most cute encouragement I have heard. I am so thrilled.

I still need your corrections.

kingphilip:
this one the boss himself call awesome lemme follow to read later in da day

Wow, it is an honour to have you read my work sire.

Still awaiting your corrections.