Udinyinwe walked hurriedly but surreptitiously, his head turning as swiftly as his heart was racing, his eyes were trying as hard as possible to pry through the thick darkness that enveloped the street, only some rooms occupied by students in the street had their rechargeable lamps on, most of them were dim now, considerably so, it was almost midnight. He cursed the ever unreliable PHCN, even they didn’t want to be on his side this night, the enormous haze of darkness enveloping both he and the road could be repressed if they could just do their job, at least for this night. The night wasn’t windy, the air was dry coupled with the deafening silence on the road. He trudged on, he wasn’t going to jinx himself with fear, his daily devotional had ‘’overcoming your fear’’ as the theme that month, or did it? He hadn’t opened the devotional for months, Mena had told him the theme, she always encouraged him to read it, if he had read it there might be a catchphrase from it he’d be reciting quietly now, he thought.
Why didn’t he just stay at school ? who walks Boyo street at almost midnight ? ok, students do walk it, but not under the circumstances enveloping the neighborhood right now, not when it was making the rounds that kuala boys were mourning Obiaka. The past three weeks had been very tensed at Boyo street, it was largely deserted once it got dark, the usual suya and meshy spots closed very early nowadays, an uneasy quietness had befell Boyo, there was no ‘’turn ups’’ and the usual lively and popular Boyo in the past few weeks had become a huge departure from its former self, FUUA students as vivacious and outspoken as they were understood that once it came to an issue concerning system men, the kuala boys, they had to tune down, nobody wanted to be the one who would be used as an example. Well this wasn’t just any other issue nonetheless, it was Obiaka, the famous and dreaded Obiaka, Obiaka of Boyo, he was popularly called. Obiaka had been shot in a police raid , or so people had been saying, mostly in hushed tones though. He was dead alright, but the manner and circumstances were not lucid, everybody had heard something, everything was hearsay. A school of thought even alleged that there had been a huge crisis inside the kuala boys camp, that there was a form of coup d’etat, Obiaka had become unpopular with some top members of the kuala hierarchy, and he was summarily deposed , they opined. There was one vivid inference from Obiaka’s death, one that was all too clear for Federal university, Umuahia students, the Kuala boys were to be dreaded more at this point as they mourned their fallen leader. For unsuspecting students, especially the ‘Freshers’’, who always seemed to ask unending questions, they learnt this ‘’tradition’’ the hard way. Unsuspecting, eager to read or show off, carried along all their sumptuous gadgets to their evening studies or ‘’ nightclass’’ and they would subsequently be harried, robbed off their phones, wallets and whatever valuables they had . For the unlucky ones, most likely the one ones who tried to resist they were unceremoniously beaten up.
Udinyinwe noticed two dark figures approaching him, they were still some distance out, his fist clenched apparently to stop his fingers from trembling unending. His apprehension grew, just then he paused, and for a split second he was relieved . They were not the people he was expecting they would be, they were like him, he could tell from the way they walked or ran, he couldn’t conclude which they were doing, it was somewhere between both, between running and walking. The very familiar walking steps of people scared out of their wits. He almost laughed at them, then he shrugged the feeling, he was invariably going to be laughing at his own situation, he was no different from them. They had passed him now, two boys, they nudged their heads at him when they passed like they were silently acknowledging their similar fate of sorts, giving him the sort of look that screamed ‘’fellow compatriot’’. Minutes after he had passed them, he heard a scream and a struggle behind him, his pace naturally increased now. He panicked. Why did he even offer himself to accompany Ronke to Boyo this night, he had planned to return from campus in the morning. She couldn’t come back alone and she was not feeling well,a tiny voice in his head said. Not feeling well ? He thought again and hissed simultaneously, now it was he who wasn't "feeling well" , certainly not under these conditions he was right now would any one "feel well" the voice mocked, now he had to walk all alone to his room at the end of the 4th lane in Boyo street, Ronke's hostel was just at the entrance of the street, it was at Boyo junction . He wasn’t a people pleaser and he hardly assisted people, but karma was funny, he thought, trying to repay him for his hard heartedness on the same night he decided to help someone. The sheer vicissitudes of life, he thought. Distressed and frightened about the ongoing behind him, he made utmost sure he was not going to care, or get involved he wasn’t even going to turn his head to look. Immediately, so close to the bend on the 4th lane, he heard whispering, and footsteps approaching. Instinctively he ducked into the dark shade by the side of a nearby kiosk. Almost simultaneously he heard hurried footsteps coming from the path he was walking from. The "whisperers" were talking now and they were more visible under the dim light, they were policemen! He felt utmost relief which evaporated almost as soon as it came, what he saw next shocked him to the marrows . Three boys, who looked like hoodlums, stopped running as they met the policemen on the bend in front of the kiosk. They exchanged quick pleasantries and discussed about the boys who he had passed on the way, the same boys whom the hoodlums had obviously just robbed. It was their screams he had heard. ‘’hope say una nor too beat them?” the stouter policeman quizzed, “no nah, dem loyal when we ambush them, them nor give us problem’’ one of the hoodlums, one of the kuala boys, he guessed, replied. They then exchanged something, most likely monies stolen, he was struggling to see under the thick darkness. Udinyinwe was awe-struck, and he shivered at the scene he was witnessing, just then he kicked a resting bottle unknowingly, it flew and crashed on the bindings of the kiosk, making all the noise he would have wanted to avoid. He cursed, and at that moment he thought of the worst, the lights came almost immediately too, PHCN had answered him, albeit at the wrong time “Jesus’’ he screamed………….
’’Udin, udin, you just slept throughout the night, its already 6am, I wonder what you’ll write in Dr Ozie's test’ Ronke's screeching torchlight was piercing through his sleepy face and dreamy eyes. He dropped his head again cleaning any saliva that could be on his face. “let's head back to Boyo, I don’t wanna be late for class because of you’’ she said as she trudged , he trudged behind her, half annoyed, he had slept through and through again . “Ronke , please i'll seat close to you today oh, he muttered…..

so I guess I'm perfect after all, I was expecting much more criticisms than the zero (0) I'm getting here...it's not fair to read and not comment oh...especially you that writes, you, yes you...OK see let's let this slide now, I'm going to post another excerpts from my book...try and tell me what you think..."eh pls"...thanks. BTW I'm new here, I write for some blogs , but here is popular for criticisms. I need that.

The sun was scorching as hard as it could that afternoon, it was having relentless fun irking everybody, from the cobbler who was constantly twitching under a poorly built kiosk which was obviously letting in more sunlight than normal to the seemingly distraught student, pacing near the departmental car park, she was obviously waiting for someone or was she ? who really knew ? it was common practice for some girls in this school to feign waiting for ‘’someone’’ as a guise for surveying and luring a ‘’concerned ‘’ individual, most likely a rich stud in a nice ride to intervene in the seemingly ‘’unpleasant’’ situation which she found herself, nonetheless, the sun was making sure her situation wasn’t pleasant at all. It was a very hot afternoon.
Udinyinwe looked away from them, and was now mildly concerned about Kevwe’s stunt in the morning; it had left him absolutely livid. He was filled with unsurprising rage; Omasan would never have behaved like this. He missed his old roommate, but he subtly blamed him for all this. Omasan had assured him of his babe’s younger brother’s attitude. Heck, he had reassured him! After Omasan graduated, he seriously contemplated living alone, surely it was going to sting his lean pocket financially but he was willing to bend. He didn’t like to share. He loved solitude. Kevwe had been neat, disciplined, ok, he initially detested the sheer quantity of pornographic videos on his PC, but no-one was squeaky clean, nobody was perfect, that much he concluded. Kevwe had been a good “cousin” too. It was easier to call him that, than his grandad’s maternal cousin’s in-law. ‘’Cousin’’ covered all that, all these included, had never really been pacified. He wanted to live alone. People had always called him ‘’selfish’’,’’ A loner’’. Bother him, this did not! He saw himself as somebody that was very much comfortable in his own skin, someone that didn’t need assurances from the seemingly insecure students. He didn’t need people to like him, he thought. Kevwe had worn his shirt to class before he woke up, sure, he had about six more neatly ironed shirts that hung from the open drawer to choose from, but he wanted to wear that one or did he? He detested Kevwe’s attitude, he had made peace with that undeniable fact. Truth was, he was already dressed up to go when he causally checked for his blue handkerchief which he had left in the breast pocket of that shirt, that was when he noticed the shirt wasn’t there, he had seen it there yesterday afternoon. It was Kevwe, he was instantly furious. He tried reaching Kevwe’s cell, but there was no need, his own cell phone was dead. The story about that being the shirt he wanted to wear seemed the only natural thing that could justify the rage of incense that was consuming him. This was just the third month of them being roommates, roomies, and he was already donning his shirt? What would he want to share next? Maybe his boxers! Maybe his expensive moccasin! Maybe Stella-Maris too! Yes, he hadn’t liked the way he and her were all chatty and laughing when she visited him the other day. Kevwe had told Ronke that he was being too possessive of Stella-Maris, that it was a sign of insecurity on his part towards her, wrong move! Ronke told him everything, she always did. His eyes had burned but she had pleaded anonymity for Kevwe, he had only told her in good faith, as she was seemingly the only person Udinyinwe would listen to. Now he had a chance to tell him his mind, it would be eyeball to eyeball, face to face, reclusive as he was, sometimes that Demon in him activated, the Demon of confrontations as Ronke had put it. Nonetheless he was determined to give Kevwe a piece of his mind on who was insecure, on who acted puerile, on who was always bothered about how perfectly lined his hair was, on who was constantly living on peoples opinion, checking for who and who had liked his picture posts on instagram. The piece of his mind was turning to a big plot of his mind.
The whole confrontation plan had fell through now. It had to. He couldn’t find Kevwe in his class and it was when he frantically searched for his roommate that he heard that sound from within. Abandoning the search was the only option. Udinyinwe walked as briskly as he could on the pavement leading to the bus park. He cursed under his breath. His steps increased and reduced intermittently. He needed absolute concentration now, he thought. He board a bus headed for the school gate. It was lecture hours; the buses naturally didn’t fill up quickly at this time of the day. All he had to do was concentrate; this was the only source of transportation close by. There was of course Annex building, where the buses would fill up faster, but he couldn’t walk that distance now, he just couldn’t.
‘’Udinyinwe Animashaun” “Udin Amin’’ Julian hailed, tapping him from behind, obviously making a mundane attempt at mimicking Prof. Obiajulu , who teased his shortened name for sounding like, Idin-Amin, the erstwhile Ugandan dictator. Julian’s little tap had sent shivers down his body. ‘’how far my guy’’ he amped his concentration, replying faintly. Julian was patronising him again, he had been at it since last week. He had already told him he won’t blab about what he saw to Ronke. Truth was he had told him that to get him off his back, he was still deciding how he would break it to Ronke that her boyfriend was sleeping with Ese, that same Ese, ‘’Ese is the Lex Luthor to your superman" he had teased her before, before, when it was just the departmental vice president and deputy course rep positions they battled over, before that particular night.
He had battled extremely hard with this situation as best as he could, he was at Boyo junction now, he was halfway to Eldorado! But now he needed a new tactic, he needed distractions now, every step seemed heavier, he cursed under his breath, why had he eaten late at night, he would have followed his instinct and ignored that ignoble call, how the consequence of that action was inundating him now. He didn’t learn, this wasn’t the first time it was happening, again he made the pledge as he walked. The same vow he had made before.No more eating of beans after 7pm, no more. He couldn’t wait to relieve himself.
He heaved a beleaguered sign of relief as he got to his hostel gate. He paused for a moment. He was struggling to move, he cursed again. There was no way he was using that departmental toilet, he didn’t even want to think about that place! He cleaned his sweaty face, he was determined. Climbing the stairs that led to his room on the 2nd floor, he was already taking off his clothes in characteristic fashion and in uncharacteristic rhythm. He was already at the door reaching for his key when it dawned on him. His seeming plight had made him oblivious of the faint sounds coming out of his room, his senses were primed fully at that moment, he heard the sounds and he recognised what they were. His eyes wandered to the female sandal that was close to Kevwe’s shoe. Bleep!. He wanted to scream, wanted to kill Kevwe, but there was no time for that now, he made a quick diversion to Chikwe’s room upstairs, he absolutely needed to use the toilet………..

seriously...I need comments....criticisms, commendations...come on, gimme something to work with here.

followin u , rid on

The night was invitingly cold, the trees around were swaying finely, trying as much as possible to dance to the beautiful tune the night was rendering. The skies had few stars adorning it, but it seemed pregnant with harmless clouds, harmless; not the type that heralded rainfall, some of the sky was crystal clear also. It was the kind of night that allowed the pleasures of the night have more meaning, made it more enchanting, more sinful. The night, how powerful and beautiful it must feel, how sinister it could also be. The night was when emotions became heightened, was when intimacy was buoyant, the night was always passionate, but ultimately the night was prone to the dark side, it could hide the most evil of machinations, it could hide many sins and could blend seamlessly with the evil it witnessed. The night was always a ready accomplice.

It was on these kinds of nights Omasan craved Ivie, it was on these kind of nights he felt contrasting feelings; pleasure and guilt, it was these sorts of nights that made him complacent, weak and succumbing to his Achilles heel. Now, it was on this night, that he would correct his mistake, he would end everything, that he would make everything ‘’normal’’ again.

He looked at the wall clock on the left side of the room, it was barely few minutes past eight. The room had the audacious aura of a teachers lodge, a vintage television set sat on top of the shelf, which had started peeling, the sitting room had chairs which looked older than him, their best years were certainly behind them and on one side of the wall was a calligraphic painting.

Why was she taking long?

Had she told somebody?

What was the outcome? Omasan's thoughts became one of apprehension; Ivie never came late.

The room was located at the far end of the big school compound, it was located far away from the new principal lodge which had been built near the classes and was just a stone throw adjacent to the class area, standing at the front door, one could easily see the assembly ground. it was a strategic spot, it looked like a deliberate plot to make sure the new principal lodge had an eagle eye view of the entire school, it was a story building, that saw everywhere in the large Federal Government Girls College, Benin, everywhere except the old principal lodge where Omasan resided.
Omasan had been an outstanding corper these first four months, he was dedicated to the cause, he taught beautifully with a method that Dr. Imoni always used in the University; he made learning curious, chipping in anecdotes to make the students love the class, want the class. He loved that learning method and he practiced it here. The students adored him, he talked with an alluring accent, one he had obviously put practice to during his time at the university and he had almost perfected it, his deep baritone voice seamlessly put an icing on the already sumptuous cake. He could remember the obvious embarrassment the first few weeks after he came. The students had tried to outdo themselves in a quest to gain his attention, a particular funny incident had played out in SS1 D, he had entered the class and most of th e students had make up on, they all raised their hands to ask questions, and all tried to impress him by trying to answer every question, even rhetorical questions seemed to have students ready to answer. He almost laughed as Mrs. Osakwe walked into the class to give him some information, the girls struggled to clean the cosmetics off their face; woe betide anyone she caught with a made up face and they tried to outdo each other again in clearing off the facade on their faces.

All that had subsided now, he had even succeeded in waving off the pellucid advances and flirting of Mrs. Obong, she had scared him doing that, inviting him to dinner when the principal had travelled, putting on an almost transparent dress on the night, touching his cheeks and shoulders, he almost gave in, but for fear! He was scared of the principal, Mr.Obong, he had this ludicrous gaze that seemed destined to see through anything he looked at, his look was menacing, inquisitive, it gave him the creeps, that was a mutual feeling he shared with the students. He had feigned a phone call and almost ran out of the apartment; he didn’t go back there that night.

OK good morning. I'm hoping you guys are enjoying this. oh wait. I can't tell. so new year, new policies...I'd only post a new part if I've recieved at least three comments from the previous post. yes! I'm looking for attention. yes. I need to know what you think! Happy new year.

Mrs Obong had travelled soon after that incident, she worked as a permanent secretary in the civil service at the state capital, naturally she lived at the Government quarters there, she visited sparingly afterwards, and he would see her car drive in some days but would not know when she left, she still smiled at him when she came to fraternize with the teachers in the staff room, but it was always a platonic, convivial smile, one devoid of any intimacy, but it was surely ambiguous; he could tell.

Mrs Obong was simply pretty, she was the kind of woman whose frame hid her age, she was slender and had the characteristic features that would always make men stare, she walked with a kind of grace that was proud, enviable. Many times he wondered whether he would have not bulged if that incident had presented itself a few weeks later, when he was settled, when he had known the ‘’landscape’’ better. He would never answer that question; he didn’t trust any of the answers he gave.

He wondered if he was the cause of her sparring visits, he would never know still. He promised himself he’d talk to her; he hadn’t fulfilled that till now, a little over two months later. He wondered whether she still thought of him.

How did she think of him? He sighed.

Omasan looked again at the wall clock, almost 8:30, apprehension was turning to anger, paranoia. He thought briskly of Udinyinwe’s phone call earlier that afternoon, he wondered why he was so unaccommodating, so irritable, he was complaining about Kevwe’s attitude again, he always complained about one thing or the other, he thought. Why should he even care about Kevwe, he had called things off with Emobor a few weeks earlier, as far as he knew, Kevwe was on his own now.

He heard footsteps, familiar footsteps, one that was stealthily approaching, furtive and almost silent but loudly screamed Ivie

She was matured beyond her years, she possessed a body that couldn’t be unnoticed, had dimples which did nothing to betray her enchanting smile, there was something about Ivie, something that mildly screamed wild, something that gently inferred daring, something that innocently spoke adventure, it had charmed Omasan, drawn him, enveloped him, and now it had enveloped him in trouble.

She was the food prefect and was responsible for co-ordinating meals from the dining hall to the staff and youth corpers who stayed in school, in this case corper, Megan, the other corper posted to the school had decided against living within the school, she lived with a friend who stayed close by.

Ivie deliberately made sure she sent his own late, last, she made sure she delivered it personally "so the junior students won’t be walking that far at night". That was how they made time for their escapades, the thrilling nights, nights which he was certainly going to put an end to this night. He had to; he had crossed the Rubicon, saying all those things yesterday.

Ivie entered the room with the brown food flask, ignoring his flaring gaze. She didn’t greet him, glancing at him and made for the small centre table, she set the flask down and brought out the strip, the pregnancy strip, unused, still intact.

Omasan was bewildered.

Now, I really didn't want to continue writing, or rather posting my work here..but "Alabi" pay small yesterday, so I'm in a light mood. you guys should help a brother with your comments and thoughts...not cool, what you people are doing, not cool atall!

Omasan was bewildered.


She remained silent, placing the strip on the centre table.


‘’what is the meaning of this Ivie, are you crazy’’ he whispered wildly.


He was using the exact same tone he had used on her the night he gave her the strip and told her the only option that would be plausible if she was pregnant; Abortion. They had argued and he had blurted unprintable things.


Did he have a choice? She was being headstrong and he felt threatened, he felt his future threatened.


The headlines would scream ‘’Teacher- corper impregnates student”. He couldn’t have that.


‘’It came today, I saw my period today, I guess it was late after all’’ Ivie hissed as she trudged out, he watched her hips sway vivaciously in her tight blue check gown as she walked out. He stood transfixed, a little relieved, a little furious but still a little lustful. He heard a message alert on his Blackberry phone. His heart stopped for a few seconds as he read.


So you are sleeping with students. ‘’Fine boy corper” your own is finished.


‘’ Fine boy corper’’. He immediately knew who it was. The number was switched off when he called. He sank into the sofa and cursed, burying his face in his palms………….

so nairaland writers, this is (un) fortunately going to be my last posting here. I have gone back to my blogging of the stories, as I get more feedback and criticisms there...I have come to the realization that I will grow better there than here where supposed writers just read and don't offer constructive criticisms or the likes...Namaste!