Choi! MrsExplorer, see what you've caused now.

hahahahahaha, this is getting out of hand

Una dey vex o lol

This is serious

Hehehe. I love this.
"The following drama"


Every one seem to be following someone

I Love this

I probably would had ignored the pretty looking woman, a fellow passenger like myself, seating right next to me in a bus and not have stalked her if not for the green naira sign at the top left corner of her phone screen that caught my attention.

I had to strained my eyes to get a good look and I found myself almost letting out a cough, seeing indeed she was browsing the very same website - an online forum called Nairaland - that I happened to log off from some minutes ago before boarding the bus.

I stumbled across the site accidentally after a Google search. And weeks later, I joined as a member. Soon though I was taken appalled at the hate and repulsive comments against the police force loitering almost everywhere in most threads.

So being a police myself, I made it a crusade to fight back. I hated the fact that Nigerians don't appreciate our earnest sacrifice to protect them. Always quick to paint us as hungry corrupt men in black uniforms begging for chicken change.

Sometimes the hate comments carry all shades of insults from hell. And in most cases I run out of energy to reply, so what I normally do is to click the report button and the comments gets hidden.

I cringed and winced inwardly at the thought of this pretty woman sitting next to me posting one of those vile comments online at that moment. And once again, I felt the cough building up so I shifted nervously in my sit to suppress it.

She moved a little to give me space and I took advantage of the abrupt movement to observe her from the corner of my eyes.

With one good look, I knew she was tired and in distressed. There were dark little traces of mascara on her chin which suggest obviously she cried hours ago. She was also clutching her hand bag tightly between her thighs. But strangely it was pack to the brim with clothes. Impossible to zip close.

I stared more and she seemed unconcerned. She was fully concentrated on her phone and was now typing something.

I watched closely at how fast she typed and that was when I noticed the red paint underneath the nail of her thumb. At first glance, it seemed like paint but on a closer look I could swear it was blood.

It was darken, dry and distinctive. I spotted more of the stains on some of her fingers all hidden underneath the nails. It could easily be dismissed as dirt but I know it's blood.

I shifted my gaze to her face. Her concentration was so intense. She looked lost in her own world.

Lots of stranded hair leaked out of the edges of her head tie. It was definitely tied in a hurry. Then I saw more of those darken dry blood stains on the fabric. Randomly spattered in tiny droplets. Now I know it wasn't her blood.

I looked down at her. He was still typing. Cunningly, I observed her forearms and saw both were slightly bruised and swollen. Bathed in scratches. Something one gets from a cat fight. Or struggle.

The cough was out of my mouth before I could even tell. The force was much, and it carried tiny bits of saliva into the air. I felt chills as the droplets descended unto my face and arm and probably hers too cos she abruptly stopped whatever she was typing and jerked away in disgust.

“Sorry” I stammered looking away.

As much as I hate to think about It, as a police, I have no choice but to follow and stalk her when she alights.

I swallowed hard.

AjFive:
I probably would had ignored the pretty looking woman, a fellow passenger like myself, seating right next to me in a bus and not have stalked her if not for the green naira sign at the top left corner of her phone screen that caught my attention.

I had to strained my eyes to get a good look and I found myself almost letting out a cough, seeing indeed she was browsing the very same website - an online forum called Nairaland - that I happened to log off from some minutes ago before boarding the bus.

I stumbled across the site accidentally after a Google search. And weeks later, I joined as a member. Soon though I was taken appalled at the hate and repulsive comments against the police force loitering almost everywhere in most threads.

So being a police myself, I made it a crusade to fight back. I hated the fact that Nigerians don't appreciate our earnest sacrifice to protect them. Always quick to paint us as hungry corrupt men in black uniforms begging for chicken change.

Sometimes the hate comments carry all shades of insults from hell. And in most cases I run out of energy to reply, so what I normally do is to click the report button and the comments gets hidden.

I cringed and winced inwardly at the thought of this pretty woman sitting next to me posting one of those vile comments online at that moment. And once again, I felt the cough building up so I shifted nervously in my sit to suppress it.

She moved a little to give me space and I took advantage of the abrupt movement to observe her from the corner of my eyes.

With one good look, I knew she was tired and in distressed. There were dark little traces of mascara on her chin which suggest obviously she cried hours ago. She was also clutching her hand bag tightly between her thighs. But strangely it was pack to the brim with clothes. Impossible to zip close.

I stared more and she seemed unconcerned. She was fully concentrated on her phone and was now typing something.

I watched closely at how fast she typed and that was when I noticed the red paint underneath the nail of her thumb. At first glance, it seemed like paint but on a closer look I could swear it was blood.

It was darken, dry and distinctive. I spotted more of the stains on some of her fingers all hidden underneath the nails. It could easily be dismissed as dirt but I know it's blood.

I shifted my gaze to her face. Her concentration was so intense. She looked lost in her own world.

Lots of stranded hair leaked out of the edges of her head tie. It was definitely tied in a hurry. Then I saw more of those darken dry blood stains on the fabric. Randomly spattered in tiny droplets. Now I know it wasn't her blood.

I looked down at her. He was still typing. Cunningly, I observed her forearms and saw both were slightly bruised and swollen. Bathed in scratches. Something one gets from a cat fight. Or struggle.

The cough was out of my mouth before I could even tell. The force was much, and it carried tiny bits of saliva into the air. I felt chills as the droplets descended unto my face and arm and probably hers too cos she abruptly stopped whatever she was typing and jerked away in disgust.

“Sorry” I stammered looking away.

As much as I hate to think about It, as a police, I have no choice but to follow and stalk her when she alights.

I swallowed hard.

I love this,,, now i got so many people stalking me. any lady to the rescue?