|Join Nairaland / LOGIN! / Trending / Recent / New|
Stats: 1,926,418 members, 3,964,159 topics. Date: Tuesday, 12 December 2017 at 12:00 AM
|The River by Lleigh(f): 9:44pm On Oct 19, 2016|
Copyright @ Lani Leigh 2016
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication maybe reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of Lani Leigh.
Mother Teresa, the Mother Superior of Our Lady of Apostles sat back on her chair, staring at the papers lying on her desk. She was hoping for a quiet evening to catch up on the paperwork staring back at her on her desk.
She shifted slightly on her chair, to relieve the pain in her spine, rubbing it gently. A storm was brewing; she could always tell if a storm was coming by the type of aches coming from her bones, especially her back. The pain emanating from the bottom of her spine signified a bad one was brewing. She looked towards the windows; the autumn evening sunlight shining through the ancient glass window was still bright, with just a few clouds on the horizon. Her attention went back to the big open ledger on her desk, no matter how much she tried to juggle the figures, the Convent’s out-goings were more than the donations they received.
Rubbing her throbbing back unconsciously, people were not being as generous with their tithes these days, she thought to herself sighing heavily.
All of a sudden her office door flew open, Sister Mary, one of the novices, came rushing into the office looking agitated, her cheeks bright red with exertion and breathing heavily; some of her hair was out of her veil.
‘Mother, we think – ‘.
A bright bolt of lightning travelled through the stained 18th century windows, throwing the colours in the intricately designed window into sharp relief, for a brief moment. The awe inspiring sight was swiftly shattered by the loud clap of thunder following in its wake, a loud boom echoing through the room cutting off Sister Mary’s sentence and the large grandfather clock in the left corner of the office. They both turned in the dimly lit office and looked towards the window, the early autumn evening sky was now dark grey, the shadows created by the clouds swirling together, brooding, and alive, waiting to dispel the sunny cheerful clouds amongst them. The electrical sparks in the clouds were visible to both of them in the evening sky, sparkling like cheery fairy lights on a Christmas tree.
Mother Teresa started putting the papers on her desk away, as her back throbbed mercilessly with increased intensity, the ache heralding another streak of lightning that was soo bright, its light stabbing through the window, immediately bathing the room in a cocoon of electrical sparkling light. It sought and found a suitable playmate, the metal paper weight Mother Superior used on her table. The paper weight emitted a few strong sparks, shocked into response by the unwanted attention of an ardent suitor.
A clap of thunder soon followed, sounding more ominous, with growling undertones in the boom echoing around the room, moving round each corner of the office, causing Sister Mary to jump in fright.
Sister Mary screamed in fright as she saw the sparks dancing around the paper weight. She had always been scared of storms; the orphanage she had grown up in, had been prone to unusual electrical storms. She blinked twice, trying to decide if what she was seeing was real.
Illuminated by the sparks coming off the paper weight, near the Mother’s table, was what looked like a half human half demon being, the head had two stubby horns, the skin on its face was covered in boil like lumps, the lumps slithered across the torso like snails in a race, it’s eyes glowing red as they stared at her, grinning at her lasciviously, the lower half of his body where human legs would be had the legs of a goat.
The dispersing sparks on the paper weight made the image diminish and vanish.
The image heightened Sister Mary’s sense of foreboding that something unknown was amongst them. The image, coming soo soon after seeing smoke coming out of the room next to this office, she had gone in there and found nothing burning, no fire.
She noticed Mother Superior reaching into the folds of her habit and touching her rosary beads, murmuring as she said a quick prayer.
‘Had she seen the apparition too’, she wondered.
Mother Teresa stood up from her desk, the pain having now moved to her left knee, as she walked gingerly towards Sister Mary. Looking at Sister Mary properly for the first time since she ran into her office a couple of minutes ago, she noticed that Sister Mary eyes were darting frantically round the room looking for something.
Her face looked flushed and worried; her hair was no longer in her hat, some of it falling in soft waves on her shoulders.
‘Sister Mary, what were you trying to tell me earlier on’ staring at her.
‘Your hair needs to be put back into your veil child’
Sister Mary wrung her hands briefly, ‘I think it’s time; the contractions are coming five minutes apart now’.
The unruly curls were pushed back into her veil as quickly as possible. Mother Teresa ran a tight ship; sloppiness at any time was not tolerated, regardless of the circumstances.
A flash of lightning radiated through the sky reflecting briefly through the windows. Another vicious sounding clap of thunder erupted in response to Sister Mary’s comment. The reverberations of the thunder were felt in the old office shaking the pictures along the office wall and slamming one of the chairs into Mother’s 16th Century mahogany desk.
The lights in the office flickered briefly, ready to release a surge of energy, when all of a sudden the flickering stopped and the office was plunged into darkness.
Mother Superior turned to walk back to her desk, but a sharp shooting pain beginning in her back, radiating to the bottom of her left leg stopped her, momentarily, from getting the candle she kept in her drawer.
She was trying to catch her breath through the pain, looking towards the window, wondering what kind of storm was brewing out there, when another bolt of lightning stabbed through the ancient windows, it was breath-taking in its brilliance, lighting up the room like none of the ancient lighting in the office had ever done.
This time the lightning seemingly imbued by a dark malevolent force, pushed the paper weight off Mother Superior’s table, the end point of the charge moving the paperweight around on the floor, forcing itself on the paperweight like an invisible footballer practising his kicking skills.
The two women stood mesmerised by the strange beauty of the dancing paper weight, as the charge gradually dispersed, the image Sister Mary had seen earlier materialised again.
It’s reappearance convincing Sister Mary that the previous sighting had not been a trick due to the dim lighting of the room.
Sister Mary started screaming and crying ‘Hail Mary – ‘
With the sparks still coming off the paper weight, the ladies ran from the office slamming the door behind them, hearing the thunder that followed echoing with that unearthly growling undertone, through the door and the inevitable crash of the flower vase that had been sitting on the mahogany desk.
They scuttled along the corridor, Mother Superior, limping slightly, the sharp pains having receded to a dull ache in her lower spine.
She fitfully glanced out of one of the tall Gothic windows and realised that the lightning was localised to only one part of the building, her part of the building.
Like a mini tornado, its eye was focused on the room next to her office. But unlike a tornado that only knew how to take and destruct all in its wake, it looked like some force was being passed through the lightning into the very room next to her office. The figure she had seen in her office had shaken her to the core of her soul, something was afoot tonight. Evil had paid them a visit.
Thinking back to six months ago, Mother Superior had been reluctant to give refuge to the girl who resided in the room at the centre of this unusual storm. But she had been unable turn away a troubled person in need of refuge, from his house. The anonymous donation the convent had received, coinciding with her appearance at the convent had blinded her to the fact that strange things had been happening in the convent since her arrival. Like the inexplicable rises in temperature, in the room. But these things come to test us, she thought to herself as she stared out into the evening sky, fingering her rosary in the pocket of her habit.
The other parts of the building stood serene as the evening sun created a halo amongst the rooftops with no clouds above them in the evening sky passive observers to the horror unfolding in Mother Teresa’s world.
Mother Teresa quickly made the sign of the cross and said another prayer for the convent, making a rue smile that only she could see. This is certainly different, she thought to herself.
She turned to Sister Mary and said ‘Make the call’
17 Likes 10 Shares
|Re: The River by Lleigh(f): 9:58pm On Oct 19, 2016|
Please add comments and I will continue to post updates.
1 Like 1 Share
|Re: The River by sirblero(m): 9:35am On Oct 20, 2016|
Wow...Dis Story Looks scary Bt Interestin....#nice One. Keep It Coming... More Ideas To Yah Story..
1 Like 1 Share
|Re: The River by Lleigh(f): 9:59pm On Oct 20, 2016|
TJ wanted to go home, he was cold, bored and his feet ached, as he stared morosely, feeling crushed, standing in the queue and watching his Uncle Charles pay for his new black school shoes, at the Shoezone shop along Rye Lane in Peckham, South London. His current reality held nothing more exciting than rubber soles, leather uppers, laces and shoe polish.
He watched as the bulky security guard hovered around the shop floor, pacing with a mean look on his face, to where the latest Nike trainers were firmly secured high on the top shelf, in a display towards the back of the store. A group of boys, TJ had been watching, hovering near the trainers quickly dispersed and walked out of the shop as the guard approached them.
TJ looked around the shop, watching the other children trying on the boring black school shoes seemingly mandated by all the schools in the area.
He remembered the last pair of school shoes his Mum got him, chuckling silently to himself, one shoe had gone over a neighbour’s fence with the football he had been kicking. He never found the shoe, but he had rescued his ball, she on the other hand had not been pleased, he had been threatened with no football for a week.
The kids milling round the shop, stared covetously at the latest trainers, the Nikes beaming with all the adulation, on the strategically placed shoe shelves.
He was tired as he rubbed his aching feet; they had been walking all day, going from shop to shop, his Uncle Charles, actually liked shopping like most women did. How many shops did you need to go to, in preparation for school, he sighed despondently?
Peckham Rye, one of the busiest streets in South East London, had people everywhere at the best of times, today more so. Buffeted from shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip through crowds of self-absorbed shoppers who were rushing home, to get their daily fix of reality TV. Enough was enough TJ wanted to join the mindless crowd in their migration and find rest at home.
He and his Uncle were out buying the school clothes, sports gear and those damned black school shoes that he needed for the new school he was starting on Monday.
TJ was really looking forward to his new school. Most of all meeting all the other children in the school. Especially the boys, so that he could play football with them. There was no way he was going to play football with girls, they were soo boring.
Back to reality, he studied some other boys his age buying their school shoes in the store. He let his mind roam and watched the boys who were just like him to look at, he wondered if they were thinking the same things as he was.
‘TJ we need to make one more stop today, TJ come on’ his Uncle said as he slipped his wallet back into his pocket. With the shoe bag in a despondent hand, TJ allowed himself to be led out of the shop.
‘Uncle my feet really hurt, do we really have to, I want to go home. I’m tired’ scrunching up his face to make plain his displeasure.
‘I need to see a friend of mine and I am sure if you are good he’ll let you have a soak in his bath. How about that?’ his Uncle replied.
Head to one side TJ considered this ‘Uncle, will your friend really do that?’ he queried as they walked back to the car.
‘I am sure he will, after I explain how sore your feet are’ answered his Uncle.
Walking back to the car park behind the bus station, TJ wondered about the lives of the people going about their shopping, stopping at stalls and talking to shopkeepers, taking him back to the times he went to the market with his Mum.
Were they like him or once their shopping was finished did they have interesting lives? Yes, TJ was not only footsore but bored as well. Once in the car, he kicked off his shoes, and sat back as they pulled into Rye Lane for the journey past the park where he could see boys playing football even in the rain. He envied them.
They drove for around thirty minutes before pulling up in front of a row of modern houses; it was a Terrace or row of Townhouses as the modern Estate agents liked to call them. As if there was something seedy in the old fashioned name that had to be hidden away. Two of the houses which were next to each other had been boarded up, leaving one house at the end of the terrace occupied.
Charles led TJ to this house, and opened the door with a key on his key ring. The door opened into a hallway with wood or high quality laminate flooring. A coat rack on the left of the hallway had two black coats on the hooks and two pairs of shoes on the floor under them. The hallway itself was painted with the standard magnolia seen in most council houses. There were two doors leading off the hallway and some stairs on the left leading to the upper part of the house.
‘It’s me B’ his Uncle shouted near the bottom of the stairs.
Charles led TJ to one of the doors, towards the left of the hallway. Which opened into what TJ correctly assumed was the living room. It was very spacious, with cream carpeting on the floor, there were two black sofas and a low glass coffee table standing in the middle of the room near the sofas; the magnolia colour scheme had been replicated in this room too. Reddish gold curtains with an intricate forest floral design adorned the windows.
African life sized carvings were strategically positioned near the four corners of the living room with leathery ritual masks adorning the walls. A huge Samsung TV dominated one corner of the room, the modern appliance at odds with the makeup of the room. TJ noticed a door towards the end of the room that led into the kitchen.
The atmosphere as they walked into the living room was silent and eerie, full of simmering expectation, unseen eyes through the masks watching them sinisterly.
Charles picked up the remote control and switched on the TV and scrolled through the channels till he got to the Disney channel, one of TJ favourites.
‘I’ll be right back’ his Uncle said, as he walked out of the room.
TJ watched as his Uncle left the room to see the person upstairs and then settled onto the sofa to watch the Disney channel slipping off his shoes, to help ease the aches and pains in his tired feet.
Charles walked back into the living room fifteen minutes later during one of the commercial breaks and headed towards the kitchen.
Rummaging through the kitchen fridge Charles called out ‘TJ, would you like some KFC, there’s not a lot in this fridge’ as he stared at the fridge full of food.
‘Yes please Uncle’ he said, returning his attention to the TV. Zach and Cody momentarily drew his attention back to the TV screen. Through the corner of his eye TJ noticed Charles pick up his car keys off the counter top linking the living room to the kitchen.
‘Ok, I will go and get some shortly’ he said, as he walked out of the kitchen.
‘I’ve run a bath for you, let it cool down a bit before you get into it’ his Uncle said.
‘I also left you a can of coke up there; I’ve opened it for you as I know you don’t like the bubbles in coke’ dropping his keys back on the counter.
‘Let me show you where the bathroom is before I go out. My friend is asleep at the moment, so please don’t make too much noise upstairs.’
TJ followed, as Charles led the way upstairs to the bathroom. It was through the first door on the left on the landing, when they came back downstairs his Uncle picked up his car keys and went out of the house.
The creaking floor board sounds coming from upstairs made TJ aware that the person upstairs was awake, would he come downstairs into the living room before his Uncle came back from KFC, he wondered to himself.
The feeling of being watched drew his eyes to one of the figurines near the TV, the eyes shimmered with awareness and knowledge, that from a distance it seemed it was communicating something to him.
He shook off the feeling of being watched, and switched his attention back to the TV, sinking his young body into the comfortable sofa, the voices of Zach and Cody lulling him to sleep.
Jumping up suddenly TJ realised he had fallen asleep, as his brain tried to grasp, struggling to remember what had touched him, making him jump and waking him up. Confronted with a silence that was deafening, where were Zach and Cody?
The TV screen was devoid of all images, silent and dark in the living room, plunging the room into an eerie stillness, as a strange smell like freshly dug earth permeated the air with its scent, lingering for a few minutes then it was gone.
‘Uncle, are you back?’ TJ said.
Glancing fearfully at the masks and carvings in the room, did they go near the TV?
There was no reply.
I don’t like this place, he thought. I want to go home.
TJ got off the sofa and went upstairs to the bathroom to check if the water in the bath was cool enough for him to have his bath.
Walking into the clean bright bathroom, he noticed the open coke can and the clean towel his Uncle had left for him on the toilet seat, waiting for him to claim them.
TJ closed the door of the bathroom as quietly as he could, undressed and got in the bath, the bubbles still foaming in the water. The lavender scent of the bath gel his Uncle had put in the water pulled him into its warm depths promising serenity.
As he lay in the warm water, easing his aching feet he let his mind wander, thinking about his new school, while taking sips of his coke.
Would they like him, he thought and would it be easy for him to make new friends.
His coughing, after taking in water made him realise, he had dozed off in the bath.
Time to get out, he thought.
Draining the bath and wiping it down as he had been taught to do, he closed the door softly behind him and walked quietly back downstairs with the rest of his coke.
The earthy scent he had noticed earlier, assaulted his senses once again as he walked into the living room, this time lingering a bit longer before disappearing as mysteriously as it had arrived.
He was staring at one of the carvings on the wall when he heard the key in the front door as his Uncle walked in with the chicken.
The aroma of the chicken soon filled the living room, eliciting a growl from his stomach.
‘You must have a little monster in there’ his Uncle said laughing at the sound, ruffling TJ’s head.
‘Hold on TJ, let me put your chicken on a plate so that you don’t mess up the living room’ as he walked into the kitchen.
He walked back out a few minutes later, with three pieces of chicken, fries and beans on a plate for TJ. There was even a large puddle of tomato ketchup on the side of the plate.
‘TJ, did you switch off the TV’ his Uncle asked staring at the blank screen.
‘No, Uncle. I dozed off and when I woke up the TV was off.’
His Uncle switched the TV back on before stepping out to leave TJ alone whilst he ate his meal in the living room.
He watched as his Uncle went back upstairs to see his friend.
He ate up quickly thinking and hoping, that the sooner he finished eating they would be able to go back home.
He did not like this place it was creepy and it was making him very tired and sleepy, as he tried to keep his eyes open.
That thought heralded the strange familiar smell of freshly dug earth, subtly and masterfully returned, assaulting his nostrils, dragging him off to sleep whether he liked it or not.
8 Likes 7 Shares
|Re: The River by sirblero(m): 9:46am On Oct 21, 2016|
Nice One Bro.... Keep It Coming. *still Glued To This Story Like Super_glue.....More Ideas To Yah Story
1 Like 1 Share
|Re: The River by Lleigh(f): 10:13am On Oct 21, 2016|
Be warned this story takes a very very dark turn henceforth.
It's the evil we see around us that we dare not speak.
|Re: The River by sirblero(m): 1:22pm On Oct 21, 2016|
Yes Boss! *ride On...
|Re: The River by Lleigh(f): 2:07pm On Oct 23, 2016|
As mentioned previously if you are offended by blood or violence, please don't continue.
|Re: The River by Lleigh(f): 2:17pm On Oct 23, 2016|
TJ opened his eyes trying to get his bearings, trying to remember where he was and tried to adjust the cushion his head was on, when he suddenly realised he was not on the sofa he had fallen asleep on.
Trying to reach out with his fingertips he realised for some reason, he could not move his arms. He was on something harder than the sofa and the room he was in also looked a lot different.
Where am I, he thought.
It was dark with lots of burning candles dotted around the room, creating dark moody shadows in the flickering flames. There were no windows that he could see; the walls were white with various masks on the walls, more menacing than the ones he remembered seeing in the living room.
There were wooden carved figures dotted around the room as well, similar to the ones in the living room. They looked like some of the things he had seen in his old village when he had gone with his Mummy to visit the local doctor.
The stuff he saw there had always left him scared; why he didn’t know but he always had horrific nightmares after going there.
The nightmares always had his Mummy rushing into his room in the middle of the night, comforting him when he woke up screaming and shaking with fear.
He thought he was having a nightmare when he noticed a wooden figure near him in the room, it was nearly as tall as him, large bulging lifelike eyes had been painstakingly carved into the wood, the paint used for the white of the eyes had been spotted with red paint, that red paint was now seeping from the eye balls, obliterating the pupils, literally crying blood.
It looked menacing and frightening in the dim lighting of the room, like one of the monsters that inhabited dark places in the forests of his old village.
In his childish mind it looked very lifelike; the eyes were aware, watching, waiting patiently and filled with mysterious promise waiting to be fulfilled.
TJ opened his mouth, trying to force his stomach muscles to bring out a scream, realization quickly dawning on him that he could not open his mouth, his muscles did not respond.
The thing, stared at him, the eyes soo real to him, fiery red, blinking and staring at him in the shadowy room, like magnets to his soul. The glance made the hairs on his arms stand up, as goose bumps and shivers followed like the breath of a corpse on a cold winter’s night.
Right before his eyes, a change started, as something ghostly briefly materialised from within the carving.
Standing before him was a wraithlike figure with skin hanging off its body like rags, the eyes red and fiery, the mouth grinning with secretive knowledge, as a cooing guttural sound came from its throat.
Accompanying the apparition was the smell of freshly dug earth, and then it was gone as fast it appeared.
Like mist on a hot summer morning the earthy scent fading away in its wake.
‘Uncle’, he cried, trying to lift up his head and talk, but his limbs did not respond, could not respond, his body felt very heavy and tired, invisible hands holding him down, the hands pushing down on his chest felt like a concrete pillow pinning him down on the hard surface. He started panicking as his young heart beat furiously against his chest straining his ability to breath.
Something in his subconscious mind was telling him this was not a dream.
He moved his eyes to look around the room and noticed that his hands and feet were tied onto a table. He tried moving his arms and legs again, but he couldn’t nor could he properly feel his arms or legs, yet he could see everything that was happening in the room.
He heard someone chanting as if in prayer and repeating his name over and over again. His eyes moved to the right and saw his Uncle and an older man speaking or praying, he could not tell, in front of the wooden figure. At its feet were what looked like two calabash bowls; his eyes straining trying to see what was in them.
A hot breath on his eyes drew him back to the eyes of the figurine.
TJ tried to will himself out of his dream, his Mummy had taught him that he should just tell himself that he was dreaming and he would wake up. However, he realised that this would not happen as his Uncle and his friend – an old man, with grey hair, shorter than his Uncle, with deep gashes on his face - approached him on the table.
The old man had necklaces of different kinds of shells around his neck and he was wearing a white sheet round his waist. His Uncle was Unclad apart from a pair of white boxers; he had red marks smeared on his forehead.
TJ dreading to think thought that it was blood on his forehead.
The two men stood near him as the intensity of their chanting increased; the heavy atmosphere in the room becoming more menacing, as TJ wracked his brain to try and translate the language last heard as an infant being said by the old man.
‘Oh mighty Aje Shula’
‘we are your lowly servants, we come to worship you’
‘we come to serve you’
‘Please look on our sacrifice to you well your mighty one’
‘Please grant us all your particular blessings with this sacrifice’
‘Please take TJ as your sacrifice, may his blood, his heart be worthy and accepted by you’
The man waved around what looked like an animal hair fly swat while he was chanting. The more waving he did, the more real the wraith shape coming from the figurine became. It managed to keep its shape for longer periods of time, the smell of fresh earth lingering for longer becoming more pungent.
The chanting and the waving giving the image substance, it was feeding on the words and the adulation the men were giving it.
TJ closed his eyes, trying to shake his head from side to side, trying to get rid of the dream and the horrible images. ‘I am dreaming, I am dreaming, I am dreaming’ he repeated to himself over and over again wishing that his Mummy was there in the room to comfort him.
His heart pumping furiously to the beat of the fear he was feeling, straining his young heart even more. His heart felt as if it was too big for his chest, he could not breath properly.
TJ’s Uncle and the old man moved in closer to him on the table standing over him, chanting and singing, shaking the wand over his head.
TJ was crying, screaming Mummy, Mummy he cried out, but no sound emitted from his mouth, he was scared and alone. He wanted his Mummy to comfort him and tell him that everything was going to be OK, but she wasn’t there as the tears slid silently down his cheeks.
A movement towards his right caught his eye as he realised that his uncle had moved slightly, so that he was now leaning over his neck, with an axe.
Its blade shining brilliantly in the candlelight, the edges so bright it looked like diamonds had been forged into its lethal cutting edge. In that split second understanding dawned on TJ, he knew then what was about to happen.
His short life flashed before him, eating with his Mummy, playing football, saying goodbye to his Mummy at the airport.
He remembered being warned by his Mummy and the elders not to venture out too far when playing, there were people who took children away, they had repeated it all the time. He did not expect such things to happen in London, with someone he knew.
He thought of his Mummy, her smiling face as he craved her arms around him to hold him, her voice to sooth him, her smell to reassure him.
Time began again for him.
He was still thinking about his Mummy’s loving arms when the axe came down and severed his head.
The blood spurting from his severed neck was quickly caught in one of the bowls in front of the carved deity, his arms and feet cut off, blood needed for other rituals collected into other bowls.
The third figure in the room was given his heart.
7 Likes 6 Shares
|Re: The River by sirblero(m): 10:03am On Oct 24, 2016|
Dehm!!! An Uncle Using His Niece As A Sacrifice... Hmmm *ride On Bro...You're Great!! *do Not Feel Discouraged...
1 Like 1 Share
|Re: The River by Lleigh(f): 8:24pm On Oct 27, 2016|
Some years later
Eliora sat waiting in their favourite coffee shop, her back towards the wall, giving her a good view of the people coming into the shop and the people walking outside, going about their business on the sidewalk through the lightly frosted glass shop front. Gazing round the shop she noticed that the huge orange and coffee coloured retro clock that had dominated the opposite wall had been replaced, with a huge black digital display counting down to zero.
‘Are they launching a new product’, she thought, gazing around the shop looking for clues.
The walls in the main sitting area had undergone some recent re-decoration, they were now a bright red; with the word SINS, the previous colour having been a golden coffee brown, with yellow splotches strategically splashed over the brown paint, abstract art for the discerning coffee drinker.
The coffee machines gleamed flawlessly against the new red background, calling out to customers to part with their hard earned cash, to buy ridiculously expensive fancy named coffee drinks made from fairtrade coffee beans mixed with water. The men and women, busy working behind the counter, now sported uniforms with the same red theme. Their aprons were now red in line with the walls; they sported a timer display motif on the middle part of it, a definite improvement over the old plain black ones.
She took a sip of her double choc hazelnut mint mocha, savouring the bittersweet taste and took a bite of the blueberry muffin sitting on her plate, her favourite. The shopping bags on the floor next to the table, were testament to the fact she had done some serious shopping that afternoon, after all she was in New York, a city made for shopping.
Sitting in silence, she carefully watched the people coming into the coffee shop, a habit of hers that was so ingrained and hard to break. She wasn’t tired, but she sure needed some sustenance, she was starving. ‘Starving’, she thought with a little private smile with half the world dying of malnutrition she was pleased that she’d spotted the irony of her own observation.
The other muffin sitting on the plate, a supersized raspberry, orange and white chocolate muffin, was calling to her; she would try and resist it a bit longer she thought as she looked at her watch, moving her gaze once again to the side walk.
One bag in particular, brought another secret smile to her face. She was waiting for Danny and she was sure Danny was going grin and give her that special look, when later on that evening, she gave him his very own very private fashion show.
The Victoria Secret bag, its contents swathed in layers of pink soft tissue were waiting to be unwrapped and flaunted. It was the same look he always gave her just before he leaned in close to kiss her.
She looked at her watch again, tapping her fingernails impatiently on the table, the sun was out on this hot balmy day and most of the New Yorkers were making the most of the hot humid weather; it was shoulder to shoulder walking on the sidewalk as people moved lazily along, trying to get the most of the sunshine. The Empire State building stood shimmering on the horizon as the sun’s rays, creating the illusion of it swaying in the haze like a gymnast on a pole.
The vibration of her phone swiftly brought her out of her reverie and back to the here and now. Picking the phone off the table she checked the caller display.
It was Danny, ‘and about time too’, she thought.
‘Where are you? I am about to start on your muffin and coffee’ she said into the phone.
Looking towards the door and beyond, onto the sidewalk, scanning the crowds to see if she could see him walking towards her.
‘Give me a chance’, the voice on the phone replied. ‘although, considering all those shopping bags at your feet, I would say you have a good excuse for an extra shot of caffeine, but not my muffin’ she could sense his smile coming through the phone.
‘You won’t be able to sleep tonight young lady, but I can always provide you with the perfect antidote for that problem’ he added
‘Where are you?’ laughing, as she looked intently at the crowds of people near the door of the coffee shop. He had to be somewhere near, if he could see her shopping bags.
There was a rush of static from the phone, in response to her question and then an explosion; she never heard the rest of what Danny said.
The dream always ended there, the settings always different, but always ending with the explosion and Danny trying to tell her something and she never hearing it.
Always in the cities that had held some kind of significance to them.
She woke up from the dream sweating, breathing shallowly, and fighting for breath, silent tears sliding down her cheeks, this time the dream had been accompanied by sharp shooting pains coming from her stomach, feeling a little light headed, she turned to the other side of the bed and switched on the bedside light, the digital display read 2.30am.
‘Oh Danny’ she whispered silently against the pillows, hugging the other pillow trying to remember his smell.
6 Likes 7 Shares
|Re: The River by Lleigh(f): 8:43am On Oct 28, 2016|
Thank you for reading and your encouragement.
It's hard to know if the interest is there when there are no comments
|Re: The River by sirblero(m): 10:27am On Oct 28, 2016|
Lleigh:Yeah I Do Understand How You Feel But Please...Do Not Give Up On This Story... Please...
|Re: The River by Horlorlardaey: 11:07am On Oct 28, 2016|
1 Like 1 Share
|Re: The River by Lleigh(f): 7:03pm On Oct 28, 2016|
I will provide in house drinks.
Well done over there..interesting read
|Re: The River by soleski01(m): 10:44pm On Oct 31, 2016|
Nice one, Op.
1 Like 1 Share
|Re: The River by Lleigh(f): 3:43pm On Nov 06, 2016|
Thank you for joining. ..
|Re: The River by greedie1(f): 5:08pm On Nov 06, 2016|
following!!! so far so good.
2 Likes 1 Share
|Re: The River by Lleigh(f): 5:41pm On Nov 06, 2016|
Welcome greedie1 thanks for taking the time to read this.
|Re: The River by Nostradamus: 9:32am On Nov 10, 2016|
TJ is so unfortunate,he has an uncle more devilish than the devil...nice story pls don't starve us
2 Likes 1 Share
|Re: The River by Lleigh(f): 2:32pm On Nov 10, 2016|
Thanks for stopping by.
I will update....but it's very quiet here.
|Re: The River by Lleigh(f): 10:57pm On Nov 16, 2016|
Please help me call people to this story.
3 Likes 3 Shares
|Re: The River by skarlett(f): 11:04pm On Nov 16, 2016|
Twaci, johnwizey (where you dey hide?) Iykekelvins, missmossy, and dominique
Food don land o.
Ride on leigh
3 Likes 1 Share
|Re: The River by Lleigh(f): 11:11pm On Nov 16, 2016|
Thank you skarlett
1 Like 2 Shares
|Re: The River by iykekelvins(m): 11:20pm On Nov 16, 2016|
I don land!!
1 Like 1 Share
|Re: The River by Lleigh(f): 11:23pm On Nov 16, 2016|
Welcome Iykekelvins. ......
Please bring your party
|Re: The River by iykekelvins(m): 11:28pm On Nov 16, 2016|
Lleigh:Kingrex1 lsofdk Leriebloom Laveda Swann makydebbie
Muna come read..
3 Likes 1 Share
|Re: The River by Leriebloom(f): 11:34pm On Nov 16, 2016|
LOL. M here
1 Like 1 Share
|Re: The River by Lleigh(f): 11:37pm On Nov 16, 2016|
Thanks for stopping by
|Re: The River by KingRex1: 11:43pm On Nov 16, 2016|
1 Like 1 Share
|Re: The River by Lleigh(f): 11:57pm On Nov 16, 2016|
Thank you for stopping by
|Re: The River by Gracito(f): 11:58pm On Nov 16, 2016|
Really good story dear, ride on
2 Likes 1 Share
|Sections: politics (1) business autos (1) jobs (1) career education (1) romance computers phones travel sports fashion health |
religion celebs tv-movies music-radio literature webmasters programming techmarket
Nairaland - Copyright © 2005 - 2017 Oluwaseun Osewa. All rights reserved. See How To Advertise. 314