This is a true life story of someone I know so well. Be that as it may, I exaggerated a little; writers do that sometimes. Get a seat and enjoy urself as I take u through this journey. If u like the flow, talk-am make i hear, OK?

EPISODE 1

It was 3am in the morning and Ikenna was sitting on the edge of his bed sweating profusely. At a time when the whole country was asleep the tears that trickled down his cheeks blurred his vision in the dim-lit room where he was. He blew the content of his nostril into a white handkerchief beside him____ the hanky which was already soaked with tears. He tried to stand up but he could not withstand the stab of hurt which seemed to be tearing his heart out of his chest. “I’m finished!” he mumbled.
Ikenna looked a forlorn figure sitting on the bed. He never believed that anything could make him cry but there he was paralyzed by fear; eyes swollen as a result of having cried for hours. The once ebullient and lively young man who was in his late twenties had gone to bed after drinking heavily. He could not explain how he came home last night and, as for how he ended up on the comfort of the bed in his room, he knew his mother was the hand behind it. Ikenna came home the previous night drunk; the stench of alcohol mixed with the smell of cigarette oozed out of the t-shirt he was wearing. His mother found him lying down on the balcony. He kept talking gibberish. She cleaned him up and like the baby he was twenty something years ago, she, with the help of the houseboy carried her son to his room and laid him down on the bed.
One good thing about getting drunk is that it helps one (the drunkard) forget all his sorrows for as long as the drunkenness lasts. Although it can make one look stupid and talk gibberish like Ikenna did, the feeling is worth trying. Like one frustrated old man once said, “If I have a way I’ll say drunk all my life.”
Reality was staring Ikenna in the face the moment he woke up that morning. His legs were shaking when he stood up and, in a staggering gait he walked to the corner of the room where a bottle of half empted 501 was lying on the floor. He lifted it with shaky hands and began to examine the label. In a moment of rage, he hurled the bottle against the wall. Within a split second, the bottle broke making a loud noise, and the pieces of the glass splintered everywhere. Almost immediately, his mother who was sleeping in the adjoining room ran into his room barefooted. TO BE CONTINUED on Saturday, Dec 3, 2016.

T2Justman:
This is a true life story of someone I know so well. Be that as it may, I exaggerated a little; writers do that sometimes. Get a seat and enjoy urself as I take u through this journey. If u like the flow, talk-am make i hear, OK?

EPISODE 1

It was 3am in the morning and Ikenna was sitting on the edge of his bed sweating profusely. At a time when the whole country was asleep the tears that trickled down his cheeks blurred his vision in the dim-lit room where he was. He blew the content of his nostril into a white handkerchief beside him____ the hanky which was already soaked with tears. He tried to stand up but he could not withstand the stab of hurt which seemed to be tearing his heart out of his chest. “I’m finished!” he mumbled.
Ikenna looked a forlorn figure sitting on the bed. He never believed that anything could make him cry but there he was paralyzed by fear; eyes swollen as a result of having cried for hours. The once ebullient and lively young man who was in his late twenties had gone to bed after drinking heavily. He could not explain how he came home last night and, as for how he ended up on the comfort of the bed in his room, he knew his mother was the hand behind it. Ikenna came home the previous night drunk; the stench of alcohol mixed with the smell of cigarette oozed out of the t-shirt he was wearing. His mother found him lying down on the balcony. He kept talking gibberish. She cleaned him up and like the baby he was twenty something years ago, she, with the help of the houseboy carried her son to his room and laid him down on the bed.
One good thing about getting drunk is that it helps one (the drunkard) forget all his sorrows for as long as the drunkenness lasts. Although it can make one look stupid and talk gibberish like Ikenna did, the feeling is worth trying. Like one frustrated old man once said, “If I have a way I’ll say drunk all my life.”
Reality was staring Ikenna in the face the moment he woke up that morning. His legs were shaking when he stood up and, in a staggering gait he walked to the corner of the room where a bottle of half empted 501 was lying on the floor. He lifted it with shaky hands and began to examine the label. In a moment of rage, he hurled the bottle against the wall. Within a split second, the bottle broke making a loud noise, and the pieces of the glass splintered everywhere. Almost immediately, his mother who was sleeping in the adjoining room ran into his room barefooted. TO BE CONTINUED on Saturday, Dec 3, 2016.

I've NEVER been the FTC. Let me feel what's it's like.

Omo, it feels like Nothing. Have u ever tested NOTHING before. Yummy yummy!!! Runs back to my official work. Seun, how far na? Come make I register u for MMM. LOL

I may not continue this story, at least for now, because it's not getting the engagement I felt it would get.
I'm a very busy person and would not want to 'waste' my ink on just a few views. The more the merrier.