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Victims, Survivors And Owners. - Literature - Nairaland

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Victims Of Passion / SURVIVORS (a Novel) / VICTIMS- Fiction (2) (3) (4)

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Victims, Survivors And Owners. by longjohnsilver: 7:46pm On Nov 26, 2017
This short story 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 longjohnsilver.


VICTIMS, SURVIVORS AND OWNERS


The sunrays pierced through the beaming blue sky, bringing along with it an exceptionally hot afternoon that fateful Friday in the eleventh month of that particular year. The hot weather whose heat ferocity could be likened to what you will experience in the Sahara desert, this weather could be attributed to the change in season as it was towards the end of the rainy season as although this is not the Sahara, it might be close to the desert in the real sense of it. This is somewhere in Southern Nigeria, the part of the country filled with the famed tropical forest according to the vegetation map of the country.

The continent most populous nation and one with a great prospect with it numerous resources to make it a leading economy in the world but seems to be going through stagnation with several years of military rules with a civil war in between, a war that cost numerous people their lives. It was the early 2000’s and the citizens were just getting over the euphoria of the new millennium and the ushering in of civilian rule that promised the people a brighter future after decades of Military rule, that came with numerous ups, downs and moments that are safe to say are “just there” in the history of the wonderful country.

David and his classmates were making their way back home after school, that jolly walk home you have after conquering the rigours of another week in a public secondary school, the feeling could be likened to the what the allied forces felt after their victory in World War II because the public school was made up of elements that made everyday a challenge.

Elements like the hot blooded principal that dish out orders like a dictator, that teacher who has a PhD in flogging sending shivers down your spine every time; even if he was a mile away, don’t forget the mean senior that are like tin gods giving you out of this world punishments like plucking coconut with a real stick from a virtual tree drawn on the blackboard with a white chalk, then the school 2 students that are usually your classmates but they are bigger, taller and stronger thus they naturally take up the post of class bullies, the school 2 students sometimes come in different shades but trust me, their only aim is to maim or fleece you of all you have and then the likes of David and his friends the book smart, happy go to fellows. For David the walk home from school every day had all the signs of victory attached it, most especially on Friday’s as there was no school the next day

Few kilometres after leaving their school premises, the boys stumbled on a long queue of people trying to get fuel from the nearby filling station, yes it was the problem of the perennial fuel scarcity that has plagued this oil producing country since its inception. David was stunned, not by the long queue of both human and all types of vehicles, heck! We see that everyday…he was held spellbound by the orderly fashion by which everyone on the queue composed themselves, “this is quite unusual” he mused. It was suppose to be noisy arena something like a political rally with probably some exchange of hot words or fist as the case maybe and outburst of adrenalin as everyone would be trying really hard to outsmart each other in order to get the premium motor spirit, but reverse seems to be the case this particular afternoon.

“Nigerians are not this orderly or organised” he muttered to himself pausing for a moment, his gaze fixed on the filling station.

David knew something was wrong, like young lads his age; he was naturally inquisitive as he is still learning in the school of life and was determined to enlighten himself more by getting to the bottom of the situation. He wandered away from the group and crossed to the other side of the road where the filling station was located. He walked pass the queue quietly like a kid looking for his father, staring intently into the eye of each human on the queue trying to find answers to the mystery, he could hear different bickering and murmurs among the crowd, he could sense they all felt disgruntled by the present arrangement but they could do nothing about it.

“But this seem nice and fair to everyone” he said to himself so why the displeasure on the faces of the fuel buyers?

“Hey!!!” a deep husky voice came out of the blue and everyone around David was warped in total silence as not to incur the wrath of the speaker, you could see probing eyes everywhere looking towards the direction of the commanding tone trying to figure out who the speaker was referring to.

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La Luna Sangre December 26 2017 / Feddi To Old Trafford / A Beggar's Son

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