Hi,
    I have my work of fiction completed of which I'm raring to take for publication.
However,I'm so much conscious not to produce a flop using a florid language to express my flow,I therefore hide under concise and apposite words this a friend considers to be somehow bombastic.

   For sure 'too much grammar on a first page or first chapter of a novel makes a reader lose interest in your work.I want to avoid this but the muse in me says it couldnt come with much better expression more than the way it had dictated it.I'm afraid any attempt to re-write the first page might change my plot,flow and stlye.

   Please,have a look at the first chapter what do you suggest I should do?Is it realy a kind of mumbo-jumbo esoteric to my muse alone?
   
PLEASE SCROLL DOWN AS THE FIRST POST HAS BEEN EDITED TO WELCOME NEW COMMENTS.THANKS.

its quite long, i,ll read it some other time

The story sounds interesting, but it could do with some good spelling and lexis reconstruction. I suggest you pass it through a microsoft spell check sheet. It will be easier to correct.
Goodluck.

Hi,Invisible thanks for d advice.

Lindalee I'm still waiting to hear from you

hi,
I bet it's good therefore, literature students can really make use of it cos of the words and their usage.
thumbs up, best of luck.

Thanks alot Mr gee,your comment means alot to me, that is excatly my audience, you mean I'm not a grub street writer, and I should never keep the pen away.Thanks

hi quit good work. je t'admire.the ancestor of litrature wil be happy with.but the gramma can be reduce to make it more elucidate for science student like me,who just av flair for literature work but understand only little grammar.more grace to your elbow.

I edit and proofread literature for Doctoral Students and for Authors of various Genre.  So If you want, I can edit your works, your writing.  You have a very good story line.  Your choice of words - you need to choose different words that are more common place - only use words that aren't generally used in daily conversations infrequently.  For instance, the wording "all of which people were inured to" requires the reader to have a "dictionary" at hand.  If you are looking to be published in the U.S.  - use "layman language" for the everyday man to understand.  That = sales.  If you decide to continue to utilize "uncommon words" in your prose, throw in words here or there as they should not be commonplace scattered throughout your work or you will literally lose your reader.  Your priority should be making the writing very interesting and "easy to follow" so that the reader won't want to put it down and will hurry to turn the page - as your words should drive them to want more.

You have also left words out of sentences so you will need to do more than "spell check" - you need to re-read your work prior to posting.

Overall - I enjoyed the selection you posted - with some tweaking and additional work - you actually could become published.

I have just finished editing a manuscript for a writer who is already published and the manuscript goes to the publisher in January.  I am currently working on the bibliography and index but it should hit the book shelves in the Spring 2011.

Shy-one,I really appreciate your comments and that would surely lead me to perfection, This I truly want to achieve by posting the excerpt from the story.

 

THE READER SEES BETTER THAN THE WRITER,THE WRITER ONLY SEES WHAT HE HAS IN HIS MIND NOT WHAT HE ACTUALLY PUTS ON PAPER, that is why we need a critic to help us see better.

OK - so if I am to edit your prose - I will definitely talk to you - I will call on Friday of this week.  There is a 6 hour time difference between Lagos and the U.S. (Indiana)

In the meantime - take a look at what I did with the first paragraph and compare my "clean-up" to your paragraph.  Prior to our conversation - I want you to clean up the text that you posted and repost it for me to view before we talk on Friday.

"It was another sad day in Odofin, though it was a town popularly known for its hurly-burly, everyday street life, characterized by cacophony emanating from the blaring horns of vehicles wriggling their way in and out of traffic jams.  As far as the eye could see, the streets were alive/seething with jay-walkers scurrying to board buses among pathetic, raucous shouts from victims of purse snatchers; against that landscape my eye catches the smoky atmosphere of a burning house possibly caused by fuel mongers intertwined by the sight of garbage, different shapes, sizes and colors littered along the sides of the road, in all of this, people were inured; as this was a typical day in an African slum.  However, today’s atmosphere a bit more tense than usual, was pathetically fearful, a deeply dreary day that affected all who heard the news as the populace was gripped with much sympathy."

I made some changes - but more changes are needed even in that paragraph.

I want you to see that "clarity" and "minute detail" is needed.  You have to make the scene "come alive" to me as though I am standing next to you on the street in Lagos "seeing what you are seeing."  Talk in the first person as though your book has already been published and you are directing a movie script of that book.  Make me "the reader" see it, smell it, taste it, touch it.  That is your "duty" as a writer.  Make it seem very, very real to me.  Give me detail and "go straight to the point" - give description but cut down on "coloring the description too much."  Use only 1-2 words to describe each scene.  Example:  jaywalkers is one scene - describe them definitively without getting too wordy.  Use 1-2 words to describe each scene and be extremely graphic in your description.  Keep a thesaurus handy and experiment with different words but don't use too many words that aren't used in 'everyday conversational communication."  Also, know your audience - if this is a Nigerian audience vs. an American audience - many times those cultures use different words in their daily conversations.  So of course you would alter the book(s) to fit the audience.  The description you used to describe the burning house was good as I could completely understand it and see it in my mind.  "The smoky atmosphere of a burning house."  Is universal so I knew exactly what you were conveying.

Anyway I don't want to scare you or diminish your work - as I actually think it is "very good."  And it has quite a bit of potential.  Try to focus on the pointers I gave.  Don't change the story too much - just gain more clarity as the story line in itself is very good. 

We will talk on Friday - I will contact you on Thursday to discuss a time to talk on Friday.

Thanks.
I need not to explain why this or that, because I know that there has never been a piece written without someone who knows better to gild it and makes it a gold worth buying.
I know I need professionals to guide me through.I've been writing since I was Ten puting ideas on papers all I need now is someone to make me perfect.
I'm a student of English and Literary studies.
Alexander Pope in his poem entitled ''An essay on criticism '' says
''Whoever thinks a fautless piece to see,Thinks what ne'er was,not is,not ever shall be, ''


I'd be expecting your call.Thanks

Shyone,see the little effort I did making it a bit dramatic from the start rather than rushing to pass my message accross, burning with much to tell and much to change of our society to make it a better place for us all to live, so I was hasty in my narration,hasty for change. Could I have your emai?I went through hell trying to copy paste.


                                     CHAPTER ONE

       Once you were held up in a traffic jam of Odofin, that was it; the least you could spend to get out of it was thirty minutes. Agent Richard knew the mess he was into, as his car had been sucked deep amidst of the impatient drivers’ cars battling to wriggle their way in and out of traffic jam.

The tires squealing, horns hooting, the hawkers would not give you the silent moment you sought, for rolling up your windows to convert the hustling and bustling moment to a cool one by listening to music on your CD player.On a normal day any track from Fela Anikulapokuti would have been his favourite  but today Agent Richard was not listening to any music,he was busy flipping through some pages of a compiled report in his brief case, to him that was all he had to ravish with all his attention.

    He was doing pretty good on this when a hawker walked up to his car and rattled on it.
‘‘Bros! Buy some rat poison, What of this Oga,it is good for cockroach!’’

Agent Richard sighed, adjusted his tie a bit to give him some ease from the anger welled up in him. He wouldn’t say a word he tilted his head to other side of the car, there stood a vendor with piles of Newspapers which he cupped up to his chest while dangling one in his other hand to show its caption for Agent Richard to see.

‘‘Year !Its right on cue’’

Agent Richard whispered this to his detective intuition and ran his eyes through some few lines.

‘Vincent Fasasi the newly elected Governor of  SOGAL STATE launches campaign against child abuse’’
Agent Richard’s countenance changed, it appeared the news raised his hackles, it puffed him to see this coming from the Governor whom he had over the years gleaned much about to arrived at the report in his hand.

Agent Richard became tense, frothing at mouth, he wished he could fly and get out of this rowdy nature of Odofin.

As usual,the fur started to fly among the bus drivers of who shouldn’t have crossed lanes, Agent Richard’s anger lost in this dramatic brawl being displayed by some of these bus drivers.

He sighed and rested his head on the head-rest sliding through within him,of what the image of Odofin always like, the town popularly known for its hurly-burly of everyday street life characterized by cacophony emanating from vehicles blaring  horns to wriggle their way out of traffic jam, the seething of jay-walkers scurrying across to board buses  and pathetic raucous shout that could emerge from victims of purse snatchers, the smoky atmosphere of a burning house that might have been caused by  some fuel mongers and the garbage littered by the road  was all he could picture and what he could see at that moment. For sure he was inured to it, so nothing today could provoke him more.

Just a few distance to where Agent Richard was held up in a traffic jam was another terrible sight that tensed the atmosphere more than usual, pathetic and fearful, a sad day that nobody heard of the news without being gripped with cold of sympathy.

Seven school boys whose age should be around seven years were murdered, swathed in a tarpaulin and dumped by the road side. Nobody knew when and who dropped them, although people had seen the tarpaulin ever since dawn but never bothered to check the content. They believed it was nobody’s business until when Lamidi the jaded tug in the area thought it could be something benefiting to steal, he snaffled it open and raised alarm at what he saw. If anything could make Lamidi raise alarm out of fear, it worth attention. It spurred people to rush to the scene.

The journalists were around both from the electronic and print media, camera all over, arrays of squirting light whirring from the photographers who would surely make a living from it by selling the photographs to those that were not present. The media would enliven the story beyond its content. Different captivating headlines on the newspapers would sell. The paramedics, the nurses, the doctors, the ambulance would soon be on their way. They might come at anytime to dispose the bodies…. two or three days might not be too late to do that….as it had become the habit of the board in charge of environmental protection not to rise up to its responsibility on time. The area had a high record of death related to environmental waste ranging from clinical to industrial and residential waste.

The police were at work,it was Inspector Etim who led the team of police that came to the scene. He was unapologetic to anyone when it came to arrest. He believed criminal would always claim innocent until he was beaten to a pulp with a brute force before he could confess or give a clue to what would lead them to the truth of the matter. Some of his detective officers whom he had sent to mingle with the crowd to get some information didn’t elicit a clue because everyone around had learnt to mind his p’s and q’s in order not to be arrested  to provide more information which he or she might not know to them at the police station. But somebody had managed to squeal on Inspector Etim that it was Lamidi who called the attention of people towards the tarpaulin. He might know something more. Without more ado, the Inspector had ordered to arrest Lamidi and some few members of the crowd. The crowd seemed to know what the police were up to, they started backtracking gradually. All at once, they began to scoot. One of the police fired a tear gas and this caused a commotion among the crowd. The police were able to arrest Lamidi and some groups of people.

The journalists around were not happy at the development. To them, it was a total violation of human right. They believed no law empowered the police to carry out their official duty in such a ruthless manner. ‘‘They are not to ignite the unrest in masses but to quench it, dispersing harmless gathering with tear gas is against the article 22 of Protocol A/SP1/12/01 of ECOWAS.’’ One of the Journalists reacted fuming seriously over the unprofessional way in which the police had handled the supposed –to-be atavistic gathering.

 Lamidi had lost two of his teeth out of the few left behind in his mouth to the severe beating he was receiving in the process of coercing him to confess all he knew about the murder. The notorious boy was saying something in his helpless state…. “Haa. Askari! na true say we dey pick from the careless owner to help us survive. Person pikin must not die in hunger…, but to kon say we dey shed blood…. Haa! Babami, ten commandment of Moses would never allow us do such a thing!”He courageously expressed himself making all attempts within him to suppress the humiliation he had been subjected to…he knew his being the ‘king’ of the street was his ruggedness to triumph in any hard situation.

“Keep quiet! Who say na you do am? We know say no be you do ‘am…. but you must tell us whom you see wey drop the tarpaulin this morning. Or no be under the bridge you and your gang sleep last night? How come u na no see people who drop the dead body?” One of the police asked, accompanying his last statement with a slap that landed on Lamidi’s face but the second attempt was to the air, Lamidi sharply ducked it.

“Oga no light last night till day break, we know say one big Jeep drop the load but where we dey, we no fit see the colour or the number of the car. Nobody came down from the jeep. We no see the person inside the car. Na de load wey in drop, nain we see. I no go fit lie you sir!’’Lamidi replied pensively ,dabbing the edge of his clothe on the blood draining down from his mouth….it had reddened his black lips.

“Time ! time! tell us around what time the jeep dropped the tarpaulin and which route did the jeep follow?” Constable Simon inquisitively asked, moving one of his fingers close to the trigger of his AK47, which he pointed at Lamidi with all gesture that he might pull the trigger if there would be any more slight provocation from Lamidi.
“Oga, please I beg you….no kill me I get wife get pinkin for house,make u no turn my wife to widow turn my pinkin to. , orphan and  My wife no get money to kon bail me from u na station. make you help release me…. she don sell my wrist watch buy ‘gari!’ wey we shop last night…Please I no know the time wey the car  pass….”Lamidi spat out the words alongside with blood from his mouth….his eyes fixed at the trigger….he knew what to do if the Constable would dare make the attempt.
Constable Simon got furious at his reply, he believed Lamidi was only prevaricating. He wanted to pull the trigger but Inspector Etim held his hand and told them to suspend any inquiry until they were back to the station. The Inspector knew why he said this. Could it have been that Lamidi and Raimi Mogaji knew something they were trying to hide? How could Raimi a dosser-mate with Lamidi provide a contradictory version of the incident? The officer that was interrogating him had transmitted on radio to the Inspector of what Raimi confessed that it was a taxicab that dropped the tarpaulin at about 5:00am.

It had been thirty minutes long the police had arrived at the scene, the Inspector had ordered for ambulance to take the bodies to the appropriate authority. They would like to conduct an autopsy on the dead. The suspects had been taken to the station; the ambulance was on the way. Could this car speeding recklessly towards the scene be the ambulance? It was only one-man team in suit. He abruptly stopped the car before the police could stop him. He did not show much regard for the cordon the police had put up to prevent crowd from interfering with any useful item that could aid in their investigation. He spurted across the barricade… somebody among the journalists was calling his name “Richard! Richard!”
He did not answer, probably he didn’t hear or it wasn’t his name because the journalist that had called him was somehow doubtful if he really was whom he thought; a primary school friend of about twenty two years ago. The man in suit was too much engrossed in his obligation to see the bodies, he could not answer the call. One of the constables wanted to stop him from coming closer. The police cocked his AK 47 to scare him but the man was not afraid, he flashed his identity card to the constable and the inscription at the back read “The bearer is empowered with the immunity of superior police officer in accordance with the provisions of the National Security Agencies Act 1986”. When the constable read it, he alerted others and they all snapped to attention. It appeared the Inspector knew him, he extended his hand for greeting and the two embraced each other. Inspector Etim called him by name.
“Agent Richard! Our city has been witnessing too many crimes all over the streets…too much killings over the recent time. Why the innocent souls this time around? Last year before the gubernatorial election, the DDP governorship aspirant of this state was murdered in cold blood in his house. It is worrisome how we waste human resources in this country. How can someone interpret the death of these seven boys to the recent political killings? Are their parents contesting for any political office? Why! Why could someone wickedly terminate this generation of our hopeful children?” He mused but a part of him did not feel much disturbed;…probably the police in him.
“Inspector Etim! Have you tried to guess the age the boys could fall within?” Agent Richard kept an ear cocked for the reply, looking so confident of what he knew of the incident…his hands were on his tie, which he was adjusting to give him some ease from the heat welled up in him from the sentiment he had for the incident.
‘’Six-Seven, I believe!” tentatively replied, Inspector Etim.
“Precisely seven years. I bet you. And today’s date and month?’’, his tie was now draping on his neck.
“Today’s date and month? What are you configuring? Today is seventh of July!” Inspector Etim replied assertively.
“Listen to this, 7 7 7 7 7 does it make a sense to you?”He scribbled it on the ground tapping at each number repeatedly, seeing beyond the written figure.
“Throw more light. I’m getting confused.” Inspector replied trying to make a concrete out of an abstract looking so much interested in what seemed like a brainteaser.
“Seven boys of seven years of age on every seventh of July of every seven years!’’ Agent Richard extrapolated, dangling his head to the confirmation of what he just mustered up courage to reveal.
“It appears you have been following the trend over the years. You surely know something concrete over this that appears as if you never want to discuss with anyone?’’
“Yes let’s say twenty two years ago when I was seven years!”He drew his breath heavily.
“What do you mean? Were you in service twenty two years ago at age of seven?”
Agent Richard smiled trying to bite his tongue over what he knew of the incident. He dragged Etim closer to the bodies and squatted besides it. He brought out a note pad with pencil and wrote his observation down, then he called Etim’s attention towards a new discovery he had found. It was true that he had been on the investigation for many years but he had never been fortunate to see the cadavers at close-up. He had been on the investigation at his own private effort, many of the times in which he  was never  allowed to have access to what he needed most to aid him in his investigation. He later joined the Security Service just because of this case to nail who was behind it. His investigation had revealed to him who the man was, he had been in the man’s den when he was a little boy. Now that he had become an officer, a grown man, he had taken up the cudgels to shed his last blood to bring the culprit to book no matter his political aggrandizement in the country. The blood of the innocent, the love he had been denied, the damage it had caused him had been his fortifying armour.

‘Inspector Etim, just take a look between their legs,’ he pointed between their tights, he continued ‘…their manhood is missing! It was a ritual killing on a political mission”. He surmised. He made some sketch on his note pad.
             “Ritual…, Politics…manhood? What a barbaric act! Heaven have mercy. Do you know the wicked politician that did this?’’ Inspector Etim asked waiting patiently for answer.
Before Agent Richard could answer, the journalist that called him earlier had come to him; he tapped Richard at his back and called his name with all air of uncertainty. Richard looked up and called back surprisingly “Paul….Peter, which of you”.
“It’s me Paul! Richard you or someone else? It is a lie! I cannot believe I am right . Where has life placed you? Looking so manly handsome and healthy! What are you and what…?” Paul in his delight mood could not hold back his happiness, he embraced him.
“Call me Agent Richard. That is what I am now.’’ He made a light pose of an officer and within a blink, he jerked out ‘‘… and what of Peter?”seriously demanding.
“Come on, I blush to remember that. Have you forgotten that twenty-two years ago he got missing? My twin brother was nowhere to be found since we were seven years. I thought you were among the three boys that were declared missing on assembly on 7th of July 1985. Were you not with Peter and Pascal? How come you resurfaced after many years back? Is Peter Still alive?’’His memory ran back giving a clear picture of yester-years…there was an immediate change of mood that was touchy.
Agent Richard sighed deeply and made a compassionate look at him when he remembered that the cheering and promising Peter was among the unlucky victims of 77777 in 1985. The revelation was to put Paul’s mind at rest, but would he be able to bite the bullet if Agent Richard dropped a clanger? Agent Richard looked back at the bodies on the ground and imagined Peter in agony of death in the same state of the cadavers.
“He was dead…. dead, just the same fate that befell these young boys. I was only lucky to escape. Three of us were kidnapped from our school with other four from another school. We were to be killed for ritual. Paul you have to be strong. The only support you could give to Peter is to bring the culprit to book. We have to work together to achieve this. It has been a course I’ve been fighting alone all these years. I will tell you more of what I know on this incident. This battle would surely stain sword but the pen would put a dot to it. And the pen is your profession ‘Journalism.”He fobbed him off with hope of vengeance to prod him into acceptance of reality, which Paul really did with tears oozing from his brimming eyes, which he continuously wiped off with the back of his hand as if to say; save this for the killer of my brother!
The ambulance had arrived with the paramedics; they lifted the cadavers on the gurney and put them inside the ambulance.
Inspector Etim was at the middle of conversation on his mobile phone. The courtesy he was observing revealed that he was speaking with somebody of high authority; his boss or somebody superior to his boss. It seemed the call was demanding for the release of two of the arrested suspects. When he finished, he beckoned at Agent Richard.
The two discussed for some minutes, nobody heard what it was all about. Inspector Etim waved at Paul in greeting. The police van zoomed away in convoy of the ambulance and Agent Richard’s Toyota Camry. Paul was inside the car with Agent Richard, the two were still discussing about the past. The police had gone, the street got back to its hectic and bubbling nature. It had started raining, the light was flickering,… it finally went off. Some unorganized noise swallowed the rattling of the rain “NEPA! no be now now u na bring ‘ am!!!”
It was 800 am, the authority in charge of electric supply had helped to switch off the light, the rain had worsen the traffic jam. The potholes had been filled to the brim, the vehicles could not move again. The waste littered by the roadside had blocked the drainages; it had caused a flood in the area. Somebody was responsible for this; the individual that had dumped their waste by the roadside and the authority that had refused to dispose them.

This spam bot of a thing has been eating me raw each time I copy paste.Shy one I've reposted as you asked but not showing up here but the funny thing I couldnt understand is that I do see my missing posts if I browse NL through my phone, I have my chapter two posted too, but none isnt here.Seun what could be happening?

Shyone could I have your email please.Mine is ayolad4@yahoo.com

@ thiscounts

I apologize for not being able to call you today.  My office in Lagos advised me that you should speak with them first, so call this number ----------.  I realize it is late - there is a 6 hour difference so it is 12:45am in Lagos - Call that number on Monday -I will then call you on Tuesday.

Let me know once you have written the number down so I can remove it from this post.  I also have taken down your information.  Thank you.

Repost in "sections" - if the chapter is too long, it won't show - so cut it up and post it in sections - then it will be available to other readers.

I do like your book and writing style.  Let's see where this goes.

I've got it.Thanks

Thank you - have a wonderful New Year.

I look forward to speaking with you.

Shy one I've done as directed.I read what you left for me on another thread.But believe me I'm such a person who cherishes privacy.We would be better off on Email.I have a lot to say.Thanks alot

@ thiscounts

You have done as directed.  I have heard good things about you; you have made a good impression. 

Thank you for the "cherishes privacy comment"

I am a very serious person in business vs. the relaxation comments for entertainment that I make on NL.

I take business very, very seriously as it is a LARGE PART of my life - I also do not mix business with pleasure.

You are serious and I am serious.  I will be in touch.

Hmm,I'm becoming a shy one too over your comment.It's been my pleasure.I'm still waiting, checking my phone everyminute.

Hi

I just emailed you.

Thanks u might check yours as well

culled from CHAPTER FIVE and I hope this wont be a recrudescence of what our election would potray this time around



,
    He had recruited Lamidi and Raimi Mogaji for this. He was sure the two could do the job professionally without leaving traces. Their last assignment had convinced him of that, they really did excellently well and that was during the election.

They were the one that won the contract to steal election materials in every polling unit. And Lamidi and his boys  were rapacious over this. They maimed and injured people. They held the community in hostage with the help of weapons, which Mr. Abraham gave to them coupled with their own strategic ways in which they carried out the assignment. Lamidi had said to have gone to a polling unit as a masquerade, whatever thought that led him into disguising as masquerade must have been that of humour,

   People were shocked at seeing the masquerade ‘Could it have been that the masquerade has come to vote or what?’ Masquerade, according to African beliefs is known to be a primordial being, and if he had come it must be to collect his sacrifice. Before the voters could wake up from the shock, the Masquerade had proved their thought right,  ‘Ara orun ken-ken’ had come to collect, the voting materials; the ballot papers as his sacrifice, nobody dare stopped him. He was with a gun of highly sophisticated brawny new one and so were his entourage. They coerced the voters into voting for their own man ‘Vincent Fasasi. The election was an embodiment of box snatching, rigging and killing.




\

culled from CHAPTER8

“My son! There has never been a change on how our country operates its government. It has always been the same. When I was in my youth, I thought that all the promises the government made to us they would fulfil them. They had come to our village during the campaign in the 2nd republic. They had promised us a good road, constant supply of electricity, adequate water supply. Free education and all the good things in this world. They advised us to pay our taxes for government to be able to execute her plan. I could remember how the town crier would be going from one village to another reminding us how important our taxes are to the government. We had paid our taxes, we had fulfilled our part but the Government kept on saying that the project they were doing may not be something that would put food on our table now but in future, we would see the beauty of the project they were doing. We had waited and waited for the future to come and it seemed the future would never come. Forty five year independent anniversary, our country remained what it was with the promises dangling in the air. The country has made everybody a failure. Your father left the military during the civil war. He said he could not kill his brother with gun over the course that no one has explained to him. That was how we went back to village. He became a farmer. There was one sad morning you and Peter fell sick. We took you to hospital. The doctor said the sickness was serious and we needed to pay an amount, which we could not afford. We sold all our farmstead, yet we could not raise the money. Your father decided to join the labourers at the site. We did not have food at home so he did not eat before he went for the job. He exhausted all his strength to meet up with the amount needed to complete the bill. He finished the job. They paid him. Just to turn back and be coming home. His strength had been sapped. He fell and did not wake up again. That was how I lost your father when you and Peter were at the age of two years. The society killed him. It was the environment of poverty the government created that took away his life. We had worked hard to be rich but the society would not allow us to prevail. It has been the same system, it has been the same group of people, it has been their fathers and children that have been ruling us. We are in a groove”.

CULLED FROM CHAPTER NINE



“But this is one na dangerous game, person wey live by gun go die by it!’’Lamidi had suggested.
“But who cares if the future is bleak when I have nothing to hope for. That; I, Raimi a graduate of Engineering would get a job in years to come while their sons have occupied all the vacancies in the land? When I will never meet up with the requirements of job experience, which no one has offered me. At times they tell you that you have out-grown the required age, the question is; before I grew out of the age haven’t I been seeking for employment and did they employ me? Some have even gone to extent of extorting money from the applicants. Have you forgotten about what led Judith to the street?’’
Lamidi was about to reply but Raimi took over the answer, “She didn’t just become a prostitute out of her own accord she became frustrated and found herself on the street. How would she not when she said that whenever she went to seek for work the boss there would demand for sex before he could employ her and when she refused no matter how brilliantly she might have performed in the tests and interviews she would find herself being thrown out. Only the genuine requisite for jobs is sex with the staff or boss of the institution. This she fought several times but at last, when all hope was lost she had to capitulate of which she did the first of which only earned her HIV. The guy that slept with her was HIV positive and to worst it all she never got the job. Angry and bitter about life she decided to be sharing it with anybody that accosts her for sex in any offices she goes seeking for employment. And she is having a large number to her cunt, she is beautiful of course.’’
“Hhnmm, what a life.Na only Go help us for this obodo naija?”Lamidi sighed.
‘‘So let’s join the force, let give back anarchy; the result of what they throw in to the society. They threw poverty, unemployment, prostitution, under-development, improper electoral nomination of candidates, untimely death, and disorientation of youth that would make us go into militancy, go into 419, armed robbery because man pikin must not die in hunger!’’ Raimi had reached his boiling point. Ever since, they had been prying open gates and wrenching doors off hinges.
Judith the prostitute had informed them about Mr. Felix, a sectional head officer at the Department of Fire Service of the discussion she had eavesdropped while the man was on phone. Mr. Felix had withdrawn from bank the money allocated to his section for provision of new fire service equipment. It was a huge amount of money, which he was intending to embezzle. He would not buy the equipment; he would not put the section to standard to meet up with the responsibilities of securing lives and properties. He would not break the tradition of ‘it is my time to chop and clean mouth’ He would be loyal to the continuity of the tradition. “If it grieves you, wait for your time and be quixotic to change the system” one of his former bosses had warned him when he wrote a petition against him. Mr. Felix was a young officer then with a strong heart to put things in order but now he had grown and learnt the slogan “wait for your time!”
Judith knew all his dealings, she knew he had money hidden in his house; she had given the details to Lamidi a street friend of hers.
The plan was perfect; they had got into his compound, into his room without raising a dust. Mr. Felix was not asleep when they sidled in; he was in a toilet feeling queasy, he was ill, he was about to open a tap to get some water.
Lamidi and Raimi knew that Mr. Felix was hiding somewhere in the rooms but they did not know which one he was. They had been searching for him from one room to another until he opened the tap which spurted out water, the sound gave him out. They began to follow the direction of the sound. He too had heard their footsteps. He quickly peeped through the key hole of the toilet door and saw the men of the dark with long rifles walking towards him. He knew they had come for the money.
‘‘I have stolen it by pen and they are here to take it by gun, No way!’’ His scruple pricked his conscience. He immediately informed the police, the DPO of the area was his friend. He would not leave him in the lurch. He believed. The DPO acted promptly on the call, he ordered his officers to go for his rescue.
Raimi kicked the door of the toilet open and saw a mobile phone in his hand.“He just called the police,” Raimi informed Lamidi when he checked the number he had dialled.
Lamidi got furious, they would not spare him for putting their lives in danger, he shot him three times in his left chest. They searched for the money and finally saw it where he hid it. They would escape before the police arrived. They believed that the police would always come after they might have gone. It had always been the system but today was different, they were already around and had surrounded the building.
Lamidi and Raimi ran out and rand back to the room when they saw the police undauntedly dogged with their weapons pointing to wherever direction they might want to take. The police had seen them and began the warnings that they should come out and surrender their weapons.
The two heard the warnings, they looked into each other’s face and resolved not to lay down their weapons. They determined to take the risk even if it would cost them their lives. It was going to be fire-for-fire. To facilitate their escape, they know what to do. ‘VBIEDs’ was the name that came to their mind. They would need Judith to do this to rescue them.
They called her on phone and related things to her. She had got the message; ‘VBIEDs’ Vehicle Borne Improvised Explosive Devices was what she was asked to make use of and she would do that to help her friends out of the danger. In five minutes, she would be within the vicinity.
She needed a car to carry out the assignment. One man had stopped for her, he desired to have a taste of her goodies. She did not object, all she needed was his car. She entered and pointed a gun at him ordering him to get out of the car. Thank God, she sighed; the first phase of the plan was successful. She opened her bag and brought out a mousetrap with some items which she would use for the rescue operation. She zoomed off she must not be late. She violated traffic light more than many times. She was at haste. She finally got to the street where her friends were trapped. She parked the car at distance. She brought out the mousetrap and put some wire around it, mixed some liquid together and all she had now with her was bomb. Only she knew how she came about with the bomb from all these items she just added together. She picked a heavy stone from the ground and placed it on the turtle for the car to keep on moving while she smartly jumped out of the vehicle. She hid around the corner while the car was racing down towards where the police had packed their jeep.

CULLED FROM CHAPTER TWO[i][/i]
“Honey! I know you will punch me, you will torture me like a captive of the war but I shall always tell you my mind. I’m not longer shy of our neighbour coming to rescue me from your clenched fists. I heard your conversation on phone last night…, You are too young to be dining with devil. Your palms, your palms are becoming stained of blood. Blood is dripping from your palms”. She immediately cringed at one of the corners of the room; she knew what her confrontation could earn her.


“What do you mean woman! Bury whatever you might have heard in your belly; speak it out to no one. I warned you! I’ve taken oath of secrecy in the job I’d signed for, so sign it along with me. You will be declared as enemy of the state if you blab it to anyone. The enemy of state is enemy to us all and we shall not blink an eye before we terminate whosoever he or she is. Be careful woman! I won’t tolerate any act of insubordination from you henceforth.’’ Steve replied her assertively moving a step closer to her as if he was going for a pounce.


“But…. but!” She halted, gripped with fear. She knew one of these would happen to her; being beaten or being forced to bed and at times, she experienced both in one fell swoop.


“But me no buts young woman! I had told you not to cast aspersion on me. What you heard on phone was misconstrued by your unstable mind. I do not engage in any killing, any assassination. It was true that news of assassination was always broadcast whenever I was on official duty outside the state but you shouldn’t have linked it up to my duty. If I had accepted what you professed, I did it so that you would let me be. It was all a charade!”Having reached her, he finger combed her hair releasing the pains, which the confrontation had welled up in him softly on the light stroke he was patting on her hair.


“And the money, you always come home with charade! The mansion you have built, the ostentatious life you are living…. a rehearsal of your charade?” She asked ostensibly edging away from his touch.
He knew the woman knew well than what he had thought. He had bruised and injured her at several occasions. Their neighbours were tired of their incessant fight. They had reported him of turning his wife to a punch-bag at their station. The barracks warden had kept the record of the fight. They had put them under surveillance to know why they always quarrelled. He was good for the job but his wife was dangerous to his duty. They had observed, he would not divulge an official secret to his wife. He was a loyal tool of destruction. He was accurate at aiming a target; he was one of their best instruments. His conscience had been bought with money and sealed with honey!

“The money! I work in State house for goodness sake! We are paid allowances. We execute contracts. We were flown abroad for training, we were paid for it. We were paid for each trip we made with the Excellency. I have window of opportunity to be rich as I am. No dirty game, no dirty job. White as snow is my palms. Believe me sweetheart!” He capriciously calmed down his nerves and tried to conceptualize his woman. He mounted his lips on hers and gave her a wet kiss. He was smart “The Spider!” His Friends would always hail him.


“Happy birthday Honey!” Folasade screamed it at him and jumped on him. That was a month after their last skirmish. Folasade had creatively designed a plot to bring his man back to whom he had fallen in love with before he joined military. It was his birthday, she knew; his official duty would not allow him to remember.
No wonder, he was shocked but excited at seeing the preparation she had made for the celebration when he came back from work, he did not expect a party at home. It was a party meant for the two of them alone. The parlour was decorated like a theatre, colourful sparkling light, champagne, pounded yam with Egusi soup, bush meat called ‘Eran Oya’ and some foreign food that would make a bloated mouth to salivate. Folasade trusted herself at cooking she knew that; mastering the art of cooking was one of the secrets of an African happy marital home. Which at different times whenever her husband was in a good mood would make him rank her as ‘General’ the officer in-charge of domestic affairs who would always make him obey her command…just because of the taste of her food. Today was going to be one of their connubial bliss with the way he had come in showing expression of excitement, especially when Folashade jumped on him and dipped her tongue into his mouth sending a passionate message down to his spine, his feeling was aroused for the food, which she obeyed with a full consent without any ‘ act of insubordination.’ She, the birthday dinner was moreish. He commented. The candles had burnt down, the table had been cleared, the knickers were back on its hinge, and the afterglow was still dazzling.
“What is this and what for?” He asked when Folasade presented him a birthday gift, although he never doubted its being a gift because it was wrapped as such and when he opened it,
“A camcorder! Your birthday gift. I had used it to record some events in the past, which I believe if you watch, you would not want such events to happen again. Play it, let’s watch it as a drama in the past that would not happen again in our life” She placed it on his palm with a kiss on his cheeks coming from a thoroughly satisfied wife, a leftover of the passionate moment.
He collected it and fiddled with it for some minutes as if the content might raise his hackles, he looked at his wife and pressed the button, the events of the past started to unfold. Folasade had recorded some of the serious arguments they had had and the beating she had gone through in his hand over the years. It was horrible. It was a bad way to treat someone he had claimed to love, he was remorseful, he wept and asked for her forgiveness. ‘‘Oh , oo! So the men of strong heart do cry’’ She whispered that to her inner self and spoke out.

a good stry but lack many things. we do not know wat ur characters' look are, nor do we know wat d prison yard look like

U HV A GUD SETNGS BUT NOT MAKING USE OF WAT CLD HV MAKE UR STRY MORE POWERFL:WEATHER, ATMOSPHERE, AFRICA IS GUD SETNGS