A dark alley, graffiti on the walls. He blended in like chameleon on green leaf. He had watched her take this route to and fro The Boy's Club for the past few weeks. He had come here to wait after work every day for two weeks now, he wanted to be sure. Tonight was the night of judgment, he was going to fix her and fix her real good, he was impotent and he knew it, just wanted to knock her around a little before sending her to oblivion; her payment for his humiliation of him six years ago, when she had won the first award. Proud little brat, he swore. He felt the pick-axe in his pocket and his blood ran chilly. A sensation flowed through his spine, he could not place it, fear or anticipation? He decided it was more of the latter than the former. Twenty minutes later and she was yet to arrive, he started to grow impatient, the past few days he had fantasized about what he was going to do to her; he would knock her unconscious, pluck out her eyes, separate her tongue from her body and stuff it into the empty eye sockets. He would drive the pick-axe into her heart and then allow himself the pleasure of watching her die slowly, then he would leave her there, where a member of the state cleaning board would find her. She deserved it. He ruminated on what would happen if he was found out, but he quickly brushed the thought from his mind. This was Sagol, where murder was committed everyday; seventy five percent of such cases were unsolved. Even if he was found out, he was highly connected in high places, there was nothing to be worried about. He was about to take a drink from the cask of whiskey he had with him when he saw the familiar skipping walk. It was her, and she was coming towards him. He quickly sipped the whiskey to embolden him. She walked past him, but he could not move. It was as though he was transfixed to the spot, like his body was no longer receiving stimuli from his brain, he could only watch as she disappeared round the sharp corner. Energy started to surge up inside of him, he allowed himself the luxury and benefit of swearing for the next few minutes, and then he went all calm. Tomorrow is another day...

Fifteen minutes earlier, she had been drinking at The Boy's Club with her friends. She had been feeling uneasy, like someone was watching her every move. She turned all of a sudden and looked back to catch the “someone” unawares but alas everyone in the club was minding their own business; an old man was nursing a mug of beer, two girls were dancing and a group of young men were chatting happily among themselves. One of them was exceptionally attractive, he smiled at her, she did not smile back, she looked away instead. Not tonight. She suddenly felt an urgent need to leave the club, she told her friend she was calling it a night, headache was the reason. One offered her a ride, she declined, they told her to ring the doctor as soon as she got home, she promised to, kissed them goodbye, picked up her purse and was out of the club, into the street into the dark alley. Her friends had warned her about taking that route, it was dangerous, but she would not be bothered, one had to die anyway, whichever way it happened. She was broke and disturbed, the walk helped to clear her head. Walking through the alley, it was littered with drunks and low lives but there was this one that had an air of familiarity about him. She had seen him or met him somewhere, she was not sure though, maybe the martini she took at the club was playing tricks on her but then he was dressed in real expensive clothing, not like the other drunks.

Why wait till tomorrow? There was another alley, she would take that one too. He emptied the cask of whisky and started to trail her, she looked prettier than he had remembered, aging with grace, nice body, nice hair, nice outfit… too bad all that would be a waste soon. She kept looking back, she was being followed, as if on cue she felt the revolver in her purse, it was cold, she had been carrying it around for days now since she had started to have a feeling she was being watched. She held it tight and thud! He was in front of her, she recognized him, the “drunk” in expensive clothing, the guy she had slapped at the General’s party for grabbing her ass six years ago, “payback time” he slowly mouthed, fascinated by the expression of shock in her eyes. She was scared, he was moving closer, brandishing a pick-axe, his eyes red, a deadly expression on his face, she whipped out a weapon of mass destruction and dug a hole between his eyes, sending him to thy kingdom come-whose kingdom?

A siren, the police headquarters had been informed of the high rate of murder incidents in that suburb, had deployed a patrol that same night. A patrol car approached the scene, two policemen got out, inspected the casualty, a top brass official in the military. They saw the pick-axe, they recognized her, four time winner of the golden globe who was now broke. She was still a sight for sore eyes, and the gun was still smoking. She opened her mouth to say something, one of the policemen too- “self-defense” they chorused in unison. The gun was registered. There was no case. CULLED FROM MY BLOG: craymistress.

Very great stuff, I want some more. However, I'm kinda finding it hard to believe this story was set here in Naija.

Larry-Sun:
Very great stuff, I want some more. However, I'm kinda finding it hard to believe this story was set here in Naija.

Figment of my Imagination. Twaznt.

Miss Debisi: Figment of my Imagination. Twaznt.

I do not want figment, Bisi. I want the whole of your brilliant imagination, wanna know what makes your pen dance.