I've never seen derailing as much as i've seen on this thread. . , not to talk of the 'im'becile-lovers'. . ,

Its a pity.

nkwenu umaji oh, derailing of life.

maishot: I've never seen derailing as much as i've seen on this thread. . , not to talk of the 'im'becile-lovers'. . ,

Its a pity.

were ve u been?

Please Mr Banga soup and Nichole stop all this thing you are acting on this thread..... Be more mature... Raise sensitive issue and not all your childish conversation.... Caveat emptor

Ykwtd: Please Mr Banga soup and Nichole stop all this thing you are acting on this thread..... Be more mature... Raise sensitive issue and not all your childish conversation.... Caveat emptor

k

Mazi thanks 4 d suspense 2 page just waste, abi wetin u wan hear b4 u upload naaa,

maishot: I've never seen derailing as much as i've seen on this thread. . , not to talk of the 'im'becile-lovers'. . ,

Its a pity.

Beats me! I don't know what else to do or say. Its so terrible!

nnecar: Mazi thanks 4 d suspense 2 page just waste, abi wetin u wan hear b4 u upload naaa,

Did I waste the 2 pages? My upload needs a conducive environment to strive

See ya all tomorrow!

Mazi_Omenuko, why not ask Mynd to dedicate one evening to doing an extensive clean up of this thread? Cuddlemii had to threaten everyone with a ban and thread lockdown before we began behaving ourselves on my Wasimi thread.

What esere826 suggested is this: Create an alternative thread in the general section solely for chatting about the story under narration. After each update, post the link and NICELY ask your followers to follow the link and chat to their hearts content. I tried it and it worked. Check my profile and see how I went about it. Or better still lemme post here.

This is the original thread. Cuddlemii threatened to lock down the thread because it was being derailed and followers were finding it hard to follow the story. Is she thinks my thread was bad, wait till she sees yours. She will throw a shitfit! www.nairaland.com/943571/place-rest-wasimi-chronicles

This is the alternate thread I created.
www.nairaland.com/1110065/place-rest-wasimi-chronicles-gist

Try it. It worked for me.

Enters with mai okada....hen,i tink d moderator might sight me,revving d okada..runs away wit full speed

Thanks ishi. . .

I actually did it your way. Instead of creating an alternate thread, I referred all chats to the previous thread, the NYSC thread since this new one was a sequel.

I've learnt my lessons.

Mazi_Omenuko: Thanks ishi. . .

I actually did it your way. Instead of creating an alternate thread, I referred all chats to the previous thread, the NYSC thread since this new one was a sequel.

I've learnt my lessons.

What the f*** happened!

Opened this thread to read latest post from Mazi and was surprised at what I saw (or did not see). So many hidden posts! A storm must have been brewed! Na wa o!

Hope this has not discouraged Mazi sha?

Mazi! Biko nu, no mind all this people wey dey cause yawa for here. I suggest you chill small and let things cool before the next post. However, don't chill for too long o! Else, its tantamount to punishing the 'innocent' - like me, along with the rascals who think they are homo sapiens.

I woke up weak and dizzy. I felt my body drenched in a liquid; its either I was sweating profusely, or water had been poured all over me. from the look of the water all over the floor where I lay, I could see that water was poured on me.

I tried to move, but I realized I had been tied on a stake. I couldn’t move my hands or foot. I tried harder, but only felt the pains on my hips and arms grow more. I shut my eyes and blacked out again.

When I woke up the second time, I was stretched on a wooden bench. I had regained a bit of energy on this second awakening. Still lying on the bench with hands tied together with an adhesive tape, I looked around the room.

It looked like a storage room with goods parked inside bags stored up to the roof of the room. I was alone inside the room. I looked around the dim room. The only source of light came from a window which was partially covered with a curtain that looked like it had not been washed for decades. The floor was littered with pieces of paper escaping from the stacks inside the bag.

A voice at one extreme of the room drew my attention. I looked towards the direction but could not see a face, the voice was that of someone answering a call. I listened hard to make out the conversation, but I couldn’t. all I could pick up was “yes”, “ok”, “now”, “no” and other short words and phrases.

The call ended and the guy receiving the call walked out from the covers of the bags. I returned to my position, trying to pretend to be unconscious.
“Stand up!” he commanded like he was aware I was peeping at him earlier.

I gradually opened my eyes and fixed my gaze on the figure before me. it was the unmistakable face of the guy I had seen monitoring me both at the stadium and at the swimming pool. Who ever it was that abducted me got it all planned and perfectly executed.

I sat on the bench and he got a seat and sat opposite me. he stood up almost immediately like he had forgotten something. He went towards the back of the storage room and disappeared. I wondered what he went to do. I tried freeing my hands but they were perfectly binded. This was not a hasty job as I realized. It had a professional touch.

He returned with a loaf of bread and a bottle of pepsi and dropped them on my feet. He lighted a stick of cigarette as he sat on the seat opposite mine.

I took a closer look at him. He was well dressed, had a nice shave and looked decent. He neatly folded his long sleeve shirt to rest at his elbows and his well knotted tie was sagging on his neck.
He drew the cigarette and puffed its smoke on my face, exhaled deeply on the process. Then he relaxed fully on the chair.

“The food is for you.” He said, pointing at the bread and soft drink. I smiled at him. For some strange reason, I was relaxed and had a little confidence.

“This thing is not food.” I said.

He looked up to me surprised, like he couldn’t believe I had the guts to utter such words. Then he leaned over to me and said.

‘What do you want to eat then?”

I looked around the room like I was searching for the food inside the room.

“Take me to a nice restaurant and I will make an order.” I said with a smile on my face.

He nodded his head like he just unraveled a mystery.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“Danzel Washinghton.” I replied.

He smiled and removed his wrist watch, refolding his sleeves which had started covering his arms once more.

“you said your name is what.”

“Washington Danze. . .”

The thunderous slap that landed on my face sent me spiraling backwards and I fell off the bench. My teeth must have broken my chic where the slap landed as blood started coming out from my mouth.

“Sit down!” he commanded with a thunderous voice.

I sat up, moved towards the bench without looking at his face and sat down.

“What is your name!” he asked emphatically.

“Eddie Murphy.” I replied, moving backwards in reflex as I anticipated another slap. But none came. Instead, he laughed at me.

“I like that guy, the nutty professor was my favorite.” He said and I looked up in dismay, surprised at the way he was discussing Murphy’s movies amidst the slap he just gave me.

“Why don’t you want to eat your food?” he asked and I didn’t respond. He took the bread in one arm and lifted the pepsi bottle with another hand. I watched as he helped himself with the bread and pepsi, drawing his cigarette and pouring the smoke on my face afterwards.

“This is the definition of balanced diet.” He said to me.

I stared at him as he gulped the pepsi. He looked at me and asked if what he was saying was wrong.

“I know what they taught you at school, balanced diet as being the food with all the vitamins and mineral.” He said.

“Did you do sciences at school?” he asked and I nodded.

“A balanced diet contains all the three states of matter; solid,” he said lifting the bread up, “liquid,” he said advancing the pepsi bottle forward, “and gas.” He said motioning at the burning stick of cigarette.

I smiled at his analogy. When he saw me smiling, he took the last gulp from the bottle of pepsi, discarded the bread and shifted his seat closer to me.

“Where do you work?” he asked.

“mortuary attendant at Federal medical centre. . .”

The next hit was at my nose. I saw the arms landing steadily towards me and I ducked, it managed to graze through me nose as tiny drops of blood gushed out.

“Do you know I can kill you here and no one will ever know your way about?” he asked but I didn’t border answering him.

He stood up, went to his suit which was hanging on the wall and brought out a gun; a pistol. He advanced forward and returned to the seat. I took a quick glance at the pistol, it wasn’t a local made pistol. I had seen so many locally made guns as the town I schooled in prided themselves as the best blacksmith in the country, and they produced all sorts of local guns. I can easily identify a local gun when I see one as they are common on the streets of Awka.

What the man holding me hostage held in his hand was nothing close to a local gun. It was a brand new hand held revolver with stainless steel. My heart skipped a bit when he pointed the nozzle of the gun in the direction of my heart, resting it exactly a few centimeters from my left nipple.

“Boom!” he exclaimed, raising the nozzle up. Then he moved it to my forehead,

“Boom!” he said, repeating the same thing.

It was obvious the guy was a pro and not a quack, neither was he a tout. He was a trained professional in whatever he is doing.

His phone rang and he stood up to answer the call. As usual, there was nothing I could make out of his talk. It was the usual “yes,” “no”, “ok.”

I let my mind drift away from the call and try to focus on the possible circumstance leading to my kidnap. Why was a professional sent after me? was this a mistake? Who did I infuriate so much that a well trained professional had been sent to kidnap me.

There was just one person I could think of, one that I knew I had wronged, and who had the resources to carry out such a plot.

The guy stood beside me, holding his phone on his hand, like he was expecting another call.

My mind did a little calculation and i summarized that I knew who my abductor was.

The etisalat manager.

But all the assumptions were to be faulted; for when the phone of the guy standing beside me rang for the second time, he handed the phone to me.

“She wants to speak with you.”

"Who the fvck is she!" I exclaimed but the sight of those huge forceps that cracked my chic advancing towards me made me take the phone and listened to the voice on the other line.

“hello?”

It was unmistakable. . .

It was clear and loud. . .

It was the voice of Ms Enoh. . .

Good morning all,

Have a nice day.

See you later in the evening.

Thanks for following, and thanks for minimizing the chats. No off-topic chats please, any chat must be related to the story contained in this thread.

Once again, thanks for following.

Mazi_Omenuko: Good morning all,

Have a nice day.

See you later in the evening.

Thanks for following, and thanks for minimizing the chats.

well down

y ll mis enoh do dix

gandyluv: y ll mis enoh do dix

if u ask me,who i go ask?