Welcome to the maiden edition of this Short story competition. Meet the 27 contestants for this edition;

Mazi_Omenuko: Interested members

1. Agrika
2. Abu mikey
3. Bestluv584
4. Oliseh.com
5. Nastydroid
6. Damex333
7. Nduking92
8. Kslib
9. Obinoral
10. Russigin
11. Timpaker
12. Godmother
13. Amyjustin
14. Plainmirror
15. Miss-Fibre
16. Infoscope
17. Numero uuuno
18. Sambroose
19. Nugges11
20. Ruby spice
21. Oma4u
22. Stillwater
23. Kanechimex
24. T-flow
25. Sammy Hoe
26. Royver
27. Tolexander

The rules and procedures has been highlighted at the planning thread;

https://www.nairaland.com/1441838/short-story-competition

The 27 contestants will submit their short story for review by the judges for the first round. Each judge will nominate five (5) works for the final place. Seven (7) works with the highest nominations will make it to the final round. In case of a tie, the judges will be asked to make a final vote to break the tie.

Submission deadline for this first round is on Tuesday, 1st october by 12:00 (GMT). However, contestants should endeavor to submit their work before this weekend ends (just a plea). This will enable the judges have more time to review and submit their nominations.

Final Round;

The seven (7) contestants with the highest nominations makes it to the final round. They are to prepare another short story in any genre of their choice and submit it for review within a period of ONE WEEK after the results of the first round had been posted.

Reserved for update of nominations/result...

Criteria for award of points (second round only).

The first round has 27 contestants. So what we do, is just to read and nominate five works we feel should be at the final. The seven with highest nominations or votes makes it to the final. Where there's a tie, the judges will be asked to vote for a tie break.

For the second round, the criteria for award of marks for the seven finalists are as follows;

Content (Maximum: 10 marks)
Organization (Max: 10 marks)
Illustrative skills (Max: 10 marks)

Total => 30 marks

1) Content:

How well did the writer develop his/her plots under the stipulated 2,500 words? What of the scenes, plots, characters, settings, actions and others.

2) Organization: How well did the writer arrange and present the work? How are the plots and scenes correlated? What of the paragraphing, spacing, dialogue, etc.

3) Illustrative skills: How well did the writer illustrate the story? Consider the following; presentation, demonstration of knowledge of chosen genre, strengths of facts presented in the story.

Thanks.

Reserved for updates...

Special plea;

This thread is reserved for the contestants and judges to make submission for round 1 and 2. The fans can read and comment on our planning thread. We would love the thread to be clean and tidy for easy access to judges.

For comments and side-talks, use our planning thread:

https://www.nairaland.com/1441838/short-story-competition

Thanks.

The coordinator, HumbleByGrace will take over from here.

Goodluck to all the contestants.

One more thing: I know Mazi's already touched on the issue of plagiarism, but this really cannot be over-emphasized. Yes, sometimes, in the process of undertaking research, we might pick up excerpts from already published works. However, the onus is on us writers to make sure our works are absolutely ours and if not, to quote the original author and source. Based on this, before reading any submitted stories, I'll be using my online plagiarism checker tool to check the authenticity of, and ensure that works submitted are original. I'll encourage you as writers to do the same too. A free online copy can be obtained from here: http://www.dustball.com/cs/plagiarism.checker/

[size=30pt]THE MAN WITHIN (2,309 WORDS)

BY

MISS_FIBRE

AN ENTRY MADE INTO THE COMPETITION[/size]



*******************************************************************************************

He looked into the piercing sunlight, shading his eyes as the rays fell into his pupil. He had been standing there for a long time, hoping that destiny would finally answer his call. When passion and emotion ripped him apart, he stood. Even when his best friend poisoned his only son and eloped with his sister, he still stood. The whole village came together, burnt his house, his wife dying in the inferno, and yet he stood. Now even the sun seemed to be against him as it shone from the sky with the harshness of a child whose piece of yam was collected.

He had been trekking along the plains for some days, feeding on wild fruits picked along the road. While some of the fruits nourished him, others made him stool for long periods. Rain fell abundantly on him, washing him over and over again. His water gourd had been filled to the brim with the rain water. His beards had outgrown his face giving him an outlandish look, while long nails protruded from his fingers which clutched firmly on a staff. He had used the staff to warn away wild animals whenever he encountered them. The trees had turned to his bed at night, the whispering crickets and noisy owls his companions for bed time.

“Croak”, the noise jolted him. He had to quickly grab a branch, stopping himself from slipping. What a frog had come to do so high up on a tree confounded his reasoning. His eyes opened to the darkness whose thickness made a Man unable to see his nose. It was more like he was sleeping but this time his breath had taken an irregular pattern. He wished he had a source of light with him. At least he would be able to chase the darkness away.

“Crooaakkk!”

The sound came out louder, just a little above him. He heard a movement of leaves and tweaking of branches which made him freeze in expectation. He had long done away with fear; instead, he was bothered by the lack of light.

“What would a living soul with fresh blood stained with bitterness be doing so deep in the jungle?” a croaky voice asked. It was accompanied by the same croaking sound that had startled him. It seemed the owner of the voice had a bad cough which sounded like a croak.

“I am a Man who had been wronged. I seek an explanation to the wicked ways of Man. I am on a journey of discovery”.

He said all this in one breath. His eyes had gotten accustomed to the darkness but his nose still was the only thing he could see. He looked upward, hoping to catch a view of the person or creature that had asked him a question. Darkness stared back at him, even the sky which peaked from an opening of leaves appeared to be battling with dark clouds. His arm reached for his staff which he grabbed. He lifted it gently, using it to part the leaves directly in front of him, the same place the movement stopped. He saw the creature.

The creature appeared to be hung upside down as its long hair creased down its face. Its face had deep etches of aging, eyes deep blue and lips pale pink, wrinkled at the edges. Only a head turned upside down with the dark night hiding the rest of his body. It was the face of a Man, a very old Man with long grey hairs. The sight sent shivers down his spine. It was his first encounter with the extraordinary.

How he could see the creature in the pitch black darkness was no mystery as the creature had a glow round about it. Light seemed to be emitting from the inside of the creature to the surface. He was scared, his hairs stood at attention like a magnetic surface was attracting them while his lips trembled in confusion. This was more than he had bargained for. His eyes were locked to that of the creature whose eyes seemed to be digging into the inner part of his soul.

“You are allowing your bitterness make you question the universe?” It sounded more like a statement than a question; he could provide no answer to it. The face beheld him, its eyes now roaming around his face. It rested at the staff in his hand and something that looked like a smile broke out from its lips. The sight of its teeth which were more like the gum of a toothless old Man, made the air round the Man stand still. The smile had worked its way into the eyes of the creature, leaving creases at the edge of its eyes.

“A troubled Man has the right to question his creator” The Man said after what seemed like eternity.

He had mustered all the courage he could to say such in such the presence of such a fearsome creature. His lips had gone dry, the moisture in his tongue absent. It felt like wiping his tongue against a dry wood when he swiped his tongue quickly over his lips to wet it.

“It is better sometimes to let sleeping dogs lie.” The Creature croaked at him.

He was already used to the illumination surrounding the creature that he did not think twice before taking his staff back and allowing the leaf to cover the space he had opened. He adjusted his already blistering buttocks to the other side and lay down again on the wide branch. His mind was full and what he had considered as the toughest of his worries had become the least of his worries. The croaking sound of the creature no longer bothered him as he looked forward to seeing the break of dawn.

“When drowning, a straw at the river bank can offer you succor”

The creature croaked one last time and the night went back into its deafening silence. Even the crickets who were gathered to play in the moonless night seemed to have retired into the underground houses. The prevailing silence did not jolt the Man as he closed his eyes, finally happy that nature had decided to be peaceful.

A loud bang came from nowhere, followed by a high pitched shout, a loud crack and the Man felt himself swing high up into the air. His eyes still remained shut and no matter how hard he tried to open it, it wouldn’t. He felt himself falling helplessly from where he was parched, his hand clutching at his staff. Earth and death seemed far away as he kept falling without impact. The impact came when he least expected it, he passed out.

“Stranger…” The voice was silent and soft, having a calm effect on the ear.

“Hmmmm”, a grunt was followed by a rustic cough.

“The king passes through this road, do not lay there and allow yourself to be ridden over.” The voice said to him. He felt a tug on his rib and opened his eyes slowly. The sun was up, its rays casting a deep shadow over his face. The sun was blocked by a face. He adjusted his eyes until it fell on the face.

“We now have a king here?”

He asked the beautiful woman standing over him. His eyes were careful not to look between her legs which were thrown into his view.

“You really need to get off the road stranger. Your death will forever remain on my conscience if I allow you die as would a dog.” She was adamant and he had no option but to stand up.

He stood up slowly, expecting to feel pain since he had fallen from quiet a height. He felt nothing. His staff was still in his hand, his water gourd tied safely to his waist. Not even a dent on the calabash. His eyes were fastened on the sun which appeared strange to him. Instead of the normal round ball of golden flame, the moon stood in the center of sky. Appearing so big, he could see oceans flowing through it. The sky around the “sun” was pitch-black instead of the normal light blue. Trees hung upside down from the sky, with a giant waterfall pouring itself away without wetting the earth he stood on.

He stood transfixed as birds flew backward.

“Stranger, your legs are shaking.” The beautiful angel said to him, wearing an amused smile.

“Yes, my lady. I am surprised by all I am seeing. I am not used to it.”

“You wanted to question your creator. This is your chance”, the woman said to him.

“My creator, where is my creator?” He asked.

A point from her finger made him turn, bubbles of waters as of clouds went up into the sky. Hooves beating on the ground advanced. A loud trumpet sounded and for once he became aware of the chattering and houses surrounding him. He was standing meters away from a giant golden gate.

“Prepare to meet your creator”, were the last words of the woman.

She made her way to the side of the road and into the crowd of people who were already cheering. He walked in her direction but lost sight of her so he turned and waited for the advancing horses or whatever was making the galloping noises to appear. He had begun to reconcile himself to the strange happenings around him. He had woken to a silver sun and backward flying birds. Anything could have its legs formed as hooves so he waited.

Dogs were the first group of entourage to pass by the Man, their tail coming out of their mouth as of a tongue. They mewed instead of barked; the melody of their unique mewing was like keys of a grand piano. They had hooves instead of paws and their body was covered with prickly feathers. Such adorable creatures with gold dust jumping out of their body.

Next was a fanfare of dwarves each holding a long, golden trumpet. They walked with their legs barely touching the ground, their lips glued to the trumpet never for once stopping to catch their breath. The sound produced by the trumpets was unique to the “mewing” of the dogs. Diamonds flew out of the trumpet but to the Man’s surprise, none of the spectators seemed to bend down to pick even a handful. They vanished into the giant gate that adorned the great wall. None opened the door, the guards just stood there unmoved.

“All hail the great King!!!” The voice was the booming of thunder in a tropical storm.

Earth vibrated by the sound of a heavy footfall and the Man waited, holding his breath. It had legs of wood, arms made out of iron and face formed out of clay. Its body was dripping with rubies and other precious stones as it walked past and again, none bent down to take even the tiniest. It shrunk as soon as it got to the little gate on the great wall and entered into it.

The king came, walking on his own. Group after group of people had passed earlier, each displaying riches beyond the Man’s imagination. Yet the king was simple. The King was dressed in same robe as the people. The king had the same staff as the Man, his face full of smiles. The king raised the staff to acknowledge the ear-deafening roar and chants from the crowd. The king walked with roses appearing underneath his feet as he took each step. The king paused in front of the man, smiling into his eyes and beckoning on him to follow him.

The man tried to resist, but a force pulled him along as he followed the King into the palace. The beauty of the inner wall was far beyond what he could comprehend. Everything was in a state of perfection. He stood admiring everything, not being able to touch them. The king himself stood at a distance and watched.

“You want to question your creator? Now is the chance to do so.” The man swung around at the voice of the king which sounded exactly like his own. The king stretched his hand towards him.

“Whatever question you have for your creator, you can answer yourself. All you need to do is look deeper inside you. Every man has riches stored within him, immense glory that can only be tapped when the man looks deeply into himself. If you look for a long time, searching within yourself and forget about the world, you will float only in unlived dreams. Live your life but draw from the resources you have buried within you.”

The man had gotten to the king who was standing in front of a giant mirror. He looked at his reflection on the mirror and was shocked to see he had the same countenance as the king. For once, his questions were all answered without his asking.

***************************************************************

“Ezegamba, wake up. The sky has begun to roll back its blanket to usher in the sun.” The voice of his wife fell onto his ears like cold water.

He turned to see his ever loving wife holding a mud lamp and peering into his face. He stood up gently, hearing the melody of his sister’s voice. She had already begun her morning chores of sweeping the compound. He looked at his keg of almost empty palmwine and smiled. His staff lay close to the keg. He picked the keg, the staff and collected a hug from his wife before going outside to the morning cold. He walked to the backyard, picked up his climbing rope, which he slung around his shoulder, and cutlass.

His voice broke the morning with a popular song, sending the birds shrieking into the sky.





[size=30pt]THE END[/size]

MY TRAVEL ADVENTURE
It was another season of relaxation and enjoyment as holiday was fast approaching. I had communicated with my dad some days back via our school payphone centre to send me some money for my transport fare back home and small pocket money for other miscellaneous expenses. That has been my modus operandi; I send message across to my parents few days to end of the term. My reason was to avoid falling victim of stolen money as it was a norm in our dormitory. Theft is common in school hostels/dormitories [mostly amongst guys] where there is a combination of different characters; the good, the bad, and the ugly.

As a big boy then in SS2 [unity school no be beans naa], I banked my money myself. During ‘break’ periods, I would go to the school canteen with my guys [girls inclusive atymes] and consume some edibles courtesy of my regular sponsoring [ I am d generous type who loves to make people around me happy]. This earned me many friends both male and female; some non beneficiaries of my benevolence branded me a SPOILT CHILD maybe they thought I came from a very wealthy family and to cap it all, I was a title contender in my class [dat kind Manchester united for EPL] LoL .
Despite coming from a middle class family [ we dey chop three square meal daily], I never gave d gossipers any reason to think otherwise, in fact I enjoyed d gossips because it enveloped me with an air of unpredictability.

An eve to the end of term, I was busy washing some clothes and gisting with my friends at d balcony of ‘purple house’ my hostel beside the tap area when Mr Alala ‘red house master’ who happened to be my school guardian approached and informed me that he received a message from my dad. He took me to a distinct area from where I was washing and scolded me on how I had been lavishing my money and afterwards disturb my parents about money[ I wondered if dat was d mssg my dad sent but on a 2nd thought, discarded the idea].

Anyways, he continued your dad called me yesterday .

Ok sir, I nodded slightly [ money don enta be dat ni]

Mr Alala gazed at me for seconds before he continued, your dad sent you some money thiis morning through waybill, but he did not disclose the amount to me. He said it is for your transport fare to Aba.

Thank you sir, I replied beaming with smile.

Eeehm Bright why has your cash column in my register been inactive since the commencement of this term?

So you are now too big to have a guardian eeeeh, Mr Alala pressed further.

No sir, it is just that you are not always around each time I come to the staff room to meet you [I feigned innocence]

That is your choice to make, but please don’t visit me with missing money issues; he concluded and left.

‘ do you need a spectacle to observe that am now a bigboi’ I murmured as I resumed my washing. The main reason why I detested banking my money with a guardian was because of the herculean task one faces before you get a payout\withdrawal such as - making a two days notice prior to collecting any amount that exceeds #500, queuing up to cash out b4 you refresh during break. No way am I going to subscribe to that. One should be entitled to enjoy his\her wealth at his\her convenience and not the other way round.

The ‘D’ day finally came on a very bright and sunny morning. I visited numerous friends of mine in various hostels that morning to bid farewell and also arrange with others that am to travel together with to Aba. Before then, I had gone to our security office where all waybill items such as money or provision arrived to check if my waybill package had arrived but to no avail. I quickly took my bath and hurried to the security office to inquire about my package for the third time, but was told that no A L T driver had delivered to them any item for 2days. I headed straight to the call centre and called my dad.
He was surprised after I told him that am yet to receive the money he sent, he narrated to me how he went to Abia Line Transport park and negotiated with the driver before he handed the driver by name JONA #2000 enclosed in an envelope with my name boldly written on it. According to my dad, he handed him 500 as against the normal #300 commission. I thanked my dad and promised to check back on the security office, I hung up.
With my ‘last card’ being #100, I paid for the 2min call duration and was left with #40.
As I sluggishly dragged my feet on my way back to the hostel, the bell for final assembly rang. I increased my pace because I had to change my casual wear [day wear] to white and maroon red school uniform which majority of students I met on my entrance to the hostel gate wore already. While some junior students out of joy hurried to the assembly ground with their traveling bags. I met Iyke my ‘paddy paddy’ whom I was supposed to travel with on the way and informed him of the latest development. He said that the money he kept with his guardian wouldn’t be sufficient for two people but promised to help me out in any little way.

After the final general assembly for the term, I visited the security office once more but was told that no item had been received on my behalf. Buses had flooded the front gate waiting for the gate to be opened. Scores of JSS students had saturated the gate area with their bags waiting for the gate to be opened as well. I instantly felt goosebumps all over my skin circumference. I was discombobulated and irate hence I left that office with a moody face.
The day had started to turn sour for me. I sensed frustration and disappointment as my instincts never failed me.

Problems or unfavorable conditions are times to think and not panic, I managed to encourage myself.
Should I solicit help from friends\ but I got my ego to protect. No I ruled out the idea. The truth is that some might help out but I was sure such gesture might be used against me.

Should I call my dad and…… no way. The man had already assisted me enough, informing him of my present predicament would mean disturbance more so there was nothing he could do to savage me safe to send another money across which was my last option. This is my cross to carry and I believed I could handle it without much ado; or so I thought.
Yeeaah! an idea finally dropped into my medulla oblongata. Maybe I should meet Mr Alala, he might help me out. I headed straight to my guardians office little did I know that it was the genesis of my adventure.

I briskly walked to the staff room and met my guardian disbursing students in his payroll. I stood at a corner and patiently waited for him. My eye glanced the gate and environs in quick succession through the window. Students heading to the gate from different dimensions whilst struggling with their bags, security men shouting at wayward students and instructing others to dress properly. I also learnt that buses where now a bit scarce and students were compelled to ply a bike to the main park located at ‘amaepku’.

How am I supposed to compete for space in a bus with people that had cash on them. It was then crystal clear to me that the odds were against me.

Due to the increasing number of people waiting for mr Alala, I sensed that delay could be dangerous so I left in search of my 'paddy paddy' who had promised to help out.
After what seemed to be an unending search, I was told by few people I asked that Iyke had also gone to the ‘amaekpu’ main park. By then it was getting some minutes past one o’clock.
I ran to the hostel, opened my cupboard and exited with my travelling box. I had wanted to call a bike to take me to the main park but my pocket suggested otherwise; I had only #40.
If I could meet Iyke there at the park, maybe he will help me foot the bike man’s bill. I thought
.
Without having a rethink or plan B (if things doesn’t go according to plan), I halted a bike man and headed straight to the park.

As I alighted from the bike, I carried my box to a big tree beside and told the bike man to help me look after the box. I also signaled him with my hand that I want to collect something from a friend.
The park was empty of buses and there was only one bus that was already filled and ready to move. I searched for Iyke through the window of the bus but he wasn’t there. But was told that there bus just left some minutes ago. I was dumbfounded whilst the bike man was still standby waiting to be paid. Only if he knew my predicament at the moment.
I monitored him from where I stood and moved immediately his gaze left me. I had also wanted to take my box along but discarded the idea because if I had done the former, I would surely be caught because the box was clearly in his front view.

If this man doesn’t see you, he might resort to carrying your box, I reasoned.

What if I go to plead with him and he turns a deaf ear.

Well if he intends to carry my box, I will show myself and explain to him moreover I still have #40 with me,maybe he will consider me and forfeit the remaining #30. It was a gamble worth undertaking.

I was still lost in thought of what my next action would be when a lady with a handbag approached the bike man, spoke some incoherent words, climbed atop the back seat and the bike man took a different route and sped off.
I maintained my hiding position for sometime before I came out. I reached for my box immediately and located a yellow container shop, walked behind and dropped my box. It was a perfect spot to observe anybody entering the park. The bike man could return in search of me and I gatz be on alert.

Students both girls and boys clustered the park readily awaiting any bus that is going there destination. It was getting a bit late in the day as the time in my wrist watch read 2:15pm. Journey from Ohafia to Aba consumed like 2hours30mins minimum. As I was still making some mental calculations, a bus drove inside the park. I watched as students from different angles ran towards the incoming bus causing a stampede. Some flew inside through the car boot other struggled to gain entrance through the door. It was the survival of the fittest and I prepared for the worst.
I undid my wrist watch and opened the front compartment of my box. Just as I was about to drop the wrist watch, my hand felt something inside. I thought it was money initially but as I withdrew my hand grabbing the stuff firmly, I saw it was nothing but a rectangular pieces of paper. A closer look revealed that it was an old transport tickets (I normally keep my travel tickets for some reasons I cannot phantom). I mopped at them for sometime and was about to jettison them when an idea dropped into my head.

I could use this rowdy environment to my advantage using the tickets, I thought.

Yes, no harm in trial, another voice echoed within me. It was a game of the mind and I was ready because that was obviously my last option.

Some minutes later, another bus arrived. I left my box behind and ran towards the bus. After much hustle for space, I managed to secure a seat at the second to the last row beside the glass window. I excused myself and alighted from the bus. The bus number plate read AQ 4277 EKS. I made a mental photocopy of it and went to pick my box from where I left it.
On getting there, I brought out the past transport tickets and searched for any that had the same number on it. Albeit, favor smiled on me as I found a match in the past tickets; it could be coincidence or luck but I believe all things worketh out for good. I had successfully crossed the first hurdle, only time would determine my faith.

Not long before everybody settled down and time for money collection was at hand as the driver’s mate (conductor) yelled. He started collecting money from people but in an irregular pattern. He would approach someone and if the person delays in paying (maybe trying to bring out wallet or readjust), he will move to the next person. I closely observed the proceedings and when he came to me, I bent down, unzipped my box and fondled with it. He wasted no time in moving to another passenger just as I had anticipated.
I closely observed the tickets he issued after payment and figured out that it was only the numbers and alphabets in the number plate and the fare which was #500 that was written on the tickets. Exactly same as mine; no dates, no destination, no A L T station code written on their respective columns. Well that was their greatest undoing as I was ready to exploit the loophole to my advantage.

Several minutes later, the driver and his mate were arguing over something which nearly caused a little fight between them. I knew it must be correlated to shortage in actual fund which was my making.

Abeg make everybody hold em ticket for hand, the driver’s mate screamed.

He started the ticket gross check from the front passenger seat and everybody flashed their tickets to his face Plainmirror inclusive. However, his search wasn’t justified as he had hoped to catch a scapegoat without ticket so he beckoned on everybody to come down from the bus for a second thorough search.

This time I shuddered but maintained my cool so as not to draw unnecessary suspicion.
I better coordinate myself well if not my spot in the bus will be sold to the scores of students still waiting for bus. Not after it has also caused me a big embarrassment because some girls and junior students were also inside the bus.
It was already getting to some minutes past three O’clock and had a journey of about two hours thirty minutes ahead of us. So some students complained bitterly capitalizing on time factor.
The driver checked the tickets again as we individually entered the bus but his quest was to no avail. He however shifted the blame to his mate and ignited the car engine.

I recited ‘Our lord’s prayer’ in my mind.
Alast, Aba here I come.


‘Until you face a difficult situation, one. wouldn’t realize how much innovative skills he has in stock’



THE END

The Haunted Road
(2,094 words)
By ROYVER

The old woman sat by the fire, watching the bean cakes fry. It was a particularly cold night and the warmth emanating from the flames was comforting to her frail and skinny body. She watched the akara as their edges began to turn brown then gently but deliberately turned them over so the uncooked side could fry in the oil. She looked up at the continuous stream of people passing to and fro in front of her kiosk. She had started her trade earlier in the evening and had drawn a considerable number of her usual customers and even a few new ones with the sweet aroma of her wares. Now, however, it was getting really dark and she hadn’t had a customer in an hour, a sure sign that it was time to close up for the night. Already the other shops around her had closed and the commercial buses that usually plied this part of town had started to dwindle. She sighed and inspected the bean cakes again. She decided that this would be the last batch. She brought them out of the fire and proceeded to scatter the firewood, allowing the flames to die slowly. She waited for the oil to cool then gently poured it into the container. A young man came up and asked for some bean-cakes. She sold to him and he paid her and left. She turned back to her wares and saw that the fire had all but died out, the ashes glowing a bright orange and yellow in the cold night.


Another half an hour passed by and the old woman began to feel sleepy. The ashes had cooled considerably and the number of people on the street had begun to thin out. As there were only a few more bean cakes left to sell anyway, she wrapped what was left and began to pack her utensils into the kiosk for the night. She put the firewood and ashes into a corner in her kiosk. Experience had taught her that leaving it outside would amount to losing it as the children that went to school in the mornings often times scattered and played with the ashes and firewood. If she had someone to help her gather firewood during the day, it wouldn’t have been so much of a nuisance to her, but she was all alone. Her only son had been killed in a motor accident a few years ago and her husband had not recovered from the shock. He died in the same year; the doctors had given his malady a fancy name “congestive cardiac failure”. She knew how much her husband had loved the boy and strongly believed he had died of a broken heart. She was more of a survivor and though these sad events in her life had brought her down, she kept an optimistic view of things and had resorted to selling akara, bean cakes to eke out a living. It had been so hard at first but then she had started saving small amounts of money and had stopped feeling sorry for herself.
She shut the kiosk door and picked up the left-over bean-cakes. She crossed the main road quite easily as the traffic had reduced. Most of the buildings around had their lights switched off and the town was slowly going to sleep. She trudged along the road, past the new generation bank building that was scheduled to open next week, past some of the old structures that had been in the town for as far as she could remember, past the old catholic church that had two towers, one housing a large ancient bell used to call people in for service and the other with a large mechanical clock that boldly declared the time as being some minutes past nine. The clock’s face had originally been ivory colored but had turned a dirty brown owing to lack of proper cleaning over the years. As she passed, a cold wind blew over and around her and she shivered violently. She wrapped her clothes more firmly around her to keep warm and held the bean-cakes firmly under her arm.


She didn’t notice the young man hiding in the shadows watching her, watching his prey. A tall and lanky fellow, this human predator of the night was out hunting for easy pickings. He saw the package under her arm and his eyes narrowed in greed. He looked left and right; there were still a few people on the streets, so he decided to follow her until his opportunity came. He walked a considerable distance behind her noticing her ragged appearance. The fabric she wore had since lost its color and was thoroughly faded. Her slippers were old and worn. He didn’t let that disturb him though. Experience had taught him that it was not necessarily those who were well dressed that carried the heavier purses. He fantasized about what could be inside; Money? Jewelry? He wouldn’t be surprised. Some of these old people carried strange and sometimes very valuable things on their persons. He had robbed an elderly man only a few weeks ago, a very unkempt and smelly old man. To his surprise, the man had not only had a large bundle of money under his wrappers, he was also carrying pure golden necklaces. The old man had tried raising an alarm but a heavy blow to the chest had silenced him. The necklaces had fetched him a handsome price at the black market but because he only knew how to spend money and not use it, the windfall was quickly exhausted. Looking at the woman’s physique, he surmised that she wouldn’t be too much of a problem. All he had to do was to sneak up on her when they were alone.
The old woman kept on walking, oblivious of the extreme belligerency that was now only a few meters away from her. She turned off the main road and into a street. The road here was untarred and a little narrow, just wide enough to allow two cars squeeze past each other. On either side of the road, tall bushes grew, interspersed with two or three mango trees. There were no street lights here or if there were they weren’t working and pockets of darkness could be found at various points at the side of the road. Places where unsavory characters and even unsavory creatures could lurk. Or maybe they were both one and the same thing. Nevertheless, the old woman knew this route very well and was not in the least bit uncomfortable. She always passed by this route on her way home and had never had an unpleasant incident. She began singing an old native song under her breath. The song, a little raspy from her lips, was nevertheless pleasant. The lyrics told of a little girl who had wandered deep into the forest and was asking the help of the spirits to guide her safely home.
She passed over the little stone bridge that was built over the stream that flowed through this way. No one had ever bothered to build a house along this stretch of road as the land had once been the abode of a powerful witch doctor and the indigenes were highly superstitious. A few people used it however as a shortcut to the other more remote side of town which happened to be where the old woman lived. At this time of the night it was completely deserted except for the old woman singing softly to herself carrying the left-over akara in a bag under her arm, with the profit of the day neatly tucked in her wrapper, and the young vagrant now catching up with her, a large stick in his hand.
She heard footsteps behind her but did not turn around. Instead, she stopped on her tracks and, with her back to the sound, listened closely. The footsteps also stopped. After a while she resumed her march and soon she heard footsteps behind her again. They were heavy footsteps and careless, kicking a stone here, stepping on dead leaves there. Her superstitious mind chided her for not taking the proper precautions before passing this bit of road, but it had been so long since she had needed to recite the incantation… probably she had disturbed one of the spirits in that area who was now trailing her home. She believed that turning around to face the spirit would be fatal. Instead she began to chant an old prayer of her people, apologizing to the spirit for disturbing it and pleading it to return to its rest. If that didn’t work, she could always light a match for she knew that the spirits were repelled by light. She heard a low laugh as the footsteps got closer. She stood still again and repeated the prayer more loudly as her free hand roamed in her bag for a box of matches. Suddenly the footsteps stopped. She moved forward a little and listened closely but there was no sound behind her now. She looked forward and saw that she was close to her exit. She quickened her pace and turned into a school field that led towards her compound. As she moved towards her house she was hailed by some of her neighbors, some of who had come out to enjoy the evening breeze. She answered their greeting and turned into her compound glad to have made it safely home.
And her would-be-assailant? He hadn’t made it very far. He had never taken this path before and it had spooked him a little. He had quickened his pace, accidentally kicking a stone which the old woman had apparently heard by the way she had cocked her head to one side to listen closely, but she never turned around. Instead, she had stopped to mutter a prayer, driving away spirits, declaring she hadn’t set her eyes on them and so could not be harmed. When he had realized what she was doing it was all he could do to stifle a laugh. They were all superstitious, these old people. He was just over the stone bridge and was about to strike when he heard footsteps behind him.

They were soft, even footsteps. Apparently the person (person?) wasn’t in a hurry. He lowered the stick he was holding in his hand, the stick he had planned to club the woman on the head with. Silently, he cursed his ill-luck that had made him delay in catching up to the old woman earlier and making his move. He was about turning around to see who was following him when the air around him became very still. It was true that the night was cold but something else was sending a chill down his spine. He could feel a presence. Not a nice presence either. All of a sudden he knew. He knew what he would see if he turned around. His rational mind told him this was absurd, this was purely superstition but in his heart he knew. His throat constricted and a funny noise escaped his esophagus. His was suddenly thrown into the very grip of terror. What was it the old woman had been muttering? He tried to recollect them and stumbled through the words even as he was rooted to the spot, and when that didn’t seem to work he tried crying out for help but no sound escaped his lips. His insides became cold and he actually felt himself ageing.

What had she said about spirits?

"Close your eyes...!"

But he couldn’t do it. Try as he might his eyes kept popping back open in fright. So instead he looked down at his feet. Two other feet slowly came into his field of vision. They were swollen, bloated, with some of the nails and toes decayed and falling off. He could feel it inspecting him, sniffing him out as if to catch the scent of inherent mischief. Suddenly there was a snarl and something gripped his arm. He couldn’t bear it any longer. He looked up.
The old woman never heard him scream. She couldn’t have. Even if she had turned around at that precise moment all she would have seen was a young man drop lifelessly to the floor. Even as his soul was being pulled away from his body by forces he couldn’t begin to comprehend, he continued to scream in terror, the loud wail of a tortured soul, inaudible to human ears.
The End

WHAT LURKS IN THE DARK!
(2,500 words)
By kslib...
........
The night was pitch dark,everything that was capable of making a sound went obsolete. It was 1;30am and for some strange unknown reason, mike felt the urge to visit his best friend Andy, who just flew into the country. Andy lived down the other street and informed mike of his arrival.
Mike stepped out and swung the gate back to its position with reckless abandon,causing the gate to make a loud bang.

"Geez', he poked his bottom with his fingers, serving as penance for what he just did as the 'bang' echoed its-way up the sky and the street beyond.

"Hope i didnt wake you guys", he smiled looking left-right..

"Not my fault, folks, blame it on this loud mouthed gate", he said in a sarcastic tone as he raised up both hands in surrender to the air.

He tucked his hands in his pocket and embraced the lonely dark street. The street had houses to its left and right that paved way for it to stretch itself in-between them(the houses). The dark tarred road was smothered by scores of dead,dry,fallen reddish-yellow leaves that fell from the huge trees that stood proud at the side of the street from left-right. The trees added a touch of beauty to the scenery but even beauty had its price.. If dead,dry leaves were the price to pay, then surely, no one was ready to complain except for mike..

He wanted to trek in a ghost-like manner,without making much noise at this un-godly hour, but the leaves were using their dead dry selves to frustrate his plan whenever he stepped on them as they gave out a soft cry. The quietness of the eerily night left a grave-yard with much to envy. The sky was bright as it illuminated the high heavens but was stingy enough not to share its glow with the dark lonely street that embraced mike as he walked. The street lights were completely dead. Only 3, out of the numerous street lights worked. Mike continued walking down the street as he passed a small flower that was used by frogs as an auditorium to probably test if their "croaking" voices were good enough for the choir. He was just about 50steps shy of making the next street,when he heard something writhe behind him. Mike quickly turned with neck breaking speed to check what just made that creepy noise. All he saw was the dark of the night, plus the distance he's covered so far. He stood for seconds, surveyed the environs with his sharp cat-like eyes that threatened to pierce through the dark, but he saw nada.

He shook his head and made a 'yimu' mock with his mouth.

"It's probably one of those wild cats that normally chose such a time to hunt for matured rats who were ripe enough to call a meal" mike thought to himself as he turned back to continue his small trek..
Well, even though it was the cats, he was sure going to increase his speed cos he was now feeling un-comfortable even though he didn't want to admit that the noise scared him.. He increased his walking speed and was about making a 'r' turn into the next street when he heard something making a pounding sound behind him; as if someone was pounding an empty mortar with a pestle. He stopped, stood still and turned his neck in slow-motion and what he saw made the hair behind his right ear stand still, at attention...

It was a dark figure in a black gown approaching him. Mike felt chills running down his spine as he stood there gazing in fear while it kept approaching him with a snail-like speed. He wanted to move but he couldn't. The force of gravity somehow managed to pin his now trembling legs firm to the ground like they belonged together..

"Run", his subconscious whispered to him in a child-like voice.

Mike was slapped back to reality by that whisper and he could now feel his legs. He looked around but there was no near building to run into,except the next street that led to Andy's home. He couldn't scream for help cos it was as if his throat was held down by an inner force that silenced his scream from echoing into the night. Besides, of what use will a scream be,when everybody was dead asleep.
Mike took to his heels and made a sharp 'r' turn into the next street that looked darker and desolate than the one he was running from. He kept running and looking back-- the figure was now out of sight. Nevertheless, mike was still determined to keep running.. He felt motivated cos there was no way that creepy thing was going to reach him, using that snail-like speed while he(mike) was racing with bolt-like speed and jaw dropping precision.
Whatever that was,it wasnt going to get me,mike re-assured himself.

Mike was now sighting a big building by his right, just some 50feet from him.. He kept running and was about jumping something he suspected to be a bump on the road when friction gave way and he tripped, falling to the ground. He landed with his elbow and the weight of his crashing body jerked him forward, using his elbow as if a surfing board.. He felt a sharp pain on his shoulder as he stood up.. Blood was dripping from his now bruised elbows, but that was the least of his problems for now..
He stood up, approached the gate and saw "Beware of vicious dogs " boldly ingrained on it..

He bent his head downwards and cursed his luck as tears strolled freely down his cheeks. Despite the cold of the night, he could still feel the warmth of his tears on his worried face. In as much as he wanted to escape from the dark creepy figure as possible, he sure wasn't going to try his luck with some dogs whose picture looked like it was already salivating at his bleeding elbow..

"kpom" "kpom" "kpom" mike heard the familiar sound.

Mike turned and saw the dark being that was the cause of his affliction approaching.. He could now get a better view of the being, all thanks to the security light of the house he was standing in front of.. Although the security light was bright, it didn't travel that far to cover the entire distance that separated the figure from him. All he could now see was the walking stick that aided the figure in movement, its hunch back and the extremely dirty looking long sharp knife-like fingernails that clenched firm to the stick like a lifeline..

"Omg" he screamed as he moved from the gate and began another round of marathon with Andy's house being the finish line.

The walking stick and the image of the being's disgusting fingernails added extra adrenaline to mike's already pulsating heart.. He kept running and didn't even bother to look back. The pounding sound from the figure's aiding stick was getting louder in mike's ears and he was now beginning to confirm his worst fears even though he didn't want to; the figure was getting closer to him despite the wild speed mike was using to race.
He turned back and didn't see no one. All he saw was darkness..

"whaaaaaaaat", he screamed as he stopped running and continued gazing at where he just ran from.
How possible? Where was the figure? Was it chasing him with only its stick? Was his mind playing silly tricks on him? Mike looked confused.

He couldn't hear the pounding sound no more.. The eerily night was back to its calm self and the only writhe that threatened to alter the night's sudden regained muteness was mike's timorous heart that was beating very fast.

"Calm down", take a deep breath. "All izz well' "All izz well", mike kept re-assuring himself as he used his sweaty palms that refused to succumb to the coldness of the night to rub his chest in a bid to stabilize his heart beat.

"All izz well",mike sighed again but his instincts suggested otherwise when he felt a presence around him..

He didn't see anything but knew something wasn't right. His legs began to shake and he could feel the pores of his dark chocolate skin opening as the hair that filled them stood still. He turned back to run,but it was too late.. What he saw standing in-front of him sent shivers down his spine. His heart defiled nature----- it stopped. His nerve cells were no longer working. His veins became thirsty as blood stooped flowing. He lost his sense of mobility and remained immobile as if the stature of liberty. Time stopped and everything around him stood still. With both jaws dropping in awe, moisture formed in mike's terrified eyes; even his tears were scared of falling to his cheeks. They held his eye's lashes firmly and refused to drop.

There she was. There the old woman, whose age could be said to be 168 due to how haggard and wrinkled she looked. She stood right in front of mike, smiling at him with the most devilish demeanor a human(thats if she was one) could ever possess. Her hair was long and looked extremely un-kempt. It looked like she constantly moisturized it with human feces. It was so long,it fell on her shoulders and strolled down her hunched back.. One of her eyes was completely white, it had no dark pigment like a normal eye. The other was normal but had lines of green and red veins that stretched across it's surface from left to right.
Her teeth were the dirtiest set he'd ever seen, both in movies. It looked brownish and had a touch of red which gave an indication of her fondness for blood. Her whole being reeked of nauseating odor. Her neck looked like a rolled leather of folded stretched skin. Her fore-head and entire face was smothered with a legion of wrinkled skin.

Her skin looked whitish/pale. She looked like whole blood in her system has been drained-- probably her thirst might have led her to drinking her own blood.. She looked like an alchemy only heard of, in ancient philosophy dating back to centuries. Mike couldn't believe what was standing before him.

"Dont you dare try it",the old woman snarled at him as she gave him a devilish stare with her eyes fixated on his.
"Omg,she can read my mind", mike thought to himself as fear gripped his inner being..

He initially wanted to run before the woman rebuked him with the the most scariest voice ever. Her voice wasn't husky or had a deep bass but it sounded as if she had mucus down her throat. Her voice wasn't too loud. It sounded fragile just like that of an old woman but this old woman's voice smothered his lungs as it shook his bones and pierced his soul...

"Yes,i can read your mind" mike.
"He was astounded beyond belief",she even knew his name...
"come to mommy", mickey!! mickey!!.. She used one hand to hold the stick firm and opened the other, waiting for mike's embrace.
"No" "No", he screamed. He began moving backwards slowly but fell to his back.

The old scary thing leaped slowly with her three legs(the stick being the third). She fell on mike's body and opened her mouth.
He kept screaming and trying to push her away but her weight wasn't ready to give way to his pushing.. He kept dragging but she grabbed him, held his head firm, bent his neck and lowered her teeth to the side of his neck. He could feel the moisture of her teeth on his neck and her sharp knife-like tooth was inches away from piercing his neck.

"Jesus',he screamed as he jerked up from his bed sweating like melted ice.

"Omg",it was a dream,mike sighed as he grabbed his pillow close to his chest.

He stared at the clock at it was 2;am and everywhere was dark(there was no light). His heart was still beating fast like a drum and his singlet soaked in sweat. He couldn't sleep anymore. He rolled to the side of his bed, came down and fell on his knees and said a short prayer. He was about rounding off his prayer when Nepa brought the light..

"Thank God",he sighed as he got up and went to the living room.
Mike was a movie freak. He loved watching movies at night cos he hated being distracted. Mike went to sitting room and strolled to the far end of the dinning where the fridge was. He opened it, took a can and had a glass of water..He switched on the appliances, lowered the volume and continued watching "The exorcism" from where he stopped two days ago. He didn't watch yesterday cos there was total black-out. Mike was just half an hour into the movie when he heard a noise behind him..

"Hell no" this isn't happening again, he thought to himself.

He wasn't going to take chances again. He quickly dropped his legs down from the couch and was about running into his room when something grabbed his legs from under. He screamed and had a quick glance at what was holding his leg. It was a thick black hand.

"Leave me" he screamed as he threw his body forward all in a bid to free his leg from the black hand's grip but his attempt was un-successful cos the thing still held him tight.

"No", "No" "Leave me alone" "Leave me alone plssssss", mike yelled again, this time around ,he was on the floor with his body crawling forward to go grab the glass table in front of him..

All his efforts remained futile as the being kept dragging him back under the couch. Tears streamed down mike's face as he kept fighting for his life.
''Hahaha", his sister Martha laughed as she left his left leg and came-out from under the couch to mike's full view..
"Fear" "Fear", i thought you said you don't easily scared nah, she teased..

"And let me warn you, next time when you want to watch a movie, make sure you lower the volume and stop disturbing people!!!".
This is your punishment for distracting my night's read, Martha teased as she(who was 3years older) gave her younger brother mike(who just turned 21, two days ago),"a tongue out"...
She winked at mike(who was now sobbing like a baby and looking like a scared rat).
Martha shook her head in victory-- she finally defeated the almighty mike who never admitted to being scared of the dark.
......................................................................

If only,If only!!! Martha knew the origin of mike's fear,she would have given credit to the old creepy witch, for a job well done.
No one knows if the old witch is going to pay Martha a visit for taking all the glory..

THE WISH OF THE GODS
Ikem dropped the broom he was holding and sat on the nearest sofa,he looked around his sitting room and sighed, nothing have changed in his life or home for the past 3yrs, of all the ill lucks he had encounterd in life,marrying his wife had being the worst of all, "No" he said to himself as if he had just being asked a question, 'i must put an end to all this' life has never been so fair to me and i don't expect it to treat me better in the nearest future. Tears flooded his eyes as he remembers how cruel life have been to him, he lost his father when he was just 4years so he grew up with his mother who couldn't afford to send him to school. At 23years he lost this precious woman. As if that wasn't enough he got in to the hot soup of marriage. Father! what have i done to deserve this, why is my own thing different,why did you bring me in to this world just to punishe me. He stood up and went into the room,he examined the blue tick rope on the bed and picked it up, "if this is the way then so be" he said and went to the backyard,he tied the rope on a higher branch in a huge mango tree, what do you think you are doing? A voice said to him. He turned to see who was talking to him but he saw no one, he place d rope on his neck, why do u want to do this now, kill your wife and be free from her wicked world, 'No', another mind said to him,kill your urself an be free from this slavery called life, he tightend the rope on his neck and shut his eyes, 'MAY MY SOUL REST IN PEACE'
* * * * * * * * * *
Sweetheart am home.......baby am home,where are you? it's your sweetest heart, Ifeoma called out to her husband. Ifeoma is a girl endowed with beauty,her skin glitters like gold,she has a red sexy lips,and walks so majestically,she had turn many heads off with her astonishing beauty, many men would have love to have this beauty peagant as a wife but her character had cancelld all the beauty she posses. She is proud,arrogant and always want to be in charge of everything. Ikem was blinded by her beauty only to realise that all that glitters are not gold
sweety...she went to the room but didn't see her husband, where is this foolishe man, he left the house unswept and went out,let him come and meet me here, she said. Let me go and get some mangoest , she went to the backyard and met the greatest shock of her life, my God! She shoutd and fell on the ground, people gatherd 2 know what was happening, eveyone burst out in tears on reaching to the scene.
I killed him! She said to everyone's surprise,i killed my husband, she rose up and went into the house before people could reach her,she had already stabbd herself with knief, 'am sorry' she said and gave up the ghost.
In the midst of wailing and confusion the chief priest appeared from no where and said 'WEEP NOT FOR THEM' for they have fulfild the wish of the gods, their bodies shall be used as a sacrifice to the gods, from this moment,no calamity shall befall this land again. Iseeee, everyone echoed, let the youths bring their dead body to the shrine,the purification starts now. The youth took the dead bodies away and everyone walked sorowfully back to their home
[THE END]

THE SEARCH FOR MONALISA
Written by Sammy Hoe

I grinned angrily at the sight of the ugly effigy.
“Job not well done,” I mused, driving a heavy punch into the belly of the concrete lifeless image. My fist hurt. I screamed and poked it into my mouth as if my saliva would do to suppress the pang.
The fiendish smiles on the face of this image reminded me of the angelic one I saw on the face of a handmade picture long ago whose creator’s name I could no longer recollect, but the name of this artwork still lingered as fresh as ever in my memory. How on earth would I retain the artist's name when all I cared about was his paintings--this one in particular, showing the most beautiful girl I've ever seen on this planet?
To be candid, it was her benign smiles that endeared me to her those days, alongside her long hair resting gracefully on her shoulders like the mane of a horse. Her neck was bedecked with semi-circular traceries running just beneath her lower jaw down to the hollows around her scapula. Her hoody eyes seemed to be intruding into my life. I couldn't think clearly.

I frowned when the reality set in. I set my face stedfastly upon this effigy again. With a look of grotesque, I spat on its face. The smiles in its dimples were nothing to write home about--ugly smiles. I wonder who moulded this. He must have done it shoddily, nothing to be desired in this; forehead protruding, smiles provoking, nose bulbous, lips unappealing, jaws sagging-eerie!
I took a close look at its dimples again; to me they looked like potholes belabored with pimples. If I had a mattock with me I would have hacked down this image long ago.

For the last time I leered at it, but the story was different this time around: drastically, the pustules began to fuse together, forming a benign ripple on each cheek--two familiar dimples had congealed, plunging me into reminiscence...

My lust plunged me into a thorough search for this girl, the owner of this painted image. I had vowed to wife her immediately if I located her. I sneaked away, leaving my father without a clue for days. After a week of blind search, calling at artists’ shop to ask if it was any of them who painted her, I returned home weak and wan, destitute of parental care for days. However, my dad reprimanded me and remanded me in his guardroom for my childish act. He sat me down later and said, "Did you say Monalisa? She was born in 1503, died in 1506, yet alive in Paris even now, a celebrity. She's no girl at all but a full-blown woman.” Although I stood quiet, yet I kept his sayings in mind, having known him for his wits. What I have here was the picture of a nubile teenager and not woman at all. I needn't worry my head over this because Sergius and I hadn't opined in the same direction as long as I could recall.

Three years later, when I was thirteen, I went on a trip with dad. It was Paris this summer--never been on airplane before. Dad could read the excitement on my face. My mouth watered to see the one I love-Monalisa.
In the plane, I made sure I was glommed to the window, wanting to see what we had out there. The cirrus cloud thickened suddenly on our streamline-structured bird and I screamed. The plane dangled as if a whirligig had forced it to do so, but everyone in it was giggling at me in perfect sangfroid. Perhaps it was only I who saw the hallucination.

It was a safe journey altogether. As I alighted the bird I was delighted. The fragrance of the ambiance here greeted us with utmost benevolence. A bouquet of scarlet pimpernels queued along the way we trod. They breathed life into our nostrils. Bees and wasps filled the ears of the dogwoods with their monotonous songs as they touched their velvety smooth and inviting nectars with their proboscises. Still awed by the creativity of nature, a swarm of pigeons perched on the dogwoods and feasted avariciously on the insects. I was gutted at the sight. Here is quite different from America, I thought.

A gust jostled its way down the center of my cranium like a uranium bomb and stamped my clandestine agenda into my head again. I didn't know how to go about it; dad's large eyes were on me all the time. But my darling Monalisa would be peeved if she knew I visited her province without paying her a visit. How would I convince my queen that I wished to? I thought childishly.

After hanging out there for a week, we were set to leave for Arkansas, our home. When the aircraft was up in the air, my dad realized I was no more with him. I had sneaked away.
From the airport, I called at the Louvre Museum to see Monalisa, having had the clue that she was there.
“Where is Monalisa?” I asked.
“She’s in the Louvre Museum,” someone responded in a French accent. I thought I just heard him mention 'lover museum'. I asked two more souls same question--it was the same response I got. I felt I was in the right place now. All I needed was to get in there and take her with me to the US. Sergius would be glad.

Since I was not lacking cash, I had no problem gaining access into the structure. However, I took my time to stare at the glinting walls of the museum before getting in. The foliated pilasters jutting out of the walls elicited a wide gape from my mouth like a wild ape. I felt its smooth surface with my cold index finger, the left one. Eventually I got in.

My elation was elevated when I saw a large crowd staring at the picture of my ‘wife-to-be’. It was embedded in a glistening frame 90 inches by 63 inches in dimension. Seeing this frame put me in the frame of mind that I was in the right place. I smiled and squatted before the frame to feed my eyes. Poor angel. Guess she's taking a nap in her bedroom presently, I thought. What baffled me was the sight of so many souls loitering around this frame just like me.
"Hmm! She's a celebrity indeed!" I hummed. Jealousy suddenly engulfed me. I wanted to be left alone with her: but how possible with these numerous suitors around? I doubted they were suitors when my senses came back to me--females were here as well. They must have come for something else.
“Where’s she?” I asked, pointing at the large picture frame on the wall.
“What do you mean where’s she?” someone replied.
“I mean where’s Monalisa?”
“Are you blind? She’s right here before you, yet you’re asking that foolish question.” His response angered me. He noticed my angst-ridden face and smirked. If I was sturdier than I was at that time I would have dealt his big head a blow. I left the boy to another without retaliating. This time around it was an elderly woman. Her wrinkles were ‘tarting up’ her face. She had tangled teeth which added significantly to the beauty of her ugliness.
“Hello, madam,” I greeted. "Can you show me where she resides?”
“You mean Monalisa?’ the woman asked, surprised.
“Of course yes!” I said. I thought I had approached the right person.
“She resides nowhere,” said the woman tersely and hurried away. I railed against her and called her a wrinkled periwinkle. She didn't pay attention, being in a hurry then.
My proximity to the frame seemed like my body was making contact with it. I raised my hand to touch and pull at Monalisa's elongated hair in the large frame but it wasn’t reaching more than its folded arms. I wished it was not a 2D.
When I asked another boy about her whereabouts he said, “Oh, boy, Monalisa’s no human being at all. She’s just a man-made—”
I did not allow the friendly hooligan-like boy end his speech before hollering “Shut up! You’d better go see your doctor ’cause you’re sick in your brain. She’s no mermaid!”
What I thought I heard was mermaid instead of man-made. The boy threw his hand rapidly at me in order slap my cheek hard but it was another hand that landed there first; a wrinkled one. However, he didn't spare me the slap. I fell flat under the 'intoxicating effect' of the double bangs.
“Yeah, that serves you right for calling me a wrinkled periwinkle. If not for the latrine I was rushing to, I’d have dealt with you at once,” said the slapper, the woman I abused earlier.
“And for calling me sick," said the second slapper.
I sprang up suddenly and kicked the sac below his buttock. The huge boy bent double, groaning. I knew it ached him real good.
I laughed and said, “That serves you—” I had to pause when the ‘you’ I heard seemed to have emanated from two mouths--mine and another.
“You!” my father yelled again and meted out a heavy slap on my cheek immediately. Many people rushed to my rescue.

My father had grounded the plane earlier, so we missed the flight. He promised to do more to me when we got home.

Back at home, I was more confused. The death knell chimed at my mystery when my father sat me down and said, “Harrison, you’ve been running after wild goose all the while, in the name of seeking Monalisa. She’s all you’ve got with you here—a man-made image, sketched by the famous Leonardo da Vinci of Florentina, from 1503 to 1506, so you can’t locate her ’cause she resides nowhere.” I got him now because his explanation had just encapsulated all the responses I heard in the museum. However, I still believed there was no iota of truth in their assertions.
Perhaps, no one knows her whereabouts. I’ll sure get her one day, anyhow, I thought.

When I was of age, I sought to opt for a course called Monalisology if at all it was existing. My desire prompted me into ignorantly walking to the Mount of Temptation Monastery to find it out, but none of the nuns’ responses seemed pleasant to me...

Suddenly, I was no more seeing Monalisa’s lively smiles in the effigy standing before me. Its smiles had returned to its ugly nature and the pimples in them had sent the dimples into extinction. I had been jolted out of my long retrospection.

“You’re nothing like Monalisa,” I shouted and slapped Mrs. Ross in effigy. “Shiiit!”

THE END

SOON TO BE MRS ADEBAYO

I looked forward to spending the Saturday evening with my love like we always do. Our very own meeting spot where we cuddle and whisper sweet nothings to each other, our very own orange tree.

This evening is cool and slightly windy. I can see her coming, swaying her hips as she came. My own private show. I have missed her. I've been so busy trying to make extra money, I want to marry her before the summer ends but I haven't told her my plan yet. I want to suprise her and watch the look on her face while I tell her the news. Just watch her eyes light up with delight as she agrees to be my wife.

We spend the evening together and I feel so at peace and complete. As it grows dark, I knew she had to go home. I didn't want her to leave but she had to, so I steal a kiss from her lips to keep me going until I see her again.

Its been two saturdays and I haven't seen my love. My heart bleeds for her. I feel so numb. Where are you my love? I wait patiently under our tree for hours and sleep off. I'm tortured by my nightmares, so I wake up. I look around and its very dark, so I stroll back home.

I hear rumours in the village, my love is getting married to some big shot from the city. How can this be? I trust her, she can't do anything to hurt me. I wait for her this saturday under our tree, and she shows up this time. She has tears in her eyes.
'I'm sorry my love. I wish.. she says and pauses

'what's wrong, my love? I've missed you so much' I say
she cries some more then says;
'I have to do it, my papa is dieing. We have bills to pay, He says he would cover the expenses'

'Noooo!! It can't be true' I scream
she cries and grips me close then hugs me tight.

'wait a little while my love' I say

'my papa can't wait' she whispers and runs off in tears.

My heart feels like it has been ripped out, I gasp. I can't breathe, I feel like my oxygen supply has been cut off. I watch her running against the wind. I wish she could wait awhile longer, I had almost gotten enough money for us but There is nothing I can do. I wish i could wake from the nightmare this time but am widely awake. I just stood there staring as she ranoff into the night to meet her groom, Chief Adebayo.

PINKY SNICKETS: SERIES OF UNFORTUNATE EVENTS.





I flashed a quick glance at the electronic score-board;

FCB 2:1 MCU
Aggregate: FCB 3:2 MCU

Just one more goal and we'll be through to the finals. I checked the time;

89:45:26

Damn! I knew I had to take us to the finals, Ferguson had put so much trust in me and I wasn't about to let him down, neither was I going to let United fans down.
My heart was thumping real hard and sweat was pouring down my body like I was a one-man fountain. The roar of noise coming from the fans was enough to generate electricity for the world for one decade, I was intimidated. The colours around the stadium wasn't doing much for my confidence either; blue, yellow and red drapes rose from the ground like giants and looked like they were touching the sky, and the animation effect the fans created by waving the giant drapes sent shivers
down my spine.

But I had to score. Just then, Paul Scholes sent a high-flying pass towards me at the left flank from the mid-field, I arched my back as I allowed the ball land and rest on my chest for like 5 seconds. The crowd went nuts. Gerrard Pique came dashing towards me and I skillfully tossed the ball that was still resting on my chest over his head and went around him, the look of bewilderment on his face as I turned around him forced a giggle out of me. I dashed with the ball towards the goal post, breezing past Puyol and Macherano like they weren't even there. The noise from the crowd grew in manifolds with each step I took. I was soon inside the 18-yard box with a clueless Victor Valdes scrambling towards me. I made a perfect flick on the ball and it flew right over him, towards goal. Everybody in the stands were now on their feet as all eyes followed the ball which now rose gracefully towards the net. For split-seconds the whole stadium went dead silent as if everyone was saving their breath for the roar of jubilation that was to follow.
And then......and then.....

I woke up!

Holy potatoes! How could I have woken up just before the moment of glory? I forced my eyes back shut hoping I'd at least see the ball enter the net. I was wrong. I had to open my eyes after a while when my eyelids started aching.

My eyes opened to the almost empty room. A small self-contain apartment with a mini-sized bed at one corner, a makeshift wall hanger on the wall opposite, a small chest refrigerator and some traveling boxes at the other end of the room (what more do you expect in a youth corper's room?).

The duvet I covered myself with the previous night was now lying recklessly on the floor beside the bed, the bedspread was all crumpled to one side and my pillow was nowhere within sight (I later found it in the bathroom).
I brought my wristwatch close to check time;

7:53 AM

Choi! I had to get to Omenuko Community Grammar School before 8AM to take the SS3 students mathematics. If for anything, I didn't want to have to face the principal's tongue-lashing. The only thing Mr. Mazi knew how to use better than a cane was his tongue. If tongues were guns, Mr. Mazi had an AK 47 assault rifle.

I dashed into the bathroom, brushed my teeth and then proceeded to have my bath. I found little water in the bucket so I made lather with that and scrubbed my head to my toes in a matter of microseconds. I turned on the shower and, to my greatest surprise and bewilderment, water wasn't coming out.

Mo gbe! Every square-inch of my body was covered with lather and the closest place I could get water was about 7 buildings away. I was shocked to the bone because it was unusual not to have water running. My neighbors even joked most times that the two things that will never finish in the building were mosquitoes and water (the mosquitoes would roast bush meat with your mosquito coils and use your blood to step down; baygon was their cologne).
While I was contemplating what to do next the thought of Mr. Mazi's tongue flashed across my mind. I quickly cleaned my body with my towel and ran out of the bathroom, dressed up and ran out of the house.

It took me about 10 minutes to get a bike. Mid-way into the journey the bikeman's phone rang, I warned him not to pick the call while in motion but the wind must have carried my voice in another direction.

"Hallo!" (Almost in Saka's voice).

"She don born?"

"Na boy?"

"Tanki Goodu oooooo!"

Before I could say Repogirl the bikeman made a sharp u-turn and started speeding in the direction we were coming from. All my shouts and protests which later turned to pleadings fell on deaf ears.
After about 28 minutes that looked like 28 days of driving at break-neck speed he parked in front of one maternity centre and he was gone. No apologies, nothing.

For like 3 minutes I was still sitting down on the bike trying to figure out what just happened. Then Mr. Mazi's tongue flashed again and I jolted back to reality like someone that just saw Goldie. I stopped another bike and was taken to my destination. All through the journey I was thinking about how I'd escape the principal's tongue-lashing. When I got to school I headed straight to the corpers' staff-room since it was already way past my period.
As I entered the room the faces that greeted me were not smiling at all. They were looking at me as if they were reading my obituary, some were even shaking their head and biting their fore finger.
I knew it only meant one thing; Mr. Mazi was waiting for me in his office. I turned around and headed straight to the principal's office without saying a word.

I knocked on his door, entered the office and sat down. I knew I had to hit him with my punchline before he attacked me.

"Corper Segun, I just don't understand..."

"I'm very sorry sir", I interrupted him.

"I know I came very late today sir but it wasn't entirely my fault. My neighbour mistakenly gave birth to a baby in her sleep at around 6 o'clock this morning. It was even the cry of the baby that woke her up and she called me to come and help her. So I had to rush her and the baby to the hospital sir", I spilled out as quickly as I could.

Mr. Mazi's lower jaw dropped and almost detached from his face. He stared at me like I was the 8th wonder of the world. I didn't know which one hit him more; the magnitude of the lie or the confidence with which I said it; I looked him eye ball to eye ball. Even I was shocked by what came out of my mouth because that wasn't what I was planning to say.

After what seemed like hours of him staring at me he was finally able to get his jaw back to its position.

"Just get out of my office and don't let me see you here again today", the principal said calmly, to my surprise.

I wanted to say, "Really...sir? That's all you'd say?"

But when I opened my mouth, what came out was, "I'm sorry sir, it won't happen again".

I hurried out of his office before he changed his mind. At that moment, all I wanted to do was just bury myself in my bed and sleep till the next morning. It wasn't even noon yet and the day was already turning out dramatic.
I headed straight home. As I was about to enter my compound someone called my name from behind. I recognised the voice immediately; it was Kayemjay's.

Kayemjay was my happy-go-lucky indigene neighbour, his friendly disposition earned him soft spots with everybody, especially the ladies. Nobody had ever seen him wear a gloomy face, he was always all smiles and everybody liked him.
Most people in the area called us twins because he looked pretty much like me; slim, average height, fair skin and cute face. The only difference was our personalities, me being the reserved and quiet type.

"Bros how far na", he said amidst smiles in his 'conc' warri accent as he approached me.

We shook hands when he got close enough.

"Boss mi I dey o", I replied, brandishing forced smiles, all I wanted was just to get inside my room and sleep.

"Na as I see you from far see say you dey wear the same thing I dey wear I talk say make I halla you o.....Segzy Segzy...you sha wan be like me shaa", he teased, playfully tapping my stomach with his hands.

He was right. We were putting on exactly the same colour of clothes and I hadn't noticed earlier; I was putting on a red shirt on blue jeans trousers and he had the exact same thing on.
We chatted for few more minutes before I left him and went inside.

Kayemjay had told me outside that water had been pumped into the tanks so the first thing I did when I entered was to have a second bath, after which I hugged my bed in a somnolent embrace and was fast asleep before kslib could say 'all izz well'.

I woke up late in the evening with a pang of hunger gently caressing the walls of my stomach. The series of unfortunate events that had lined up the early hours of my day had surreptitiously purged my mind of culinary thoughts. I figured I should still have soup left in my fridge because I cooked egusi the previous day, so I decided to prepare amala.
It took two bottles of iced cold tears of a cockroach, the 'joystick' of a praying mantis and the canine of a living blue whale to appease the god of foams before my bed freed me from its death grip as I sluggishly stood up. Every one of the 206 bones in my body was weak, but I had to force myself to cook and eat.

The whole process of preparing the food was extremely painstaking, I was moving about like I was under forced labour. Hot pot burnt my fingers a couple of times and a big chunk of blazing hot amala dropped on my leg while I was preparing it, the pain was simply overwhelming.
After preparing the amala I went to the fridge to get the soup so I could warm it. I opened the fridge and brought out the container I had put the soup in and, not only was it empty, it had been washed clean.

My heart broke into several tiny pieces. I checked the fridge to see if I could find alternatives and the only thing I saw was blue band margarine (even the prodigal son wouldn't have eaten amala with margarine).
I was still standing contemplating what to do when my phone rang, it was a text message. I picked up the phone which was on the bed and read the message;

Sender: Ishilove

'Segun dearie. Gimme the directions to your house I want to come now.'

I read the message four times again to be sure hunger wasn't playing tricks on me. It wasn't.

I had met Ishilove some months back at a bank, and she had been playing difficult to get since then. It had been impossible to even secure a second seeing with her even though we stayed in the same area, although we maintained a cordial 'phone relationship'.
I instantly replied her message and set to put my house in order. By now the pang of hunger that was massaging my stomach had miraculously vanished under the healing touch of the dirty thoughts that now occupied my mind.
They say no one arranges a house faster than a guy expecting a girl; in a matter of seconds I had laid my bed, neatly folded my duvet and put some finishing touches to the room. All was set for an erotic showdown. I slipped my red shirt and blue jeans trousers back on and awaited my august visitor. My day had been filled with series of disappointments, but the thought of ending the day on a romantic note consoled me. I should have known better.

Not long after, I heard a soft knock on my door. I opened the door to see a ravishingly beautiful Ishilove smiling back at me. She was indeed a beauty; light-skinned, her long flowing hair did much to accentuate her cute face, with a lovely pair of dimples sitting gracefully on her cheeks as she smiled, revealing the most perfect set of white teeth I had ever seen. She had a slim body but her curves must have been designed by a civil engineer who had keen interest for wide radius of curvature.

She hugged me and planted a kiss on my left cheek as she stepped inside. One thing soon led to another and we were, not too long after, locked in a romantic embrace, kissing and touching touchables. It first started slow but it soon got intense. She indicated her intentions by tugging at my belt and whispering something almost inaudible in my ears;

"Get a condom."

I hurriedly scrambled out of bed and made for one of the traveling boxes at the other end of the room. I reached inside for my pack of condoms and...

"What's wrong baby?", she inquired after noticing the look on my face.

I held out the pack and shook it.

"Baby its empty, I'll have to go and buy".

I didn't realise the gravity of the situation until the last words of that sentence came out of my mouth. Buy condoms? I had never bought condoms before and I had always dreaded the day I'd have to. The pack I had just exhausted was a birthday gift from my brother when I turned 18. I couldn't just picture myself standing in front of anybody, asking to buy condoms.

"Hope you won't have to go too far", her voice slapped me back into reality.

"No...yes...emm...there's a place just down the street".

"Okay please hurry".

My mind strongly objected going to buy the condoms but I found my legs leading me out of the room. Outside the room, I paused for some seconds;

"What is it gan...Segun you're an adult na, you'll just walk inside the shop and ask whoever is selling to give you a pack of condoms and you'll pay and walk out, simple. The worst that can happen is for the person to say they don't sell condoms, nobody will bite you", I soliloquized, trying to beef up my confidence.

I barged out of the compound and headed straight for the shop down the street. As I entered the shop I knew all my problems were solved. The shop was totally devoid of persons except for a woman who sat inside backing the entrance. I scanned the shop and saw a box of gold circle condoms hung at one corner.

"Good evening ma", I greeted.

"Yes!....what do you want!?", she shouted back.

The voice that conveyed her reply held no iota of friendliness. As she turned to face me, the little confidence I had managed to muster saw her face, shrieked in horror and did a moonwalk out of me.

"Emm...errr....sugar...I want to buy sugar ma...10 naira sugar".

I collected the sugar and hurried out of the store before worse things happened.

"Mehn! This isn't going to be easy", I thought to myself as I walked down the road in search of condoms.
Every other shop I came by either had loads of people inside or was manned by strong-faced women. My experience with the first woman had left a bad taste in my mouth and I wasn't ready for another scene.
I was about to turn back when I saw a shop. There was no customer in the shop and it was being run by a woman, though she looked cool and gentle. I decided to try my luck for the last time.

"Good evening ma", I said as I entered the shop.

"Good evening, what do you want to buy?"

"Ermm...ma...do you happen to sell...emm...con...emm...gold circle?".

She stared at me for some seconds before shaking her head to signify she didn't sell condoms. I was crestfallen and I turned to leave. I had not taken up to three steps when she called me back. She told me there was a medical centre not too far behind her shop and they sold condoms. It was the best news I had heard in a long time. I followed her directions, walking as briskly as I could, and was soon in front of the building. The sign post at the entrance read 'HumbledByGrace Medical Centre'. I ran inside. The first thing I saw was a show glass that had packs of condoms neatly arranged in it (who sells condoms in show glasses?). I bought two packs of durex condoms and headed home.
This time I was sprinting like there was a 1500 naira recharge card prize waiting for me at the end of the race.

I burst into my room panting, nothing had prepared me for what I saw...



An empty bed. Ishilove was gone. I stood transfixed at the same spot. What could have made her leave? As I looked around wondering what could have happened my eyes fell on a note on my fridge. I picked it up, it was written by Ishilove.

"You skinny son of a coconut. So you left me in the room and was outside talking and even playing with another girl shey? Thank God I came out for fresh air or I'd have still been waiting for you inside, you shameless orang-utan. Anyways I'm gone forever and don't ever call my number again".
I looked up, trying to fathom the content of the note. Confusion had cornered my cardiac, causing a cataclysmic catastrophe.

"Me?"

"Playing with another girl?"

"When?"

"How?"



THE END.

A JOURNEY TO AKURE


"God,why am I having this same dream again?"I said as I woke up that fateful morning.
"Sandra,go and wake James up.Tell him to come and join us in the dinning for breakfast ".That was my mum telling my younger sister to come and wake me up.
James,mum said that breakfast is ready.She passed the message to me,so I quickly brushed my teeth and washed my face and joined them in the dinning,they were almost through with their portion of the breakfast,while mine was still there waiting for me to come and devour it.Good morning mum and dad I greeted,my parents and set down to eat my breakfast,as I was already half-way with my food.my dad reminded me that this was the last Saturday of the month.You don't need a microscope to see the sad expression written all over my face,dad gave me the list of what I and Sandra are going to do.I wasn't surprise when I saw that I had the largest portion of work.After telling us what to do I muttered "this man won't kill person with work sef".I went into the store and took the necessary equipment needed out.
By 10:30am I had finished my portion of the sanitation exercise, so I went to take my bath and also apply make up(not the female make-up kit)when I had finished, I rememberremember the dream which I dreamt last night.so I said to my self this will be a good thing to discuss with Ayo.Ayo is a closed friend of mine,we both attended the same primary and secondary school.He has been very good to me mostly when I am in trouble.I remember when one of my gf came to my house to visit me it was Ayo that covered me up that she is our classmates, if not that he covered me up I would spend the whole day trying various type of punishment. As I was trying to remember the dream my mum called me and gave me some pockets money I was very delighted. I told my mum that I will be visiting ayo and she said I can go but I shouldn't spend the whole day there because that is what I am fond of doing.I took my Nokia 3310 and its charger and dash off to ayo's place
when I got to ayo's place there was light so I quickly plugged my charger to the socket and started charging my phone. Few minutes later we are already discussing about different topics,I almost forgot about the dream I wanted to narrate to him. I ended his topic for him abruptly. I told him that I had a dream that I met one of our secondary school classmates in a bus going to akure and later on we were attacked by armed robbers.Ayo was the kind of person that hardly believe in dreams,so he told me they were just mere thought. I believed him.throughout the day I and Ayo played the FIFA 2013 game together, he was better than me tho,he keep defeating in every game we played which made me got tired of playing it.I got home 7:30pm as I was walking towards the gate I could see my dad sitting at the balcony, I knew I was doomed already.
I had no other choice than to go in and receive the punishment that awaits me that evening. Has I move closer to the door,large amount of sweat started accumulatInge on my skin.I scanned through my mind for lies.thank God I was good at telling lies.then I found a suitable lie for the situation. I eradicated the fear on my face and replaced it with a little smile on my straight face. As I got to the balcony he didn't allow me to say a word he just bombarded me with questions, I could see the anger written all over his face,I wasn't scared I just stood and watch him act,when he finished I could only remember one question which was why are you coming home my this time?I told him that Ayo wasn't at around so I had to help his parent run some errands. Without a second thought he believed me,I was so happy he did. I was so happy that I didn't eat dinner that night.

***************************************

The next day after the whole usual morning routine. my dad called me and told me that he will be sending me to akure today to spend the summer break with my cousin.I was very happy to hear the news.we all left for church that morning. I didn't even pay attention to the pastor sermon because it was boring, all what I have on my mind was how to get to Ayo's place and tell him I will be going for summer break.immediately the clock hand struck 10:00am I left the church for ayo's place. Ayo is a Muslim so I expected him to be at home on Sundays.when I got there he was the only one at home, I told him about the akure journey he wasn't happy about it I could see the sad look on his face. but I had to go, I quickly left ayo house and bade him goodbye. when I got home my mom has already helped me packed all my clothes and essential needs for the journey,I looked around my room to see if anything was not left behind. Dad told me to eat launch before I leave since the bus will be leaving by 6:00pm and the time is just 4:00pm so I took to his advise
At 5:30pm my family and I set off for the car park at ojota, when we got there the bus was already filled up with only one vacant sit left. I guess I was lucky to be the one to occupy the sit. we arranged the luggages Inside the bus .my family bid me farewell .I could see tears cascading my sister and mom cheeks I was touched so I started sobbing. the bus left for akure exactly 6:30pm, the traffic around Lagos was very heavy that we spent almost an hour trying to get to the Ibadan express-way. the journey had really been smooth untill when passengers started urinating every minutes and the bus also developed a minor fault. meanwhile when the passengers were getting down to urinate I saw an old classmate of mine sope.sope was a very quiet boy but at the same time dangerous. the both of us exchange greetings, and narrated our life experience after secondary school to each other. meeting sope now makes the journey more interesting. After some few minutes the driver started playing some jamz from the bus stereo. the bus driver look more like a street urchin, his hair and nails were unkempt, his lips looks like that of a chain smoker. As we got to a certain location where every where it seems to be too dark and only few card were passing, the bus driver stopped the bus and said that the bus fan belt has cut.everyone had to get down from the bus. All the passengers began to utter abusive words to the driver. while I stood and watch the whole scenario, I tried to look around if I will see sope but he was out of sight and I was surprised.everybody was still shouting at the driver,suddenly I saw some figures in the opposite bush. I could feel the drop of urine on my underwear due to the fear in me.
very soon the figures became more visible, I am sure all the passengers must have seen it also,the noisy atmosphere became silent like a graveyard. the figure were that of human being in mask holding cutlass and different types of gun.the armed robbers searched the passengers and whatever they get hold of.As the whole robbery was going on,I noticed a familiar voice it was that of sope, then it became dawned on me that sope is an armed robber,I don't need any one to tell me that the bus driver was also among, judging from his look he is among.there was an ijebu nan beside Me he has refused to released any of his properties, since the man was reluctant the armed robbers amputated his left arm."thank God It wasn't the right arm"I said within me.I was extremely terrified that night. unfortunately for the armed robbers there were some police men on patrol that night.when the armed robbers heard the cops siren, they all went running inside the bushes.unfortunately for all of them they all fall into a deep pit.only 3 among the robbers survived, sope was among the survivors also.that night we all slept at the police station. the next day my dad and my cousin came to bailed me out from the police custody.

THE END

<Two wrongs >



There was this land which was suspected
to be rich with natural
Resources such as crude oil, the land was
owned by my grandfather, it
was located along the village stream,
where every villagers get there
drinking water from, My grandfather is
now late, So his two sons was at
war over who to claim the ownership of
the land, but the tradition puts it that the first son is the rightful owner of the land, but My father couldn't afford to lose the land to his senior brother. The two wives tried there
possible best to settle the
differences, but it wasn't helping
matter, like the saying when two
elephants collides, the ground suffers the
damages, we the children and
the wives were the people suffering the damages.
Ichie Amadi was my father and the
younger brother to Nwa oku, Nwa
oku was the first son.
Ichie Amadi my
father was a very powerful
an in the society so he thought he could
use his power to snatch the
land from his elder brother, he even went as
far as buying over the igwe on
his behalf, but his children(my siblings)
were not in support of his
actions, I was the Judas of the house, cox I was the only person supporting
my father's evil way, my father cherish
me because of that.
On that faithful day my father told me to
prepare that we are going to
war at nwa oku's compound, that we are
going to destroy his ego, my
father said his senior brother could have
easily given him the land
but was scared on what the villagers will
say about him, that he was a
weakling, that was why he was still
holding out on the land, but on
that faithful day my father vowed to
settle the scores, I was excited,
I wanted them to fight, I wanted my
father to beat the old fool up in
his own backyard, I was agitated, I was
even optimistic.
So we set out without even informing
our household about our quest,
on reaching Nwa oku's compound my
father started shouting where is
that Man who calls his my brother and
still behaves like a monkey, yes
I was smiling at the side of my father, My
father continued his ranting
saying that when a palm branch reaches
its height it gives way for a
fresh one to grow, nwa oku you're too old
to manage that land, why
can't you leave it for me, am still young
and agile, my father was
beginning to sound paranoia,was he
pleading with the old fool or what,
I was still about to figure out the right
answer,nwa oku was steel and clam,he finally clares his throat
to speak, Amadi you no that
the elephant and the tiger do not go
hunting on the same pasture, At the
mention of tiger I tried not to laugh,so
these old fool his calling
him self a tiger, wonders shall never end,
I was impatient, I can't
wait any longer, I wanted my father to
chase the tiger away from our
pasture abi which kind rubbish be dis,
Nwa oku continued his tiger
speech saying he who pursues an
innocent chicken always stumbles,
finally the old fool confesses that he
was still a chicken, atleast I was relief that he's no more a tiger but a mere
chicken, and a mere chicken can
never withstand an elephant no matter
what, since my father was still
an elephant then there is nothing to be
afraid of, Amadi I'm your
senior brother, I remembered the day which our
mother gave birth to you Amadi,
you were very small, I even carried you at
my back when we were
younger, I protected you from the village
bullies, Amadi don't bite
the hand that feeds you, Nwa oku was
sounding emotional, what the fvvck
was these man talking about, I looked at my
father direction, he was
looking like a confused man, I bet he
wasn't thinking straight at that moment, I wanted to help him shorn the old man
ranting, he continued Amadi we
shouldn't be fighting because of our
father property, we could manage
the land together, we could work
together and ensure that the white
men coming to survey the land next
week will not start planing on how
to cheat us, I was even started to see
senses in what the old man was
saying, My father dropped to his
knees and started shedding hot
tears,apologizing to his brother, I was also
confused, in a battlefield if
the leader falls his followers surrenders,
since we are defeated, I
had no choice than to join my father and
beg for forgiveness. Nwa oku
was also crying and he came forward to
hug us.

Let join hand to make Nigeria a better a
place"" HAPPY INDEPENDENCE
IN ADVANCE""

The End.

Dark Chocolate

“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.
A true soul mate is probably the most important person you'll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. A soul mates purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master...” words of Elizabeth Gilbert were on my mind as I thought about Grace…my soul mate. It took me 16 months to realize who she was to me. As she undressed me and discarded my wet clothes, sensations I had never felt before coursed through my body and soul. I wondered what might have happened if I hadn’t bothered to come by her apartment that night. Thinking of the feasible damage that might have been the case made me shiver involuntarily.
******
Grace Olabewaji was the very first person I got sincerely friendly with upon admission into The University of Lagos to study fine arts. Unilag was quite a whole new experience for me. I spent my first few days starring in disbelief at all the people and buildings, walking long distances and admiring the schools various academic structures and environment. There were more young people than I had ever been exposed to at a time (all rushing to and from class and God knows where) Young ladies and men came in various sizes and shapes. Some walked briskly alone, others sauntered along in groups. I remember a particular guy once strolled past me looking like a circus; he had virtually all the colours of the rainbow in his dress-up, I had to look closely to make sure it wasn’t Wizkid the renowned singer.
Unilag was a confluence of variety, the headquarters of metropolitan fashion and style and I Peter Agemo did not fit. I became a loner. I would go to lagoon front by myself, to paint. The tranquility helped. I would let myself be taken by the sight of the sea and let my imagination roam. It was on one of these escapades, that I met Grace.
I had strolled into the park one cool evening to see this dark complexioned lady sitting in my favourite spot. She was reading a book out loud to no audience in sight. I couldn’t see what she was reading because she had her back to me. I was standing transfixed about three metres screaming “INTRUDER” inwardly when she suddenly stopped and turned.
Beneath those transparent Ray-Ban specs were the largest brown eyes I’d seen and eye lashes as long as her legs, which she crossed nicely. She wasn’t strikingly beautiful but she looked elegant and intelligent.
“Its rude to staaarrre mister” she slurred, emphasizing ‘stare’ in a way that amused me.
“That’s my spot India Arie” I almost retorted, but decided to let her be. I turned and was going to look for some other place to ‘curl up’. She quickly noticed my intentions and quipped
“Hey, you could come join me if you want; you’re just as thin as me”.
This made me laugh out loud and I face her “I’m not thin, I’m slender “
“Yea, slim, slender, whatever… ” she rolled her eyes in the most comical manner I’d seen.
Still intrigued, I reluctantly joined her. She introduced herself as Grace Olabewaji and asked if I had a name, I told her. She asked if I could listen to her read… fine, I said (out of curiosity). She was 200 level student studying theater arts which I took mental note of to be excuse for her talkativeness and hairstyle-dreadlocks.
The familiarity that ensued between aided familiarity. She was eccentric, loquacious, free-spirited, vibrant, candidly vulgar and surprisingly independent. At 19, her level of maturity beats mine even though I was a year older.
She’d come by my class and whistle noisily to get my attention; less concerned about other students she might be distracting in the process. If I ignored that, she’d call my phone incessantly.
“What is it? Can’t you see I’m in a class?” I’d whisper
“Dude, its lunch time!”
We never missed lunch time at the SUB cafeteria. The ‘moi-moi’ there was a mutual delight. We had our fair share of fights too. I’d rant, she would counter–rant. “I hate you” was soon clichéd.
Grace liked seeing my paintings and she always had something funny to say about to say about them. She once made a fuss, saying she deserved a self-portrait. We gave it a try a few times, but she’d twitch all the time, and end up cackling like a duck. I was always to blame for her inability to hold still. I enjoyed listening to her read and rehearse whatever crazy script she came up with.
We didn’t escape the normal campus ridicule and tittle-tattle. She handled well on her side, unlike me. My course mates would be totally idiotic. I’d get tongue-tied and bristly whenever she was referred to as my girlfriend. She’d bailed me on countless situations. “C’mon you guys give Pete credit for much more balls than he’s accountable for”. It’d amaze me how she’d say things like that, squeezing what little balls I had and squashing any unrealistic prospect I had nestled in my mind.
We maintained our typical Tom and Jerry relationship for over a year. I had come to rely on her very much and we basically shoulder each other’s weight quite well. Whenever she couldn’t come through, she’d let me know well in advance and if I seem exasperated, she’d bluntly say something like;
“Last time I checked, I wasn’t your girlfriend dude. Quit moping”
And so she was always inclined to say “Get a girlfriend”. She wore me out with such ‘nonsense’ until that fateful March morning when she came by my off-campus ‘apartee’ (which was a mess that morning). Seeing the disarray, she exclaimed “You really need a maid to clean up your mess Pete”
Weary from being rebuked all the time, I fired back “A girlfriend is what I need and I am actually planning on getting one, I’m grown and don’t need you kissing my ass all the time o.k.”
Was it surprise I saw in those eyes or something else? Pain? I really can’t tell now, as it was quickly replaced by a defiant stare “Go ahead… If anything, verify that you are not gay. And yea, I actually forgot to tell you I had a date with Gobe tonight” she hissed.
“Who? That lout? Why do you need to bluff now ehn?” I exclaimed in disbelief
As if to substantiate her announcement, she dialed what must have been Gobe’s number and chattered away, ignoring me completely. Common, Gobe? Of all people, that… that oaf? But she wouldn’t have my whining. We parted with bad blood that morning. I was so blinded with jealousy and still sulking over my bruised ego. She was going out with Gobe that night and I wasn’t going to be outdone.
Dear reader, remember that tramp of a girl back in your school? Well Tife was the one in mine and had constantly been flirting with me in return for little favours like doing her assignments, attendance and things like that. Though I was like the only guy who had not yet had a ‘piece of the cake’, today was the day.

******
Later that night, I was standing in front of the Filmhouse Cinemas, Surulere, clutching a box of chocolate my measly finances could afford. Impatiently waiting for the seductress, Tife. “How could she?” I grumbled. I had been wandering the cinema grounds for over two...what… (I looked at my old wrist watch) 9pm…3 hours, yet she was nowhere in sight. Take three hours and I had been eager to empty my pockets to gratify any of her greedy cravings that night. Practically broken the bank just to make an impression. My aim? Simple. Loose my bloody virginity, (and hopefully my ‘nerdiness’) and Tife was the promiscuous brat to carry out such deviance.
And here I was, calling her number for the umpteenth time, refusing to come to terms with the stark obvious- I had been left hanging… again. She was probably in one of her numerous boyfriends’ bed perpetrating unmentionable feats. Foolish... foolish Pete” I rebuked myself and the dark skies rumbled in concurrence. Without further warning, it started raining. I was too upset to cuss aloud and once again thought about Tife. “Should I wait?” the rain instantly intensified in disagreement. Before I could say ‘Jack’, I was drenched. Defeated and sopping wet, I slogged homeward.


*******
Out of self-pity and partly because of the weather, I resolved to steer clear of ‘danfo’ buses. I hailed a Lagos cab.
“Akoka” I managed to mutter as he pulled over. Without waiting for an answer, I jumped in the front seat. “3K” the chubby man said, apparently adding charges for dampening his seat. Bewildered, but not ready to go back into the rain, I motioned for him to drive.
I reached for the car stereo without consulting the cabbie (I was going to get full value for my three thousand naira). I found The Beat F.M and Fade’s voice filled the car. She was saying something about “how romantic hanging out with that special someone could be” and what not. It took me a lot of nerve not to yell. I quickly switched off the radio. Way to go Fade. The chubby cabman glanced at me, smiling and was about to say something before he changed his mind altogether. Good thing he did. All I wanted was for him to drive.
He’d just driven past The National Stadium when my phone rang. “What… Tife!?” I couldn’t believe she was calling me now. I didn’t even know what to say to her. I wished I could be sincerely vulgar and tell her to go-to-hell but as upset as I was just too timid to do it. Anyway, I picked up and listened to her drone on about how she was sucking off a lollipop at that moment, I clearly wasn’t paying attention but woke up at “baby, you’re not talking… I make you Hot right?”
“Tife… see ehn… I understand you are just being yourself by being condescending and all, but I lost interest.” Not sure if I drove home my point I added “the truth is I’m gay… so just back off o.k.?” I heard her gasp, and with that I quickly push ‘End Call’.
The rain came down in torrents and slammed onto the windshield in synchronization with my heart beat. I could hear the wipers making a ‘swoosh-swoosh’ noise that I wish would just stop. But I had acted up enough and wasn’t about to give the cab man anymore. From the corners of my eyes I could see him stealing fleeting looks at me. He probably thinks I’m actually gay and crazy, he heard me admit it, so well.
I was going to hit something-anything to release the anger that was choking me in that cab. I cursed the tramp Tife for the umpteenth time for causing me such irritation and I swore to stick to my virginity once and for all. Bitter experience had taught me long ago that the whole business of loving was one big useless façade. To me, intimacy which at first might appear as a light and charming adventure inevitably grows into a regular problem of extreme complexity and in the long run, and the drama of a break-up unbearable. Tsk tsk it’s not worth it. I usually told myself. Nobody could shake me out of my opinion.
My flow of thoughts was unexpectedly interrupted as I felt someone’s flabby palms on my biceps, I jerked back to reality and I found myself in the yellow cab. I was still uncertain about the invasive hand that was now touring my head, my neck and my chest. I slowly came out of my reverie only to see the freckled cabbie flash me a set of ashen teeth dotted by gold here and there. His defiant fingers tracing down my chest as he drooled “fine boy… we be one o, shey you know… and I like...” I didn’t suppress the impulse one more second … WHAM!! I punched him so hard, his head did a 90 degree atop his fat neck, smacking hard against the driver side window. The car swerved dangerously as he lost control for a moment. “March brake jor” I shrieked as I reached for the steering in order to steady the vehicle. No sooner had the car stopped than I had jumped on the sidewalk of university road, picked my box of chocolate and gestured as if to hit him again, “abeg no vex” he said over and over again, panicky and sweaty. His pathetic sight made me remember a paltry thief caught in broad daylight in Oshodi market. I left him there whimpering like a little kid before he got a hold of himself and probably turned against me. I may be younger and sinewy, but definitely no match for an aggressive 300 pound ‘rear admiral’. I moved on quickly.
*******

In light of what just happened, I remembered Grace’s words that morning; “Go ahead… If anything, verify that you are not gay …” well, that’s crystal clear now, wasn’t it? My head twirled from the avalanche of thoughts coursing through it as I walked slowly through the drizzling rain. On instinct I checked the box of chocolate within the paper bag, the box was a bit crumpled at the edges but its content safe.
Then it hit me hard, straight in the face – the only rational reason I had bought chocolate that evening – Grace … “I loooovvve dark chocolate” she once told me, and I had sub-consciously carried that at the back of my mind all this while. Like a computer processor, my mind quickly analysed places, people, books and random things she loved dearly; the lagoon front, Shakespeare, Jimi Sofolu, SUB cafeteria, Mavis, Slush, her roommate Rashida, Sovereign Army, Her sister Temitayo Ola, my paintings… me?
I nearly broke down at the possibility… I had stopped shivering now but my heart still thump hard in its coffer. “Mercy me Lord” I said aloud and instantly broke into a jog.
******
“Rashida” I croaked as I knocked the door again. Rashida was Grace’s roommate. I’d just drop the choc with her and scribble something in a note for her to give Grace when she comes back from her date with Gobe. Thinking she was out with the guy made me flinch with jealousy, but I didn’t blame her. Right then, all that mattered to me was to know how she felt… if she felt anything for me.
The door opened and I almost collapsed as Grace’s big brown eyes held me transfixed in the most rigid pose. I stood there tongue-tied and clueless. My shock must have been quite noticeable when she said “you look like a mess” and then crossing her arms across her chest, deliberately indicating that I wasn’t welcome.
“But …but you were supposed to be out with…” I fumbled ineffectively with words
“C’mon, I was only nudging you, I have been doing that all these months dude… you really thought I would go out with…”She flung her hands in surrender.
I just stared at my shoes in disbelief. I felt so ashamed and discomfited. I knew whatever I did now was going to be a long shot but I’d take it anyway. So when impulse said ‘kneel’, instinct obeyed and I dropped instantly on my quivering knees. So far clueless, but willing to ride upon spontaneity. I brought out the box of chocolate from the paper bag and to my utmost surprise I started reading the health benefits of chocolate as written on the box;
“… and lastly Dark chocolate contains substances that can improve health in many ways. It lowers the risk of heart disease and improves brain function. Just like my profound love for you my dear Grace, for over a year, you have been my best friend and I failed to see beyond that, failed to see how I have blossomed in the euphoria of your affections in the past year. Only you understand my twisted psychodynamics, my passion, value and character. You embraced me without questioning and like a bush man that I am, I got scared of love just like I got shy aware from sugar contents. Too scared to read between the lines, too scare to know that there is a recommended amount of daily ingestion of love as it is with chocolate. Just like it is fact about chocolate, that chocolate adds enjoyment and pleasure as well as variety to the diet, you a major constituent of my happiness, enjoyment and pleasure. You, my love are just like dark chocolate, you are my treat.”
I said these whole while staring at her dark long legs and well done pedicure. All said, I heaved a big sigh and stole a quick glance at her face. Her glistening eyes were as Hugh as the full moon and she looked as though she was going to cry. I quickly rose to my feet and started to apologise when she drew me into locking passionate kiss. The magic was intriguing as we embraced at that door post totally oblivious to the world and our previous dissensions. It had taken 16 months of denial and that moment was no time to hold back. There was so much I wanted to tell her. I was like the man who found the fabled Utopia. I was at peace.



Make I continue?

The Journey to greatness.

Far away in a hot country, where the forests are very thick and dark, and the rivers very swift and strong, there lived a man whose dreams were to live a fulfilled life.
A life free of pains,trials,agony and persecution.
A man who wished to live a normal life, a life free of all negativity which came with the culture and believes of his own people of the African continent.
A man who had to push on his dreams against all odds.
A man who has the combination of suave and elegance, a polished,fine,charismatic gentle man with dynamism and confidence all entrenched in a humble attitude,yet,an unraveled self-esteem and optimistic personality to life.
Jide was a man standing 183cm above the earth; he was from a family of four comprising of both parents and a sister.

As he laid on the bed of his penthouse, his mind flashed back to the beginning of everything.
He was an agile boy who loved to hang out with friends, on a faithful day, they had gone to play soccer in the community stadium when he started feeling some strange pains thirteen minutes into the game, and he had to be substituted to attend to his pain.
The pains kept on increasing until he had to go home to take the common pain killer-PCM, he got home and met his sister who lay on the sofa watching a movie, he greeted her as he sat beside her in the living room of their 3-bedroom bungalow apartment, thinking of what might have caused the pains.

The living room was painted green with a dark forest green rug, with 2 couches. A wooden coffee table with three open portals under the table top. A desk (without hutch) containing a computer, monitor, keyboard, phone, a home theatre with 2 speakers, miscellaneous work papers and a cup. A large 2 drawer lateral filing cabinet with a fax machine and 3in1 printer atop.
A 49inch LCD TV mounted to the wall, located about 1 foot below the ceiling. 2 wall mounted shelves directly below the TV.2 glass coffee tables with metal framing. A leather recliner, a wind chime hanging from the ceiling near the entrance to the room.
He kept on wondering what might have caused his predicament as he slept off.
He was awoken from his slumber as he felt someone tapping his back; he opened his eyes to see his mum standing in front of him.
"Good morning mama”, he greeted.
"It’s evening jide, why are you sleeping here?” His mother queried.
Mrs. Ibukun was a pretty woman in her mid-forties, she was dark and stood at a height of 5ft3inches, she was a caring woman as she made sure her children never lacked anything fundamental to their well-being.
"i was having some pains before i dozed off”, he replied.
"So what medications have you used?” his mother asked.
“I took paracetamol”, jide said amidst pains.
Mrs. Ibukun was down-trodden once again, she wondered why jide kept getting ill this days, its high time they visited the community clinic together, she reasoned.

The following day, Mrs. Ibukun looked on, she can't believe what she was hearing from the doctor, it’s not just possible according to the genetics topic she was taught in the biology subject when she was studying.
As she trudged home with jide, she maintained a normal face to put her son’s mind at rest, but deep within her, she was let down.
"How could jide be a sickler, she was a woman with an AA genotype, her husband also was AS, how could jide be having an SS genotype”, she soliloquized as he sat on a stool beside the bed in her room, she would have to go for another set of test to ascertain the problem at hand.
Jide stood in front of the mirror in his room, trying to fathom a meaning to the jargons he had just heard.
He was clueless to everything going on around him and nobody cared to explain except for the promise of his mother that everything would be alright.
Mrs. Ibukun ransacked his husband medical files as she tried to find his medical files; she saw one of them with AS genotype written boldly at the top of the document.
She was glad, “then how could jide be the odd one out”, she asked nobody in particular.
She would have to go to the general hospital, maybe the community clinic personnel’s were quacks.
The next day, Mrs. Ibukun and jide sat in the waiting room excepting the results of their blood test which was done in the state general hospital.
Some few hours after waiting, they were asked to move to the doctor’s office because their results have been released.
As Mrs. Ibukun sat in front of the dark and lanky doctor, she was with mixed thought-expecting the worst and proving that the community clinic was fake.
As the doctor started talking, her mind sifted from the trick her mind was playing to listen to the real news.


******************************************************************************
Mrs. Ibukun sat in the living room later in the day seeing a movie with her children, her mind was far away from the interesting movie. She thought of how she could be AS, when the last test she did then confirmed she was AA.
She pitied herself and her poor son, how could her son pay for the negligence of some quacks that made her go into marriage with her husband who was also AS. She has since then made sure jide engaged himself in less stressful activities, protecting her son like a hen would protect her chicks.
Jide had continued his education and despite all the odds of the sickle cell crisis, he had managed to finish top of his class in his SSCE exams.
He came out with flying colors in his JAMB and POST-UTME exams and was offered medicine as a course of study in the university.

On a particular day, he had participated in the fresher’s match of his department.
NB: fresher’s match is a soccer game between the final year students and the 100level students.
He had done the initial warm up that precedes any soccer match, and then the next thing was choosing the 11 players that will make up the team out of the 30 students that showed interest.
He had been chosen as one of the 11 man list until the referee said
'hello boy'
Everyone looked back and imagined who the student ref might have called 'boy'.
The referee came nearer and said to jide,"sicklers don't play soccer, we don't want you here"
Jide was annoyed and ashamed, how could the referee use such kind of harsh words on him.
He left the stadia for his room, and wept.
He hated everything around him, his parents, his life, his education...., everything.
The news that he was a sickler had spread like a wildfire round the department and faculty; he was always given undue attention by students pointing or people staring at him.
He became angry at the referee once more; he could have called him aside and told him whatever he had to say not broadcasting his health condition to anybody who cared to listen at the sports complex.
"What is wrong in someone being a sickle cell patient that Africans make a big deal out of it, he is just a normal human being who wanted to do what others could do and be opportuned to have the same opportunities others are privileged to”, he thought

Years went by with 24 hours per day and it was a day to the final examination of the final year.
Then the unexpected happened......
Jide was rushed to the school medical centre due to severe pains termed crisis.
On arriving at the medical center, the nurse on the night shift recognized him immediately.
Jide also amidst severe pains knew he was in for some tongue lashing.
Nurse Abigail was a plump and robust lady, fair in complexion, probably in her mid-thirties.
Jide knew the characteristics a nurse should exhibit is to be compassionate, ability to respect and honor people when they're at their lowest low,miserable,and vulnerable because that's
where they're at when they get to meet them ,but the exact opposite was nurse Abigail.
He imagined the importance of nursing school to the nursing profession, or are they taught in another way in his country?
So much for nursing school, he murmured.
“Good evening ma”, he greeted
“And what's good about the evening? Na only you dey for dis school?” nurse Abigail queried.
“Wetin do you again sickler, if you no fit cope for dis school, go back to your papa house go die for there na”,she added
Jide knew better than replying her, all that was on his mind was receiving the necessary treatment so that he can resume his reading.
“I'm sorry ma, it’s just that I'm having body pains”, Jide replied.
“i don know before na, i go admit you for here o,make u no come back for midnight con disturb ma sleep” ,she said
“Nurse, it’s just a little pain, I’ll be fine with just some pain reliever’, he lied
“That wan na story, i don tell you wetin i go do” ,she said.
Jide succumbed to her and started revising everything he had read for the next day examinations by heart while laying on the only bed in the ward he was admitted.


******************************************************************************
"It was somber, dark, dim lit, gadgets &equipment in symphony of sounds- buzzing, clicking, air whistling, he lain on the bed, unresponsive, wrapped in bandages from head to toe, only his closed eyes were exposed, tubes coming out of his mouth nose, etc....
All of a sudden the monitor went off with a loud buzzing sound!!!!!!!!!!!
Someone yelled "Code Blue"..... A horde of people rushed to the room, doctors, nurses, assistants, etc....
All were buzzing around the patient, frantic, excited, high pitched voices…concerned
until the gadget just signaled a steady beep...................................... FLAT LINE!
They've done all they could to save the patient to no avail!
The Doctor in charge just simply said.....Time of Death 12:01 A.M."
Then, he woke up, breathing short, heavy breaths. Sweat beads ran down his face and his hands. He looked around the room, wide eyed, making sure he was on a hospital bed. He looked at the wall clock and discovered it was 1am.
“That was weird, what kind of nightmare was that?” he said fearfully
He knelt on the bed as he prayed to God to avert every spirit of death hanging over his life.
He left the bed to check on Nurse Abigail, he saw her fast asleep, the security men also where not left out.


He was happy because the situation of things gave him a chance to escape the medical Centre; he strolled out of the corridor and went to his dormitory.
He slept for some hours before revising a little more for the 'last hurdle'.


The convocation came months after the examinations ended Jide had made friends due to his intelligence and academic excellence.
As usual he is the best in his department, scooping all the awards to himself, and also he won for himself a sum of a million naira to start his brainchild of starting up a clinic/foundation to help children living with sickle cell live a healthy and fulfilled life in an environment where things seems to be at a disadvantage to them.
Years later, the clinic/foundation was doing fine, his mother was grateful to God for giving her son the courage to overcome, and he had made a name for himself in the society.
******************************************************************************
He was jolted back to the present by the protest of his intestines; he realized he hasn't had anything for lunch.
As he walked to his kitchen with a grin, he uttered.
"Thank God for a fulfilled life"
THE END.


THIS STORY IS DEDICATED TO EVERY PERSON LIVING WITH SICKLE CELL DISEASE,ITS NOT THE END OF YOUR LIFE,WITH COURAGE AND DETERMINATION,THE SKY IS YOUR LIMIT.

[size=27pt]48:Power Hungry[/size]

1762 words

"They are confused jare,all of them are corrupt and no one citizen is ready to bell the cat,I just wish the ICJ could help us sweep them into prison cubicles" Mr. Ojo said with an angry face that looked like a 13th century Tasmanian Devil,John,the bar attendant who was known to be always mute replied Mr Ojo, "Oga abeg let us watch ball well na,me nor dey hear commentary well because of your yeye talk again o",surprised at his response,Mr Ojo said "Its your father that you are referring to,not me".

"Oga Ojo,you can't be exchanging words with that small boy John,just ignore him" someone said from behind.
Just when calm retured to the bar,SNTV abruptly ended the tele-casting of the live football match,

"wetin be dis na?" Someone asked!

TV went blank,bar just went into total silence, 'gbam' the windows at the bar got locked on its own,like a horror flick the light bulbs inside the bar auto switched-off.

"Jesus!!!!!"
Mr.Ojo shouted as he woke up from the terrible dream he just had,"honey,what's wrong?" Ojo's wife asked.Mrs Ojo whose name was Belinda,was such a beauty to behold,she had a perfect 'figure 8' shape and her beauty could easily be compared to that of Queen Nefertiti of ancient egyptian era.

"I had a terrible dream" Ojo responded,just when Mrs Ojo was about to ask further questions,Ojo pointed towards the glass louvres of their room,"sweetheart,see those military trucks outside o,what could they be searching for at this wee hour of the night?" He asked.
"I guess you know that's a rhetorical question, because I don't even have an idea what they might be after" Mrs Ojo responded.

"Maybe they've gotten a tip-off from some people or whatever,let me go back to bed and continue my sleep o" Mr Ojo sluggishly told his wife after she gave her rather funny response.

---

At the Presidential Villa,a meeting was in progress when they heard a loud bang, "what just happened" the President asked,everyone in the room just went into a state of confusion and 'BOOM' another loud bang,that could be as high as 180 decibels.

"What could be wrong,I still don't get it,lemme call my special adviser on Military matters" Mr. President said to himself.

"Bagudu,there's some terror-like activities going on here,could you please check what could be wrong" the president asked his Special adviser on military matters via a phone call.

"I would do as you desire sir" General Azinga responded.

He terminated the call and smiled at the other military men around him and said "Perfecto,our plan is going on very well as planed"

**
October 1st,instead of the much awaited presidential speech,military drums rang, and an Old looking Man with a Brown Beret gave a 2 minutes speech. thus "We all know how those bloody civillians take us for a ride,misuse the state's fund and siphon it to their private accounts in Swiss and Austrian Banks,how they steal our barrels of oil,carry out illegal oil bukering,employ their family members as part of the National executive committee and Neglect the Military as we are the ones who takes care of the Nation in times of trouble,Now I General Bagudu officially declare myself Head of state of the Federal Republic of Nigeria.

"Ewooo,it has happend again oo,barely 2 weeks since the president took oath of office and there's alrady a military Coup" Mrs Ojo shouted as she ran back to her bedroom to tell her husband what she just heard of the New Military President on National T.V.
"My dear,leave these people,let them play with the office of the president,they think its their birthright,so every Tobechi,Dapo and Haruna wants to be the President of Nigeria.But not to worry sweetheart,we are going to have a stable democracy soon in this country and all these Military wahala would end" Mr Ojo said in a cool romantic manner.

After he had eaten his breakfast,Mr.Ojo called out to his wife,he has already gotten dressed,ready to go hangout with his friends,as today was the independence day celebration, "I am going out o,I want to see some of my friends down the road" he said.

Julius was Mr and Mrs.Ojo's son's name,their first child and the only boy among three children.

After the Martial music shook the whole place, so many people rushed out to the streets and danced under the clear and bright skies while the school kids all went to the Central primary school for the traditional match Past ceremoney.

But the presence of armed military. Men,didn't allow Mr Ojo and friends to move out of their neighbourhood.
Many of the Ojo's neighbors crowded the few bars near their houses to drink whatever kind of liquor,spirit or soda they preferred or could afford,
chatting, ranting or shouting about the state of emergency.

“Yeah! Make them go! Dem be thieves!” The garrulous fat neighbor in traditional Yoruba male dress said as he swigged from a bottle of Star larger beer. He always made more noise than sense. And was regarded as the Baba Sala comic of the neighborhood.
They were about six sitting on plastic chairs round the plastic table in front of Ishi Pemperempe's Restaurant,while some others were also seated nearby.
The poor masses always praised every coup that toppled any government they resented. Most of them were very gullible and naïve. But some of them were good company whenever Mr Ojo felt bored and want to be entertained.
Sitting in their midst and having a good laugh was very good comic relief to overcome the grief of living in such a chaotic state.

He could sniff the smell of the steaming pot of pepper
soup.

"Madam Ishi o, don't kill us with your YapiYapio germs oh!” The garrulous Yoruba man exclaimed and the drinking partners laughed like ridiculous clowns.

“Excuse me,” Ishi said as she brought out her 'brown piece of cloth supposed white handkerchief' to wipe her nose.

“Silver Ishi, yellow paw-paw woman,” said another neighbor in jest.
“The booboo can pose,” said another one.
The sound of Madam Ishi's ringing cell phone was her saving grace from her customers who were making jest of her. She picked up her cell phone from the top of the table where she was sitting and walked away from the noisemakers to answer the call. Two of the customers were heard,hissing at her in derision. She hissed in dismissal of their jibes before answering the call.

“Sylvester, you nor go come chop the pepper soup again?” Asked Madam Ishi as she started her call conversation. The caller gestured that he would eat the pepper soup. “I will come right away before 6pm to beat the curfew,” It was the Community Youth leader,Sylvester that called her.

***
It was Evening,drinking became more excessive for the men at the bar,few of them had gone out to vomit,because of the excess intake of alcohol,some fell "face first" on the table where they were drinking into a shallow sleep.others who still were on their right state of immediate environment,ended up spewing thrash,most of them were all drunk,to stupor.

11:30pm and Ishi had already started packing her goods back into her shop,although some of the customers were still at her bar,when Military music was aired,Ishi and Sylvester immediately turned their eyes to the T.V set,hoping to hear what next the military president was goint to say.

To their greatest suprise, a new face emerged and it was a second Coup in less than 24 hours ,

"heeeeeeeeeeeeeee,they want to just finish this country for us abi?,can't they just leave us in peace and allow us enjoy just a single head of state?" Ishi asked,sounding like a pained Puppy crying to see its mum.
"Na dem sabi,if dem like make dem kill themselves finish,e nor concern me,as long as say me still dey alive,I must wack,Oya pack things finish make we dey go" Sylvester said in a rather serious voice.

"Sylve Sylve,Take am easy with me na,na you get me this night so,no wahala" Ishi said smiling at Sylvester..

**
October 2nd,Mr Ojo woke up to hear the news of the latest coup, "ehn hen, so na like this we go dey dey for this country? If there is life,there is hope, our country would get better" Mr Ojo spoke to himself softly with his head facing the ceiling fan.

His wife walked to him and asked "have you heard"

"Yes oo,these military men are at it again,everybody wants to be the head of state" Ojo responded.

Ojo's wife just moved into another direction of conversation "Papa Julius,na today be market oo,we don't have enough foodstuffs at home,so I would need some money" she said in a very calm voice.

"I would give you when you are ready for market" Ojo said patting her at her back.
He did give her the money and she went to the market.

Mr Ojo,had no plans of going out that day,so he just sat down inside the parlor of his house,switched on the TV and was watching and listening to some Ebenezer Obey's music on one of the channels.
After he had spent some time watching the TV,just when he was about to leave the Parlor and head for his room,Military Drum sounds rang,so he justed waited just to know what next he was going to hear, the Young looking new military head of state gave a speech,
"Good Morning fellow Nigerians,we all know what has been happening in our nation for some short period of time now,not every one is power hungry and I come for peace,so let it be known that I have already made plans for a civilian government to come into office, and an election date has been fixed and its a promise I give to you all,that we would handover to a civilian goverment.
God bless,Nigeria ! Long Live Nigeria!!"

Mr Ojo could not believe what he just heard,after about two minutes of bewilderment,he said to himself, "not everyone is power hungry after all... I love my country"

The sun had gone below its horizon; silence dusk had come. The very bright yellowish scorching sun had turned orange-red hues, taking its usual path to set. The male and female servants working for Ajayi, rather as helpers instead of slaves, were all still busy in the farm. He never for once made them think they were slaves. He believed that though it was a long shot by any measure, but the slaves also were born by mothers. Generous was he to them like a free gift of nature. Ajayi had hardly slept for hours when a strange sound awoke him. Could this be his friend coming back to give him response about where he sent him? He dismissed the idea as frivolous as he discovered later that it was the noise of two mice chasing each other to copulate that had woken him. He still lay on a goat skin under his modesty thatch roofed square-shaped hut. He stood up with the same thoughts that had accompanied him to sleep.

Some minutes later, there was a hard knock on his door. He quickly replied in exhilaration and expectation of good response from his friend, Ilori.
"Come in". He said, walking towards the door. It was the servants coming back from the farm. He was a bit angry and returned their greetings in exasperation. He went back into his room, and sat on a stool at the corner. He ordered a female servant to bring him a gallon of palm-wine and a calabash. She quickly did as he ordered. He gulped down the palm-wine to suppress his mind that was about to explode with the thoughts and anticipation of the upshot of the discussion between Ilori, his go-between, and the endowed lover he wanted at all cost. This was the eighth times he would send his friend, Ilori, to her. Many a night she would scorn Ilori, saying she did not feel like having anything to do with him, even though Ajayi was not supposed to be that kind of man women should say such things to. But she refused to be carried away by his wealth or his handsomeness. The day went full dark, the moon shone out in its rightly position. Ilori was not seemed to be coming tonight anymore. Ajayi soaked himself in the palm-wine. He laid back on his well-designed, brown goat skin, looking forward to the dawning of a new day.

At the crack of dawn, there was a lot of dew on the grass, and the cold air made the environment cool. The servants of Ajayi had begun their daily job. The noise of life had begun as the daily activities were going. Ajayi was still asleep when Ilori came in. He gave several knocks on the door, but no response. He then opened the door, and went in. Ajayi was sleeping like a dead dog. He seemed to be very tired because of his weary thoughts.

"Ajayi! Ajayi," Ilori beat him slightly on his foot. He woke him up in excitement to explain the good news. Ajayi's eyes were dimmed, but were alerted when he seemed to decode the smile stretching across his adoring friend's face.

"Ajayi Ogidiolu, the one who owns a well everyone comes and fetches water from. Ajayi who takes his bathe in the river and every lady washing at the river bank leave their clothes and run up to." He eulogized him, and continued," Ogidiolu, my friend, I have brought you a good news. Yesterday was an exemption, Bewaji spoke to me with tenderness; her voice sounded like that of an angel, her voice took me to the air of peace and..."

Ajayi cut in,"Ilori, tell me what is going on. Don’t be like a black man in a dark room, looking for a black hat. His ways are unfathomable."

"I'm very sincere. Trust me." Ilori said, and in furtherance, "you know, when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remain, however improbable, must be the truth." Ilori concluded with wise words.

For a second, there was silence, and then a wave of emotion rolled over them both. The freedom from his burden evident in his victorious smile. He then shouted in astonishment as ecstasy enveloped him.
"The value of sunrise is known only to people who were in the darkness. Ilori, you are indeed an added value to my whole being, thanks." Ajayi said with gratitude overflowed his eyes.

Ilorin responded, cuddling him, "the glory of friendship is not the outstretched hand, it is the inspiration that comes to one, when he discovers that someone else believes in him and is willing to trust him. Thanks for placing the responsibilities on me, and believing I could do it perfectly for you."

They both smiled and sat down. Ajayi called out to the female servant that constantly served him palm-wine. "so when shall I meet her?" Ajayi asked.

"In three moon days, she told me with assurance." Ilori answered. The servant had brought the gallon of palm-wine and two calabashes. They celebrated and drank up themselves.

In the night of a full moon, numerous stars were in the sky, countless as the sand in the seashore. Ajayi had come in his light blue with strips of white sanyan to await Bewaji for their first meeting. He was looking handsome like never before. On her arrival, Ajayi stared at her well-rounded chocolate coloured body; her dazzling eyes sprang up his manhood. Her perfectly curved hips glowed in her attire- a special thread made clothe that has been soaked in homade dye. She was looking elegant, walking majestically under the palm tree that was a few kilometers away from her home to meet Ajayi. She was a foot shorter than Ajayi, and this made them more physically perfectly for each other.
A smile lit her face as they exchange pleasantries. Bewaji was very shy to stare into his eyes. Ajayi knew this, and he picked up his flute made of pawpaw stick with a nylon tied to its mouth on one side, and a bored hole by its side that pronounced the melody of his love song as he blew air into on the other end. Ajayi sang for Bewaji. The melody of the love song sank into her head, and catapulted her to an unimaginable love life. Bewaji was wrapped up in the ecstasy in the atmosphere.

"Bewaji, will you marry me?" Ajayi inquired locking his eyes on hers.

"Ajayi Ogidiolu, the one who owns a well everyone fetches from in an early morning. I have come to fetch forever water from your well. Yes, I will." Bewaji responded after taking a deep breath as tears of joy, the water falls of heart filled with love filled her eyes.

Ajayi was elated at her reactions to his affectionate song and his request. He knew Ilori, the go-between, had done a great job. They had a lenghty talk. They ended their conversations happily. Ajayi made a move to kiss her, but she rejected and said."Hold on, it's all yours. This is just the beginning."

Three months later, after the two families of Ajayi and Bewaji had been doing in and out concerning their love. They eventually chose a date for their wedding. It was seven days to come. The Lalemians knew it was going to be a remarkable one in the town of Lalemi. A talk of the town, and an exemplary for lovers to come. The family of Ajayi who believed that ancestors and 'Orisha Igbale' had enormous power to watch over their descendants. They called the lovers and told them to fix a day to consult the 'Orisha Igbale' at the shrine. The 'Orisha Igbale', an ancient god that all the Lalemians, both ancestors and predecessors, had been worshipping since the inception of the town. And nothing was going to make their own an exemption. It had been a custom for every descendant of Lalemi to continue worshipping it.

On a very bright evening, the two families had arrived at the shrine to commit their about-to-wed children in his hands. The man on a long white clothes, with grey hair, and holding a long stick, was the chief priest that would consult 'Orisha Igbale' with incantations. It was pellucid he was a very old man. The 'Orisha Igbale' was a statue made of shaped wood at the centre of the shrine. The shrine was painted in white with a mixture of liquid old chalk.
The chief priest took steps forward and made his entry under the hut, and others followed with the couple walking behind him. He ordered the bride and groom to come forward. He brought out a kola nut with four eyes. He broke the kola nut and asked them to stretch out their hands and take them two pieces each.

“Take these my children, place it on your left palms." he said with shaking lips. They did as he said, and he asked them to throw the pieces of kola nut down on the ground. Precisely they did. The chief priest checked the kola nuts, those ones that faced up; those ones that faced down. He said loudly, "the 'Orisha Igbale' has supported your marriage, go in peace."

"Eh!" the crowd chorused. The atmosphere was friendly to everyone.

"But there are some things to know which must not be taken as jokes otherwise....” the chief priest said inconclusively with the belief that it is improper for the wise ones to utter anything like a curse. Everybody quietly listened to him. He proceeded," listen carefully my people, the bride and groom are warned to avoid travelling out of the town, including the farm. This is to prevent any mishap." His usual cough which seemed to be normal for an old person like him hooked him down, but he got back after a while and many sorry from the crowd. He continued again,” the groom must pay the bride price. This is our custom, and it must be taken seriously to avoid disorderliness. And for the bride, she is expected to be found as a virgin. If she is not, she and her parents would be put to disgrace and they would be banished from the town of Lalemi." the chief priest concluded.

The bride's family nodded and murmured, “she is a virgin, sure!" Bewaji's father in particular said loudly and confidently "I am proud of her. I have brought up my daughter in modesty and allowed her not to be exposed to defilement of body before marriage." Having said and done the necessary things, everyone deserted the shrine.

It has once happened to a girl when it was discovered she was no longer a virgin on her wedding night. She was descended to the worst level of disgrace, and she made her family experienced enigmatic life in the forest. But if only Bewaji had followed the customs laid down before them, she would not have experienced something worse.