Read on and get immersed in the world of Frank Ekpenyong as he lives life and meddles in the arcane and deep rooted practices all in the sake of knowledge and self realisation.

When young Frank messes up a dicey occultic ritual, something very deadly is brought forth into the world, something sinister and malevolent, worst of all unteethered. Abigail.

Frank thinks Abigail is human, just because she looks like one. Beautiful, sweet and seemingly caring, she offers to give him all he desires but then he is to love her unconditionally forever. Mind you Abigail is much more than a spirit, much more than a demon, her abilities and powers knows no bounds.

Frank soon becomes something of a semi-god in the town of Calabar, playing with extra sensory powers only reserved for high level demons and spirits. He Performs magical fits and psychic activities only heard of in folk lores and movies. But will Frank keep up to his bargain, will he keep loving Abigail and reserve his new found status or will he risk all for another woman, a mere mortal.

Find out in this awe inspiring and unusual tale, where religion, magic and fantasy meet.

LUCIFER'S BUSINESS

Prologue

As Frank stared out at the moon clad river he saw nothing but perilous waves, each coming in tiers, the next more pernicious and stronger than the previous. An enviroment befitting for his aim. The tide gathered momentum, reverberated from a distance, tumbled onwards in a roll of furry and crashed at the shore, receding back slowly. No matter how strong the wave was, it never overflowed its banks. That was its law, the law of nature. Everything had rules, Frank knew this much, but the consequence of a default was not that clear to him, at least not until now.

Now he was paying for the consequence; but not for long.
If only he knew, he would never have ventured into such dangerous practice, or If he could tell someone, but then again how do you say "Hello friend, my name is Frank and I made a deal with the devil" .
He would be dubbed insane, or maybe he was insane, he just didn't know anymore.
Anyone who had his whole family snatched from him in a blink, would hardly be sane. Not that he had friends anymore, his eccentric life style had shed them all away. All he wanted was to be different, the power, the money, most of all the knowledge. Is it bad to want to be the best?


Frank's fist tightened on the railing as he prepared to lunge himself into the stale water, taking just a second to reminisce his life or what remained of it.
For him, drowning was the most appeasing form of suicide. He did think of shooting himself in the head but that would be too nasty, he considered overdosing on pills, that came with too much pain. A deliberate accident would not be good enough because it left time for deliberation and regret. So it had to be drowning. Immediately he jumps in the river, the waves would hit him hard, putting him in comatose state, submerging him into its deep dwelling and then silence. It would be quick and convinient.


The second was running out, Frank's life flashed before his eyes, like a projector reeling in images. At the end of the second Frank was to plunge into the benign water and die. His presence no more felt, his good deeds sparsely remembered, he would only be recalled for his esotoric and weird lifestyle. Frank, the failed experiment or simply, the man that lost his way.


"I see you'v made your choice" the voice sounded behind him.

That ominous pitch, the voice he had come to love and then dread and now he despiced. Her voice seemed to be the only sound he had heard for months. Mocking, taunting, laughing. The voice of blatant doom. Abigail.
Frank did not appear flinched at the arrival of his ubiquitous visitor. His visage remained indifferent.
"Me or nothing" Abigail cooed, a remorseful hiss.


Frank put his two legs over the railing, one at a time and stood at the 10cm long concrete, with his two hands behind him grabbing the railing, slanting, staring into the open air like a mindless zombie, the turbulent river gurgling beneath him. His grip lessened with each mili-second.

"If you knew this would happen, would you have done it?". Still no response from Frank.


Slowly he turned to face Abigail, he saw her quite alright, young, beautiful and dazzling. Yet his gaze seemed to pass right through her, if someone had told him he would be staring at an ageless entity at the marina resort at 11 o'clock in the night he wouldn't believe. If that person had said he would commit suicide, he wouldn't believe either. There are many things Frank saw in the past years, that nobody would ever believe existed.

"I can bring them back, I can make it all go away, I can rewind time...Just love me" Abigail blurted despeartely.


That last statement was all Frank needed. No more tricks, no more illusions, no more lies. No more bullshit. F.uck it. He knew he was going to burn and suffer in hell, yes hell was real, better hell than earth. Death had never been so sure. It was the great escape.

With that he let go.

CHAPTER 1
Years earlier

It was just another sunday morning service at St. Batholomeu catholic church. St. Bath. For short. The previous hours were just as same, filled with tension and upheaval.

The household of Sir Peter and Caroline ekpenyong never experienced shortage of problems. At 6am Mr peter would wake up and kneel at his alter-- he named it the alter of repose--praying for about 30 minutes, after which he would sit and shave in the verandah, while listening to BBC on his receiver. At about 7, Mrs Caroline would wake up, hurriedly prepare breakfast, all the while cussing and exclaiming how the forces of darkness attempted to stall her from attending her church service early. Meanwhile she would spend 30 more minutes in the bathroom dancing and humming vigorously, as if the world was coming to an end. Occasionaly she would receive reproach from her husband.

"Woman, lower your voice!"
"The lord that answereth by fire, I will give glory to him, answer a-a-a, answer a-a-a, amen!" She would continue singing under her breath.
For Mrs Caroline her bath was more of a cleansing ritual or a baptism than an actual bath.


While Caroline chorused on. Lilian took her bath and dressed up. Young Frank still layed in his room, reading the comments on his amateur blog. Frank always secretly wished his dad would decide not to go to church on sunday, if his dad did not go, that would be a good enough excuse for him not to go but his wish always failed.


Sir Peter never acted like he intended to go to church, not until he would bolt out of the verandah, ease into the bathroom, whisp into his room and come out to the dinning table all dressed, smelling of perfumed jelly. He always reminded Frank of superman, going into the phone booth as Clark Kent and in a second coming out as the man of steel.

Frank always tried to be super too but he was always behind time. Sir peter would scream, scold and bellow at Frank and every other person, his Gullet expanding, his eye balls turning a dull red. Sometimes Spittle would flail from his mouth as he castigated Frank for his complacency when it came to church matters. Sir Peter was a man of extreme temper and tenacious spiritual devotion. He was an iron fisted ruler.

The tirade would proceed in the car, as Peter drove his wife Caroline, Lilian his daughter and his son Frank 6miles to church, just to arrive on time and head straight to the front row of the church. Sir Peters house hold. The perfect family.


Now it was just another sunday, nothing new, nothing exciting. Bulletins were stared at, rosaries were fiddled with. Some slept docently, even snoring, others stared absent mindedly at the priest. Some youngsters stealthly punched their Blackberries, while pretending to listen intently, all at once. Frank turned to look at his father and the man glared at the priest with the focus of a kodak camera. He seemed to live off every word that proceeded from the reverends mouth. His Shirt was so starched the creases looked as if it could cut. His day old hair cut, glistened with vaseline.


Peter was a man of 50, bulky in size and heavy on the neck and shoulders. He was a large man. He stood at around 5ft 6 in height, light in complexion, his skin most times looked something between a tan and light brown. Peter's square head always gave him the air of a military man, his wide eyes and expressive mouth often scared people away from him but when he spoke, nations trembled and heads bowed and after his speech people would flock to him to garner advice and build friendships.
Sir peter always stayed clean shaven, with flimsy side bons on each side and a heap of mustache. Anytime he donned on his circle rimmed glasses, he resembled Einstein.


Frank stared at his father a moment longer, Sir peter, the perfect man. The disciplinarian, the orator, the doctor, the socialite, the councellor, the stunch catholic. Frank could never fill his fathers shoes, he knew it. The man was too much, he was a perfectionist. All the members revered him, the whole town knew him, hell, he was even popular in some states. The healers son is what he was called in his earlier years. After he became a Catholic and subsequently a knight, they just called him S.I.R.


"The eucharist is the body of christ, it is hope, it is love...am talking of the eucharist, it is what keeps us alive. Its is the divine grace, the eucharist people..."

That was about the 50th time the Priest mentioned the word "Eucharist" in the past minutes. Frank could not just understand the man's affinity with the eucharist and he knew the rest of the church often wondered too.


"The eucharist is the body of christ..." The priest continued solemly.
"It is his free gift to us...all we need to do is eat it and abide by his tenets"
The priest strolled callously across the poduim as if deep in thought.
"He died for us, he sacrificed his blood and body" The priest drawled "He gave everything yet we fail to obey him" With that the holy man burst into tears.

That was Reverend Father Glassbottom Edwards, he was the resident priest in St. Batholomeu, he came to the parish about 11 years ago from Wales, England, since then he had been with the church, preaching and wailing. The reverends name was always amusing to Frank, when he was much younger, he often stretched to see if the fathers rear was actually made of glass. How silly.


"Stop it, stop the corruption, stop the sin and follow himmmmm, follow him!!!" The Fathers sobing seized and sporadically took on an aggressive approach, as he spoke and made his hands quake. To a new comer this behaviour would seem very strange but to Frank and his fellow parishoners this was just normal. Father Edwards was insanely charismatic, at times he would scream and shout during the whole sermon, at times he would weep so hard, the sermon would have to end abruptly. The bane of this according to him was that Catholics never gave the eucharist the much veneration it deserved.

Frank turned and gazed at Mrs. Fiona Ebong, the commisioner of Education, She too was a front liner, she focused on the priest, absorbing his every utterance. She hailed from the northern part of Crossriver, Obudu, she was a very devout Catholic. She was donned in a Bright yellow Skirt suit, her Gold necklace hung comfortably on her healthy neck, the Emerald shaped apparels resting on her chest. Mrs. Fiona never failed to look good. She was respected and apart from her post as the President of the Catholic womens organisation(C.W.O), she was refered to as the mother of the church.

Behind Frank was Chief Joseph Ebinkpejo, former commisioner for Agriculture, he too seemed a very devoted catholic. He sat with his Beautifull wife and three daughters. His Daughters were angels in human form, ebony skinned, tall and svelte. This girls looked as if they never visited something as dacadent as a toilet. All were schooling abroad, they were on vacation at that time. They seldom interacted.

The parish was a host to a lot of prominent people in Cross river state. Even the chairman of Akampa local government was a member, although not a consistent one. Beautifull girls flooded the church, it was usually the crux of conversation amongst youths in town

The sermon was soon over and a call was made for the prayer of the faithfuls. Sir Peter Ekpenyong joined the line at the last minute and when it was his turn he prayed for the youths.

He Straightened his crisp white shirt, craned his neck and stared out at the congregation about to speak. The whole church went silent and time seemed to freeze but not for Frank, Frank was long bored, all he could think of were how many visitors he had gotten in his blog.
Sir Peter prayed for all the youths in the church, then all the ones in Nigeria and went ahead to commit all in the world. He gave a brief description of children in somalia drinking from gutters and tires. He eased himself for a second and watched the agonised expression of his ardent listeners, then he asked in a low monotone
"Youths now tell me how God has been unfair to you, tell me how hard your life is". The whole church went quiet. He captured the realities in northern Nigeria, iraq, libya, egypt and prayed that God should touch the government to do something for the youths of the country and if they blatantly refused to do so, he should unleash his wrath. Suddenly all the politicians lowered their faces and studied their shoes as if it was the most interesting objects they had ever seen. Frank's dad ended by saying "...afterall equality is not only treating equals equally but also treating unequals unequally". Faces contorted in confusion. He loved to confuse at the end of his talks and prayers, keep them wondering. "We pray thee through Christ our lord". He said and everybody chorused "Lord hear our prayers". He had done it again. Sir Peter had spoken. He was smooth as silk.

In the corner Frank could see Father Glassbottom wipe the tears of his dilated, pale yellow eyes. Such devotion, such love for God. Frank feared that one day Father Edwards might do something drastic Like jump off his 3 story balcony and blame it on the church's desecration of the eucharist.

Church was finally over and the congregation trooped out.
St. batholomeu was known for its brevity of mass, the service never lasted more than 1hour 40 minutes. That was one of the advantages of having white Priests. Time was always of the essence. Once, in response to a complaint by a parishoner of the shortness of the mass, Father Edwards replied "Methusela lived for 900 y-e-a-r-s" Stretching the syllable as much as he could. " And yet we hardly know much about him, not that he didn't play his part in fulfilling the scriptures, anyway. Then our lord Jesus christ lived for just 33 years and not only did he give us a new life and open the gate way to heaven, he became one of the most popular man on earth, even the calender of the world was counted after his departure. So what is time to you, my dear man". The issue of time was never raised again.

Outside the church Lilian stood hugging and talking to her boyfriend. If Peter knew his daughter had a boyfriend, she would hurriedly whisked her to a convent somewhere. Frank strolled towards the car, a sienna bus car. Sir Peter had the money to buy a Range Rover but yet he settled for a sienna, he called it humility. Frank thought it was just dumb.

Frank stayed in the car peering into his phone. "70 people, viewed my blog !...yeah mehn" he exclaimed. Just then someone passed by, Marina. Marina was a godess amongst women. She was young and delectable. No man could boast of not being overwhelmed at the sight of Marina. Some drooled at her physique. Frank swore he once caught Father Glassbottom stare down at her buttocks as she walked away and he exclaimed "Good lordie" he kissed his crucifix and said "St. Theresea pray for us" as he fled away.


Marina was the daughter of Mrs. Fiona Ebong, the commisioner of education. She schooled in the university of calabar, she was studying law. Marina was clad in a dazzling, knee short Jalamia gown, that looked like a chinese saree. The gown was made of polyurethane material, which made It glint off the sunlight as if it was braided with little tiny diamonds. Marina stood at 5ft 9 with the help of her transperant pencil heeled shoe, made of glass, a Cindrella type foot wear. It must have been the shoe that complimented her walk because she graced past the air like a model. Each step slow and sensous, calculated to please an on looker. Marina's skin was a creamy yellow, her long hair was thick, soft and unencumbered, swinging helplessly by the sides as she walked along. Her almond shaped eyes seemed to sparkle, her nose chiselled, her chicks bold and ruddy, the crimson lipstick highlighted the delicate curvature of her buoyant lips. Each stride Marina took looked so convinient and elastic. The gown on her seemd too tight for comfort, her bust puffed and her hips impressed on the gown. Marina was Frank's dream girl, hell, she was everybodies dream girl. Too bad she was solely into her studies, one would think with her outfit and appearance she was a party rocker, no. Marina had time for only school and church. Frank said Hi to her every now and then, held a conversation with her in school, her response were the same, cheerful replies and bright smiles. Frank would have felt special but that was how she replied everyone. When once you talked about relationship and love, she would sit you down and preach to you. If you insisted on your advance, she would ignore you as if you never existed.

"Hiii" She waved at Frank smiling as she passed, her smile revealing her well arranged snow white teeth. All Frank could do was wave back, no words came out, what was the need of saying anything, anyway.
After Sir Peter was done greeting the whole world, listening to people with problems, offering advice, consulting with his colleagues, He hopped into his Sienna, with his wife and kids. Just then Father Edwards passed by
"Sir Peter, your prayer was edifying, bravo my dear man, bravo"
"All thanks to God" peter replied.
"And the eucharist" Glassbottom added hastily.
"And the eucharist" Peter concored "your sermon was divine, I wish you went on for another hour". "Seriously?!" Frank thought in the back sit. Lilian was seriously punching her phone probably chating with her boyfriend. Mrs Caroline stayed smiling at the Priest offering one or two compliments.
"Well I might just add 5 more minutes next time. You know my message is simple. Receive the eucharist with respect and worship the lord in truth and spirit" Father Edwards shrugged with a smile.

Father Glassbottom was a pure blood, born in England, his accent was solely british but years of living in Calabar had made his words more comprehensible to the members. He even used Efik words once in a while, words like 'Mbok' -Please, 'Abasi'-God, 'Idem Abasi'-Body of christ translated also as the 'Eucharist'.


Father Glassbottom was a very tall man, gaunt in appearance and yellowish cream complexioned. He was so lean his fingers looked like sea weeds wavering in the tide anytime he flung them back and forth to emphasize a point. His skin often turned a pale red when he was agitated, his palm was as white as paper, sometimes it had the kind of colour produced when vanilla coloured ice-cream mixed with strawberry topping. Pinkish.
"My dear little people !...how do you do?" He waved at Frank and his sister. Frank beamed back and Lilian dropped her phone and answered with passion. Father Edwards was so very respected in the church, he was the closest to Jesus christ.


"Live, laugh, love and..." The priest said to them requesting an answer.
"And respect the eucharist, for it is the body of our lord Jesus christ" Frank and Lilian Chorused. Anyone who had attended St. Batholomeu for even once would know the response to the Fathers statement. Failure to give an adequate response might break the mans heart.

"Y-e-s" the father beamed. His face turning slightly pink. His appearance was very easy to catch. The priest had dark mat of hair on his head, light enough to expose a budding bald head. He had a slightly bulging forehead and an acquiline nose, so pointed it almost looked like a beak, his small eyes were decorated with giant eye brows and his lips were small and precise. Frank never got used to his appearance, as Father Edwards stood under the grazing sun and shed a few beads of sweat, as always Frank was afraid the priest skin would soon melt.


"God be with you all my dear people" with that Father glassbottom took his leave. So did Sir peter and his family.
Just another boring sunday Frank thought on their way home, not that Frank was a pagan or any of that sort, he just found service always so boring. Only once or twice had he earnestly enjoyed mass and that was when a visiting priest had presided over mass.

He remembered one Reverend Onyebuchi from Aba who preached and whiped the congregation in a hymn of glorious rendition, and everone sang along like humming birds, he cracked jokes every once in a while and the congregation never failed to explode into laughter. When he gave his sermon, it was filled with parables, stories and real societal problems. The priest could sing and he could talk, he could even dance. After the mass that day, everybody felt invigorated and new. Frank included. Priest Onyebuchi had been heard to go for futher studies in the united states.


Since then mass had been monotonous as usual, with Father Edwards shouting, crying and constantly bantering about the eucharist, not that the message was not a salient one, it was, but was that the message the members really needed, was the eucharist going to solve the boko-haram manace, was the eucharist going to raise the standard of living of the masses, was it going to end the incessant strike action, was the eucharist the answer to Nigeria's corruption, Frank thought the message was just too abstract.


Frank craved something different, he needed far more. He needed a mind blowing experience. His current life style was just too mediocre and boring.
For him it was just another sunday service.

Wow! You're a very good writer! Men see talent! How you take get patient write everything? Well I done read 3 posts! I'll continue from there later on! @Op ah respect you oh!

CHAPTER 2

Monday had soon arrived. This monday was no usual monday for Frank because it marked the beginning of a new semester in school. While Frank was in his fourth year, his sister Lilian was a 5th year medical student.. Frank was an economics student of the university of Calabar, he and his sister both attended the same school.

The weather was cold that morning. The roads of the school were tainted with little traces of morning dew. Few leaves decorated the roads. The skies above were as clear as a crystal, shinning a clear white and light blue colour. The cold February breeze snoozed and every student felt the chill, the tall whistling pines and frangipani trees wavered languidly as if in genuflection to the returning students.

Frank strolled into the main gate of the university of calabar, stopping for a moment to admire the gargantuan pearly gates of the institution. On the gate there was an inscription
'University of calabar, since 1974'.


Its like its was yesterday, Frank said to himself, he was recalling 4years ago, the first day he approached the school and set eyes on the gates, it was the biggest gate he ever saw.


The main gate is divided into two, the right gate on the extreme end, the left one on the other side. The right gate is the entrance, it leads you right down to the new library complex. The left gate is used as an exist from the complex, enroute there you have two gates, puny in contrast to the main gate, this gates lead you to the main camp.


Today was just the first day of resumption and the school was already in full attendance, student lurked at the bus stop, just few meters from the gate in wait of the bus.


"Franky boy" someone screamed. It was Remy Okoye, Frank's best friend and classmate. Frank was glad to see a familiar face.
"Oboy you just dey fresh up, looking good nigga". Frank Blushed.
Frank was not looking that outstanding, he just wore a short sleeve red and white checkered shirt, tucked in a cream chinos and a pair of black toms cover shoe. Sir Peter would never see his son dressed too casually. Frank had been used to dressing corporate.
Frank was not the most handsome boy around but he was cute, he was 22 years at the time. A tall, lean guy of 22, on a crew hair cut. He had an uplong face, his moutasche and goatee were well trimmed, then linked to his pruned side bons. This gave him a mature appearance. His small nose and petite red lips, enticed most females but his dimples were his greatest assets. Frank was chocolate in complexion.


"Remy martin baba!" Frank shrieked happily, hugging his friend.

"Franky boy, what's happening, I just returned from Lagos last night and decided to drop by to see what's happening in this school"

"I just came too, you know Sir and his wahala na, I had to check what's happening"

"Franky boy" Remy cheered his friend, glad to see him after 2 months of vacation "How far your chicks na?"

"Oboy calm down first, I know you don knack plenty chicks for that lagos, you want come laugh me. Da, have you heard anything about results?"

"See you, you wey chicks dey eye you up and down. Mehn I'v not heard o, na the oracle go talk when time come na".

"Men its not easy o,
The oracle in a unical students context referred to the result board.

"Let's see what's happening in new library First". The economics student often had lectures in the main camp, this is where the faculty was situated.

The first bus eluded the two, Remy jumped into the second bus just in the nick of time but seeing his friend had not entered he backed down. Finally the two bulldozed their way into the bus and rode to the new library complex. The vigors of school life.

The university of calabar is a simple layed out architectural design. It is purpotedly divided into two, the main camp and the new library. The library is actually a five story building hosting various libraries of the various departments. But the entire vicinity was dubbed the 'New library' so as to differentiate it from the main camp section. The place was called new library because there was a similar library in the main camp, which was now considered obsolete after the five story building was built.

Frank parolled around school meeting other friends and well wishers. Few lecturers were seen in their offices and around school, but no lecture was seen in session.
Frank and Remy left to main camp but it was as dry as it was in the new library complex.
The faculty of economics did not paste the first semester results yet, Frank was glad. Last semesters exams wouldn't be good, Frank knew. He had been heavy into blogging and script writing, these distracted him. During weeks to exams he read so hard, he fell ill. It was with great effort he wrote all his papers albeit deep rooted misgivings. Strangely his ailment seized after his last paper. His result was just a looming disaster, he just knew.

Frank and Remy came back to the new library and by paraventure they met Phidelia, Remy's girlfriend who was also their classmate. They all herded along, approaching their favourite sit out called the pepsi stand.
"Frank, frank, what's good my man". Diablo Iheanacho shouted from a distance, in his hand where various files and text books.

"Diabolical man " Frank screamed back. That was his nickname, people just felt Diabolical sounded a lot like Diablo, plus diablo was kinda weird. Diablo was the most active human being Frank ever came across, he was Frank's classmate. The first day they got admitted into the department of economics Diablo seemed to know everything about the school, including the offices of all the lecturers. He soon became course rep of most courses, hoisting files up and down the premises. Even with his chocked itinary Diablo managed to make A's and B's in his courses. Frank suspected he was on some crack or hard medication.

"What do you have for your boy" Diablo bellowed

"Nothing o, I just dey, anything happening, any lecture?"

"No man, not today maybe next week".
"Okay"

"Later na, I need to deliver these books". Frank wondered who the hell he was delivering the books to on the first day of resumption.
Diablo moved along. If Diablo said no lecture, then indeed there was no lecture. The boy was that truthworthy and competent, how he obtained this info's always baffled Frank.

Pepsi stand was just a big kiosk, with a small verandah and a fairly large outside.
The trio sat there discussing and sharing their holliday escapades. Remy and Phidelia had been dating since year 2, the two seemed to be in love. Although remy was a cheat albeit a smart one, somehow Phidelia had never caught him and she loved him dearly. Soon they were munching on their meat pie and gulping their drinks.
Frank tried to entertain them by doing a little magic trick he learnt on the internet. He sat opposite his two audience, wrapped a table cloth around his drink, placed a coin under the bottle, put the bottle on top of the coin and promised to make the coin vanish.

With the table cloth still on the bottle, he yanked it away taking it close to himself, leaving his audience disappointed with the very present coin still visible. He placed back the concealed bottle on the coin and stared at it as if there was something wrong and in a flash he spanked the bottle and the bottle vanished, leaving the table cloth in a crumpled heap and the coin still present.

Phidelia had a blank expression pasted on her face, she put her hand over mouth and laughed hard in amazement, then the blank expression returned. Remy stared intently at the vacant table cloth, as if he was about to solve calculus, trying to make sense of what he had just seen.

Frank watched the two fumbling for a rational explanation, he felt like a god, just then a bottle crinkled under the table. Busted !. The plan was to reveal the bottle much later. Remy's mouth gradually curved into a bright smile, he had figured it out.

The trick there was that, the coin was simply a misdrection to deviate the minds of his friends from the bottle he droped on his lap, when he yanked it away. Since the bottle had left an impression on the table cloth, his watchers didn't notice there was no bottle beneath the cloth the second time he placed it back on top of the coin. Phidelia was still in awe anyway, even Remy, although it took some numerous brain cells for him to understand the trick, Remy even performed the trick himself without the bottle falling.

Frank revelled in that split second of total amiss in the eyes of his friends. He romanced with the idea of having the ability to do something no human being could do or even explain.

Frank got drawn to the world of card tricks and magic when he came across the master illusionist and Tv sensation, Criss Angel. Watching the magician make a 5,455kg elephant disappear and a full human being suspend horizontally in mid air with no physical help, on the busy streets was just sheer flabbergasting.

The thought of performing such fit in the vicinity of unical or in the middle of a carnival crowd often sent goose pimples rolling his entire body.

After years of internet surfing, watching you tube videos, failed attempts at conjuring and futile meditations, he realised all magicians were nothing but trick artist. They were simply men with quick hands and gadgets. Even his dear Criss Angel was nothing but a professional trick star. They spent fortunes to acquire props like Anti-gravitional boots for levitations, near invisible twines for the illusion of psycho kinesis -Moving object with the mind- even stooges were situated and paid to act as if they had been earnestly affected by whatever magic act performed. After the heart breaking realisation, Frank gave up on being a magician for good. Now seeing his Friends deciphering his trick in just 2minutes was just sad. So much for magic, magic my ass. Frank thought.


"Nice one Mr magician, Franky honey now conjure 100,000 naira for me and make all the lecturers disappear". Francesca ran up and huddled onto Frank's laps, putting her arms rounds his neck.

Francesca was a girl in the physiology department, that was not only in love with Frank but also obsessed. Frank had slept with her the first day he asked her out, which he did just for the fun of it. Since then they had been dating, at least that's what Francesca thought.
How about we play magic, I take you home, hump you and you disappear, how about that. Frank retorted in his head. For Frank Francesca was just a booty call .

Not that the girl wasn't pretty, she was. Francesca was an ebony beauty. She was a tall, slim girl, adorned with fairly thick glasses. She had a mild case of myopia. Her bosoms were not big but it was moderate, Frank had seen it a million times. Francesca had an hour glass figure, configured into her lean frame. Francesca was pretty but Frank wanted more, he wanted...

"Rehi darling how do you do" Remy hailed his classmate.
Speak of the devil. Frank wanted Rehi.

"Remy martino, what's up darl". Rehi asked.

Rehi was not the prettiest girl, in the world but somehow Frank was drawn to her like an iron to a magnet. She had all he needed in a woman. The only problem is that Rehi always eluded him, he had asked her out several times for three years and she said No. Her excuse was "I don't like you in that way, I like you as a friend".
Each time she said that she went ahead to date a complete a.sshole.
Rehi hailed from the hills of Obanliku, in northern cross river, she was a girl of average height, a round smooth face with healthy chicks.
Her eyes were small and charming, frizzed with dark long eyelashes, her eye brows looked like it had been knitted into place, crocheting in a slant, like a tailored embroidery. They were So artistic, so beautiful, Frank often stared at her lips and got lost in the moment, Rehi hardly donned on coloured lipstick, she loved to wear sweet scented lip gloss and would always make it so wet, it glinted like a silver neon light. In Rehi's healthy frame laid two proud bosoms, which was often the butt of every guys stare. Her legs were unblemished, healthy and shapely. Her smooth skin, took a groundnut brown colour. Unblemished and shiny. Her humility was a turn on for Frank.

"Frank Edoho" Rehi called out to Frank smiling, she always teased him that he looked like the who wants to be a millionaire game show host. "I missed you" Rehi walked up to Frank and put her soft arms round his chicks and pinched.

This she did under Fransissca's envious leer. Frank Flushed for seconds. It was with a certain cordiality she often spoke to Frank, it was in an informal but personal way, it was as if they shared something far more deeper than friendship, her touch felt confidential, her words, dear, to Frank it was as if she never talked to another guy that way, well mayb Frank imagined it all.

With all the female attention on Frank, he was far from contented. What use was all that if Frank could not have the girl he truly loved and admired.
Rehi loved to dye her hair wine red, that was her idiosyncrasy. Today her red hair was rolled into a pony tail. She was clad in a simple white tank top, a three quarter jean and a pair of pink open toe, slippers.

A colossal maroon toyota hyundai truck cleared just meters from the tuck shop and Rehi rushed to meet her boyfriend. Edodi. Edodi aka totman a toti was a fourth year student of accounting. He was a tall muscular hunk, who felt he was the president of the whole world, his dad owned and supervised a branch of panasonic electronics in town. Edodi was heavy into S.U.G politics. No wonder he felt like a god. He pretended not to even notice Frank and his cohorts. A real royal a.ssshole.

"Baby let's go to my house, am bored here" Francissca whispered into Franks ear, bitting his earlobe and tickling the crevice of his ear with the tip of her tongue. Francissca was like that. Her sex drive was always in full gear.
Rehi's sudden flight and catancorous boyfriend had dampened his mood but it only took a girl like Francissca to turn him on.
"Let's go na" Francisca sliped her hand into Franks shirt and pinched his nipple, electricity sparked through Frank's body. Remy and his girl saw this and giggled. They also were engaged in soft smooches.

Remy and Phidelia left school first, followed by Frank and his Hot mate.
On their way out Frank was stopped by Mr Eremi. He was the econometrics lecturer. Econometrics was the last paper Frank had took before exams came to a close. He recalled being so ill on that day, he dosed off in the hall at intervals. Now Mr Eremi stopped Frank on his way out, his forehead twisted and his eye brows furrowed. Frank searched for a form of human relation in the man's eye but he saw non.

"Young man, there is something I would like to discuss with you, it concerns my course"
Damn!. It has happened. I have failed econometrics. Frank concluded within

"What is it Sir, I mean...did...I...what is the problem Sir?" Frank stuttered, messing up his sentence.
The lecturer just ignored the question.

"See me tommorow in my office by noon". With that Mr. Eremi marched away.

Mr Eremi was always the harbinger of sorrow, the man never smiled or socialised, he was a saddist. Little wonder why his course was the most difficult among others.
The students had come up with a coinage.
'The fear of econometrics is the begining of wisdom'.

Frank was disturbed, if the brightest students carried over the course last semester how much more him, and in that frail condition. Frank feared he probably scored 0 over 70 in the exams.

"Baby let's go, you'l see him tomorrow" Francesca moaned. Frank loved that sound, her moans, begging, crying, scratching.
Frank thought sexx was also a form of magic and Damn Franssesca was one hell of a magician, the things her mouth could do, only hell knows.

Frank pushed his encounter with Eremi to the back of his mind. Tommorow he would see him, that could wait. Meanwhile...
Frank and Franssesca literarilly ran home. There was a magic show to be performed and the stage was a comfy 8 spring mattress, as for the security props, well, they might just perform unguarded, after all magic was generally a risky business.

U ar good. I wonder why comments arnt pourin in yet. Dis is a master piece..... Pls b steady wit updates. Am following

You r d*pe.

Diablo means devil. Dat friend of his must b diabolic

CHAPTER 3

The very next day Frank Ekpenyong was at the door step of his lecturer, braced up for the bomb shell. He envisaged all sort of scenarios. Images careened in his mind. Frank imagined the furrowed brows of his lecturer, his bogus black lips, his humourless face and ever bland expression. You have failed my course ! Useless boy. Mr Eremi's Voice thundered inside his head.

At least I'll live, Its not like I'll die after now. Frank consoled himself.


Frank had flunked Econometrics in his first semester. The course apart from being complex and difficult, was very voluminous.

A month to exam period, Frank had read deep into the course, spending countless hours striving to understand its basic concept. When the question papers arrived, it was as if the questions were written in egyptian hirogliphics. The numbers and symbols on the paper were totally obscure to Frank. The result of that, was an F, not only for Frank but more than half of the class. Funnily Diablo made a B. How Diablo scored so high, no one knew.
Now another F would only worsen the situation, In addition to another F in statistics the previous semester. Frank never attempted to calculate his cumulative grade point average, he feared it would cause him to weep. So he just left it in good faith.


After the fourth knock, Frank was convinced Mr Eremi was not present in his office.

Most of the IPPA lecture rooms were either locked or scantily occupied, so Frank headed out of school. On his way out he called his Friend, Remy, sadly Remy's number was switched off. None of his classmates were in sight. Frank walked somberly towards the maingate, home was his next stop. Just then someone put her hands round his waist and kissed his neck. It was Francissca.

Her honey scent perfume betrayed her incognito. Frank identified that perfume anywhere, anytime, it had come to say. He often perceived the scent first hand, as he kissed and sniffed the fresh scent on the soulfull and soft skin of Francesca. The wafting aroma was often accompanied with scratches, watery lips and moans.
"Hey baby, where are you going without me", Francesca inquired softly.
For Frank, he had no girl friend. The only girl he had loved and admired since his year one, saw him as a casual friend and nothing more.

Though Francesca was almost as pretty as Rehi, Frank just didn't feel love towards the girl. Then again she was excellent company. Francesca was funny, conversative, very caring and very adventurous in bed, 'wild' would best describe her sexual proclivity. So it was Francesca or nothing. Half bread is in fact better than non.

How Francesca always emerged just in the nick of time always amazed him. Now as they strolled towards her apartment, with her hand entwined in his, all Frank could think of were the high pitched moans, sweat and writhing bodies. Just like the last time.

...................

After hours of steamy sessions at Franssica's self contained apartment, it was 8pm in the evening and Frank headed home.


Home at night was like a lit up park. Frank resided in the government residential area of Federal housing. Most streets around the vicinity were tarred. Electricity and water was very constant. This was one of the benefits of having a well paid doctor as a father. Although Frank believed his condition of living would have been much more comfortable but for his fathers excessive modesty.


Sir Peter Ekpenyoung's home was guarded with two large red gates, that were shaped like big aluminuim feathers.
The small compound was well illuminated. Two Flourescent lamps shone, one for each cornice of the concrete pillar ensconced to the edge of the gate.

On coming into the compound, the frontage of the house faced the east, leaving guest impressed with the hedge of colourful flowers by the side of the house. It was as if the house posed for its visitors. With a large garage occupying half of the compound and a minuscule quarters for exercise purposes, Frank's home was appealing and convenient.

"My mother, my own mother can't stay with us?!"

"Your mother is a nuisance, yes I'v said it !".

"...and you are a fool and a cheat"

"What did you call me?..."

These were the vituperations Frank heard as he entered into the protective gates into the verandah. His room was situated at the far corner of the verandah, he could have easily slipped into his room but the altercation between his dad and mum kept him in place. He had never heard his mum talk back to his dad in such abusive tone. And 'a cheat'. What did she mean by a cheat?

"Look at you, you think I don't know, you think I don't know the little girls you keep on f.ucking". Caroline shot out.

The word threw Frank aghast. He was shock to realise that the word came from his mother. He didn't even know, she knew what 'f.uck' meant.

"You are sick, you need some cranial check up"

"You are the one that is sick, your sicker than a common mad man"

"Sorry to suprise you but sicker is not even a word". Peter replied with heavy sarcasm.

"When last did you make love to me, when last did you take me out, look at your son, he is so afraid of you because you are just a tyrant and a prude, your daughter has never even had a 3 minute conversation with you"

"Did you say Prude, congratulations you've learnt a new word, I didn't know your that bright". Again the sarcasm.

"Look at this iidiot, I studied political science and I made a 4.49 cumulative average, yes one point from a first class". Frank heard a thumping, Mrs. Caroline beat her chest with pride to emphasise her point. It sure made its mark because Peter said nothing in response.

"Next time when your about to open your dirty mouth and talk...don't ". Caroline lashed.

"Am done here, but hear this, don't you ever speak to me like this infront of my children !"

"Children, do you have children?".

For a moment Frank felt he was a about to realise Sir Peter Ekpenyong was not his birth father. Oh shit, can life get more worse, I don't know my real dad?. He pondered with a grin.

"You claim you have children yet you hardly act like a father, instead you talk and move around like a disciplinary robot". Oh okay, he is my father. Caroline was heaving now, her breath sounded laboured. Tears were seconds away.

"Get help woman, your not stable, am off to the clinic"

"Gooo, goooo, go and sleep with them with your tiny little dick, am sure you make them scream, scream in amusement ! ".

Frank was so overwhelmed by the revealing exchanges. He peeped through the crevice of the window's mosquito net just in time to see his fathers large hands in a flailed motion approaching his mothers face. Just when he taught he should dash into the parlour and intervene, Sir Peter stopped in motion. He was still a man of principle after all.

"Hit me, go ahead and hit me, useless man, useless...". Mrs Caroline voice chocked, as she busted into tears but the sobbing only lasted few seconds. Frank's mum was a strong woman.

Frank hurried into his room, just before Sir Peter Ekpenyoung dashed out of the verandah gate, opened the compound gate himself and screeched out of the compound, spewing gravel and dust.

Frank laid down on his bed, depressed and astonished at the just concluded altercation. He always felt his parents were just okay, no they never hugged, kissed, they occasionally held hands in church and talked but apart from that there was no other show of affection. As for sex, they never did, he was sure. Frank often toyed with the idea that he was a product of artificial insemination or test tube technology.

Their mechanical relationship was nothing strange to Young Frank, for him, with time couples just became less affectionate, after all they had so much more to worry about. The well being of the family, kids school fees, finances etc. Now Frank reliased his parents marriage was on the brink of a collapse. No wonder his mum often sang for long hours in the shower and was easily irritated. She was not happy.


Frank laid still, thinking about his porous life. He knew there was something missing in it, an absent link. Could it be Rehi, could it be love, but I have other girls, I have friends and hearty company. What is it?

The image of an abrasive and melancholic Mr Eremi revved through his mind once more. You have failed my course !.


But is my Father actually cheating?. Impossible !. Frank gave a mental shrug.


After some hours, Frank gradually slipped into dream land. Dreams, the surest sucour, the world of fantasy and unlimited possibilities.

CHAPTER 4

As Frank sat up on the bed, he stared at the dark skinned female form beside him. Francesca laid face down, sleeping and snoozing like a baby. It wasn't her fault, she asked for it, the human body could only handle a certain amount of stress.

It had been two days and Frank had been unable to meet with the Stoic Mr. Eremi. This only prolonged his bone weakening anxiety but each time Francissca was always there to make the pain all go away.

On this particular day, after learning from Diablo that Mr Eremi had travelled out of town for a burial, Frank headed out of school. Thinking about home, the fracas and the uneasy air now pervading the atmosphere, he decided to call Francesca instead. She was glad he called and in an hours time they were both at home.


As they entered into the cozzy apartment, Francesca threw her arms around Frank's neck and looked deep into his eye, Frank looked back into hers and he saw, Love, lust and happiness. He envied her, she knew exactly what she wanted, but Frank knew nothing, he wanted something but he didn't know what.

"Baby the sun has made your face so dark". Francissca said, running her finger from his face, down his chin.

"Franky, let's have a bath"

"Okay". Frank agreed

"Together, I mean".

Frank looked at her for a second and for a split moment he thought he was in love with her. Then in another moment, he knew he was'nt. He searched her eyes through her lenses and he saw a blank expression. That's how Francesca was when she said something explicit or was insinuating in that regard. She just maintained a naïve look. For Frank It was mischievously sexy.


While Frank wore a white short sleeve shirt with a caricature navy seal on each breast pocket, a blue jean and white ankara palms. Francesca wore a brown, flowing senegalese gown, held in place by two flimsy spagheti straps. At her shoulders Frank could see the transparent strap of her bra. It almost looked like the gown had double straps on each side.

"UnCloth". Francesca voiced with exactly the same ignorant look.


Frank was unbottoning his shirt, when Francesca turned her back towards him, motioning him to unzip her gown. He did that in one long downward swipe. Now his shirt and singlet was off and his belt was lying free.

Francesca uncuffed her gown sleeve and in what seemed like magic, her gown and her braizzere came falling to her ankle. Before Frank could drop his trousers to the floor, Francesca was standing before him in only the skin god gave her. Francesca's nude form was always a mystery to young Frank, he never really took it in. Each day her body got better and better and her curves more sensous and alluring.

Now Frank was unclad and the two youngsters stared at each other as if they were about to loose their virginity.
Francesca browsed Frank's entire physique, from his enchanting eyes, his small lips and shallow dimples to his bold chest decorated with a vertical mat of hair running from there, through his chisseled abs down to his nether region. Frank was not a model figure nevertheless he looked good and fit.
Francesca on the other hand glowed an incandescent brown, like simmering chocolate streaming into a mug, glinting in its motion. Her body was perfect, Frank realised, he never took time to explore her body with his eyes, now he did.


Francesca took off her lenses, placed it on an end table, fiddled with her ribbon till it came off and immediately, her dark hair came unteetered. She wisped it backwards with her both hands and Frank had a pic of what a real woman looks like. Her smooth face, her dark eyes rimmed with dark eye pencil. Her slender neck, waiting to be nibbled on. Francesca's oval bossoms were fresh and healthy, built with the accuracy and precision of an etagere figurine. Francissca defiled the status quo with her flat tommy and lush hips its symmetry curvy and sinewy.
Francesca kept her eyes on Frank's second man, as she smiled and bit her lips.

"Baby what next?" Frank asked, hot and restless with fiery anticipation.

"Just relax, have a good look at me".

It was at that moment Frank realised the main constant in life. Sex.

Nations warred because of this, men killed each other for sex, priest desecrated their vows, pastors perished, mariages collapsed as a result of one thing, Sex, whether it was directly or indirectly sex was always a constant.

Now he thought of his parents declining relationship.

At one time Frank thought of being a priest but he knew he wouldn't keep his vows not with so many women seeking his attention. Women are beautiful, he would always say to himself.
The carnal pull in the world was just too strong, it seemed to be forged from granite and alamantuim. Frank never believed there was any man out there that was capable of being wholly faithful, all he needed was the right woman, a woman like Francesca. No man, except his dad. Again his mum's allegations revved through his mind. Impossible.


Frank and Francissca had their eyes fixed on each other. Francissca stayed unmoved, not even shifting a muscle, the girl was a seductress, talented in the art of wooing. She did things Frank never understood but they had their effect, anyway. Francesca could seduce even the pope in a matter of minutes. She was god's gift to man or better still to Frank.
While men acted as the ultimate predators, there was a more crafty and bigger predator in the background, women.

Without warning, Francesca took a walk, approaching the bath room, leaving Frank to salivate at the sight of her dark plump derrerie.

"Let's go". She ordered him.

Frank had no choice but to move at the command of his mistress.
And that is where it begun. Wet bodies screaming and fullfilling their natural inclination. Then it proceeded to the bed. It continued for 10 hours till their bodies were numb and saturated with earth shaking orgasms.

Now Frank stayed on the side of the bed, staring at his lover, who was half covered with a blanket, the side of her breast, in view. Frank checked his watch, it was 10pm.

Frank's Blackberry phone rang.

"Hello, Diablo"

"Frankymetrics". Diablo liked to call Frank with that affix, whether it was because he failed econometrics first semester or not. It was just downright annoying. But Frank let it pass.

"Diabolical bobo, how far na, any better. I know when you call like this, matter dey. What's up"

"You'll have to load my phone after this oh, after all this service am giving you guys in that class, you people don't give me anything"

"Diablooo, how far na"

"Anyway, Mr Eremi is back, he came back some hours ago and his even looking for you". How the hell did he know?. Frank pondered.

"Serious, I'l see him first thing tomorrow morning"

"So how about my credit?"

"I'l send you a card when I get home"

"Correct man !, where you dey, Francissca house?. You still dey lash that babe abi?"

Frank looked at Francissca, who was now lying on her side, affording him a clear view of her front.

Damn right I am. He said in his mind

"Diablo leave me abeg, we go yan later"

"F.uck f.uck master"
Frank laughed hard at his friends statement.

"You no well at all. Later bro, thanks a lot for the info"

"No problem, anytime".


It was not up to a second when the phone rang again. This time it was Frank's mum.


"Hello mummy"

"Hey baby, what's happening, you have been out since morning, are you not coming back?"

"I had something to photocopy, from there I went to see Remy". Frank lied.

"That kind of photocopy sef, at past 10, you'v gone for your business and your telling me its photocopying, please come back to your fathers house jor".

Frank couldn't help but laugh out loud. Frank loved his mum to bits, he wondered what he would do without her. That was why anytime he saw her sad or cry, his heart was shattered. Mrs. Caroline was the first and only woman in his life. Now his heart was gladened by her call, at least she sounded happy and humorous. His mum was funny when she was happy. Frank would do anything to make her happy. He cared for her a lot, he was sure she never knew this much.

"Mummy I'l be back in 15 minutes". Frank responded between laughs.

"Baby stay the night, don't leave me alone, I need you around". Francesca pleaded, she had awoke during Frank's call.

"Frank I need to go, okay, mum wants me home".

"Tell them your doing all night reading"

"In the first week of the semester, they won't buy the idea".

"Please baby". Francesca pleaded almost sobbing. Rubbing her hands on Frank's chest and kissing him on his neck and shoulder.

Frank was tempted to stay, there was always an excuse to stay out.

Irrespective of Francesca's beseeching Frank stood up and dressed himself. His waist and legs felt wobbly and cramped but he managed to walk.

Francesca had now faced the opposite direction, lying on her side.

"Baby I'l see you tomorrow okay". Frank bent and kissed francissca on her bare back.

"If you must go, Just go, what's so hard for you to give an excuse to your parents and stay with me"

"Mum is calling, am so so sorry, I'l..."

"Just go !". Francissca cut him short.

He watched Francesca curled up in a foetus position, sad and lonely.
Frank felt bad but he had to go. If his mum wanted him home, he had to be home.

In exactly ten minutes, Frank was home. Sir Peter Ekpenyoung was still at the clinic. Frank opened his parlour door to behold his mother instead he saw someone else with her, someone who he had not seen in a long while. Sorry to say but this person was a pain in the bum as far as he could remember.

"Look at him he is all grown, look at his beards, young fine devil. Mr man how many girls have you gotten pregnant so far, tell me the truth". Mmayen said smiling, exposing her coloured teeth.
Frank managed a smile. She was fun after all, a real drama queen.

"Don't stand there and smile come and give your grand mma a hug. Come here jor". Madam Mmayen Eyamba urged him to come closer.

Mmayen Eyamba was the mother of Mrs. Caroline Ekpenyoung, She was Frank's grand mother. It was her coming that caused the fracas nights ago. Sir Peter Ekpenyoung just could not stand the woman.

She was a septugenarian who acted like a 25 year old , she was fair, smallish, cranky woman, who had the spirit and enthusiasm of a teenager.

Apart from her overbearing and talkative nature, Mmayen had one other problem, she was a litlle bit senile. The doctor called it Alzheimer's disease. Her mental instability manifested at intervals and when it did, it soon became too annoying and embarassing to be funny.

"Now that am here and we'v gotten over the tears and hugs, I need sharwarma and small stout"

"Mama ! You still drink alchohol at this stage, its not good for your condition. Haba". Carolined exclaimed.

"Mtchew, see my daughter if alchohol wants to kill me, so be it. That's not even the issue right now. The issue is when and how do I get my sharwama?"

"Mama let it be tomorrow".Carolined pleaded.

"Nooo, I want it now"

"The fast foods are locked it almost 11pm"

"My daughter, since you were young u'v always been lying, so how can I believe u'l get me the sharwama and stout tomorrow?"

"Mama, I promise".
Just then Sir Peter Ekpenyoung walked in.

"Ah, mama, welcome home, when did you arrive". Frank's dad put up an obviously fake smile.

"Don't mama me, Peter, is it until am sick that I'l be allowed to come and stay with you and my daughter, I know your not glad to see me, so don't mama me at all"

"Mama its not like that, you know". Sir Peter said between laughs. This time it looked a little genuine.

"Welcome my son, how is the clinic, I hope no one has died recently?".

"No mama, everything is fine, thank God. Mama please feel at home".
After greeting his wife and son, Sir peter eased into his room.

"Em, what of jay jay okocha, does he still play ball in our backyard?". Mmayen whispered, almost looking frightened.

Frank and his mother stared at each other in confusion.

"Mama, do you mean Okocha the footballer?"

"Yes na, which other jay jay, do you know, he is not living with us again?"

"Mama, jay jay okocha never lived in calabar and no he doesn't play ball in our backyard".

Mmayen stared at the ceiling for some seconds, as if deep in thought. Then she broke into a smile.
Frank's grandmma was having her little episodes and Frank and Caroline understood.

Frank himself just stood and stared. He smiled to himself. This was gonna be interesting.

*walks in with a broom,cleans off cobweb. Lumbers around,seeking Enitsua* Oh lord! Where has this guy gone to?

This is just awesome!!

This is a masterpiece, every word is woven with the thread of prowess and dexterity. I envy you bro, you just made my top three nl great writers.

Nkpume Iko: *walks in with a broom,cleans off cobweb. Lumbers around,seeking Enitsua* Oh lord! Where has this guy gone to?

Bro, na so my thread old reach, sotte u dey use broom sweep. Nawa o, no b like that na. I still dey write the story

Meklex: This is a masterpiece, every word is woven with the thread of prowess and dexterity. I envy you bro, you just made my top three nl great writers.

Thanx bro...am just a writer trying to improve my skill. Am glad u like my story

all i can say is wow!!!

The mercurial one of the Abagga hall of fame...waddup man.
Nice story u ve got here...hw abt dat love n dope story na?
I saw ur joint wt Davido...impressive too...ur doin wel. U no dull ds strike oo!!

Enitsua, na beg I dey beg u! I beseech thee by all that thou holdest dear in thine heart! Please come thee hither and finish this tale. Thou has gotten me hooked! I pray thee! I need an update, today! And I wish to meet thee in person some day, thou art capable of so much magic with thine pen.

Mighty Fortress: Enitsua, na beg I dey beg u! I beseech thee by all that thou holdest dear in thine heart! Please come thee hither and finish this tale. Thou has gotten me hooked! I pray thee! I need an update, today! And I wish to meet thee in person some day, thou art capable of so much magic with thine pen.

ur post made me smile. I say to you verily verily, today you will see an upd8 from me.

Enitsua: ur post made me smile. I say to you verily verily, today you will see an upd8 from me.

Mtcheew! For how many weeks now?
Been waiting for a post that would elicit a smile hun? Cmon update joor.
When i swept the web off your thread the other time, you came on to quizz me and i thought you were finally going to update.
Enitsua, na wa for you sha

U get mouth die enitsua keep it u

Enitsua: ur post made me smile. I say to you verily verily, today you will see an upd8 from me.

I beseech thee to make good thine promise, O thou beloveth Scribe of the gods!

CHAPTER 5

The alacrity with which, Sir Peter Ekpenyoung dressed up and left for his clinic early in the morning always baffled everyone. Some days he would be off to the clinic before 5am, other days he would leave before 6am. In times of emergency or a dicey surgery Sir Peter usually spent his whole day at the hospital. Mending deformities and saving lives was what he lived for. His family was second to his practise.
On this day, Frank woke up, after a long night of discordant dreams. Mr Eremi was back in town and it was time Frank knew his faith. The night was characterised by pillow tucking, turning and sighing. Frank woke up feeling ill, as if he hadn't slept at all. His eyes were red and hunch. He had a lot on his mind.
Frank hurried down his Corn flakes in the parlor, while sulking at his Grandma's loud singing.
Just when he was about to stand up, he saw the Criss angel mind freak reality show on television. Frank watched Criss angel, who was surrounded by camera men and by standers in broad day light, stood at the ceiling of a four story building and magically levitated to mid air, as he wriggled his hand and fingers,--His hands seemed to somehow control his movement--Then still in suspense, he turned around 360 degrees, his movement, mechanical and ghsotly, then he transcended beyond the ceiling and out into the air, with no phisical attachment whatsoever. Criss hovered 30 feet in the air like a hydrogen baloon, moving with an ethereal pace, approaching another ceiling, some distance away. The pedestrians beneath him fixed their gaze on him, some shouting, others running away frantically, a few of them crying at the unbelievable fit.
Frank would have joined in the euphoria seeing a man move in the air, he would have, if he had not watched that same video a thousand times. After months of internet browsing, Frank had learnt that Criss had been moving on a very thin fibrous twine, invisible to an innocent spectator, a twine which was attached to him and fastened to a hidden crane, the crane maned by a professional had taken him to and fro.
Magic is a whole lot of trash, Frank whispered to himself.

Then again he wished he had such powers, with it he would make his cumulative scores in school escalate, make Francissca disappear, gain rehis's admiration and undying love, make his mum and dad happy...if magic was real, he would make himself rich and famous. Too bad it itsn't, not now not ever, the only magic I can do right now, is to be in Eremi's office before 8am. Frank said to himself. Frank checked his watch it was 7:40. Frank had to meet Mr Eremi before 8am, after 8, he was either out of the office or his attention was divided with his various other responsibilities.

............

"Good day sir". Frank said, genuflecting briefly, immediately realising how unecessary that was.

"Good day sir". Frank said again but Mr Eremi acted as if no one was there, he said nothing.
Frank assumed he responded under his breath, so he attempted to sit.

"Did I at any point order you to sit down". Mr Eremi blurted, with venom in his eyes, his eye brows twisted, his black lips buckled.

"No sir, am sorry sir". Frank kept standing, this time his two hands buckled beside him, like a soldier. He was prepared to stand there till when ever his lecturer decided to address him.
Mr. Eremi stared at him for a second, his fat chicks looking pale, his rough face ugly as a coyote, then a second later he returned to his work, his expression relaxing, receding to its previous expressionless visage. Frank stood there dumbfounded but patient.

"How was my exams last semester?". Mr. Eremi asked shortly, still engrossed in whatever he was writing.
"Sir me, em, it was cool, I mean okay, it was okay sir". Frank responded, swallowing a large ball of spit at the end of his sentence.

Just tell me that I have failed and that I am an unserious human being, let's get this over with, Frank retorted to himself.

"So do you think you deserve to pass?". Mr Eremi kept his pen on his pad and held up his chin with his both hands. Staring up at Frank.

"Y-Y-Ye-Yes, Yes sir I deserve to pass". Frank said with zero conviction, his eyes looked down to his shoes. He always remembered his Father saying "My boy if you win, do it with honour, if you have to fail, then fail honourably, a man without his honour is nothing".
He had just disappointed his father by saying he deserved to pass.

"I see". Mr Eremi said, Picking up his pen, once again.

At that moment, Frank wanted to fall to his knees and beg for pardon, he wanted to tell His lecturer that though he was not well versed in his course, he had tried his best irrespective of his illness at that time. Frank wished he could say something so chivalrous in nature, so soothing and touching that Mr. Eremi would drop his biro, stand up, embrace him and weep, then give him an A1 after that. The words won't just come out.

"Sir, did I fail?". Frank asked, suprised at the firmness of his voice.
He expected Eremi to stand up and walk him out of his office for asking such a direct question and being so bold while doing that, suprisingly he didn't.

"Young man your class-mates dissapointed me, they insulted me with their answers...". Mr Eremi dropped his biro again and redressed his chair a feet backwards, making a screeching sound, then he cocked his right leg on the other.

"Econometrics is statistics combined with further maths". Mr eremi brushed his thumb across his nose as he continued.

"As an economics students, you people should be good at further maths and statistics, am sure your various lecturers have drilled you on this two courses. Me am just an intermediary. In fact anyone who passed jamb on his merit should not have problem with those two". He continued.

"Forget about law, medicine and all those other cheap courses, economics is a tough course, a hard nut to crack but when you settle down to study it, it becomes your second nature..".
Frank just stood there nodding at each sentence, wondering where all the talk would end up.

"I am proud and elated to be an economist...I..." Eremi stuttered between his sentence as if contemplating if to continue or not.

"I always wanted to be a lawyer, yes I did, I wrote for it twice but they wouldn't choose me". Eremi stopped for a second.

"Idiots !". He blurted, his face suddenly contorted into a scowl, his expression ridden with deep rooted pain, then as always he relaxed, back to his indifferent deamenour as if to say 'well shit happens'.

At this point Frank was fatigued with anticipation, he had come to the office to Know his stand on the course not to hear about Mr Eremi's unfullfilled life history.

"Young man you have not failed".
On hearing this, it was as if a bucket of iced water was donned on young Frank.

"You look like a smart lad, am sure you scaled through". What? Your sure? Mr. man are you guessing here or are you assuring me that I have passed?

Frank's anticipation was soon turning into frustration.
Mr. Eremi handed to him a score sheet.
Frank browsed through it, his heart pounding like a fat pistol in a tiny mortar.
The turn out was impressive. Diablo made an A, Remy, Frank's best friend scaled through with a C, phidelia, Remy's girl friend made a B, the score sheet was decorated with A's, B's, C's & few E's, there was no F in sight. There was only one problem, Frank's name was not on the list.


"What did you score, boy?"

"Please sir I can't find my name here"

"Your name is not on the list?"

"Yes sir"

Then I have not yet entered your scores.
Frank was puzzled at this.

"Don't be disturbed, there is no problem. In fact this is one of the reasons I called you here".
Frank kept his eyes on his lecturer as he spoke.

"I called you because you look like a quiet and respectable young man, so what I will need you to do is to attach your class mates class admit cards to their question papers"

"Okayy, sir"

"Do you understand?"

"Yes sir"

"Can you do that?"

"Yes sir"

"Good, I'v already done half of the class, so your going to do the other half."

"Okay"

"As you can see the score sheet is looking good. I had to go out of my way to add scores. So tomorrow you people won't say, Mr Eremi was the most wicked man earth"

Frank felt a pang of relief course through his body. The way things were going, he was going to pass. This man is not so wicked afterall.

"Your a good man sir"

Mr Eremi's mouth curved into a crooked smile. He even chuckled, a sound similar to the gurgling of a boiling kettle. Everyone loves a compliment.

"I have an appointment at the moment, am going to leave you to sort things out. I hope I can trust you with my belongings"

"Absolutely sir"

"Good"

"What's that your name again?"

"Frank"

"Fair enough"
All the while other students were standing at the door waiting to have audience with the lecturer.
With that Mr. Eremi, together with a host of student vacated the office. The retreating students stared at Frank with jelousy and Frank felt untop of the world. His euphoria was however shortlived beacuse he had work to do.

.......................................

Thanks for the update, how regular do they come, sir?

Enitsua!!! Dost thou dare to make thine followers sore vexed? Without explanations??
Lift up thine eyes and behold.. See a certain young scribe named R******** hast taken the hearts of many with his beautiful story.. A supernatural/ fantasy masterpiece of a thriller! Arise from thine slumber and write!!!

Mighty Fortress: Enitsua!!! Dost thou dare to make thine followers sore vexed? Without explanations??
Lift up thine eyes and behold.. See a certain young scribe named R******** hast taken the hearts of many with his beautiful story.. A supernatural/ fantasy masterpiece of a thriller! Arise from thine slumber and write!!!

lol

"Are you done my boy?".
Mr Eremi came back hours later, just when Frank was attending to the very last question paper. Now he was through. Frank did come across his paper eventually albeit gloom. He made a miserable 38 percent. That was an F, but with Mr Eremi's proposed additional marks and Frank's goodwill rendered, Frank was certain he would pass, maybe even make a B. Econometrics done and dusted. He said to himself.

"Am done sir"
"Very good".

On his way out of school Frank filled his eyes with all the colourful students of unical. The university of calabar apart from its other pecularities is widely known for its fashion craze. Every unical students imbibes by the moto 'They will stare, make their stare worthwile'. So students try to look their best, mixing colours, wearing sycadellic hair do's and donning on the latest accesories. On an average day, the university of calabar is nothing short of a fashion show.
Frank let out a smile when he saw a slim guy on a blue skinny jean and a black body hug polo, inscribed with white prints, 'Fresh calabar boy', from the boys comely strides it was evident he felt like the cutest guy in the universe, his arm muscles looking as if they were made of chewing gums. Even with his bogus supra boots the boy seemed to move along with ease, to Frank it was like the boy was rolling on wheels.
Just when Frank was approaching the gate, he spoted a girl coming his way, her elastic and sinewy steps looked familiar. Frank didn't recognise her at first, because of the way her soft dark hair dove tailed on her face covering her left eye, then in an instant he did. It was Marina. Beautiful Marina, daughter of commissioner of education. The law student. Marina was clad in a black harris tweed skirt suit, with a white camisole covering her buoyant chest and black heeled louboutons to match. Marina and Frank engaged in small talk, then she invited him for christian union fellowship, which would be holding ending of the month. After that they parted ways.

Frank was still admiring various dress codes when he saw a crowd of people, a distance ahead of the main gate, in a corner. They seemed to be converging in a cricle, as if there was something in the middle that held utmost interest.

After struggling and sliding through the thick crowd, Frank saw a man in the middle, beside him was a large black festac bag filled to capacity with various materials. On the floor on his left was what seemed to be the skul of a dog, a thick rope and some leaves.
At first it was not clear what the man was up to but Frank soon had an idea.
The man in the middle, was not a Nigerian, Frank thought. He was a chocolate complexioned man of average height, with very long, thick, brown dreadlocks. He wore a Yellow T-shirt, which he covered with a big black jacket, his blue jeans trouser was equally oversized. On his side was a small brown napsack.

"Welcome man, your just in time to see wonders, what Jah's Angels have given to me". The man said smiling, looking straight at Frank.
The man's Accent was purely Jamaican, he couldn't be a Nigerian Frank concluded.
In a rush the man crouched down and ransacked his large bag then pulled out a deck of whot cards. Frank smiled in amazement, whot cards, seriously? Frank knew the man was probably a criminal trying to make some fast money, yet he watched with keen expectation.
The man displayed his cards to the viewing of everybody, shuffled the cards and displayed them once more, they were ordinary cards as far as Frank could tell.
The man seperated the deck into both hands, he paused, stared at the cards and threw them into the air. It all happened so fast but as he threw the cards in the air, they somehow transformed into various pigeons and scampered away, flying. The onlookers exclaimed in awe but Frank was not impressed, there was a rational explanation, he knew. The Jamaican man burst into hot laughter and stared at the birds till they flew far out of sight.

"God's beautiful creatures" the man said absent mindedly, in deep admiration.

Realising himself, the man crouched again and picked up his rope, he tied the rope into a knot and gave it to Frank to inspect, Frank was becoming uncomfortable because of the mans stares and attention. The man gave the rope to his other audience and they confirmed it was a real knot.
The jamaican put the knot over his neck and beckoned on two men to pull at his request. At his order they pulled but did it reluctantly, the knot contracted, chocking the Jamaican slightly. He loosened the knot and screamed at the two men to pull harder the next time, he assured them that he will be fine. He put it over his neck once again, this time the two men pulled with all their strength and might, just when everybody thought the man's neck was going to snap, the knot magically dissappeared and the rope straightened out.

Again Frank was not impressed, he had read about that same trick on the internet, some of the audience were not amazed either because some sighed, others made comments like
"Mr. Man you no go find better work do"

Again the man stared at Frank and Frank stared back at him, it was as if they were warring with their eyes.

"I see you are not impressed with my wonders, young one". The man said directing his eyes to Frank, then looked at the crowd.
At this point some of the onlookers began to disperse.

"John chapter 20 verse 29" The man mumured to himself but loud enough for Frank to hear

"Blessed are they...who have not seen, yet believe" he said aloud, smiling, then taking on a puzzled look.

At this point Frank was certain that the man infront of him was mentally unstable. Maybe a drug addict but the fact that he knew the bible was baffling.
Frank's fears was confirmed when the man crouched once more meddling through his bag, then brought out a cased bible, amazingly there was no bible inside the case, instead the case was filled with wraps of marijuana. The man hastily closed the case, putting it aside, as if it was not what he intended to reveal.

"So you want me to do something amazing man, something supernatural, something to make you believe" The man said casually as he continued.

"You know, like Criss Angel, or em...David blaine for example...Believe !" The man said again jokingly, dilating his eye balls to emphasise his point, wavering his fingers in the air in a mock scare, while he maintained his smile.

Frank thought it was hard to believe this man was insane, the man spoke with a certain fluency and charisma which was uncommon, he was quite handsome too with clear eyes, a broad nose and a small black mole at the corner of his mouth.

People started screaming again with disatisfaction,

"Comot there"
"Wetin you don do"
"Fake magician"
"Make something dissapear, okay make me dissapear". Someone shouted.

"The man na jobless idiot" someone added.

The Jamaican heard the last speaker but he just kept smiling and studing his audience impercitibly, like a tiger observing its prey.
Then finally he spoke aloud with vigour.

"I need a volunteer, someone bold, someone who wants to believe !"

Frank was familiar with the practice, magicians setting up stooges to act as innocent spectators, he suspected fowl play, yet he watched hoping for something spectacular.
A dare devil stepped out and went to the magician and his friend and colleagues cheered him on. The guy was a smallish man, dressed in a checkered ash colour shirt and faded blue jean.
The magician inquired about his name and the petite guy introduced himself as Stanley. The jamaican promised to return him unharmed and stanley agreed.
He put his right hand on stanley's forhead, as if holding it with his five fingers. He mumured something under his breadth and Stanley suddenly seemed to be loosing balance, his knees began swaying back and forth. The magician held stanley by his shoulder and he regained balance but now stanley's eyes were dead shut. Hypnosis, oh please Frank retorted.
Now the magician was whispering things to the volunteers ear and everybody kept their focus on the two, Frank included.

"Stanley man, you will heed only to my voice, anything I say, you will do, I promise you will not be harmed". The magician continued, his speech suave, his smile constant and comforting.

"You will address me as master and at the snap of my finger you will wake, and whatever you felt or saw you don know, no more, I am clear man?". The man asked, his jamaican accent so conspicous.

"Yes-master". Stanley slurred, sought of like a zombie.
Frank was finding the proceeding event so fake, he was convinced Stanley was an actor, a bad one at that.
The Magician looked up to the sky and raised his hands up as if waiting to catch something about to fall from above.
"Sit, Sit down inna lotus style".He spluttered
Stanley fell to the bare ground immediately, his palms on the floor, his legs curved into each other, just like a yoga practitioner.
The Jamaican took in his surrounding fully, looking into the eyes of each and every one, watching, thinking, contemplating. Time seemed to slow down. A man uttered something funny but nobody laughed, they all ignored him. The tension was amounting, it seemed to be gaining sentience by the second.
A pure water hulker was passing by, the Magician snaped his fingers at the hulker to come forward, immediately stanley opened his dull eyes, in an instance the man snapped again and stanley went back to sleep, or so it seemed. Strange.
The magician donned the pure water on stanley, soaking his clothing, now people were confused, reservation and inhibition oozed from their body language. They were uncertain, sill they watched.
With his two wet hands the man dabbed all over stanley's face, his throat, his temple, the nape of his neck, all over.
"This is not real, this is just an illusion". The man said, the syllables slipping out of his mouth so smoothly.
Why do all magicians say that, Frank wondered.
For reasons unknown, the magician started giggling, then laughing, then he let go of Stanley shaking his head as if in pity.
"Nut case" someone murmured and walked away.
More people left the scene, Frank too moved his left leg an inch, ready to vacate the area but something held him back, maybe curiousity, maybe boredom, maybe need.
The magicain returned to caressing his subject's moist neck, at this point all smiles and joviality vanished from his expression. More people left, except a few and also Friends of the subject but the magican seemed not to care, infact he seemed not to be aware of his surrounding anymore.

What happened next was something not even a professor of medical studies can explain.
In an instant, the jamaican wrenched stanley's neck but nothing happened, placing his hand on his jaw and the other on his forehead, again he hoisted Stanley head with more force this time and the entire structure detached from the body, colourless liquid regurgitated in a heavy fountain from the hollow cavity between the shoulders.
On seeing this, the crowd disintegrated into a frenzy, women, men, hulkers, students and every other person present took to their heels and ran for their dear lives, even those unaware of what happened joined in the race, many screamed "Jesus oh!!!", some raised their hands in the air as they fled. One fat lady raced on, her bosoms bouncing painfully. Blinded by the chaos a man ran into a moving car and was brushed aside by the vehicle, he was an inch away from being knocked down.
Stanley sat there headless, explelling more liquid at intervals, the magican was now holding the head in his hands, the eye balls wide and glaring, with a devilish smile spread across its face.
The jamaican watched the pandamonious crowd with suprising calm as if this sought of reaction was not new to him.
Frank was the only one in proximity to the spectacle, he had only ran a few meters away when he stopped, his heart pounding, his vision dreamy, his head light as if it was filled with cold air, still he was drawn to the sight, but one thing was for certain, he needed no body to tell him that what he just saw was REAL !. One moment he was staring at a human face another moment that persons entire head was evacuated, now it was smiling, was that possible And the liquid, shit !

The bold few were scattered at far distances still observing, others were already four miles away, cries and sobbing were heard from afar.

"He is dead oooo"

"He has killed my friend...cut...remove...see his head oooo".

As Morbid and inhumane as the sight was Frank wanted to go close and so he did by a meter or two. He had only one question tearing him up. HOW DID HE DO IT?

"How did I do it?" The man asked, loud enough for Frank to hear.
Frank was mystified, can he read minds?
Leave that place, you want to die !, someone screamed, but it fell on deaf ears, Frank wanted an answer.

"You wonder how an ordinary man like me can uproot anader man head and he still be breathing?" The jamaican asked expectantly.
Frank couldn't talk but his eyes answered Yes!

"Come close boy, ya know me not dangerous, ya know we the same"

"Is he still alive?" Frank managed to speak

"Of course...Ya don't believe me?"
Frank said nothing, he just stared at the amputated body.
Without a hint the man took the severed head and placed it on the gaping neck, swiveled it, left to right as if screwing it, he held it in place for a few seconds and behold the head interspersed with the body and once again became whole. After snapping his finger, stanley gained consciousness with a heave, he asked what had occurred and the magician said "Nothing". Stanley walked away confused, into the welcoming arms of his traumatised friends.

The magician came up to Frank.

"You believe now, man?"

"Magic is not real, magic is a trick" Frank spoke, his resolve and confidence resurfacing.

"A no trick, Jah and his angels trick no one, it all real man, like the birds of the air and water against flesh"

"Lies, your good at your art, like houdini, Criss angel, David blaine..."

"You interested in this I see...that what keep you awake at night, that what distract you from studies, you want to know, yes, you want to feel, you want to see things no one see". The man asked with keen interest.

Frank was startled, how did he know about my studies, how did he..., hmmm Psychology.

Frank was starting to believe there was an explanation to what he just saw, everything had an explanation. He began making various hypotheses mentally.

"You still don't believe, you wait for more great wonders, like Jews of Jesus time, even if the rich man come back from hell, you still no go believe"

"I will believe if I see fact, fact is truth"

"Fact?, what of Holy scriptures, you think is fiction, you need something to hold on to, Scriptures is faith, without it, your work is bomboclad"

The man continued, his reasoning impeccable.

"What subject you study in this school"

"Economics"

"Too bad, your desire for answers not in that type subject".

"I have to go now, nice trick, nice performance, nice actors" Frank said calmly about to leave, he had enough for one day, besides the magician diction was getting difficult to comprehend.

"I don't know what I tell you to make you believe...you believe if I tell you they come for me in exactly 40 seconds..." He laughed.

"What, who?"

The man came closer to Frank, too close for comfort, he continued.


"You believe if I tell you the girl your father sleeping with...What if I say your mother going to get a driver in one week and two days at her work office..." He laughed again.

Frank laughed too.

"My mother is not even working, she's never had a job... wait how did you know about my father?"

The jamaican ignored his response, he continued.
"I can tell you about your country, about the next civil war, the hour, minute, second your president will be shot, even the name of the gun". The Jamaican emphaisised the last word with pain in his eyes.

He came much closer, till there was no space between them as he said with a desperate expression.

"Will you believe if I told you what you will be doing when your grand mother dies at exactly 2am"

"Your sick". Frank said with disgust and started away but was held by rasta.

Frank had enough, he should have known better than to get close to a rasta man who yanks people's head off their body.

"You can make wonders happen, man, make magic, just like me or even better" The rasta said almost whispering.

"Let go of my arm"

"Know ye not that ye are Gods...If he didn't want this, he wouldn't give you the ability to know". The magician continued.

"The leprechaun searches for gold all his life, at the end he realises gold does not exist. Be carefull what you wish for because you may get it". The Rasta paused for a second, as if suddenly overwhelmed by sadness and pity,

"...But I see you already did, its too late"

"If you don't let go, I'l alert security" Frank said hautingly.

"Don't bother...40 seconds is over"

Before the magician completed his sentence, the Unical security truck showed up in a cloud of dust and smoke and the officers lunged out binding him with cuffs and squeezing him into the back sit.

The man's last words were "Mathew 7:7 !" Before the door was closed.

I LOVE YOUR STORY...This is nice, I guess the next update comes next year?

goose bumps............... Dis story mirrors my lyf so far,frank's quest for knowledge,disbelieve when he meets it....damn

Chuksemi: I LOVE YOUR STORY...This is nice, I guess the next update comes next year?

Lol

Interesting