A child's death is often painful. Though I am not a parent nor have I lost any of my sibling but I can imagine the pain of losing a child. Eternal rest grant their young souls oh! Lord and let your perpetual light shine on them,



She refused to look at me. Her hands were cold and almost life less against mine. I can't-for the life of me- understand what I have done wrong. It wasn't my fault that he was no longer with us. It pained me to know that I would not longer see his handsome face or hear him giggle with happiness or see his beautiful mouth that had only two small sized tooth. The pain hurts and the sorrow is blinding but days have grown into weeks and weeks have turned to a month and finally the pain have turned into a blunt stud. The stud was slowing being replaced with a biting and almost sizzling pain. It was hitting against my rib cage with an unprecedented vengeance that threatening to snuff life out of my young body. And that painful bite was caused by her.
Her hair was wrapped in a black net and her face expressionless. She stared into the atmosphere in a lifeless gaze. It was as if no one else was in the room. Like magic her beauty have ebbed, physically though in my heart she was still as beautiful as the day I first saw her. That was two years ago. I was an intern at the university of ilorin teaching hospital under the department of radiography when we first met. Her father was the HOD of the department. We became fast friends but I was attracted to her in way that surpassed the physical. My life felt empty each day I didn't see or hear her voice. Her beauty and persona hunted my dream.
But now it was like we lived in two different worlds. She needn't say the word for I can hear it in every breath she takes, in every movement she makes and feel it in hands. She blames me for the death of her child; our child. Yes our child. The line between hers and mine is becoming blurry and can now easily tell the difference between ours, hers and mine. In her sorrow she had push me away, the deep melancholy of her soul has torn the veil of our love and I could hardly tell what or who she is now. I could almost hear her saying "if u haven't loved me he wouldn't have died" or "you are the cause after all you impregnated me". Hmmm I sighed deeply

I wasn't alone in the monotonous sighing. It was re echoed around the room. First her father who was sitting adjacent to her in a red sofa chair sighed. Then her mother sighed too. We all sat as if Ebube died last night instead of last month. Doctor my father in law had attempted to shake away the sorrow from his daughter, Christina her mother had also tried but it was all to no avail. Shola my wife refused to shed her cloth of sorrow.
Doctor had called me last night. He pleaded with me to come down to ilorin as soon as I could. so I had taken the first flight bound for kwara state. Usually I would have considered it a waste of precious money to fly considering the fact that the distance between Lagos and ilorin was not much and could be traveled by road at a cheaper prize. But the urgency in Doc's voice had wiped away my temperate attitude towards money coupled with the fact that shola my wife was still in kwara state. Have something happened to her" " have she succeeded in taking her life as I saw in her eye" these and many question ran through my head through out the night and as I entered the air plane.
Doc met me at the airport. He was a moderately conservative man, he neither over did or under did. A perfect average. His hair was graying around the edges and a funny patch of gray hair was forming in the middle of his head. An intelligent man whose approach to medicine was passionate and treated his family like they are an extension of himself. Doc had liked me at first, he was thrilled that I graduated second best in my class. But when he found out that I was messing around with his daughter his character changed over night.
Doc a yoruba muslim and his wife a roman catholic. He had left the option open for his children to decide what religion they wanted to adhere to. He placed them on long leash but maintained a firm grip on the leash. Shola was his last child and thus the apple of his heart. Touch shola; even if it is a pinch and the whole ground will shake. Though he was hurt when shola chose christainity over islam, but he soon forgived her. So u can imagined his reaction when he found out about shola's pregnancy. His anger would not have been so great if the pregnancy was for a yoruba boy but rather an igbo boy and a Christian for that matter. " An igbo boy whose parentage you know nothing about" he had thundered "what if he lives you and run back east or decides you are not good enough for him"
Luckily I was in the final weeks of my internship at the hospital. My parents back east though reluctant agreed when I told them of my intention to marry shola.

Please your comments about how u feel about the story so far. I'd appreciate

Hold on more is coming

They had no choice for I am an only child. My mother had given birth to me after eighteen years of marriage. They were both advanced in age and already making plans to arrange a marriage for me once I finished my NYSC. My father a professor in pharmacology whilst my mother was a professor in education. I graduated from the university at the age of twenty. Fresh right? I know. Shola too was a graduate in economics and was doing her one year NYSC. Doc had pulled all the string he could pull to make sure she was posted to kwara state. Like me, she graduated early from school. I'm six months other than her.
Doc had refused to attend our wedding which was neither elaborate or festive. But he later came staying only thirty minutes before leaving. His wife Christina was more forth coming and welcome- although I suspect that she had hoped her first daughter and last child had married from their tribe. Shola's four elder brother were the most receptive and welcoming.
I could remember with pains the look on shola's face the night Ebube was born. So calmed, beautiful and satisfied. I wanted to name him Michael but shola wanted an igbo name so we named him Chukwudiebube Michael jnr. Doc's anger was further stroked by the name. "How can you name him without consulting me. What kind of primitive and unpronounceable name is that" he had barked at me over the phone " swaggering fool" he spat over the phone. By now we had moved from kwara to lagos a move that also irked the good old doctor. He refused stubbornly to see the child nor would he call his name. He neither spoke to me nor did he shake my hands the few times we saw.

Ebube was a bundle of joy. He giggled with lively gusto at anything that amused him. His love for chicken-whether dead or alive, cooked or uncooked- was legendary. At four months while other babies were still sucking feverishly on their mothers breast, Ebube my son was already eating food made for adults. His screams were torrential almost deafening anytime we refused to feed him whatever we ate. Funny enough, his favorite meal was eba which shola feed him in tiny pieces. After eating he satisfied his thirst with milk from shola's breast and then he would sleep like an old man after a trip to the farm. You could not help but fall in love with him. Friends showered gifts on him for he was a talented performer knowing when to smile adorable and when to cry.
He easily won Doc over. Doc and christina had come to lagos for a convention. They stayed at a hotel in ikeja, with Doc refusing to see Ebube or his "swaggering fool of a father" as he often called me. One day, christina had stubbornly carried the child back to the hotel. Ignoring Doc and his threat of throwing Ebube out the window, she left them both in one room. How he did it I cannot tell but Christina said he saw Doc playing and laughing at my little boys antics. Slowly and surely a huge part of his heart was occupied by Ebube although he refused to call him Ebube or michael preferring instead to call him Shango my thunder boy- on account of Ebube's big stomach and vivacity. He frowned with anger if any other person used the name and Ebube replied with reluctance if anybody order than Doc called him Shango. He quelled with laughter, bouncing up and down on his napkin bottoms, his hands stretch out if he sees Doc or hears his voice . Thus the formed a close alliance that distance couldn't disrupt.
After I had deplained. Doc looked at me with a smile-the first since he heard of my affair with his daughter-, he shook my hands firmly.
"Enter the car"
Silence pervaded the air as we rode to his duplex house. Before now, Doc call my name with such energy, and force that I was catapulted into action even before he would speak, his voice was usually harsh and marked distinctively by irritation. But now he called my name with so much tenderness that stopped my heart beat for a fraction of a second.

Following...


d story is expressive, can't wait for more...

weldone

Cheriepet: Following...


d story is expressive, can't wait for more...

weldone

Thanks, more is coming

"Michael" he called as he parked his car in his compound " your wife is inside go and take her home"
I stared at him. Not knowing what to say should I thank him or should I plead with him for what exactly I didn't know. Shola had left our house two days after Ebube's death. Her mother had taken her away to a less familiar environment after she attempted to burn down our flat using Ebube's clothes as fuel. She screamed at me as I pulled her away. She scratched me with her manicure nails, she slapped and threatened, punched and bite. After a while she cooled down. I carried her to our bedroom and laid her on the bed. Kneeling on the floor and taking her hand, I said
"My love, do you think Ebube would be happy seeing you like this...." A resounding slap hit me with such force that I was deaf for a minute. Shola screamed at me
"I don't want to hear that name in this house again. I hate you and hate him. I hate both of you." Tears flowed down her checks as she cried. "He left me.... After I gave him so much love....he left... I want his clothes.. Everything burnt or out of this house"
She refused to hear any other thing I said or allow me to touch her. My son is dead and my wife acts as if I had leprosy, what can I possibly do?
After she came down to ilorin, she refused to answer my calls or reply my text. I was heartbroken.
Doc voice interrupted my voice " go inside take and her home and make her pregnant as soon as possible. Else she will go crazy and I will kill you" he said. He stepped out of the car. I followed suit

Of course it is my fault, I reasoned, If I hadn't pregnanted her than Ebube would not have been born and our lives would still be normal. Are you sure, a part of me was saying, at least you had a few months of happiness with him. But there was no point rationalizing, my brain knew he had died of pneumonia but my heart thought order wise.
Shola was sitting on the sofa in Doc's sitting room. She didn't look up when we entered instead she greeted me in a monotonous voice that stinged like a bee bite.
"How have u been" I asked affectionately
"Fine" she responded.
I sat down beside her holding the cold hands. At least she had allowed me to hold her, it was something. Doc's driver loaded her bag into the car. Christina and Doc hugging us good bye. As the car was speeding away from the compound, I saw Doc mouth what I thoght must be "remember what I said".

And I did. I never forgot. Though it was bumping at first but shola regained her fire even though it never burned with intensity like it once did. It helped a lot that shola finally cried. A silent bitter cry straight from the heart. She held me close to her shoulder and we mourned our dead son as a family. Sharing our pain as we shared our tears. Often we tease each other at our shabby attempt to make love for the first time after we came back together although we consciously avoid mentioning the reason that brought about it all. She teased me about my member that took hours to rise despite the fact that she was laying naked before me and I tease her about for laying their like a log of wood no response, or anything. But I still love her like I did in UITH.
Coincidentally our second child's birth date is a day after Ebube's death. But we try to look it over and forget. Even though it still hurts to remember and remember I shall for the rest of my life. I often Question God and ask mother nature why. What wrong did he commit that his young life would be cut short so soon. Why tease us with his presence when it wasn't a permanent stay. At times, I understand how Shola felt when she screamed that she hated him, I understand but I try to forget.
Like a stamp his chubby face is stamped to my brain and like a pin his memory is pin ever to my heart. Ebube my heavy bag of joy lives permanently in our hearts.

Bros Emeka am following

Emeka pls is d story finishing or is it starting?

stuck on u like glue!

Lucentbeauty:

Bros Emeka am following

Thanks dear

Cheriepet: Emeka pls is d story finishing or is it starting?

It is actually finished but its more like a series. Different stories but same theme. That is the first episode or series, am actually writing the second now

boomssey: stuck on u like glue!

What ... Has joined together let no man put asunder

Second story

The sky over head was heavy, thunder rumbled furiously and flashes of lightening filled the night sky. Doors was knocked against their frame with a deafening bang by the wind, pieces of loose sand was lifted by the wind entering the eyes and rendering people blind temporarily. Nylon bags and pieces of paper soared in the air propelled by the strong wind. People ran into their houses sheltering themselves from the bitter angst of the rain.
Stella carried her nine year old son on her back attempting to find shelter before the skies lets down its fury. His weight slowed down her pace but she refused to put him down. "After all its just by the corner" she thought. She was in the area visiting a relative. Her life was falling apart right before her eyes and she needed an ear to talk to else she die without the world knowing what killed her. Her heart was weighed down by the pain but she persisted. "It is all for my son not me. For him" she hissed into the wind
Her husband philip had abandoned them. He had chosen the sugar coated bed of Nwakaego her friend to the lovely home that she-stella- kept for him. It had all happened like a dream, almost like magic. Maybe it was her fault had she paid less attention to her son Victor maybe she would still have a husband. Or if she had given them equal attention then philip would still love her. She had embraced her role as a mother and left her role as a wife to be relegated.
Victor sneezed violently, he soon began to shake as the rain started falling in heavy slants. The streets were pitch black and empty. Occasionally light was shone on the street by a passing vehicle or torchlight.
"Nnam (my father)" stella called affectionately to her son "manage eh we will soon reach there and I'll buy a big biscuit. My fine boy. Bobo m"
Victor was far from handsome. His head was rather too big for a boy his age and he carried it as if it was too heavy for his neck. He neck was usually slanted and bent. When he walked he rolled his head from side to side as if he was sleep walking. His face was oblong and his cheek bone prominent making his eyes appear dark and almost sinister. He was as tall as a thirteen years old boy even though he was still nine. Despite his big head and height, victor was bullied at school. He often came home crying with his uniform stained. Stella would affectionately stuff his mouth with biscuit and sweets which she had bought for him. She sang his praise and called him pet names that quickly wiped the lad's tears. Underneath his ugly exterior was a heart of gold that relish in all things beautiful and good. His appetite was the stuff of legend for he ate with a reckless abandon.

Stella had married Philip in 1996. Already, philip had two children from another woman whom he wasn't married to. She neither courted philip nor fell in love with him. Her parents had taught her that her primary duty on earth was to get married, have children and take care of her husband. Wholeheartedly, she had accepted it all and believed that her parents were right. Her education was put on hold when marriage talks became serious between the handsome philip and her father. She was married to philip on the eve of her eighteenth birthday.
She set her eyes on having children for Philip. Children that would fill her lonely days for Philip insisted that she should stay at home. "Don't worry my dear, I can provide for the both of us" he had told her.
But the children never came. She waited and waited year in, year out. Philip turned violent and took out his frustration on her. He constantly abused her both physically and emotionally but she took it all with love." After all it is my earthly duty to be a wife no matter the trouble, besides I deserve the punishment. If only I can give him a child" she rationalized her problems to herself.
Philip flaunted his children from his mistress before her to prove to her that the problem was from her. That he was hale and healthy. Indeed her tears were many and her pain was endless. The taste of marriage had left a bitter and almost sour like taste in her mouth.
Even her matrimonial bed held no comfort. Philip bounced on her like rooster, he humiliated her and practically raped her. Her life was a living hell. She no handwork or business to call her own or a child that she could take care or a husband to love. Yet she never said a word not even to her mother. She lived in total obscurity preferring the private chambers of her hearts than the ears of another not even a friend. Consequently, she had no close friend.
Her prayers were answered when she discovered she was pregnant, she danced with joy and she sang with happiness. Philip's coldness towards her abetted. He treated her with a little more respect but deep within him he knew the pregnancy was bad news.
He was proven wrong when stella gave birth to a baby boy. A sickly baby boy whose head had more weight than his entire body. He instantly hated the child. As victor grew, his father transfered his violence to him. He hit victor at the slightest provocation and swore that his son will amount to no good. He was further irked by the attention and love which his wife showered on the "big headed monster" as he called his son.
To stella, victor was like the first ray of morning sun. She treated him like a prince. She neither saw nor took cognizance of his supposedly default. "Your brain is big, so big that God had to make your head bigger to accommodate it" she would tell her crying son whenever he complained about others teasing him about his head. To be honest, victor was not an intelligent student. It took him a long time to understand what others learned in a heartbeat but stella patiently tutored him with love.

Pls share your thoughts on what u think about my writings and my style, so that I'd knw where to improve n things am doing wrong

She protected her son from the angst of her husband. Often taking the beating for her dear son. Already she knew she would never have another child and so she was determined to protect this one that she had. She opened a small kiosk in front of her house where she sold roasted yam, plantain and corn. Victor proved to be of value often delivering food for their customers in their houses or shops. His long legs were swift and his huge lips was full of jokes.
He made jokes about everything. About his big head, his fathers beating, the fat customers who ate like men in the war front, anything at all victor will definitely have a joke to tell. You can't help but love him despite his ugliness. His frankness and honesty, his jovial nature and love for all things beautiful further endeared him to his sweet mother. Who soon discovered that her son had an aptitude for mathematics but had difficulties in verbal subject. He decided to develop it. He bought math books for him, despite her meager earning she hired a tutor for him. Life was good for a while then Philip struck.
Using a matchet, he destroyed stella's wooden kiosk and banned stella from working. "If you need money come to me. I am the man of the house. ME" he had rambled madly as he slashed down the wooden structure. Here was a man who had hardly been home for almost a month. A man who have never asked about the welfare of his son or wife instead he spent lavishly on his mistresses. There and then Stella decided that she had had enough and must speak out least she and her son die in silence.
"Mamiii" victor called. "Mammii"
"What is it" she snapped at him " I told you not to open your mouth so that sand or water won't enter"
"Ndo(sorry)" victor replied in a contrite voice. She felt bad for snapping."My slippers has fallen" he said in faltering igbo.
"Where"
"There" victor pointed behind in the dark.

"Why didn't you talk since" the rain was getting heavier and she knew that if they stayed under it for long, victor would fall ill again. "Stay here don't move oh" she said as she sat him down on the stairs of an empty shop. She covered him with a wrapper and instructed him not to leave the shade.
Leaving her nokia torch phone with him, stella set off in the dark to find the slipper. She searched around using the light from the lightening overhead. She soon found the slipper a little distance from the shop. a beam of light flashed on from behind her, the light was so weak that one could hardly tell what type of vehicle was approaching. But it was approaching with great speed. It splashed water as it sped down the untarred and unplanned road, going left and right without control.
Stella made way for the mad driver and his vehicle to pass. Almost falling into a ditch. The commercial bus which was painted yellow zoomed past her, spraying dirty water on her. The driver continued on his way without an apology
"Idiot" stella screamed at the disappearing car "foolish man" she added
Meanwhile, fear was fast creeping into victor's young mind. He saw creepy shadows on the wall and he heard scary sounds. He closed his eyes to avoid seeing them and he shone the torch light straight ahead. To keep himself company and also to scare his ghost away, he sang songs. His little voice pelting out songs sonorously. He made sure to stick to Christian songs after all "mammii said that God is stronger than the devil" he thought. But what was keeping his mother. The cold was much and he needed to leave here before the shadows on the wall attacked him. He squeezed himself together to ward off the cold. " I won't get sick again. I must show mammii that am now a big boy".
His thought was cut short by a shout. It was his mothers. instinctively he sprang to his feet. He ran into the street without looking, his whole mind was on going to his mother.
The bus hit him so hard that he lost focus of his surrounding. He soared in space for what seemed like an eternity but in truth, it was a few seconds. He crash landed on the wind screen of the bus. He was immediately flung into the bush by the bus which was veering right and left without control. His body was numb and his big head felt more heavier than before. A funny sensation tickled down his ears. The sensation felt funny almost like when mammii tickled his armpit. He laughed a ghostly laughter but his breath was trapped in his throat. The rain stopped abruptly and gentle breeze blew smoothly. It soothed him.

Stella walked angrily to where she had left her son. Her body was drench with muddy water. To make matters worse the rain had stopped and the muds were caking together on her skin and cloth. She coursed the useless driver. Frustration and pain seem to be laying in wait for her at every corner. Her problems were endless. What kind of life is this" she asked herself"what is the essence of my life. My womb is as dead as a desert, my husband is wicked to me and I have no business. Why me" she cried.
She groped her way in the darkness, the moon slowly began to appear. It illuminated the street a bit. Stella stopped in front of the shop, she couldn't find her son.
"Victor" she called. No reply. Again and again she called. She ran into the shop. Her wrapper was laying on the floor with her phone. The phone signaled that its battery was low but stella paid no heed. She ran into the street mad with fear. She called his name again. She scream his name yet no replied. People started coming out from their houses to see the source of the ruckus. Stella ran wide with fear, she clasped her hands in fear and prayed to God to bring her baby back. And that was when she heard it.

His voice singing. It was almost a whisper for he could hardly breath. The shadows were coming closer and closer. He needed to keep them at bay until mammii came but this time they song did not deter them. They surge forward. He soon ran out of songs to sing. So he decided to sing about the stars that have refused to shine tonight. He loved stars and often wished he was one of them so he could twinkle all night long. To him stars were always happy unlike the sun or moon that either shone with vengence or lazily. The song worked. The shadows stood at bay nodding as he sang about the stars. "They too must love the star" he thought innocently.
He didn't hear his mothers call or her cry. He just sang with all the breath he could muster.
Stella ran into the bush like a mad woman. Her son lay on a heap of dirt. His long legs were tangled together indicating that they were broken. His neck hung on one side carrying his monolithic head. Blood sipped out from his ear and he coughed out blood as he sang in a whisper. Slashes of wounds were all over his body; blood oozing from each of them. She ran to her son, placed his head on her lap and affectionately stroked his big head. Words failed her, nary a word could she say. They just lay their atop a heap of dirt. She knew he was dieing and she knew she would die with him.
"Mammii" victor whispered
"Nnam, my fine boy" she replied kissing his ear that blood seeped from
"I wasn't afraid when the shadows came. Am a big boy" he said in his faltering igbo
"I know u are. Biggest boy in town. But we must go home now, I don't want to go to Eke's house again. Let's go home. I will buy biscuit for you. When we reach home I will teach you how to speak igbo like a big boy" she laughed madly " your igbo sounds like a baby's own. I want you to be speaking igbo like a big man. Don't you want to" she asked. No reply
" I know you want to. Did I tell that I bought a maths game for you. That type that you said you liked. I wanted to surprise you with it tomorrow. Maybe I should have given it to you today but don't worry tomorrow......" And she rambled on.
Victor had already joined the stars he loved so much. They neighbors found her like that, still talking to her dead son.

Philip angrily paced up and down his cousin's living room. He would beat the living day light from that woman and her big headed monster son. She dared report him to Eke. He was as drunk as a palm wine tapper. His eyes red and bitter. He had drove like hell to get here after Eke called him.
His yellow commercial bus was parked in the middle of the street. " I will kill that woman" he said under his breath
Eke his cousin sat on a chair. He had tried to calm his cousin Philip. Who had burst into his flat like a mad man. Agitated and angry. His breath smiled like cesspit. But philip had pushed him away threaten to knock the wind out of him. No sensible man challanged philip. He was bulky like the stem of an iroko tree and his hands were as large as a tray. His face was beautiful almost feminine, his teeth shone brightly and were well carved.
Eke now regretted calling him. He only did so out of fear for Stella and Victor. She said they will be here by six and it was almost eight. Her line wasn't going through and the rain was falling like never before. He had prepared a guest room for them and cooked dinner but they still had not arrived.
Philip bellowed and swore. He threaten thunder, fire and brimstone. He sat on a chair to wait for his wife and son, to give them the beating of his life.
The blood on the wind screen of his car was drying. Some had been washed away but a small portion remained.

how can a man kill his own son and his instinct wouldn't tell him he did

Victor's death is touching n painful, bt i belief he found peace at the end

Philip is wicked

Emekus is doing great. keep up d gud work
n i will keep reading
gracias

;( I think a tear dropped,if I was his wife he will never forget my name as long as he breaths.

Great will be expecting more.

Cheriepet: how can a man kill his own son and his instinct wouldn't tell him he did

Victor's death is touching n painful, bt i belief he found peace at the end

Philip is wicked

Emekus is doing great. keep up d gud work
n i will keep reading
gracias

Yes he is wicked but u can't blame him alone. Stella wants to fix everything even a soured marriage. She refused to be her own man-in this case woman. Marriage isn't everything. Philip is a born fool, almost a never do well. But yet stella stuck to him. Society hinges itself on marriage, looking down on unmarried and single mothers. Which is quite on fair especially to woMen.

Promise to write more

Lucentbeauty: ;( I think a tear dropped,if I was his wife he will never forget my name as long as he breaths.

Great will be expecting more.

Had tears in my while writing it.
Thanks a lot for the encouragement.

[quote author=emeka94]
Yes he is wicked but u can't blame him alone. Stella wants to fix everything even a soured marriage. She refused to be her own man-in this case woman. Marriage isn't everything. Philip is a born fool, almost a never do well. But yet stella stuck to him. Society hinges itself on marriage, looking down on unmarried and single mothers. Which is quite on fair especially to woMen.


You're so on point Emeka, This story reveals the travails most women have passed through and yet do not want to speak up.
Still following you sha

Great write up from an inteluctually sound mind... Never knew NL was much more than news!!

GenWOJUOLA: Great write up from an inteluctually sound mind... Never knew NL was much more than news!!

Now you know

GenWOJUOLA: Great write up from an inteluctually sound mind... Never knew NL was much more than news!!

Thanks bro. Am inspired.

Now that second piece brought tears to my eyes.......nice work OP,following