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1985.... 1987.... 2014--[a Crime Story] - Literature - Nairaland

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1985.... 1987.... 2014--[a Crime Story] by D9ty7(m): 3:57pm On Feb 25, 2015
After the decision to take a few weeks break from Nairaland at the end of the blockburster story/movie written by d9ty7 which was completed in the month of January, the boy is back with a bang. Another blockburster by God's grace

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Re: 1985.... 1987.... 2014--[a Crime Story] by tushwitch(f): 4:00pm On Feb 25, 2015
alhamdulilahi!
Re: 1985.... 1987.... 2014--[a Crime Story] by D9ty7(m): 4:07pm On Feb 25, 2015
Copyright ©2015 by DURODOLA OLAWALE(D9ty7).
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be copied in part or in whole or be
reproduced in another format without a prior written approval from the author or the
admin of http://www.nairaland.com .
You can contact the author via the following medias;
E-mail: durodolad9ty7@gmail.com
Whatsapp: +2348166920449
Phone: +2348166920449 or +2348182021429
BBM: 560df375

____________________________________________

This story was originally written by Durodola Olawale(d9ty7) in 2014 and has been
posted on several online platforms. The e-book production is currently in progress.
This is a work of fiction, Names, characters, places(real) and incidents are products of
the author’s imagination or are used fictitously and are not to be construed as real. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead is
entirely coincidental.

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Re: 1985.... 1987.... 2014--[a Crime Story] by D9ty7(m): 4:49pm On Feb 25, 2015
PROLOGUE
--December 1985

The only sound that could be heard inside Captain Mark Anthony's house was the clattering sound of pots and that of other kitchen equipments.

Captain Mark Anthony, the interim commander of 82 division army barrack. Mrs Grace Mark Anthony, a thirty year old wife of Mark Anthony was the creator of those sounds as result of her cooking in the kitchen.

"Sisi." Grace, Mark Anthony's wife called.

A minute later, a seventeen year old girl came rushing into kitchen.

"Yes madam." Sisi said going on her knees as a sign of respect.

"Where are my children?" Grace asked.

"They are in the bathroom." Sisi replied.

"Good. Get dressed for them as fast as you can. Daddy would be dropping them off in school today and you know daddy hates sluggishness. So for your own good, don't waste time." In a flash, Sisi was out of the kitchen while Grace continued with her cooking.

"Good morning wifey." Mark Anthony dressed in his uniform greeted his wife as he entered the kitchen.

"Morning." Grace replied without looking at him.

"What's cooking?" He asked settling down on a stool beside the cabinet on which the stoves and other equipments stood.

"Why not wait until the food is served? Then you'll know what's inside this pot. And I want you out of my office, afterall you yourself claimed you have no business in the kitchen." Grace replied.

"Two offences comitted by Mrs Grace Mark Anthony. First, you kept a whole me in suspense and now you want me out of the kitchen, a bloody civillian like you." He replied and they both burst into laughter.

"What's this?" Grace asked bringing to an end the frenzy.

"What?" Her husband asked.

"You are bleeding." She informed, fear written all over her face.

"It will stop. I cut myself when I was shaving." He replied inching towards the pot which stood on the stove.

"Your uniform is soiled. Go and change it." Grace said as she shielded the pot away from his reach and playfully shoved him out of the kitchen.

Despite the happiness that runs in the family, there is still a bit of downs in the family. Grace as the wife is always afraid to look her husband in eyes, while Mark, a soldier who as a result of the training he had undergone have regard for nobody. He sees himself as the boss anywhere he finds himself, but after his rushed marriage with Grace six years ago, he made up his mind to at least respect his wife and his in-laws. Despite the fact that he tried, he still end up underdoing it because its not just in him to treat a woman like a treasure. He sees her like a fellow officer in the force, he spends less time at home, the majority of his days are spent in the office, at drinking joints and sometimes in hotels. He had no time for his family even though his sundays are set aside for his children. He had no idea of who is wife is, what she like, the things she dislikes, her strong point, her weak point. He knew nothing about her.

Fifteen minutes later
As it was the usual tradition in the family, everyone must be present during breakfast including Sisi, the maid. Except for the days when Mark spends the night in office or the days he had to leave hone before 6am, every other day, everybody eats together.

"Oh my God! Sisi, pass me the radio." Mark said to the maid who almost fainted at hearing her boss call her name.

She fearfully picked up the radio from the centre of the dinning table and passed it to him. Everyone knew what he wanted to do, the time is 6:30am and its time to listen to the AM new which Mark never missed. He carefully tuned the radio and got the station his was looking for.

"Major-General, Ben Maurice speaking to the press." The newscaster said and the next second, another person was speaking, probably, Ben Maurice.

"Its time to claim what is ours. Its time to stand on our own as a soveriegn Nation. Its time for Nigeria to break into two. While Nigeria retains her name, we from the east refuses to be indentified with other Nigerians. My people, I present to you, the independent Nation of the Igbos. The East Nigeria Republic." Major Ben Maurice began.

Mark exchanged looks with his son as if the four year old boy understood a thing that was being said.

"There will be resistance, the Nigerian government will call for war which we are ready for. We are tired of being exploited. The oil is ours, it generates income for you people. We have been skimmed out, nobody from the east is in the millitary council, we say no to cheating. East Nigeria is here to stay, Nigeria can go an die." And a loud applause broke out, followed by the East Nigeria Anthem.

******

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Re: 1985.... 1987.... 2014--[a Crime Story] by stuff46(m): 4:54pm On Feb 25, 2015
Sisi; reminds me of purple habiscus.

And a loud applause broke out, followed by the
Biafran Anthem.
******
abeg you for sing am na, my hear am. Durung that time them never born us.

Welcome back dee; I know you will surely deliver. Btw first to read and comment; it shows good sign.
Re: 1985.... 1987.... 2014--[a Crime Story] by Kaycee7(m): 5:10pm On Feb 25, 2015
Heard abt u, I have, Mr D9ty7. To read ur story, I have come. May d force b wit u.
Re: 1985.... 1987.... 2014--[a Crime Story] by Olarewajub: 5:14pm On Feb 25, 2015
Now following.
Re: 1985.... 1987.... 2014--[a Crime Story] by D9ty7(m): 5:24pm On Feb 25, 2015
--*--
Mark seemed to have lost his appetite the moment he heard the announcement made by the Commander of the Eastern region millitary barrack, Ben Maurice.

"Won't you finish up your food?" Grace asked her husband with a shaky voice.

The fear of war they say is the beginning of wisdom.

"Sisi, take the plate to the kitchen. I have lost my appetite." Mark said to the house maid who quickly came around, picked the filled plate and scurried into the kitchen.

"Don't tell me you lost your appetite because of the announcement you heard." Grace said trying to be strong.

"Woman, keep your questions. I hve no time for them..." He was saying when the landphone which stood on the shelf on which the television stood rang.

Mark hurriedly walked towards the phone and picked the call.

"Mark Anthony on the line." He said immediately he answered the call.

"Yes sir. I just finished listening to the morning broadcast." Mark replied.
He listened for a few seconds before speaking to whoever was at the other end of the line.

"Am on my way." Mark said and dropped the phone.

"What's going on?" Grace who by now was standing behind him asked.

"I need to be in the office now."

"Is it because of this announcement?" Grace asked with a surprised look on her face.

"If the Igbos want out of Nigeria, then so be it. Let them stay on their own, afterall, several countries of the world got divided too." Grace said.

"Its like, you don't understand." Mark said angrily and walked out of the living room. A minute later, he returned with his suitcase and car key.

Just then, sounds of gunshot were heard. Cries of babies rentend the air, sounds of men groaning in agony filled the air and the women were not left out too. Fear gripped Grace, even though she had no idea of what was going on in the other parts of the barracks, but from what she was hearing, she knew it has to be something bad.

Mark rushed towards the window, pushed aside the blind and looked towards the other houses. What he saw sent cold shivers down his spine. Men, women and children were being killed, the gentle ones were being shot, the stubborn ones were being slaughtered, and the notorious ones being set ablaze. From what he was seeing, the soldiers perpetrating these evil acts are Igbos while the families being killed were either Yoruba or the Hausas. His guesses were right after all when he saw his friend, Captain Bala being slaughtered and his wife Clara was spared.

Then, he knew what the whole scenario was all about.

He knew his family would be one of those to suffer because he was yoruba and same goes with his wife.

"Switch off the lights." He commanded his wife who quickly puts out the lamps, and the room was thrown into darkness.

"Once, I drive out now, I want you to go and hide, with Sisi and my children in the bathrrom. I will lock the door from outside." Mark began.

"Why?" Grace asked heading towards the window too, but Mark grabbed her hand.

"Do as I say. There is going to be war, just lay low and make no sound." He said and made for the door.

"Daddy, I want to join you." His son, Junior said."

Mark stopped at the door, then turned to face his to children, Junior, the first son, four years old and Eniola, the second daughter, two years old.

"Just pray for daddy. You'll join me one day." And with this, Mark slipped out of the house.

He wasn't surprised when he was allowed to drive past the roadblocks mounted by the Igbo soldiers, with everyone of them saluting him. Maybe they had another reason for killing his neighbours, but first, he had to be in office before any other thing.

--CHAPTER 1 COMES UP SHORTLY.

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Re: 1985.... 1987.... 2014--[a Crime Story] by D9ty7(m): 5:26pm On Feb 25, 2015
stuff46:
Sisi; reminds me of purple habiscus.

And a loud applause broke out, followed by the
Biafran Anthem.
******
abeg you for sing am na, my hear am. Durung that time them never born us.

Welcome back dee; I know you will surely deliver. Btw first to read and comment; it shows good sign.
And who told you sey I know the anthem? Dem never born me too, but I know there was an anthem then. Only Ojukwu can sing it for us.
Re: 1985.... 1987.... 2014--[a Crime Story] by D9ty7(m): 5:29pm On Feb 25, 2015
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be transmitted or reproduced either in digital or photocopy medium without a written approval from the author or the moderator of this section.
You can contact the author via; durodolad9ty7@gmail.com or durod9ty7@gmail.com. Also, +2348166920449 is the number to call or send you messages to.

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Re: 1985.... 1987.... 2014--[a Crime Story] by KingzPen(m): 8:21pm On Feb 25, 2015
Awesome Plot! I'm so interested in the story and how it unfolds...

Now, to my little suggestions:
1. Try showing more than telling... Make us see the events ourselves... Let's feel it... Let's hear the sound... Don't just tell the whole story, show it...

2. Use your dialogues properly... It's not compulsory that every persons on a scene must talk... Too many dialogues makes the story wordy and less active...

3. Look into your character development... From the first paragraph, you have introduced three characters, who are already much into the story... Take it character by character so that we your readers can bond with their person...

Those are my two kobo suggestions... And above all I respect your works...

Keep The Flag Flying Boss...

I remain ever loyal...

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