Chapter One - IX

Hours, days, months passed and the boys still continued their nefarious lifestyles. They robbed in style. They betted on who would steal something more valuable. Stealing became a competitive vice between both lads. Hunger became a tale of the past; they were beginning to steal more than mere feeding money. They wanted to return to school and reside in a more comfortable apartment. They ate good foods and wore nice stolen clothes. Within a few months, the hunger-stricken thin Black was starting to recover lost flesh, and his dark skin shone with vitality. He was now a few inches taller and he looked more handsome than ever. This could have been how goodlooking he was before his father's incarceration and the terrible suffering that accompanied his demise. In the world of larceny, Black was gradually climbing his way to the top. Stealing was becoming an addiction—an unavoidable necessity. He was growing so much skilled that a slight bump was enough to take whatever valuables he needed from his prey. Even Basket himself marvelled at his friend's extraordinary gift. Black had grown to become such an expert that he believed he was beyond being caught. The insane confidence that usually spelled the doom of most criminals overtook him. He was no more afraid of being caught because he believed no one would ever be able to catch him. He felt like the world belonged to him and he could take anything from it as he wished. He even thought he was like the notorious Anini who had always been elluding the police; the only difference was that Anini was an older thief who robbed with guns and killed innocent civilians. Black decided he would never kill another person in his entire life. Rather than take a life, he would surrender. But he was sure that matters could never come to that. He was the elusive Black.

He didn't know how wrong he was.

It was around seven this particular saturday evening. He was returning from the field where he had gone to watch some older men play football. The sun had bade an adieu over an hour ago. As he walked home, he saw some people who lived in rented low-cost houses coming out to gather their clothes from the clotheslines outside. The weather seemed not only to be approaching dusk but also to welcome rainfall. Dark clouds had gathered in the sky to have a deluge meeting. Peter increased his stride as he walked home; the waters in the sky were threatening to burst loose. As he ran, he wondered if Basket would have been searching around for him. He could be—or he might be sleeping. His friend enjoyed sleeping than anything else. He could sleep in a tsunami. Black could feel light drizzle on his body; the rain was coming slowly. This was when an umbrella was mostly useful. But Black was not holding any umbrella. The sky was so dark now that the evening had turned to night. He could now barely see the lines on his palms. If he didn't want to be saturated with the iminent downpour, he would have to control his legs more. He was running like an athlete as the drizzle became a light rainfall. He ran into a new street. All these houses on both sides of the street were now locked and the blinds of the windows tightly drawn. Black himself could see silhouettes of families as they chatted and ran around within the houses. Black envied the families and he wondered if he would ever have such happy family. He strongly doubted it. Those kinds of families were not meant for people like him.

He was two streets away from his home when he spotted two boys under the veranda of a locked shop. It was hard to guess how old they were in the darkness, but the sounds of their voices shouldn't place them above fifteen years olds. Hearing the boys' discussions, Black could not help stopping his journey. Luckily for him, the boys did not notice his presence. He slowly crept close and listened to what they were saying.

"How much do you have with you?" One boy asked the other.

"I have five naira here." The other answered. The night lightened up for a moment at the insistence of lightning. This was later followed by the rumbling of thunder.

"How did you get it?"

"I stole it from my mother. She keeps her money under the pillow. It's very easy for me to take any amount from there. But I have to be very careful with the money I take so that she wouldd not suspect the missin money."

"You mean your mother would not suspect the missing five naira? Your mother must be very rich."

"I didn't take all the I've naira at once. I started by taking one naira today, fifty kobo tomorrow. If I took all the money at once, she would definitely suspect something amiss. It's just a matter of common sense." The boy paused and asked his partner, "How much did you bring?"

The other boy smiled proudly, "I brought more than you."

"How much?"

"Ten naira."

"Wow! How did you get that large sum? Since when have you been taking it? Two months ago?"

"I took it at once." Even in the darkness, Black could still see the proud smile plastered on the boy's face.

"You took a whole ten naira at once? That's amazing! How did you do it?"

"Have you forgotten that my father is a drunkard? He comes home everyday drinking like a fish. The wine bottle is his greatest work of art. Each time he comes home swimming in liqueur, he forgets about himself. Last night, I waited for him to sleep off, then I dipped my hand into his pocket and took out this ten naira." He fluorished the money with pride.

The other boy collected the money and joined it with his. He hels the fifteen naira in his hand and asked, "What do we do with it?"

Black was amused at the two boys who had just stolen their parents' money. These were terrible children; how could a child be so wicked to steal from those who gave birth to him and brought him up? That was wickedness. It was unfair. The boys should be grateful that they had parents in the first place. The boys' case was not unlike looking at a gift horse in the snout. Black decided that it wouldn't hurt to take the money from the boys. It would be a thief-take-from-thief scenario—a nemesis meeting a nemesis; Black was the nemesis of the nemesis' nemesis.

He suddenly sprang out of his hiding and grabbed the fifteen naira from the joyous boy. He didn't even wait to hear what they would do with the money. Certainly, the boys were ready to squander the money on either confectioneries or toys. Losing the money would not kill them but the boys went after Black as if the money was their lives.

"Thief! Thief!! Thief!!!" The two thieves sang after Peter.

The chants sounded sweet to Black's hearing as he ran. He wasn't worried about being caught because he knew that those boys would never catch up with him. He jumped over gutters and stagnant waters as he ran. The rain was now coming down with full force. He was soaked within seconds; water dripped from his eyebrows, ears and the tip of his nose. He could barely see where he was going but he knew the roads like the back of his hands. He jumped over fallen branches and ran onward. He thought the boys would have stopped chasing him by now because of the deluge, but both kids were not ready to relinquish their wealth to this bolting small brat.

Black felt them close behind him and ran faster. But something unexpected happened; he slipped and fell.


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Larry Sun can ghostwrite for you (novels, short stories, biographies, autobiographies, etc) at an affordable price. Contact him via email (larrysundynasty@gmail.com) or through +2349061754872. God bless you.

Mourin:
finally got here, what a nice story so far, more mb 2 ur data

u r planning to take over my spot ba

kingphilip:
u r planning to take over my spot ba

how

ohh damn!

Black is about to be caught.

Seems basket will come to the rescue!

*Chapter One - IX (Continued)*

The boys quickly caught up with him and pounded him blindly. The rain was still falling hard. Black tried to slip away from his attackers but they drew him back. They beat him without mercy. For a moment, Black thought he was going to be accorded a similar fate with the thief that was burnt months earlier. He was mollified at the unlikeliness of such thing occurring. He thanked his luck that rain was falling this time; the downpour would not allow any intended water to ignite. Then a scary thought occurred to him. What If the boys carried him to a place protected against the rain and set him ablaze? He prayed such wisdom would not be endowed on the cruel boys. But the beatings were getting out of hand. A punch had already sent a tooth down his throat. He coughed and spat out the bloody canine. One of the boys got a wet stick and struck Black on the head with it. His head split open and fresh blood gushed out. Another blow at the temple sent his head into the mud. Imprinting his face in the wet sand, fortunately quick thinking enough to close his eyes and his mouth before making the sharp impact. Raising his bloody face out of its concave image, snorting soluble sand out of his nostrils, blowing caked mud off his lips, and blinking the murky water from his eyes. The pains were becoming so excruciating that Black thought they were going to beat him to death. And truly, the boys were bent on beating him senseless; they intended to teach him a lesson that would be forever imprinted on his memory. Maybe after tonight, he would not attempt to steal from anyone else again. But, evidently, the boys didn't know Black—they didn't know that his thievery was pathological.

Black wished Basket would come for his rescue as the boys pounded and kicked him. But he knew that Basket would not come; he might be deeply asleep by now. He was beginning to lose consciousness. The money he had taken slipped off his hand and spread on the damp ground. But it appeared as if the boys didn't need the money anymore. They had found a scape goat in Black. They would beat him up until they were tired; and the boys would not be getting tired anytime soon.

Then at the time when Black believed that the beatings would not stop, he heard the sweetest voice of the moment, the voice he had been aching, hoping and praying to hear—the voice of Basket.

"Blackie! Blackie!! Blackie!!!"

Black initially thought he was hearing things that were not there; sounds that his head had only managed to conjure due to the extreme beatings inflicted on him. But he heard his name again in another three close successions.

"Basket!" He managed to scream out. As he did so, he felt another excruciating pain in his side. But he didn't mind the pain. Basket was here! "I'm here! Two nice stranger are dancing with me in the rain."

Basket followed the sound of the voice and came upon two boys beating up his friend. Filled with immediate rage, he flung away his umbrella and charged at the boys. Reaching them, he seized them one after the other by their heads and tossed them away as if they were pillows.

The boys flew in the air like kites and landed on either sides of the road. They were initially dazed at what had happened as they tried to determine the supernatural element that threw them like that. The boys, acting against cowardice, scrambled to their feet and rushed to attack their attacker but stopped in their tracks. One look at Basket's massive fists and enraged eyes was enough to cool any hasty temper they might have been nursing. Basket looked at Black lying on the floor; although the rain was already washing away the blood on Peter, Basket still knew that his friend was not in a good shape. The terrible boys had done an incredible job on him. His anger for the boys intensified. How dare they lay their filthy hands on his friend?

Basket grabbed one of the boys and sent him a hard punch, he could feel a bone crack under his knuckle as he administered the vicious blow. The boy cried out in pain. Before the other boy could think, Basket kicked his legs from under him. The second boy fell and hit his head on the slippery hard ground. Basket left the two boys writhing with pain and went to his friend. He bent over Black and called his name again. But to his surprise, Black groaned and smiled at him.

"What took you so long?"

The rain had stopped now and everywhere was strangely quiet.

"You didn't tell me you were going out. I searched everywhere for you. I came out here looking for you shortly after the rain started. I was afraid something terrible had happened to you."

"Of course not; as you can see, it is something pleasant that happened to me. The boys gave me a VIP treatment. Kindly thank them for me."

"I've already shown my gratitude for their kind hospitality."

Black groaned again. " I think the bastards broke my ribs, but I'll survive. I've experienced more terrible pains in the past."

Basket smiled at his friend; he knew how strong his friend's spirit was. That was one of the numerous qualities he admired in the small boy. Black was an extraordinary boy who lived beyond his pains, either physical or psychological.

Then suddenly, Basket felt a sharp pain as one of the boys hit him with a stick on the back. He gave a great roar of fury. Turning around, he grabbed the boy by the neck, and with a power beyond ordinary, his thick fingers began to squeeze, lifting the unfortunate boy off his feet. The boy clawed at the iron grip on his neck; every attempt to release himself was useless. Then Basket flung him away the second time. The boy crashed on the ground beside his friend, and this time he became limp; he might remain that way for a long time. The other boy, who was still conscious but visibly scared, looked up at the big guy who loomed over him. Basket's fist like a sledge hammer smashed down on the boy's upturned face. He, too, like his friend, embarked on an unconscious pilgrimage.

Trying to rub where he was hit, the irritated Basket returned to his friend. He still found him sitting on the wet ground, his clothes caked with mud and his face with blood.

Black watched his friend try to rub the back where his hands could not reach. He brought his hand to his mouth to cover any involuntary smile. He looked at Basket who was too irritated to find any humour in the situation. To Black, violence was an ill-wind that knew no good.

"What's funny?" Basket scowled. "Stop sitting there like a tired sardine and let's go home."

Black stood on his feet with effort. Basket cast a look at the boys he had rended unconscious and Black picked up the money that had fallen off his hand.

"What happened?" Basket asked, "Why were those boys beating you up?"

"The boys are thieves." Black replied.

"And we're saints?"

"Those boys stole from their parents and I stole from them." Black explained, "But I tripped on the slippery ground when I was running away."

"The great Blackie tripped? That's unbelievable!" Basket was amused. He cast another look at the sleeping boys and said, "So, I beat up two thieves?"

"It appears so. I hope you won't beat me up, too, or rather, beat yourself up. I would be gravely worried at the latter."

"Wow!" Basket was proud of himself. "It's nice to beat up thieves. One day, I will become a policeman."

Black stared at him curiously and asked, "Are you crazy?"

Basket stared back at his friend and smiled, "I was only joking."

Black would have laughed if he hadn't realised that his friend was not joking. He knew that Basket meant what he said.

THE END OF CHAPTER ONE


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Larry Sun can ghostwrite for you (novels, short stories, biographies, autobiographies, etc) at an affordable price. Contact him via email (larrysundynasty@gmail.com) or through +2349061754872. God bless you.

Wowwwwwwww!
Such a breath taking update. Thanks larry for the wonderful update

fantastic!!!!! ...basket the hulk

Wow, this is really cool...more power to ur elbow mr Larry

*Enters thread , spreads mat and sips her zobo* Larrysun I hail o

JeffreyJamez:
fantastic!!!!! ...basket the hulk

Larrysun where have you been?

Seen mama Repogirl? she's looking for you.

Wow!!! Beautiful

Larry!!!, i dnt knw wat to say........., i thought u wouldn't write in NL again cos of dose useless pple copying stories. i'm so happy to stumble on dis interesting story of urs, so many twists nd turns, it's really nice of u 4 nt forgetting us in NL. Just keep it rolling.

It was a jolly ride with you Larry on Chapter 1 ..

Awaiting Chapter 2..


More grease to your elbow..

Mourin:
how

as the reader who follows all good stories on NL

Come on don't gimme that face
Smile jor

Wow it's really good been associated with the best around here

U r really good in what u r doing LarrySun
Keep up d good work

LarrySun:
From all indications, I think it's Basket who wants to become that educated thief. Lol!

Thanks for reading, ma'am.

thanks larrysun for the explanation. keep doing the good work and thanks for the update.

kingphilip:
as the reader who follows all good stories on NL

Come on don't gimme that face
Smile jor

@kingphilip, so because of her moniker u keep spotting her everywhere she goes.
@mourin, u don become 'MTN, everywhere u go' and kingphilip will always spot u.

Interesting

thanks larrysun for the explanation. keep doing the good work and thanks for the update.
pls check the last chapter u posted, chapter 1 -IX, the second line, shouldn't that be '...Black tried to slip ...' instead of '...sleep...'?

lenmafon:


@king Philip, so because of her moniker u keep spotting her everywhere she goes.
@mourin, u don become 'MTN, everywhere u go' and king Philip will always spot u.

she seems to like stories like me

****Walks into thread cat-walking****

**Brings out my pop corn and sobo ***

***Covers screen with my head ****

Thumbs up

finally caught up wit u guys,its bin a great write up since,,,dis is my first tym commentin on a write up in nairaland,happy 2 b part of dis thread,
.
.
.
thumbs up bro,,,ur head dey dia
oya wia ma seat dey

So we're finally done with chapter one, yay!

And Basket's fists must be really big like a bouncer's, lol.

Prolific !

Asking for more......

Keep it up.

Deeeebie:
****Walks into thread cat-walking****

**Brings out my pop corn and sobo ***

***Covers screen with my head ****

Thumbs up

excuse me dear

Can I join u in this table

Nice update Larry, keep up the good work.
I've missed your wonderful stories

Wow!! Mr Larry is at it again...well done, more ink to your pen. Eagerly waiting for chapter 2 .

kingphilip:
as the reader who follows all good stories on NL

Come on don't gimme that face
Smile jor

kingphilip:
as the reader who follows all good stories on NL

Come on don't gimme that face
Smile jor

kingphilip:
she seems to like stories like me

Lolz, yea u re right, i luv stories

Mourin:

that's great dear

Hope we'll b seeing ur story soon