Hello Nairalanders, I have been a silent guest on this forum for many years. This is because I have been painting and polishing a masterpiece with dark overtones all these tortous years. Please kindly read this piece and drop your comments, suggestions, contributions or constructive criticisms. They would enable me to work better. No offensive talks.

CHAPTER 3

Many months later, I was at a local bar with a friend, Uzo for sight-seeing. There, the air was warm and crystal as it caressed everyone. Luminous stars gleamed overhead like shiny little jewelries. The moon, a reflective sphere that carries the sun's smile further, was slightly veiled by the rolling masses of the clouds; accentuating the black heart of the sky. Strayed dogs were fiercely barking at phantoms in the distance. There were intoxicating rhythms of some local catchy vibes, seeping from the background of the classy i7 bar in Udoka estate; amplified by the strategically-mounted speakers. Meanwhile, beautiful sluts on tight, see-through pants and high heels, were shaking their plum behinds in the faces of many excited men at the VIP section of the un-staged bar. Some of these 'hot potatoes' who were like articles of commerce meant for the highest bidder, had tinny beads stringed around waists, navels and ankles. Another sect had glittery gems appended to their nose, teeth or tongues while the rest had permanent tatoos crested on various curvy parts of their bodies. Intermittently, fuming puffs of smoke from cigarettes whiffed through the air. Bartenders on neatly black and white uniforms dashed to every conceivable corner, attending to exorbitant orders from patrons in variant circles of seats. Many tables were screaming with various shades and volumes of liquor ranging from the Black Deluxe Whisky, Vodka, St. Remy, Baileys, iced-Amarula, Jack Daniels, Mc Dowell's and many other rare vintages. Before us, there were ten uncorked bottles of branded Goldberg and Gulder. With just two bottles of liquor aportioned to me, I gulped and savoured each glass with an extended relish; thanks to my friend Uzo, who was hosting me alongside others. Despite the clouded cerebrums, even the blind could instinctively feel the exhilarating effect, the growing melodies of horniness, the slurs of inebriated guests in orgies, the ripples of uncontrolled uuuhhh and aaahhhh, the heightened breadths of sweaty humans including the smell of nicotine and alcohol; as each added more tempo to the boisterous merriment. From the other flank, the English premiership reviews flickered through the flat-screen television sets appended on the wall. While some of these guests were pouring out criticisms on some of the flops in the league, a good number of them were busy exchanging banters. Indeed, the evening breathed a galore of lust, raw pleasure and bottle diplomacy as our hearts leaped with hope despite the recurring onslaughts in the nation.

In one fluid of an arc, there was a sudden change in the mood of the weather. A jagged streak of lightening ripped through the blankets of the cloud. Soon, it became ominous within minutes. Not quite long, the groans and rumbles of thunder followed. Around us, the wind began to hiss over the trees; a telling omen which indicated the scent of danger where all guests must retire to their homes for a real gully-washer. That night, I wore a black three-quarter jean, a free lemon T-shirt belonging to a telecommunication company and a pair of old leather slippers. It was the long holiday season in the month of August. I was on a lean purse worsened by the endless necessary expenses in school. Many weeks followed in their hunger paths. Each tick of the day dragged mechanically. There was no form of income dropping in. No valid excuses for some pocket money from relatives. Going home was like a double tragedy. Devoid of options, I had to furnish the impetus to take up a job as a washerman just to earn some money to pay up the necessary fees for the following semester. Throughout that day, I was extensively busy bathing sophisticated cars belonging to our rich clients. There are no toilets around our working place. One who wishes to empty one's bowels would have to move into the bushes. There, he or she must stoop low in order not to be seen. Worse, there were no tissue papers whatsoever. One who wishes to poo-poo would have to wipe off one’s buttocks using the leaves of some grasses or plants. Worse, there were no soaps to bath after each working day. Alternatively, I usually use different pieces of soaps or any other detergent to wash up myself. I knew that detergents contain caustic soda which is detrimental to the skin. But there was nothing I could do. Appallingly, they don’t pay me much. My take-home-pay heavily depended on the number of cars that I wash in a day. Annoyingly, it takes days or even weeks until I get to collect my pittance. Many a time, I had wondered why should this injustice be? Even while I, putting my shoulders to wheel for the better, can scarcely afford myself a satisfying meal. I knew that I do not deserve to suffer such dense obscurity which I had found myself. Yet, I took these kicks and blows of life in sullen silence, hoping that they would surely pave way for the haughty goddess of fortune to grant me an enviable footing someday.

However, in a brief stretch of time suspended to the night, the inky black sky of the heavens began to shed tears with increased force and clamour, prompting everyone to seek shelter upon roofs. The intoxicating sounds pounding into our olfactory lobes ebbed away as it was submerged by the drumming rain on the roof. Moments later, I discharged my friend at the ejaculation of his approval, scampering outwards to catch a bus or a tricycle. Several moments after urinating heavily, I flagged down a commercial bike regarded as okada in a local palance. After a brief negotiation on the fare, I quickly hopped-in behind him. We began to nose our way through the tarred road leading to my then hostel. The scary flashes of lightening wore on with its snaky lines of fire on the dark sky; briefly illuminating the expressway at intervals as the clattering crash of thunder followed up successively. Although that pot-hole riddled road lacked common streetlights yet I was very determined to get to my place of stay; despite the thunderous booms and celestial shudders. In the mean time, torrents of flood were fast licking up every nook and crannies of the road including the deep gutters on the sidewalk. The popular Unizik junction was already dry and deserted like a hazardous island. Roadside businesses had already checked out for the day. The raging rain which descended in slants furiously whipped on us, making it difficult to gain visibility. As luck does not fall in all men's way, I was relieved that it ushered me safety to the ruggedly constructed structure of my then hostel named Netherland lodge. Having paid the bike man, I wearily ascended into my little room through the sagging stairs.



Please, drop your comments to enable me complete this story here in grand style.

You mean to tell us it took you many years to put the story together?

Where should we read chapter 1 & 2 from

Hi Sijo01,

I guess you are getting it wrong here. This masterpiece has 20 solid chapters. And I have to protect my work against theft. There's no way I would bare all the chapters here. Please, just judge the flow of the particular story from your own perspective.

That was why I asked where we can read chapter 1 & 2..
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You should have started with chapter 1 before skiping to other chapters. With that, readers will know the genesis of your story.

Thanks Sijo01,

This book is in progress with my agents in New York, regarding publishing. I could feel your inherent concerns but I just can't overstep my boarders by baring the very genesis of my work. I have learnt my lessons judging from the past upon these quick sands of letters of letters and alphabets. Quote me: "The deep waters of literature has many legions of devils and enemies upon it". I have learnt to jump over them.