Hello all, this is my very first contribution in the literature section of this forum, and I thought it fitting to begin my introductions by posting just a little excerpt of a work in progress. Please do leave comments and/or criticisms. They very much will be appreciated. Thank you.

OSIO


The rain that had started falling soon after dusk had finally come to a halt three hours past midnight, leaving in its wake at atmosphere that was windy and cold and a sky, moonlit, without any stars. She sat still across from me, her back glued to the bark of a huge oak tree, her knees drawn up to her chest, her head resting on them where they met, her arms wrapped around her legs in a tight, protective hug. She seemed oblivious to the eerie flashes of lightning that brightened the sky, the raucous cackle of thunder that made the earth tremble, and the cold droplets of water that fell intermittently on her from the leaves hanging above her head. She was in her own world, and I tried to be in mine, then realized strangely that I had none. All because of the woman I loved, the woman that was sitting across from me in a world of her own.
She lifted up her face and started to speak, then stopped as a fierce gust of wind blew past us, sending her long, black hair flying in every direction. With delicate finger, she parted the loose strands of hair that had fallen over her eyes and tucked them neatly behind her ears. Her big, brown eyes were sad and swollen, gazing pleadingly at my face like a child at the mercy of a father’s whip. I could not help but look away; I didn’t want to feel pity for her, didn’t want to understand—couldn’t understand really—for nothing made sense. She used to be a very innocent, very beautiful damsel, fair-skinned, firm breasts and all, but all she seemed now to me was an impressive composition of lies, betrayal, treachery and an unfathomable mystery that was sending my world to an early grave.
“I know there’s a lot you want to know,” she said softly, in whispers, almost fearfully, her body shivering ever so slightly from the cold.
“You…you…kn…” I paused, pressing my teeth firmly together to stop them from shattering. “You know where to start,” I finished with as much sinister calm as I could muster, not looking at her, not wanting to feel sorry for her.
“What if I tell you I love you? Will you believe me?”
I shot her an evil glance; it was all I could do not to reach out and slap her senseless.
“Are you out of your mind?” I thundered. “We’re in the middle of God-knows-where, running away from all that we know and own. For God’s sake I have had to kill a man because of you, and I’m wanted dead or alive by a thousand people, and you sit there talking about love? Are you out of…?”
I wanted to say more, but she had already started crying. Strange that it was at this point, in the midst of my boiling rage, that I felt sorry for her. Lord knows I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t help it; I was still in love with her. I wanted to reach out and hold her, and tell her that everything would be okay, like I had done so many times in the past, but I didn’t. I hated her too much to do so. When I remembered our child somewhere out there in the real world, alive or dead, a child I might never see again, I felt truly miserable and hopeless. But I did not cry. I was a man, a young man, but a man nonetheless.
“There’s just one thing I want to know, Miranda,” I said, my voice barely making it through the diverse sounds of her tears.
She sniffed thrice in quick succession, hiccupped, and wiped the tears off her face. “Let me tell you everything.”
“I don’t want to know everything,” I replied, trying hard to keep the acid in my heart from spilling onto my voice, and failing. “Just tell me what you were doing, sleeping with you father.”
She gulped and turned her face towards the ground. “I…I wasn’t sleeping with him. At least not when you came in.”
“But you were going to.”
“It’s not like…”
“Miranda, you were going to sleep with your father.”
“Please, Osio, under…”
“Answer me!”
“He is not my father!”
The sound of her voice startled me. It was a high-pitched piercing scream like the shrill blast of a referee’s whistle in an empty stadium. Her eyes shone with a new radiance, the kind that was achieved only when one's anger was intense and concentrated. The delirious rumble of thunder that occurred at that same exact moment was a perfect dramatic complement, sending all the wrong chills racing up and down my spine. I couldn’t understand a word she’d said; one doesn’t just wake up one morning, or sit in the jungle at odd nightly hours, and disown their father. This was the same man with whom she’d come visiting my little hinterland village back in the day. And when I’d rescued her from drowning, this was the same man that had promised me heaven and earth for saving his only child. When things had gone horribly wrong and she’d gotten pregnant during her stay, it was the same Chief Bibitie who had ordered her out of his home to face the world alone. I had received her into my arms, wiped the tears off her face, and borne all the responsibility upon myself. In the middle of the night, arm in arm, we’d ran, away from the sanity of our comfort zones, to trace the path of our lives along uncharted lines. And then suddenly one night, in the most unexpected of circumstances, with a gun in hand and a mask over my face, I see her in bed with her father.
He is not my father!
“Miranda,” I asked, perplexed, “how could the chief not be your father?”
She bit at her lower lips and looked genuinely pained.

This is brilliant! Storyline seems to be properly executed and the excerpt is well-written.
The whole package works for me.
Just watch-out for over-usage of the ly-adverbs.
Other than that, it is a very beautiful piece. On-point descriptions, voice, pacing, and sentence length.

Good job!

Joan

@Joan4427. Thanks a lot for your nice comments.

wow. its really good. i'd love 2 read d whole thing

@Boss bitch. Thanks for your comments.