GHETTO JUSTICE

His heart raced faster with every pace of his feet as he ran through the muds and filth of the street. His head spun quickly from side to side, searching urgently for an alleyway to escape the looming calamity.

The frightening mass of mob tore after him.
"Thief oo
"Ole oo
"Make una hol am oo"

There were shrieks and screams from men women and children. They tore after him like hungry dogs chasing a cat.

How many could they be, he didn't know, he dared not look back as his legs managed the impossible. But from the sound of the yells and screams, he could tell the distance between him and the death is only one capture away.

His thoughts were jumbled, and as he reached a gutter, he leaped over, landed on the mud, slipped and fell with a splash.

With the crowd in his wake, he struggled his way through the mud and before he could regain balance on his feet, he felt a little hand weakly tugged the collar of his shirt, by the feel of it, it couldn't have been an adult's. He shoved his hand backward at it albeit without looking back.

"My eye oo" the child howled

Another hand forcefully plucked and pulled his shirt. He stumbled backward, another hand griped his wrist, it's fingers sinking into his skin.

"Dem don catch am!!
"Dem don hol am!!
"Make una come oo!!"

Screams of the exited mob filled Street as he struggled to free himself from the many hands tugging, yanking and hitting him.

A leg kicked him hard, a hand launched a blow at his face,
"Abeg oo!"
he wailed in anguish. The pain was becoming too much to bear for each hand and leg and unknown objects that touched him felt like a hot iron peeling away his flesh.

And then he saw her, the woman who had raise the crowd, pointing fingers at him that her jewel had gone missing.

Something, he didn't know what, hit him hard and squarely on his right eye, and before the second passes out, it hit him again in his left eye. She was the last thing he ever saw.

"Ayaaahh!!" he yelled as he felt excruciating pains.
"No be me do am!!"
"I am innocent oo!!"
He cried out to the deaf mob as he endured further assaults.

Then, he felt something circular worn over him, then another, another again, then he became aware he was locked within the circle of tires.

"Chineke!!!" he cried as he smelled and felt himself soaked in petrol.

The flames engulfed him. First, it felt like a warm breeze, then it quickly graduated to something more unbearable.
His blind eyes saw fire, his nose smelled the heat of it, and every other piece of flesh he had cooked in excruciating pain.
And then he felt nothing.

She had just arrived home and she hit the bell but there was no answer.
She had dipped her hand into her bag to fetch her keys when she felt it, that slender, lacy and metallic feel. That same thing she had rummage that same bag in the afternoon searching for. She pulled it out. Her necklace.
An innocent blood was on her hands.

Souls and Carnations
Literature is Born
Luqman Morrison

This reminds me of countless innocent people that where burned to death cus of what the know nothing about.this really got me crying,u know how to express whats happenining in real life through pen.u are a born writer dear,please give us more.

Lankyannie:
This reminds me of countless innocent people that where burned to death cus of what the know nothing about.this really got me crying,u know how to express whats happenining in real life through pen.u are a born writer dear,please give us more.

Thanks dear