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Stats: 2,210,869 members, 4,825,730 topics. Date: Thursday, 21 March 2019 at 12:41 AM
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by cuteguy14911: 11:03pm On Feb 27|
Yesssssss, Victory at last!!! You could imagine how I jumped up and threw my hands up in the air when I read this part. Am so happy right now
ISSA, shey I didn't tell you before? I told you you'd be met with a more worse fate as you've done to others. Hahahaha this is my happiest moment even tho more are still coming. Thanks Rozy
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 5:43am On Feb 28|
sharpwriter:its okay, thank you so much
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 5:45am On Feb 28|
cuteguy14911:, yes, victory for our girl
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Ann2012(f): 7:48am On Feb 28|
I'm so happy right now, that serves Issa right
Thanks for the update ma'am
But pls, don't let the Imam's wife that helped Ife be a sacrificial lamb
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by LightQueen(f): 8:19am On Feb 28|
Well done Rose
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by rukidanty: 8:33am On Feb 28|
i am happy for ife and i hope she meets ukwoma ,so that she will relieve her from the lost of oguagu
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by cuteguy14911: 10:47am On Feb 28|
Yes oo. I pray she doesn't part with her life. But life could bring a different twist to everything
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Smith06: 2:03pm On Feb 28|
I want issa to beg for death but his death still make sense. Thanks Rose for the update. Re reading the last update like the 4th time now
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 4:53pm On Feb 28|
Smith06:thank you so much I am glad you read this and like it
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Ann2012(f): 6:15pm On Feb 28|
True, there are several twists to life
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Smith06: 8:15pm On Feb 28|
You're such a good creative writer.
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Reflex01(m): 9:57pm On Feb 28|
I pity Ife, i pray she survive and get over the trauma that bastard made her went thru. Same with Okwuoma. Rose tanx for the update. More wisdom to u.
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 1:25pm On Mar 01|
Smith06:see me blushing red
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 1:30pm On Mar 01|
It had started like a test, a game for power, a political strategy. Since Danladi and his supporters had succeeded in grabbing the presidential seat, while pushing him to lick his wounds, not only did they rub their victory on his face, he was humiliated beyond words.
He had wished to give Danladi a challenge, heat on his bottom, he had wanted to take sleep off his arch-enemy’s eyes by turning his own people against him.
Being a Northerner, Danladi would be counting heavily on the Northerners’ supports and votes to remain on seat the next four years after this.
Mr Opposition Party Chairman was desperate to see his Own friend now enemy fall, he had wanted to make Danladi fall out with the locals, the Northern leaders and the North generally.
He voiced his worries to one faithful member, Usman, and a plan was birthed;
“I know a man who would make it possible mr chair” Usman had said to him. They were in a bar and Usman was on his fourth bottle, a little tipsy.
“It is not going to be easy to see him, but I can make the arrangement” Usman had added, smacking his lips noisily after Chugging from the bottle.
They just finished from their party meeting and he had wanted to hang around a while before going home, but like every ‘side-kick’ Usman had hung on his cloak.
That was how he was introduced to Imam Ali Husayn ibn. Mr Party Chairman had never met the cleric in person, Usman had taken up the task of doing the dirty job, as long as his account continued being flourished and he kept enjoying luxuries and girls.
The Imam’s conditions where not difficult as at the beginning;
“I only answer to Allah and not to any man” the Imam had told Usman on the first meeting. Husayn was afraid of his father, the Old Imam, the righteous one, but Usman knew too much about the young heartless and ambitious son of the Old man to let go.
Suddenly the old Imam died, he slept and never woke up, whether his death was arranged no one knew, but it was an advantage to them all, including the young Imam who would then run things his own way.
So Usman pressed on, luring the cleric with everything they could offer. Usman knew about the secret colony the Imam was building, though he didn’t know what was being done there, he also knew the Imam had been linked withthe riot that broke out 2000 in Kaduna over the introduction of Sharia as a state law, with more than one thousand people dead.
Usman had known the Imam would come around; “I have followed him for a while now, he is greedy for power and money, give him these two things and he is all your” Usman had insisted
So they offered acres of land where the Cleric would have his own autonomy and develop an Islamic state, they also offered two oil blocks to the cleric under a fake business company name.
And like a greedy hyena, The Imam had jumped to the offer and had wowed them all, he had held Jos hostage and had extended his breath of terror to other states, shaking Danladi and the presidential seat to their advantage.
He had watched with amusement as the president make series of mistakes in a bid to fight the terror they introduced, his little group of elite members had fueled the chaos by coming up with theories, roping the menace on the ruling party.
The game that broke the camel’s back was the twin explosion in Abuja, he had listened to the miserable speech made by Danladi, his stuttering was very visible and Mr Party Chairman knew the Ruling Party had lost faith from the people and ideas on what to do.
It was all good until the Imam started demanding too much, he was no longer contented with little, he wanted all,
“His demands are getting too much” Usman had said during their last meeting. But he had dismissed Usman with assurance that they would always put the Imam in his place, but he wasn’t too sure now.
As he crushed the letter he had received that morning in his palm with frustration, he wound down his windscreen and spat on the dusty road, two lovers walked pass him without taking a glance, they were all over each other, poking and laughing.
He suddenly wished he could switch body with the young man, walking the street of Abuja with no terrible letter to keep him awake all night except the p**sy of a beautiful lady.
The wound up again and thought of the Letter;
“… you have not keep your own part of the deal, you have not pushed my demands to NASS. In addition to our demands, I also demand that our cargos containing Arms should be released or I will bring terror to you, I also demand for an extra Oil block, my sect is fast growing and would need different streams of Income to feed it. I want you to know that you and your men are nothing but pawns in the hand of Allah, you were never in charge of this fight, you were only used to achieve our aims.
In case you wonder how I got your number, I know everything about everyone, I can locate you within minutes there in Abuja. So Obey Allah and go free, but Ignore me and make yourself an enemy of Allah…”
The letter had rattled him, he had wanted to remain anonymous to whoever the Imam was, to play from the dark, but this letter has shown that he wasn’t as invincible as he thought, so he was on his way to see Usman in his Hotel room where he was hiding sine three weeks he came in to Abuja.
Thirty-three minutes later, Mr party chairman was staring with horror at Usman’s dissected body.
The blood was fresh and the intestines were still breathing, his tongue was moving like he was struggling to say something while his eyes bulged out like that of a frog that was trampled on foot.
Whoever did this could be close or even in the room waiting for Mr Party chairman. Out of fear, he gathered his blue Agbada and hurried out of the building, he didn’t look behind him to see that he was being watched by a middle aged man who had ‘Vanguard newspaper’ over his face.
Yusuf eased the car by the deserted road side and wound down the wind-screen a little, the boy was asleep and they were out of Jos. He could say they were out of the danger of being caught by his Uncle or any of his allies.
He opened the car bonnet and added some water in the Radiator, the car was over heated.
He left the bonnet opened and moved to the boot, opening it, he unzipped the military backpack in there and examined his tools;
It was going to be one vengeance he may or may not live to tell the story, as he examined the explosives fitted like sculptures in a leather belt.
This wouldn’t be the first suicide bombing he would be masterminding, but it would be the first child suicide bombing.
He didn’t feel sorry for it, in fact he would have loved to get his uncle to watch as his son’s body scattered to pieces, but first he must get to Abuja and then send his message to his Uncle.
He closed the boot and sat on the car, the boy slept peacefully at the backseat, four years ago, he had loved the boy like his own and would have protected him with his life, but so had he loved his late wife and had sacrificed her on the Alter for Husayn’s Allah.
He has not chosen the location yet, but he would make sure it was worth it, it would be an attack that would wipe the memories of other attacks, and Umaru would be the sacrifice for Allah this time.
“Dalilin da ya sa (Why?)”
Husayn asked for the third time, yet his young bride kept mute. He wanted to convince himself that the girl standing before him couldn’t have killed Issa, but there was no alibi to cover her.
He Slapped her face again, this time sending her landing like a bag of onion on the ground. He saw the tears ran down her cheek but the girl held her ground and did not whimper.
He took a stride toward her and drew his whip like a sword. Without saying much, he released the whip on her, and like snakes, the whip stung severally.
He had little strength left when he was done with her and she was nothing but a pulp by the time he left. The penalty for the offense was death according to Sharia Law, but she was ready to keep them focused on her until she was sure the new girl have gone beyond their reach. Without much words, she had bonded with the new girl, they may have not done much together but they had shared their pains silently with each other. She didn’t know what lay ahead of the girl, as for her, she had nothing and no one waiting for her anywhere, this was her faith and the marriage with Husayn sealed it.
“Inda ne matarsa? (where is his wife)” Husayn asked one of the boys that brought the news of Issa’s death
“Ba mu ganin ta (we did not see her)”
“Sami ta (Find her)”
“Bring her back to me, as long as she is out there she would be a problem to us…and prepare the dead body for burial” He commanded before he stepped inside his office, shut the door and made his contact to Abuja.
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Missmossy(f): 3:02pm On Mar 01|
Aww this is serious, keep it coming Rosemary. Keep up the good work.
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by UNCL3(m): 10:19pm On Mar 01|
Any time i read your story
I feel like m in a cinema watching an interesting movie
Nice one Rose.
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 10:48pm On Mar 01|
Missmossy:sure thing Sis
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 10:50pm On Mar 01|
UNCL3:this makes me feel like I am walking on the moon, thank you so much UNCL3
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by rukidanty: 10:55pm On Mar 01|
nice story..keep it coming
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by cuteguy14911: 11:33pm On Mar 01|
Thank you Rosy.. A fictious novel has never been this real. Keep it up dear.
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by kingofcasting(m): 12:55am On Mar 02|
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Ann2012(f): 8:14am On Mar 02|
Thanks for the update Rosie
But...the pain that the Imam's wife is going through
Guess we all can't be lucky after all.
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by LightQueen(f): 9:29am On Mar 02|
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Reflex01(m): 10:27am On Mar 02|
Karma is about to catch up with imam Husain. Rose tanx for ur good work, pls keep it up
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 11:22am On Mar 02|
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by UNCL3(m): 1:00pm On Mar 02|
Rosemary33:You'r welcome ma'am.
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by skubido(m): 1:49pm On Mar 02|
That imam wife try fa.
OP tanks for the update, wagbayi
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 3:31pm On Mar 02|
skubido:I feel your pain seriously
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by cuteguy14911: 10:22pm On Mar 02|
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by queenitee(f): 4:50pm On Mar 03|
Really nice story
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 9:21pm On Mar 03|
She had the nightmare again, but this time it was so scary, each night was always more dark and scary than the other. The sound from her ceramic plate hitting the floor and smashing to piece had saved her from being swallowed by the river in the dream.
‘she saw them again, all of them including Ifeoluwa and Ogugua. They were leading her deep inside the forest, like children of the dark they ran into the forest with ease while she teetered like a head without eyes, branches like the witch’s claws slapping and scratching her skin.
She had called out for them, their names tore the forest and their giggles filled her ears as they kept on deep inside the forest. Until they got to the river, she saw them walk into the river like it was paradise, she had stand at the bank and called, she had beckoned on them to come to her yet they moved on, deeper in the belly of the river.
Then she heard her name, chorused by them all from the belly of the sea. Like a spell, she was drawn by the familiar voices, pulling her like invincible ropes until the river covered her up to her neck, and she couldn’t find them again, they left her to be swallowed by the river, his laughter tortured her, his strong arms held her head down and his own children filled her lungs…”
It could have been that she was struggling in unconsciousness and had kicked the wooden table, sending the plate crashing and waking her up.
She didn’t know whether to be grateful for breaking the plate that reminded her of her Late husband or to be angry that another memory of him has vanished.
She has had her dinner of two pieces of yam and had slept off seated on the chair. It was becoming a secret ritual, she bringing out five plates every night and gazing out of the window waiting for her own that may not return.
“Okey…this one is your food…”
“Ogugua… wait first allow your elders to take before you…”
“Ifeoluwa take that one over there…” she would mutter like they were all there with her.
Ukwuoma shivered, she stood up and closed the window before setting out to the street where she would hawk Kunu while searching for Ifeoluwa and Ogugua.
It was still the second week of the new year 2002, the street was still scanty, some non-indigenes who had traveled for Christmas, some must have probably stayed back to do some farm work or business, while some had spent their transport fare back on nkwobi or defending titles and may be waiting for free trucks going to the north so they could hang like ‘Ewu awusa’ back to Jos.
Like two years ago when one of their tenants almost spent the whole of January because he spent his transport fare on ‘ukwu sarambara’ whom didn’t still agree to marry him at the end of the day.
The market was dusty when she arrived with her Kunu;
“Fine woman, you don land na na…” Baba Ahmed said to her as he helped her eased her wares
Since the day Ogugua left, she had roamed the streets until someone that knew her brought her home. She had said nothing to anyone since then, and didn’t go back to teaching the visions of the shadows that hung around her kept popping up.
“I been tell you make you come marry me, I go do you well…you no gree…” the old man teased Ukwuoma who would come to the market, seat at a corner without saying anything to anyone.
Sometimes she would go home with her wares while sometimes she would go with little remaining.
she was about to hand a bottle of Kunu to Baba Ahmed when she saw her; at the other end of the small market a young girl fought some group of men who wanted to bundle her inside a Toyota Hilux while a well-dressed woman stood by the Hilux, giving orders
“Ife” Ukwuoma founding her voice muttered, ignoring Baba Ahmed who was handing an old ten naira note to her and who was equally shocked that Ukwuoma could actually speak
“Ifeoluwa” she said louder, the young lady turned sharply as she heard her name. Ukwuoma increased her pace, the wrapper she had on top of her ‘[i]Bubu[/i]gown’ fell off,
“Ife! Ifeoluwa!!” she was running like her life depended on this moment. She was barricaded by the well-dressed woman who had a not-pad on her hand her eyes were covered by a tiny eye glasses, yet she stretched her hand and threw her face towards the struggling young girl
“Na my daughter! Abeg na my pikin!!”
“Wait!” the well-dressed woman ordered the men, Ifeoluwa was now inside the vehicle,
“She is your daughter?”
“Ehn…I have been looking for her…”
The lady was surprised at the ease Ukwuoma swung into English but she didn’t voice it out “well, this young lady has been roaming the street for some time now, I feel I should do all I can to help her get her sanity back, she is still young…”
“please I can take care of her, she is my daughter…” Ukwuoma pleaded
“I am sorry Madam, you cannot take care of her, look at her, she cannot stay under your care for a day…you will need help…”
“Then let me help her…”
“The only help you can give her is to allow her get help, I assure you, she will be under my care…”
Ukwuoma looked from the lady to the girl peering from the hole in the truck, her eyeballs roaming and absorbing the environment like that of an owl.
“Where are you taking her to?” she finally asked
“Synapse services Abuja”
“Let me go with her…” when it seemed like the lady wouldn’t agree to this she added more pressure “She is all I have now, I lost the others and will not survive here knowing that I may not hold her again…”
The woman turned and walked towards the truck, yet she followed, creating a scene as few people had gather and were observing what was going on “let me hold her hand and rock her head on the journey, she knows me…look…” she pointed at Ife “She is looking at me…” Ukwuoma held the lady by the hand and pleaded “Let me go with you…”
The lady didn’t plan for this, she had come back to spend the holiday with her family after she was away for three years. She first saw the girl three days before new year. She had walked away that day, but as she kept seeing the helpless girl who limped with a stick as she walked round the street aimlessly, she knew she couldn’t ignore anymore;
“Obum” the lady called one of the boys “Make room for her to seat with her daughter and watch out for any violent move”
With her Kunu abandoned, and her house forgotten, Ukwuoma climbed at the back of the covered Toyota hillux. The lady watched them from the opening behind the front seat;
Mother crutching and talking to a daughter who seemed not to recognize her, a daughter who tilted her head from side to side trying to recall who the woman before her was, a scene that brought tears to the eyes of a spectator.
By the time they got to Mongu, the girl had her head on the woman’s laps and the woman was humming a song with her eyes closed.
Yusuf watched the phone vibrate and ring for the tenth time that morning, he was enjoying the turn of event. The caller had started with screaming and issuing orders in Hausa, Yusuf had cut the call after a short conversation and waited for the caller to call back.
He had chosen a Friday morning to make the first contact, he could feel his uncle jumping out of his skin
“I have your son Umaru” Yusuf had said
“What son…who is this…what are you talking about?”
“how many sons do you have old man? Umaru is alive and he is with me and would become meat for the birds soon…”
“Wait! Please where are you? who are you? Where did you get my son?”
“I didn’t call you to answer questions, I just want you to know that I have finally decided to carry out the holy war for Allah one more time, but this time, Umaru would be the vessel which would be used to fulfill Allah’s command…”
Yusuf would soon dispose of this new phone for another one, he destroyed his formal phone when he got back to Abuja with the boy.
The Phone Rang Again, this time, Yusuf picked it;
“Son…Allah would forever torment your soul in hell if you allow yourself to be used by Iblis…”
Yusuf chuckled at the words of the Imam, Husayn was playing the religious trick on him but this time, Yusuf was ready;
“Oh ye who believe! Fear Allah as he should be feared and die not except in the state of Islam, Surah Al-imran, 175. Imam, your son is dying for Islam, Allah commands it” Yusuf said, using the same manipulative voice Imam Husayn had used severally.
“Please…whoever you are…don’t let my son die, he is the only son I have…I can give you anything you want but please…”
‘You cannot give me my mother back, neither can you give Fatima back, not even my father whom you sent to Jail!’ Yusuf wanted to scream
“No Imam, only Allah’s wish would be done, and it is his wish that your Son becomes the vessel, you will be rewarded greatly”
Yusuf would leave this hotel to another one, staying in the same hotel for more than three days with a child may draw attentions to them which he wouldn’t want.
Imam Husayn damped his sweaty face with his hanky, the news he heard that morning was worrisome. He son Umaru was alive after all, but he was in Captivity.
“I have another job for you” he said without responding to the greeting of peace offered by the receiver over the phone
“But… sir…I am still following…”
“forget about that for now” he retorted “My son has been held in captivity there in Abuja…find him!”
“Sir, what son? How do I find him…you are not giving me any clue…”
“I will send you his picture, find my son and kill the bastard that have him, make his death painful…please save my son”
He cut the call and took a look at the photo of his Son sent by his captor, ‘In Abuja now…may not be too long’ the message that came with the picture read.
For the first time in years, he covered his face with his palm and cried.
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Ann2012(f): 9:56pm On Mar 03|
Serves the Imam right but the little boy shouldn't be used As a pawn
I can't imagine what's going on in Ife's mind, Issa damaged her big time, hopefully she'll be ok
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