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VICTIMS- Fiction - Literature (11) - Nairaland

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Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by cuteguy14911: 11:03pm On Feb 27
He was so drunk and consumed by his own lust that he didn't see when she picked a huge piece of the broken beer bottle and charged towards him, his eyes were still closed as he imagined the nasty things he would do to her that night, when she gave her first strike.

His eyes opened in shock, she was standing over him while he sat heavily on the chair, too drunk to get himself off the chair and save himself.

She pulled the weapon out of his belly, held it high and aimed again, this time she buried the weapon in his heart, he had no time to scream as every effort to scream brought thick blood from his mouth down his body, the girl was fascinated by the gore, she loved the color Red as a child and had not seen much of it lately.

Issa struggled to stand on his feet but he legs gave way and he crumbled on the floor at the feet of the girl, with his last energy he pulled himself to a seating position, he held the girl by the hand, she squatted down to look at him in the eyes, he coughed and splattered blood all over Ife’s face.

She looked too dark like a witch with the blood on her faces, yet so innocent like a child who wasn't aware of what she was doing. She wanted him to say something, to tell her those things he used to tell her before burying his Rod inside her, it was a game they have played many times, it wasn't new to them, but this time, she was the one with the objects, and he was the one on his knees

He wanted to call her by her name, then he realized he didn't even know her name, he had always called her ‘O Girl’ he was getting weaker and his vision was getting blurring, with his weak sight, he saw her pull the weapon again, the pain ran like a spasm all over his body, before she could bring her hand down, he gave in to the beckoning of death.

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 grin cheesy grin

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

1 Like

Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 5:43am On Feb 28

Hey! Please drop your whatsapp number and include it in your profile. You never know when a small job could be given to you smiley You may contact 08060715059 ... maybe the project will still be opened at the time of contact.
its okay, thank you so much
Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 5:45am On Feb 28

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 grin cheesy grin

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

grin grin, yes, victory for our girl

1 Like

Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Ann2012(f): 7:48am On Feb 28
I'm so happy right now, that serves Issa right cheesy

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
grin grin

Well done Rose

1 Like

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

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Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by cuteguy14911: 10:47am On Feb 28
I'm so happy right now, that serves Issa right cheesy

Thanks for the update ma'am
But pls, don't let the Imam's wife that helped Ife be a sacrificial lamb

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

1 Like

Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 4:53pm 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
cool cool thank you so much I am glad you read this and like it
Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Ann2012(f): 6:15pm On Feb 28

Yes oo. I pray she doesn't part with her life. But life could bring a different twist to everything

True, there are several twists to life

1 Like

Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Smith06: 8:15pm On Feb 28
cool cool thank you so much I am glad you read this and like it

You're such a good creative writer.

1 Like

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.

1 Like

Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 1:25pm On Mar 01

You're such a good creative writer.
see me blushing red kiss kiss
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.

1 Like

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.

1 Like

Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 10:48pm On Mar 01
Aww this is serious, keep it coming Rosemary. Keep up the good work.
sure thing Sis kiss
Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 10:50pm On Mar 01
Any time i read your story
I feel like m in a cinema watching an interesting movie

Nice one Rose.
this makes me feel like I am walking on the moon, thank you so much UNCL3

1 Like

Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by rukidanty: 10:55pm On Mar 01
nice story..keep it coming

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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.

1 Like

Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by kingofcasting(m): 12:55am On Mar 02

In as much as she wanted to mourn her own, she decided to leave the dead behind and move on, carrying only their memories with
her, she staggered out of the room with almost nothing as cloth.

she moving out like a ghost in the street. Bodies lying on top of each other, headless, amputated, hacked,lost children, crying and calling “mother”, women screaming the names of their children and husbands.

That was how she met him, Oguguo (as she later named him) he was standing beside the body of a dead woman crying, with no cloth on and mucus running down his nose.

Buried in her own grief, she took no notice of him at first, she kept walking, but as she walked, she could hear the cry of a child trailing her, yet she
kept walking without looking back, following the movement of others towards a destination she knew not.

“Madam, carry this pikin (babe) for hand, you wan make him die,” a woman shouted at her amidst the chaos.

She turned and looked at him, for the first time she actually saw him, his big owl like eyes, piercing her heart, going beyond it to plead for a chance to live.

She was not sure if it was pity for the boy or consolation to her sorrowful soul, she yanked him off the ground and carried him with her, hurried her
feet, with the air so thick with smoke and sting of burning flesh, she ran blindly, praying that God would at least spare her life and lead her to where she could at be safe before thinking of the next thing to do.

3rd Armoured Division Barracks, Bassa.

They were greeted with the sight of overcrowded camp filled with people seeking refuge in the barrack.

Getting a good spot to settle with Ogugua wasn’t easy, it seems like the number people seeking refuge in the barrack was more than the available space.

As she walked from corner to corner with Ogugua now sleeping in her hands, she was almost stepping
on others who were lying face down like dead bodies out of hunger, some were chatting noisily about the violence going on, some still mourn the loss of their loved ones while others were looking at nothing in particular, one could hear the wailing of hungry children and the shout of frustrated mothers.

She looked around the dirty interior of the camp in search of a space, when she finally found one she made a quick move to it before another person takes it.

The next challenge would be where to get a mat to lay the sleeping little boy,

‘‘nwanne i nacho ebe iga enweta ute?” (Are u looking for where
to get mat?) Her Neighbor, an Igbo woman with her two daughters who were sleeping and a husband who was arguing loudly with another man, asked her.

‘‘eehm, yes ma” she answered

‘‘okey, I know u need a mat for yourself and your son” her neighbor commented

‘‘ yes, I was about to ask you where you got yours from”

‘‘ just get to that corner at the beginning of the camp, meet the officers in charge and tell them you just arrived”

‘‘ok, thank you so much, please help me secure this space while I get the mat” she answered before leaving.

The queue was long at the officers offices, people were already losing their patience in the hot sun and once in a while fight would erupt from one point or another as people try to maneuver another in other to be in the front roll.

She took her head gear off, tied the edges around her neck and allowed it to flow down her back in other to cover Ogugua who was still sleeping, a torn
head gear and wrapper she got from a woman who could not bear seeing her tattered cloth, and decided to share her little cloths with her, “to say someone still look out for another amidst such chaos”,

When it finally got to her turn after a long
wait, she registered her name and was waiting for the officer to hand the mat over to her. the officer gave her a sheepish smile, exposing a set of teeth darkened with tobacco and kola nut;

‘‘fine woman, oyibo pepe (fair like an English woman), see as your skin dey yellow, dey shine like fresh paw-paw”

Other officers were drawn to her by that comment, laughing and looking lustfully at her, it was not difficult to see her once beautiful
face and yellow skin even though life has decided to flip an ugly side on her

‘‘Please can you give me the mat now, my boy needs to rest” she replied in disgust, wondering within her how easily she came to accept the boy on her back as “His boy
‘‘Hei! see as you dey speak like oyibo (you speak like the whites), come make I tell you, if you need anything for this place ehe, meet me, i go give you” still smiling sheepishly

‘‘the mat sir” she requested pretending not to notice his

She finally settled Ogugua on the mat to continue his sleep and decided to go and get the pitiable food she saw some others eating.

It was already dusk before it could get to her turn to
get the food, it was The same officer who she met earlier, he looked at her, savoring her body while licking his lips

‘‘madam abeg wait for me inside make i come give you the one way dey inside”

‘‘Ah! oga officer, my baby fit don wake now, abeg give me the one way dey here make I go give am” Ukwuoma replied, deciding to speak in pidgin English to avoid drawing attention to herself

‘‘Madam I said you should wait ” he shouted

After waiting for a while, the officer came in and took her inside the office

‘‘Ehe! Madam, I say make u wait make I give you your own food and provision special” the officer said as he walks close to her trying to hold her in a romantic embrace.

‘‘She wiggled herself away from his embrace.

‘‘You be pikin? You suppose know watin I want now or you no want the food again? ” asked the officer who tried to forcefully embrace her

‘‘Get off me you idiot” she shouted, pushing him off

‘‘Look make I tell you, for here I dey in charge o, no be only food I go give you but I go give you plenty milk for your son and new wrapper so you fit change this dirty one”

‘‘Oga, na only food I need, I no need any other thing. And no near me or I go shout make everybody hear and see waiting you dey do” she threatened

‘‘See this woman o, i wan help you and you dey do shakara, common comot for here, you no dey serious o, go make you and your pikin die of hunger, i go push you o”

‘‘What of the food oga, please no do this to me, for my son’s sake abeg help me, just a little for my boy please…”

‘‘Common shut up your mouth, which food, get out of here, when you dey serious you come” he pushed her out.

her head was light, with tears blinding her sight she walked back to the camp only to see the mat empty and Oguguo missing.

‘‘Where could he be?” she thought, the few hours that passed has brought them close so quickly, because to her he became a consolation, yet she saw her past, and her future in him.

She asked her neighbor who said she was sleeping and didn’t know when he left.

‘‘Oguguo ! O..gu..guo!!!” she called out, shouting his name aloud, her eyes roaming to and fro in search of him.

She spotted him at the far end of the camp, standing beside a family who were eating without noticing him.

He was trying to grab some yam from their plate while a woman, who must be the mother, shove him off like a chick being shooed from grains, and each time she did that Oguguo cries.

Ukwuoma watched the scene like a movie, her son was being treated as a common beggar and she blew the only chance she could have provided food for him,
she had watched and her family was snatched away from her, so helpless she was and death stole them away, and could not watch this one, the reminder of the sons she once had, taken byhunger, her tears was uncontrollable as she ran to pick him up, away from there.

‘‘Ogugua my son, I will not fold my arms and watch hunger take you away like the others” she came back to her mat pleaded with her Neighbor to look out for him and left.

She ran as if something was after her, crying aloud and her breast flapping side by side with the force of her speed.

She knocked at the door of the office, the officer opened the door as if he was waiting for her, he smiled broadly and ushered her inside the little office, with no much words to say, she removed what was remaining of her cloth and allowed it to fall on the flour.

She eased herself on the floor and closed her

As he had his way, she refused to feel any physical pain, the only pain she could feel was the pain in her heart. at that moment all she could remember was that fateful day when she lost everything, her family killed before her, as he thrust deep in her, tears ran down her cheek,

She opened her eyes and turn her face at the other side of the office, all she could see was the hungry face of her the boy Ogugua.
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 sad
Guess we all can't be lucky after all.

1 Like

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

1 Like

Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 11:22am On Mar 02
Thanks for the update Rosie

But...the pain that the Imam's wife is going through sad
Guess we all can't be lucky after all.
yea... cry cry

1 Like

Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by UNCL3(m): 1:00pm On Mar 02
this makes me feel like I am walking on the moon, thank you so much UNCL3
You'r welcome ma'am.

1 Like

Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by skubido(m): 1:49pm On Mar 02
Oloriburuku somebody,

That imam wife try fa.

OP tanks for the update, wagbayi

1 Like

Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 3:31pm On Mar 02
Oloriburuku somebody,

That imam wife try fa.

OP tanks for the update, wagbayi
I feel your pain seriously
Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by cuteguy14911: 10:22pm On Mar 02
Oloriburuku somebody,

That imam wife try fa.

OP tanks for the update, wagbayi

grin grin.
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.

1 Like

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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