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Stats: 2,211,047 members, 4,826,377 topics. Date: Thursday, 21 March 2019 at 10:53 AM
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by cuteguy14911: 1:34am On Jan 19|
Like seriously, this is beginning to feel more real and real to me. I'm thinking of becoming a character in this fiction.
Thank you Rosy dear for the update.
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by pacifust058(m): 8:52am On Jan 19|
Hey Rosy, kudos for a job welldone but I'll like it if you could stop referring to Allah in the sheikh's speech... He will never order his faithfuls to hurt innocent men and women... You may use referrals like "His Allah".... You're one of the best writer here and I hope you understand.. Specify and not generalize
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by skubido(m): 9:51am On Jan 19|
Tanks for the update
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by queenitee(f): 9:52am On Jan 19|
Thank you, thank you so much
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 12:51pm On Jan 19|
Oh, Okay... Apologises for the mistake. Thank you for pointing that out.
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 12:52pm On Jan 19|
cuteguy14911:Hahahhaaaa, thank you so much
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Smith06: 2:34pm On Jan 19|
What a wonderful update, it look real in the sense that someone can relate with the story
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 4:32pm On Jan 19|
Ghmmm, ghmmmm...(clear throat) please I want to take permission not to write today Hubby is coming back today and I want to give him some Tender love and care
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by LightQueen(f): 5:19pm On Jan 19|
Rosemary33:No wahala.. Go on ahead
I dey your back
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Ann2012(f): 7:37pm On Jan 19|
Sweet sweet loving
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by cuteguy14911: 12:18am On Jan 20|
It's needed.... Hope you're not the envy of your neighbors o Lol
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 5:44am On Jan 20|
cuteguy14911:We played loud music to cover up Lol. (Speaking from the other room)
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 5:45am On Jan 20|
Ann2012:its a sweet something, hahahhaaa
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by skubido(m): 7:10am On Jan 20|
Oluwa oooo, correctiii, Permission to carry On,lolzzzzz
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 11:16am On Jan 20|
skubido:Aye Aye ! Sir
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by tijehi(f): 12:53pm On Jan 20|
Rosy, fantastic story as usual. Thanks for sharing with us.
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by queenitee(f): 1:40pm On Jan 20|
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 10:59pm On Jan 20|
The ray of the morning sun permeated through her eye lids and announced the brake of dawn to her eyeballs. She stretched and almost fell off the plain old couch that served as her bed the previous night.
At least it was better than the mat at the camp, which had thorn-like grasses pricking their skins from the tinny hole in it.
She yawned again and sat up from the chair. She had changed her old wrapper to another one, though not new but it was washed and smelt nice.
There was an old television covered with white lacy piece of cloth and an old radio by the left side of the wall closed to the entrance.
A stack of radio taps, she could see “Redemption song” by Bob Marley on top of other taps, and an old table fan that the neck seemed to be broken, though held together with a cord; the Fan reminded her of her Secondary school English Teacher who also taught them both Igbo and French.
Her neck was so thin while her head was as large as her mother’s big round Tray used for peeling hand melon. Sometimes she feared that the teacher’s neck would break out of the heaviness of her head, and the way she ducked the head when she tried to teach them French using Igbo language;
“coman Tapel Tu! Ngwa kwuo nu ya a!” and the children would respond. Non of them learnt any other French word except ‘Coman Tapel Tu’
The old woman walked in with Ogugua and smiled at Ukwuoma
“Mummy!” the boy screamed and ran to her. She held him so tight as if the boy might disappear if she let go.
“He is looking so good ma, thank you so much” she said to the woman.
“I am glad I could save him…” the woman sat on the couch closed to hers’
With Hijab on her head and covering part of her forehead and her neck, Ukwuoma could see only her face.
“Why did you help me” Ukwuoma asked
“Allah wants us to offer help to those in need, and I have been doing this since my husband died of gunshot eighteen years ago…”
Ukwuoma followed her gaze to the photograph on the wall;
“He was a good man, a good husband and father to us, he would have wanted me to do this so…”
“Eighteen years without your husband? Where are your children?”
The woman shook her head in sadness;
“Lost them too…”
“What do you mean?” Ukwuoma asked adjusting her hold on Ogugua who was wiggling to set himself free from his mother.
“…lost them to the White Man’s country, their father had wanted them to go to school abroad, that was why I had to sell almost everything he had, I used his gratuity and my savings to sent them to London for their University Education… they never came back, I only speak with them on phone once in a long while though, but the life of the white Man had stolen them from me… I now leave everyday hoping they would locate my grave whenever they would decide to come back after my death”
Ukwuoma remembered Nwankwo’s two sons whom were sent to Canada to study Marin Engineering and Medicine respectively. Their Mother told everyone that cared to listen, about how rich and famous her children would be when they would come back, she kept giving testimonies in women’s meeting about her children abroad, until other women started murmuring whenever she stood up,
The boys came back after twelve years, one with tattered dreadlocks and a guitar, and the other with only pictures of fountains on the street of Canada and white women. Mayor and chuks were their names. Their parents relocated to the village when they couldn’t bear the shame and mockery.
“You can call me Mariam… I would want you to stay with me… you and your son…” the old woman observed Ukwuoma keenly
“You don’t want to stay?” she asked
“I don’t know… that is a good offer, especially for my son…”
“Think about it, I am going to work now at the hospital… I can even get something for you to do, you sound educated and I know you can be put to use”
Mariam stood up, showed mother and son the kitchen and closed the door behind her as she walked away.
Ukwuoma sank on the couch and wept again, she didn’t know what it meant to be comfortable any longer, she didn’t want to get used to this life with this woman, what would happen to her if Mariam would get tired of her and her son and ask them to leave?
She wept the more as she remembered the young girl and her brother Abraham, what would become of them? What would that young Army Officer subject her to, who would save her in times of trouble?
Ogugua couldn’t tell why his mother was sobbing, but he sat by her feet and cried too.
The girl was jittery. She sat beside her brother, under the tree Ukwuoma used as her resting place, with her shaky hands on her knees, she waited for the woman who had become like a mother to her.
She had gone straight to the woman’s tent and met her and her son absent;
“Her son dey sick o, she no go come back today na tomorrow she go come back” her fat neighbor had said to her
“Na why you dey find am? Make you tell me na, I fit helep you?”
How would she tell anyone what she did? How would she say that she killed an army officer? Would they believe her if she told them the reason why she had to hit him with a big stone from the back?
She hadn’t thought of the act until she saw him from afar, she saw how he spat on the cat and how he went to ease himself, she saw the shadow of his long joystick on the wall, which was when rage enveloped her.
She knew what he wanted to do to her, he had whispered those ugly words in her ears before;
“I want to drag your hair till you cry in pain…I will tie you up, strip you Unclad and flog your buttocks until they turn red… you are my slave and I will treat you like one…”
Those words had hunted her, scared her and echoed in her mind;
“Have you been bleeped from behind before? Them don Bleep your nyash before?” he had asked her roughly the night his friend raped her
“I will do it to you, I wan stretch you nyash, until you go begging shout, I know say you go like am…”
Like the cruel hiss of an old serpent, he had whispered those words loudly in her ears.
She had thought that hitting him from behind was her chance of escaping that night, but when she didn’t hear his scream or his footsteps after hers, she turned back and found him lying on his own blood, unconscious.
“I killed him! I killed him” she had muttered throughout the night as she rocked herself back and forth like a deranged girl.
The guilt was screaming loud around her and she had wanted to talk to Ukwuoma, but as she sat under that tree, her eyes roaming like a thief who was afraid of being caught, he patient was thinning out.
Abdul ended the call and dropped his phone on top of his bed. His first wife had gone to see her mother, she was called yesterday that her mother was sick so he dropped her off that morning with his uncle’s red Toyota Camry.
He walked toward the window and slid the window open, his younger wife was outside with the children. The girl would be fourteen by October that year, her parents had no choice as his Uncle, the Imam was a well respected cleric and had promise the family, supplies for their basic needs.
He was intoxicated by the freshness and innocence of the girl, and had always stood by the window to get a glimpse of her every morning when she goes to school.
He had wanted her for himself, though his wife Kudirat wasn’t happy about it, she didn’t voice her disapproval, she knows he was free to marry as many wives as he could take care of.
Abdul walked towards the fridge in his room and pull out a bottle of beer;
“This is one sin I have not conquered” he murmured to himself as he opened the drink with his teeth.
He was sure his uncle didn’t know that he drinks alcohol, just as he didn’t know that he had masturbated with the image of the girl every night before he finally married her.
He took a long gulp, placed the bottle down and smiled at himself as he remembered his first night with the girl; her vagina was too small and tight for his joystick, but he finally conquered.
He smiled again and took another gulp from the bottle. Everything seemed to be going on well for him, his uncle had giving him a delicate responsibility and had promise him a promotion in their sect if he bring results.
“Insha’allah, the guns will arrive from Saudi-Arabia in a months’ time we will start training the new members”
His uncle was already pleased with him;
“Allahu Akbar” Abdul muttered with satisfaction to his progress so far.
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Ann2012(f): 5:34am On Jan 21|
Thanks for the update
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by LightQueen(f): 6:14am On Jan 21|
Thanks for the update ma'am
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by cuteguy14911: 7:52am On Jan 21|
Hmmmmmm interestingly interesting.
Well am glad that the officer eventually met his reward but my heart goes out for the poor girl. What would happen to her Hmmmmmm
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 8:31am On Jan 21|
cuteguy14911:hmmm... Let's see... We are not sure of anything now
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by skubido(m): 8:50am On Jan 21|
Tanks for the update
I pray we all have a pleasing week ahead
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by queenitee(f): 9:57am On Jan 21|
Poor girl, is this a new beginning for Ukwouma?
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by damselposh(f): 10:11am On Jan 21|
Nice one Rose
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Smith06: 11:18pm On Jan 21|
Captivating is the word for this story
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Reflex01(m): 11:34am On Jan 22|
Rose tanx for the update, waiting for more
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 2:02pm On Jan 22|
I will drop the next episode this night when I get home, I forgot my WiFi at home. Biko make una forgive a sinner like me o
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 2:02pm On Jan 22|
Reflex01:more you will get, thank you so much for reading
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 2:03pm On Jan 22|
Smith06:I am blushing o o o, let me dance shaku shaku small
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by Rosemary33: 2:04pm On Jan 22|
skubido:my weekend was everything o, don't come and ask me to explain
|Re: VICTIMS- Fiction by cuteguy14911: 4:46pm On Jan 22|
I've been held spell bound... We wait for you hia,
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