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|Iyanu: The Nurse, Poisoner, And Angel Of Death by Japopo: 12:48pm On Feb 14|
Please, rate my story and drop your comments. Thanks
|Re: Iyanu: The Nurse, Poisoner, And Angel Of Death by Japopo: 12:49pm On Feb 14|
Drops of Death
The Mad Lawyer
When she caught a reflection of frail body in the mirror of a car outside the court, she was awed by the buttons of her dress and the wild look she now had. The police had to push pressmen away. They were all lost in the frenzy of knowing what would come of her. Their pen were itching for information that would feed their news cycle. Buffoons, she imagined.
‘Were you forced by a man?’ One of the pressmen asked, pushing the smelly foam of their TV Station at her.
That question caught her attention. She spun despite the grip of the policeman leading her away in cuffs.
‘So, you thought… Do you believe as a woman I’m incapable of doing what I love...’ She yekked but could not finish her statement before the policeman dragged her into the court. She was taken to the accused box but her mind was on the noise of people outside the court, chanting her name. She never knew Nigerians would be that lousy.
When the judge entered, she was expecting the most dreaded news of her death. Like everything boring in her life, the court proceeded just as they had been doing since her arrest. Her mind was soon lost on the street of Ekiti and the little places she eventually ended up.
‘This is the time for the attorney’s closing statement’, she heard the female judge say just as she snapped back to reality, paying her rapt attention.
The lawyer from the government ranted about the numerous things she had done in her life and how she was vile. His rants actually would have been amusing to her if only she wasn’t the one being accused. She was almost moved to tears when he concluded the matter.
She sighed. After experiencing orgasm from watching people die, she would soak in her own death. That was a great idea. She might ask for a mirror to be placed in front of her. That way, she could watch herself give up on life, wrapped up in the arms of death, having orgasm all the way, sweet and worth trying. She would wound her feet around death and watch it suck her soul away. It was the best feeling ever.
‘The defendant’s lawyer can talk now.’
‘If this court can remember the witness we brought in the other day. He explained how genetics can be effective in behavior. This is the case here. This woman is the child of her father’, her lawyer said.
There were gasps from the people, and that energized the lawyer. He spun around. ‘This is the truth. We all have heard of the case of her mad father. This is the same thing happening to my client. She is insane. Her Happy Iyanu nickname is the real her. You must have heard from the series of things that her nurses said about her that she was the kind of woman you want to make sit with your children and watch the aged for you at the hospital’.
Iyanu’s eyes shone in anger, and if providence could allow it, she would have risen to slap him. His belief bemused her. She wouldn’t have thought that he would come for her in that way.
The judge listened to their sides of the argument and called for a recess. Immediately she was left alone with her lawyer, she unleashed the demon in her.
‘You are indeed insane,’ she growled as she moved towards him slowly. Her lawyer raised his hand, which grappled his pen with wild enthusiasm, to indicate he didn’t care.
‘That was the wise thing to do,’ he said and spun his mustache.
She shook her head. ‘Mr. Ogbona, I have the right to do anything.’
He stared her down. ‘Have you seen it?’
She stopped growling.
‘Have you seen what the papers are saying about you?’
‘I don’t care. It was my life…’
He nudged her aside and grabbed his bag. ‘Can you see this?’
He threw the fresh newspaper in front of her. The smell alone brought several memories of her path, but she was more concerned about what the world thought of her. She read the papers hurried. Everything he said at the court jumped at her from the papers.
‘That was the smoking gun. I have been in this profession for years’. He longed from across the table and pointed at it. She could feel the buoyant happiness dancing on his face. This one is mad, she feared.
‘You were my counsel and should have asked for my opinion… I thought we agreed against this when you toed this lane’.
‘I am a winner. I don’t lose.’
Soon, the time for recess was over.
‘Before my judgment, I will like to hear from the accused.’
She rose and cracked her throat. ‘I am the killer. I, Iyanuola Iseoluwa Arike, am not insane. I have my regrets, but they were my works, and I own them. All 31 deaths were mine. My lawyer is insane for making such an outrageous claim about me’.
|Re: Iyanu: The Nurse, Poisoner, And Angel Of Death by queenitee(f): 2:05pm On Feb 16|
Such boldness for a killer
Please continue the story, others will join, you write very fine.
Evajael Kimberlywest Adesina 12 Lightqueen Comman see something
|Re: Iyanu: The Nurse, Poisoner, And Angel Of Death by Japopo: 2:33pm On Feb 16|
Kind of you. I will. The compliment means a lot. I will continue soon.
|Re: Iyanu: The Nurse, Poisoner, And Angel Of Death by Japopo: 3:01pm On Feb 16|
Many years, before Ayo Adedeji was christened 'Iyanu Iseoluwa,' she and two sisters were seated in their empty room as she stared at the wool of their lantern burn off with fear that they might have to sit in utter darkness or their mosquito-filled backyard.
Being the youngest of the three children, she held both Iretioluwa's cloth and that of their eldest child, Temidayo, with fear that the wool would burn off. Their father hadn't dropped any money for their upkeep or even food.
Their neighbor's voice could be heard in the background as she called on her children to come for their food. The three of them would have been there. They would be playing with the other children, but everyone in the street knew them as the children of 'Crackpot' that stayed back in other's house because of the food they were likely to eat. Their father was called 'crackpot' because he was always acting weird and mad.
'Should we go and play at them Tunde's house,' Temidayo asked. She was the one that always had something to say. So, it was no news that such an opinion would come from her.
'Yes...' Iretiola said as the wool of the lantern began to blink. The room had become dimmer by the day. It was natural for it to burn off. No kerosene! That was the same reason they couldn't eat anything that night. They had just a few cups of garri and rice in the house.
'You asked Ireti to ask Baba for money yesterday,' Ayo murmured as her hands became tighter on Ayo's hand. The room was now darker. This time, she began to moan loudly like one that had seen the dead in the corner of the house.
'Didn't I ask him?' Ireti retorted as if she was reliving the moment she asked their father for the money.
'Yes. She did....' Temi replied
'What did he say?' Ayo asked.
Ayo wanted to ask them in the morning, but they had both been grumpy. All Ayo knew was that she woke and saw Temi's reddened face and was only shouted down by Ireti before she stopped asking about the look.
If Ayo didn't interfere, Temi would have beaten Ireti to a stupor for such a question. Since she was their father's favorite, she would get away with beating the last born. Despite being this, Temi still got the man's slap whenever she offended him.
Before their mother's death some two years before, he wasn't caring enough, and that hastened the death tuberculosis brought. The night of her death, he was in his usual ways drink after he was done from work.
Their mother was groaning and rolling on the bed, but they had no money to pay. That was the day Temi became their new mother, and the new wife, their father, had secretly dreamt of.
Their mother died on the bed, groaning and moaning. Ayoola couldn't stop hating her father for this and sometimes blaming her mother for not leaving. She claimed their pastor wanted her to keep loving her husband.
One thing she noticed, however, was the way she felt when her mother was beginning to slip out of death. She couldn't explain how she felt. But that feeling always came with that memory again. And she would dismiss it as something not worth exploring. Her father, the drunk, didn't want to see them in church.
'They killed your mother,' he would bark. 'When she first became sick and chronic, those bastards told her not to take medications. She didn't tell you. That's what happened to her...Take money. Noooo. God said we would be healing. Pastor has killed her. Were. She now left me with three girls. Girls o. What do I want to do with them? No usefulness. They can't learn good work. They can't farm. Useless things. Instead of them to cook for me. You now want... God will cry for you if I see you leave here for one stupid church'.
Six-year-old Ayoola was always confused by this statement. As much as she was always angry at her father, and wanted the anger to remain so she could find that same feeling she got when her mother was dying, she still believed her father was right.
Despite not witnessing every of their quarrel, most of it was always about the excessiveness on the other person's part. Her father could home drunk, stinking of the dry gin, beer, or other things her little mind couldn't pick out. Her mother, on the other hand, might refuse to do some things because they were preached against in their church. And that would cause a fight, always.
Ayo sat in the darkness and wished her father would simply find a solution to the blinking lantern. He should get better, and they should enjoy the same joy as their friends. They attended a government school in the Atakumosa, Osun state, but still always had to worry about money for exercise books, lesson fees, class contributions, and so many other things they couldn't afford.
'Baba is around,' Ireti shouted excitedly.
'Sit there,' Ayo growled and tightened her grasp on her older sister. Though young, she was authoritative, and her sisters sometimes fall for it.
Their father's voice became louder in his inherited house. He was, as usual drunk,
'Where are those girls?' He shouted. The girls rose except Ayoola, who was angry.
'Good girls. Ireti and... Erm Ayoola... Come here. Follow me'.
'They can't see in the dark,' Temi shouted.
'Like I didn't know the children I gave birth to,' he yelled and slammed the wall. Ayoola knew better than to keep quiet. She had seen enough in her petty lives to take her sister's side in that matter. That might have to be the last of the words she would speak before his hard hand found its ways on her tiny body, smashing her body.
'Now, you two, follow me.'
He took Ayoola and Ireti away from the house. A bike was waiting for them outside. He placed Ayo and Ireti at the middle and tapped the bikeman
'Sojo, oya drive off,' he ordered.
Ayo hung on to the man's cloth as fear held her bound. If the cold breeze didn't kill, her fall shouldn't also. Ireti also was holding the man's cloth. This was more assuring than the presence of her father's and his horrible stench.
She wasn't sure how long they drove, but she was sure she was dosing off on the bike. Bushes and the noise of nocturnal animals should have kept her awake, but she was a deep sleeper.
'Wake up!' Her father growled and roused her out of her sleep.
They were in front of a house that looked partially modern and looked older like the missionary houses in Atakumosa. But she was sure she had never encountered this house.
'Welcome to...' Their drunken father said and clambered up the stair and turned back.
'Knock!' Their bike rider said.
'You sure, Sojo?'
'Like the smell of blood. I know this place...'
Their father knocked on the door severally and stepped back, swaying.
'Knock am like man?'
Someone shouted something from inside the house. Ayo glanced about with the aid of the full moon. Even with its brightness, all she could really see was her sister.
The door cranked opened, and an old woman poked her head out with a large lamp.
'Is this the exchange house?' Their father asked.
'No. It's your grandfather's own?' The old woman said sarcastically. 'What do you want?'
'I brought these two girls for... You know... To be servants,'.
The old woman peered at him for a long while. 'And to be paid for...'
'What else?' Mr. Ayodeji sauntered. He belched. 'Just give me the money.'
'I...' The old woman sighed. 'Wait a bit.'
She slammed the door and returned to the room.
'Where's she going?' He asked.
'To get our money?' The driver said excitedly.
'You know how many people dey come here for servants. Money upon money... But remember...' The driver said.
'I know. I know. It's one time, and I won't see them again. But please. They will be better off away from this trouble they are facing in my house'.
The old woman returned with a younger woman who had a big sack. She looked at Ireti and Ayo.
'They look miserable. See their clothes. These girls will need a little training before they are eventually usually useful to us,' the young woman said. She wore revealing pajamas, but only Ayo stared at every other part of her body.
Every other person stared at what she did.
'Should I take them away?' Mr. Adedeji asked.
'Shut up and take... It will only be recorded that they were from a miserable home, your miserable home. Sign here! And here! I mustn't see your drunken face again'.
'Only God knows the real miserable person', their father said.
The two girls were ushered into the big building. Their father didn't even hug them. Ayoola couldn't cry for his attention because he might simply send them off with a slap. But she understood that they had just being exchanged for money.
|Re: Iyanu: The Nurse, Poisoner, And Angel Of Death by priestchurch(m): 8:45pm On Feb 16|
Very interesting story.. More update pls.
|Re: Iyanu: The Nurse, Poisoner, And Angel Of Death by Japopo: 10:44pm On Feb 16|
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