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The Journey To A Thousand Flash - Literature (6) - Nairaland

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A Thousand Unspoken Words / For Ten Thousand Dollars- The Aftermath Of An Unintended Office Romance / Clovin - The Secret Of The Journey. By Palmer Emmanuel (2) (3) (4)

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Re: The Journey To A Thousand Flash by EkopSparoAyara(m): 12:23am On Sep 08, 2020
Am as confused as Aishat.. Larrysun, congratulations for successfully messing with my head..

1 Like

Re: The Journey To A Thousand Flash by Royver(m): 10:32am On Sep 08, 2020
LarrySun:
ROOOOOYYYYYYYYY! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN

Wow! It's been such a long time. How are you doing?

I'm fine bro smiley
I've been buried in my academic pursuits. Ended a while ago praise God. Decided to come and see how the old crew was doing. Not bad from what I can see cool grin

2 Likes

Re: The Journey To A Thousand Flash by dawno2008(m): 11:14am On Sep 08, 2020
Ok then who really is the ghost? Larry you can't mess with my head joor shocked shocked
Re: The Journey To A Thousand Flash by enirock(m): 2:43am On Sep 09, 2020
Truth be told, I am more confused tha Aishat. Thanks LarrySun for making me more confused.
Re: The Journey To A Thousand Flash by Khriztarl(f): 1:13pm On Sep 10, 2020
Confusion! Everywhere!
Re: The Journey To A Thousand Flash by Bukolaberry(f): 5:55pm On Sep 10, 2020
Mr Larry, thank you o you have completely scater my head with this Aisha ghost story I had to read again still don't know what to believe. hmmmmm ghost everywhere.
Re: The Journey To A Thousand Flash by Vulcanheph(m): 5:55am On Sep 11, 2020
Vulcanheph:
Flash 19 spiral.

Here's my theory, the Narrator's older self succeeded in time travel, but he knew that killing his childhood friend would be the movitation he would need to accomplish the time travel, since he knew that his teeenage friend would do everything to know why he would kill his best friend...
Dear mr Larrysun, My theory of spiral 1 was partly correct , although the Narrator killed his friend unknowingly not purposely as i theorized,
For a story writer your knowledge of physics is Breathtaking......

Finally the last flash concerning aishat the Ghost girl really caused my brain to go Haywire......

1 Like

Re: The Journey To A Thousand Flash by LarrySun(m): 12:08pm On Oct 10, 2020
THE JOURNEY TO A THOUSAND FLASH

Flash 25: Kingdom

Specially dedicated to a wonderful friend - Gabriel Eigbe.

Many years ago, a certain family was massacred, but the child survived. He was taken in by a lineage of slaves.

***

A long standing rift had existed between two royal families for generations. Nobody could really tell which family was next to ascend the throne of Kachi Kingdom - the Akenzuas had claimed to be the next in line, the Gazis insisted that it was their turn to climb the throne. These two royal families were desperate to wear the crown, and they were determined to do anything to win the royal race.

Chief Alooma, however, was not only the kingmaker, he was also the town's peacemaker - and he was also the richest man in the whole of Kachiland; he had donated a fortune to medical research in the land. His job was to mend the rift between the two families; but all his effort to restore peace was disavailed - neither of the families was willing to compromise. Because of the disagreement going on between the Akenzua Family and the Gazi Family, Kachiland had no king for a long time after the death of the last king.

And so when it was clear that neither family would ascend the throne except one gave in to another, the two families started plotting attacks against each other.

The Ghazis, realising that the first to take the offensive would most likely ascend the throne, threw the first stone. While the family was still deciding on a way to attack, the heir of the Gazi family, Rilwan Gazi, hired an assassin to kill the heir of the Akenzuas - Fifi Akenzua.

"Kill him and get rid of his body," Idris had told Ekong, the killer.

The killer had nodded in understanding.

"If they don't have an heir," Rilwan had explained further, "they won't lay claim to the throne. When I become the king, you'll be my chief of security."

Ekong had been flattered. He had always been fascinated by royalty but he was from the lineage of slaves - he knew he would never become king even though he knew about the history of his existence. The closest he could get to the throne was to become the bodyguard of the king. He was also a eunuch; he would never father a child. He decided that if he couldn't bring a soul to the world, then it was only right for him to take as many away from the world as possible - so he became a killer.

Early the following morning, Ekong sought out Prince Fifi Akenzua. Keeping his gun close by his side, Ekong had located the target. The prince was just driving out of his family compound when Ekong appeared in his own car. The killer decided to tail the target to a better location.

After about thirty minutes of following behind the target, he suddenly overtook the car and stepped out with his gun drawn. The road was quiet. It was the perfect spot. Ekong quickly got out of the car, walked over to Fifi who was still behind the wheel, and shot him squarely in the face. Fifi died immediately.

Ekong was meticulous. He calmly lifted the corpse from the driver's seat and placed him in the booth of the car. The killer parked his car at the side of the road and drove the victim's car away - the owner of the car was lying dead in the booth.

The killer had his plan. He would throw the corpse over the city bridge into the river below and then drive back to where he parked his own car. He would leave the victim's car there at the roadside and drive off in his own car. It would be perfect. The corpse would never be discovered; the fishes would devour it.

Everything worked according to how Ekong planned it. He had thrown the corpse into the river and was driving back to his car when a truck suddenly appeared. It was too late for him to react as he drove head-on towards the truck. There was a loud crash. The car Ekong drove somersaulted three times before it rested on its side.

The truck, apparently undamaged, was driven away as Ekong struggled for his life. He was trying to get out of the car but was trapped by the seatbelt. He was uninjured save for the deep gash on his right temple. The fuel tank had been punctured and petrol was beginning to leak out.

For over ten minutes, Ekong was still trying to free himself. Petrol was now all around him and a little spark was beginning to ignite. While Ekong was struggling to break free, one vehicle drove by since the accident happened.

It was Chief Alooma - the peacemaker. Just as he stepped out of his car, the spark caught the petrol and caused a great fire. At this moment, Ekong had broken free of his entrapment but he was not very lucky. His clothes had been soaked with the petrol. As he tried to run off, the fire engulfed him.

Chief Alooma saw someone on fire. The person was screaming and running around blindly. The peacemaker quite took of his coat and covered up the burning man with it, dousing the fire in the process. But the damage had already been done. The fire had burned off Ekong's skin; he was barely alive.

The chief quickly carried the victim into his own car. As he was about to get behind the wheel, he noticed a driver's licence on the floor. On picking it up, he saw that it belonged to Prince Fifi Akenzua. It was the prince's car that was burning.

As he sat behind the wheel and turned the ignition, he said to himself:

"That's Prince Fifi in the backseat. I must save him. He must not die."

As he drove away, Ekong lost consciousness in the backseat.

***

On getting to the hospital, Chief Alooma thought the accident victim was dead but the doctor confirmed that he was still alive. Ekong was quickly rushed to ICU.

“Doctor, you must save him,” Alooma told the doctor, “He must not die – he’s Prince Fifi Akenzua.”

“He’s badly burnt,” replied the doctor, “His skin is totally peeled off.”

“Can you restore his body back to its original state?”

The doctor thought deeply about the question before replying. “To be able to do that, I’d need a picture of him.”

The chief quickly produced the driver’s license he had found at the crash site. “Can this do?” he asked anxiously.

“It’s a start but I’ll need a complete picture of him.”

And so while the doctors began to work on restoring the victim’s body, Chief Alooma visited the Akenzuas and related the bad news. Prince Fifi had been in a ghastly accident and was being treated by the doctors. He requested for the prince’s sharper picture and took it to the doctors.

The surgery spanned three months; and when Ekong was released from the hospital, he had the body of Fifi.

“He suffered amnesia due to the impact of the accident,” the presiding doctor informed the family, “He doesn’t remember anything. His memory is totally blank. It will take a while before his memory returns. You have a lot of work to do in helping him through this recovery process.

The family took Ekong home and shared details about Fifi to him.

You are the heir of the throne of Kachiland.

You have a pregnant wife. She’ll soon put to bed.

You must fight for what’s rightly yours.

It was another three months before Ekong learnt everything he needed to know. In the absence of Fifi, Rilwan Gazi had been elected as the next king of the land, and his coronation was getting close.

Two weeks before the ceremony, Ekong, now Fifi Akenzua, invaded the Gazi home and killed everyone, including Rilwan – the man who had sent him to kill the prince of the rival family.
No one suspected Ekong of carrying out the killings. And since the Gazi family had been wiped out, Ekong was crowned the king of Kachiland a fortnight later.

But as soon as Ekong was crowned king by the kingmaker, he secretly ordered the execution of all Akenzuas. He didn't suffer any amnesia after all. He was out for revenge. The two families, the Akenzuas and the Gazis, had been responsible for the massacre of his family when he was a child.

However, because he knew he would never father a child, he spared Fifi’s pregnant wife and made her his queen in the palace.

Nobody knew who he truly was.

7 Likes 1 Share

Re: The Journey To A Thousand Flash by tunjilomo(m): 12:35pm On Oct 10, 2020
Who is this man called LarrySun,
Who dazzles like the sun.

3 Likes

Re: The Journey To A Thousand Flash by fattprince(m): 3:41pm On Oct 10, 2020
tunjilomo:
Who is this man called LarrySun,
Who dazzles like the sun.
I'm not impressed

1 Like 1 Share

Re: The Journey To A Thousand Flash by Asiseeit: 4:48pm On Oct 10, 2020
LarrySun:
***

"I saw Rikat again last night," Aishat told Doctor Hassan again.

"Oh come on, Aishat! Are the drugs I've been giving not working?"

"I'm telling you! I saw her."

"Ghosts don't exist. They've never been! All you've been seeing are simply illusions. They're not real."

"You see them only when you don't know they are dead," Aishat murmured.

"What did you say?"

"Oh, never mind. I just remember what a woman told me in the market."

"I think you need to return to your room."

Aishat looked sad. "I just want to be believed. I want someone to know that it's not hallucinations. Ghosts really exist."

"I can't believe what's not real."

"I want you to follow me to my room," she said, "If you still don't believe me, I'll agree that I've been hallucinating."

"What's in your room?"

"Just follow me. It'll only take a few seconds."

Aishat led the way. The doctor followed reluctantly. "This better be worth my time."

They walked through the corridor. When they arrived at the door of her room, Aishat asked the doctor to open the door.

"What's behind the door?"

"Just open, Doctor. You'll find out."

Doctor Hassan slowly turned the knob and pushed the door in. He shrank back in horror at what he saw.

Aishat smiled and said, "Do you believe me now?"

"This is impossible!" He was slowly backing away from the room, and also away from Aishat.

He wanted to look away, but he could not. He was staring into the room. Aishat was sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, her head was rested on the table. There was blood oozing from her temple where she had shot herself. The gun was lying on the floor and her dead eyes stared at the entrance.

"You - you are a ghost!" Doctor Hassan said in shaky voice.

"Yes, I am, Doctor. Unfortunately, I had to kill myself to make you believe."

"You're a ghost, Aishat! You killed yourself!"

He collapsed to the ground.

"I told you ghosts exist but you didn't believe me. Now that I have convinced you, I need to go and visit my family for the last time, before they hear the news about my death."

"Your family?" Hassan asked, his face registered further surprise.

"Yes, my parents and my two kids. I told you about my husband. I told you he died."

"But your parents are dead, Aishat. They've been dead for long. And you are not married. You have no husband, no kids."

"What are you talking about?"

"You've been in this hospital for two years. We've been taking care of you."

"You're saying nonsense, Doctor. I only came here a couple of weeks ago."

"No, that's the drugs. The drugs made you think you walked in here on your own, but you didn't. You've been here for years. The drugs reshaped your mind, Aishat. You were the first test subject for the drugs. Apparently, they've been putting various ideas in your head."

"I don't believe you! That's a lie!"

"You killed yourself, Aishat! You killed yourself!"

Then suddenly, the main door of the hospital burst open and Aishat saw her mother and father rush in, they were each carrying her kids.

"Mama! Papa!" Aishat called.

Her father walked towards her. "We've been searching around for you for days, Aishat. What are you doing here?"

"He told me you're dead."

Her father frowned. "Dead? Who has been telling you that nonsense?"

"Him, Doctor Hassan," she pointed at the man lying on the floor.

Her father's eyes followed her gaze. "I'm not seeing anyone there."

"There he is - he lying down there!" Aishat pointed again.

"There's no one there, my daughter," Aishat's mother said.

Aishat was confused.

"Who are you talking to, Aishat?" Doctor Hassan asked.

"My parents," she replied him.

"Where are they?"

"They're standing here! Can't you see them?"

The doctor sat erect. "Aishat, there's no one there."

"Here they are! My mom and dad! They're carrying my kids!"

"I told you. Your parents are dead. You never had any kid. You were never married."

"Aishat, who are you talking to?" her father asked.

"The doctor! Doctor Hassan! There he is!" She was weeping now. "Can't you see him?"

"There's no one here. There's no one in this hospital, Aishat! This building is deserted. It has been deserted for three years. Something happened in this hospital three years ago. Someone with a strange virus was brought in. Her virus killed everyone in the hospital. All the doctors, nurses and patients died. This building is haunted, it's haunted by their ghosts."

"That's impossible!"

"It's the truth, my daughter. We have to get out of here now. This place is evil."

"I thought you don't believe in ghosts," Aishat said.

"That's the rumour. If there are really ghosts here, then you must be seeing them. Only you see ghosts."

Aishat turned to the doctor. "You're a ghost, aren't you?"

"Me? Ghost? Who is telling you that? Aishat, don't believe whatever they're telling you! They're the ghosts, your parents. If they're not ghosts, they're not supposed to see you. You're now a ghost, remember? You killed yourself. They are dead, that's why they could see you. They've been dead for long. It's the drugs messing with your head."

She was very confused. She didn't know who to believe.

"Papa, mama! I'm a ghost."

Her parents stared at each other. "Ghost? How come? Is it the doctor that told you that? Don't believe him! He's lying to you! You're not a ghost! You're a living human being!"

"Look at the room," she said.

Her parents peeked into the room.

"What are we supposed to see?" her father asked.

"Are you not seeing who is in the room?"

"There's no one in the room, Aishat," her mother said.

"My daughter, we have to leave now," said her father, "Your husband is waiting."

Aishat frowned. "My husband?"

"Yes, he's waiting for you at home."

"Abdul is alive?"

"He's alive and well," said her mother.

Aishat shook her head. "That's not true. Abdul died in a car accident two years ago."

"Of course not! You were both together living happily until you suddenly left home. You left him and your kids. We'd been searching for you for over two weeks. Oh! Look at how thin you are!" Her mother started weeping. To Aishat, she sounded like the weeping Rikat.

"Whatever they may be telling you is a lie," said Doctor Hassan. "Do not listen to them. You have no parents. No family."

Aishat walked towards the doctor and bent before him. "You may be right. I don't know who to believe anymore. Maybe it's really the drugs messing with my head. Maybe not. I find it hard to believe you just like I'm finding it hard to believe them too. But most importantly, I can't believe myself anymore. To them, I'm a living person. To you, I'm a ghost. To me, I don't know who I am anymore. I remember shooting myself in the head. You can see my corpse. I can see my corpse, but they can't. Maybe they're really not ghosts, but then again, they say Abdul is alive. I know for a fact that my husband is dead. Maybe they're really ghosts. They can't see you, and you can't see them either. They tell me you're dead, you tell me they're dead. A ghost I met in the market sometimes ago told me that living people could only see ghosts if they don't know they are dead. If they do, the living will never see the dead. They know you're dead, that's why they can't see you. You know they're dead, that's why you can't see them. Maybe I never met any ghost at the market. Maybe it's all the drugs. Maybe both of you are ghosts, maybe that's why you can both communicate with me. Maybe Rikat didn't shoot herself. Maybe she really brought a virus into this hospital. Maybe all the nurses, doctors and patients of this hospital are ghosts. There are a lot of maybes. I wish this was just a bad dream. I wish to wake up right now from this nightmare. Unfortunately, it's not a dream. It's my reality. Am I a ghost or not? I can't even tell.

"I must pick a side. I choose to pick my family. Even in death, family is everything. If it's the drug messing with my mind, at least I won't be taking them again. Eventually, their effects will wear off and I'd know the truth. For now, I go with my family."

She stood up and said,"Goodbye, Doctor Hassan."

The doctor watched her as she stepped out of the door. She was walking out alone.

The End

©Larry Sun, September 2020

Apologies for quoting it all, but wow!
Re: The Journey To A Thousand Flash by collins1895: 6:16pm On Oct 10, 2020
LarrySun:
THE JOURNEY TO A THOUSAND FLASH

Flash 25: Kingdom

Specially dedicated to a wonderful friend - Gabriel Eigbe.

Many years ago, a certain family was massacred, but the child survived. He was taken in by a lineage of slaves.

***

A long standing rift had existed between two royal families for generations. Nobody could really tell which family was next to ascend the throne of Kachi Kingdom - the Akenzuas had claimed to be the next in line, the Gazis insisted that it was their turn to climb the throne. These two royal families were desperate to wear the crown, and they were determined to do anything to win the royal race.

Chief Alooma, however, was not only the kingmaker, he was also the town's peacemaker - and he was also the richest man in the whole of Kachiland; he had donated a fortune to medical research in the land. His job was to mend the rift between the two families; but all his effort to restore peace was disavailed - neither of the families was willing to compromise. Because of the disagreement going on between the Akenzua Family and the Gazi Family, Kachiland had no king for a long time after the death of the last king.

And so when it was clear that neither family would ascend the throne except one gave in to another, the two families started plotting attacks against each other.

The Ghazis, realising that the first to take the offensive would most likely ascend the throne, threw the first stone. While the family was still deciding on a way to attack, the heir of the Gazi family, Rilwan Gazi, hired an assassin to kill the heir of the Akenzuas - Fifi Akenzua.

"Kill him and get rid of his body," Idris had told Ekong, the killer.

The killer had nodded in understanding.

"If they don't have an heir," Rilwan had explained further, "they won't lay claim to the throne. When I become the king, you'll be my chief of security."

Ekong had been flattered. He had always been fascinated by royalty but he was from the lineage of slaves - he knew he would never become king even though he knew about the history of his existence. The closest he could get to the throne was to become the bodyguard of the king. He was also a eunuch; he would never father a child. He decided that if he couldn't bring a soul to the world, then it was only right for him to take as many away from the world as possible - so he became a killer.

Early the following morning, Ekong sought out Prince Fifi Akenzua. Keeping his gun close by his side, Ekong had located the target. The prince was just driving out of his family compound when Ekong appeared in his own car. The killer decided to tail the target to a better location.

After about thirty minutes of following behind the target, he suddenly overtook the car and stepped out with his gun drawn. The road was quiet. It was the perfect spot. Ekong quickly got out of the car, walked over to Fifi who was still behind the wheel, and shot his squarely in the face. Fifi died immediately.

Ekong was meticulous. He calmly lifted the corpse from the driver's seat and placed him in the booth of the car. The killer parked his car at the side of the road and drove the victim's car away - the owner of the car was lying dead in the booth.

The killer had his plan. He would throw the corpse over the city bridge into the river below and then drive back to where he parked his own car. He would leave the victim's car there at the roadside and drive off in his own car. It would be perfect. The corpse would never be discovered; the fishes would devour it.

Everything worked according to how Ekong planned it. He had thrown the corpse into the river and was driving back to his car when a truck suddenly appeared. It was too late for him to react as he drove head-on towards the truck. There was a loud crash. The car Ekong drove somersaulted three times before it rested on its side.

The truck, apparently undamaged, was driven away as Ekong struggled for his life. He was trying to get out of the car but was trapped by the seatbelt. He was uninjured save for the deep gash on his right temple. The fuel tank had been punctured and petrol was beginning to leak out.

For over ten minutes, Ekong was still trying to free himself. Petrol was now all around him and a little spark was beginning to ignite. While Ekong was struggling to break free, one vehicle drove by since the accident happened.

It was Chief Alooma - the peacemaker. Just as he stepped out of his car, the spark caught the petrol and caused a great fire. At this moment, Ekong had broken free of his entrapment but he was not very lucky. His clothes had been soaked with the petrol. As he tried to run off, the fire engulfed him.

Chief Alooma saw someone on fire. The person was screaming and running around blindly. The peacemaker quite took of his coat and covered up the burning man with it, dousing the fire in the process. But the damage had already been done. The fire had burned off Ekong's skin; he was barely alive.

The chief quickly carried the victim into his own car. As he was about to get behind the wheel, he noticed a driver's licence on the floor. On picking it up, he saw that it belonged to Prince Fifi Akenzua. It was the prince's car that was burning.

As he sat behind the wheel and turned the ignition, he said to himself:

"That's Prince Fifi in the backseat. I must save him. He must not die."

As he drove away, Ekong lost consciousness in the backseat.

***

On getting to the hospital, Chief Alooma thought the accident victim was dead but the doctor confirmed that he was still alive. Ekong was quickly rushed to ICU.

“Doctor, you must save him,” Alooma told the doctor, “He must not die – he’s Prince Fifi Akenzua.”

“He’s badly burnt,” replied the doctor, “His skin is totally peeled off.”

“Can you restore his body back to its original state?”

The doctor thought deeply about the question before replying. “To be able to do that, I’d need a picture of him.”

The chief quickly produced the driver’s license he had found at the crash site. “Can this do?” he asked anxiously.

“It’s a start but I’ll need a complete picture of him.”

And so while the doctors began to work on restoring the victim’s body, Chief Alooma visited the Akenzuas and related the bad news. Prince Fifi had been in a ghastly accident and was being treated by the doctors. He requested for the prince’s sharper picture and took it to the doctors.

The surgery spanned three months; and when Ekong was released from the hospital, he had the body of Fifi.

“He suffered amnesia due to the impact of the accident,” the presiding doctor informed the family, “He doesn’t remember anything. His memory is totally blank. It will take a while before his memory returns. You have a lot of work to do in helping him through this recovery process.

The family took Ekong home and shared details about Fifi to him.

You are the heir of the throne of Kachiland.

You have a pregnant wife. She’ll soon put to bed.

You must fight for what’s rightly yours.

It was another three months before Ekong learnt everything he needed to know. In the absence of Fifi, Rilwan Gazi had been elected as the next king of the land, and his coronation was getting close.

Two weeks before the ceremony, Ekong, now Fifi Akenzua, invaded the Gazi home and killed everyone, including Rilwan – the man who had sent him to kill the prince of the rival family.
No one suspected Ekong of carrying out the killings. And since the Gazi family had been wiped out, Ekong was crowned the king of Kachiland a fortnight later.

But as soon as Ekong was crowned king by the kingmaker, he secretly ordered the execution of all Akenzuas. He didn't suffer any amnesia after all. He was out for revenge. The two families, the Akenzuas and the Gazis, had been responsible for the massacre of his family when he was a child.

However, because he knew he would never father a child, he spared Fifi’s pregnant wife and made her his queen in the palace.

Nobody knew who he truly was.

brilliant larry,these are the kind of story Africa magic epic will be looking for

1 Like

Re: The Journey To A Thousand Flash by Bukolaberry(f): 9:45pm On Oct 10, 2020
thanks again, you are really good in this.
Re: The Journey To A Thousand Flash by Vulcanheph(m): 3:21pm On Oct 11, 2020
collins1895:


brilliant larry,these are the kind of story Africa magic epic will be looking for
no they are looking for Crappy stories gringringrin
Re: The Journey To A Thousand Flash by MrCork: 9:02pm On Oct 11, 2020
Bukolaberry:
thanks again, you are really good in thuis.


tanks.. anyways am a music video directors & I work wit puffy daddy, davido, beyansi, ritana, wisskid& others. I all so right literature books please can u kindly quickly send me yor full size naaaaked picture so I can look it to invite u for audition & for literature book. Please hurry kindly cheesy
Re: The Journey To A Thousand Flash by Khriztarl(f): 11:25am On Oct 12, 2020
Weldone. Larrysun.
Re: The Journey To A Thousand Flash by NoChill: 1:21pm On Oct 26, 2020
You are doing well
Re: The Journey To A Thousand Flash by LarrySun(m): 11:54am On Nov 05, 2020
THE JOURNEY TO A THOUSAND FLASH

Flash 26: The Figure

This is for you, Horpsyjay - you requested for it.

When I was a child, I would sometimes sleep off on the floor but always found myself waking up on the bed. Of course, my parents were always the guardian angels whenever I slept like that. Either my dad or mum would carry me while I slept and gently lay me down on my bed.

But twenty years later, now that I was a grownup, I would sleep on the bed and when I woke up, I often found myself on the floor. Many adults have experienced this; it is simple - we wake up on the floor because we roll off the bed during sleep.

But if my situation had been as simple as that, I wouldn't have worried; the truth is that 'simple' can no way describe my experience - I believe the best term, in this regard, is 'mysterious'.

Sometimes, my situation would go beyond just waking up on the floor. In some cases, I would wake up wearing a different pair of clothes from the one I slept in. In other cases, I would feel strangely full - an indication that I had recently eaten, the food was always different from the supper I took the night before. And whenever I checked my pantry, I would discover that a certain quantity of food had been taken. The kitchen would reveal that a meal had recently been prepared.

The only logical explanation was that I had done all these in a complete state of fugue. That, of course, would explain why I never had any recollection of the events that happened in this state.

And yet, deep within me, I felt something a lot more mysterious than that had happened. Each time I woke up, I always felt something had been taken from me. The feeling of strange incompleteness would overwhelm me every time I opened my eyes. If I was a lady, I would have thought someone always stole into my room in the middle of the night to violate my body - but that was not the case. In fact, the possibility of such happening was highly unlikely; because, besides the fact that I was a man and had never noticed any residual effect of unbridled sexual regatta, I always bolted my door from behind. And whenever I woke up, I always found the bolts particularly intact - no indication of any form of foul-play could be established.

At some point, I imagined that an intruder might have gained entry into my room via the ceiling; but then again, that was ruled out. The asbestos didn't appear to be tampered with. Besides, my room was, to some extent, burglary-proof; a strong iron bar had been professionally laid behind the ceiling during construction. It was a precaution against any form of intrusion. So, the idea that someone had stolen into my room should not hold water.

Therefore, after considering every angle, the only logical explanation was the fugue state. Even if I had consulted a shrink about this matter, there was no doubt that we would arrive at the same obvious conclusion. But like I already hinted, something eerie sufficed.

One night, I decided to carry out a personal investigation. When it was time for me to sleep I first firmly bolted my door, then I brought out my phone, activated its night vision and set the video recorder in motion. I hid the phone in a spot where the camera directly captured my bed and the majority of the room; and I made the phone as inconspicuous as possible. I knew I was only reaching, since there was no way an uninvited guest could have gained access to the room.

I soon dozed off and, hours later, opened my eyes to the rays of the morning sun that came through the window. When I checked the time on my bedside clock, it was already past 8. I sat up groggily; at least I hadn't woken up on the floor this time around. I was grateful. I looked at the door, it was just as I had left it before I slept. Then I suddenly remembered the phone. I quickly jumped out of bed and located it from where I had hidden it.

To my surprise, the video was still recording. It had been recording for the past ten hours. I was impressed. I pressed the 'STOP' key and returned to my bed to watch everything from the beginning. I was hoping that this would provide the answers I sought.

And it did - but it was not the answer I was prepared for.

For the first two hours, I was staring at myself sleeping. I didn't want to fast-forward because I was afraid of missing anything. It was like watching a dry wall. Occasionally, I would toss and turn but nothing significant happened.

Then it happened!

It was an intruder after all. How the figure entered the room is still a mystery to me. I watched in horror as the intruder hovered before me on the bed. It was like I was staring at an apparition. I couldn't catch his face. It seemed like the figure knew where the camera was and he was intentionally shielding his face away from it. To be quite frank, I couldn't even tell if the figure was a male or female.

Then I saw the figure produce a dagger. First, he slit my throat - I watched in horror as I gurgled; blood rushed to my mouth and I began to spasm violently. Then the intruder raised the dagger up and brought it down hard on my chest. The spasm stopped immediately and I laid there still - very much dead. I could see my dead eyes staring at the ceiling. There was blood everywhere - the ceiling, the walls, the floor, the bedsheet - my room was like an abattoir.

The killer dug out the dagger from my chest and kept it away. Then he dragged my body off the bed and out of the room. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Blood trail followed as he dragged me out of my fortress. After a while, the figure returned and took my position on the bed. He didn't even bother to wipe off the blood. His face was still shielded from the camera.

My hands shook violently as I watched the intruder sleep in my bed. For the next six hours, the figure slept peacefully in my bed. I couldn't stop the video. It was like I was in a trance. I watched as dawn approached. The figure didn't rise from the bed within all these hours. The sun shone into the room and I watched as he turned around to the complete view of the camera and rose from bed.

I was staring at myself.

I sat groggily on the bed, in the puddle of my own blood. Then I remembered the camera and jumped to my feet. I saw myself walk towards the phone, pick it from where I had hidden it the night before, and press 'STOP'.

The video ended.

I looked around the room. Nothing seemed out of place. There was no blood anywhere.

And, I am alive!

©Larry Sun
November, 2020

5 Likes

Re: The Journey To A Thousand Flash by Khriztarl(f): 12:06pm On Nov 05, 2020
Larry larry. Oshheey. Thanks for making my brain go 360. I had to read over again just to be sure i missed nothing out. So you're telling me, He is the figure or the figure is in him?

2 Likes

Re: The Journey To A Thousand Flash by omobs(m): 2:33pm On Nov 05, 2020
LarrySun:
THE JOURNEY TO A THOUSAND FLASH

Flash 26: The Figure

This is for you, Horpsyjay - you requested for it.

When I was a child, I would sometimes sleep off on the floor but always found myself waking up on the bed. Of course, my parents were always the guardian angels whenever I slept like that. Either my dad or mum would carry me while I slept and gently lay me down on my bed.

But twenty years later, now that I was a grownup, I would sleep on the bed and when I woke up, I often found myself on the floor. Many adults have experienced this; it is simple - we wake up on the floor because we roll off the bed during sleep.

But if my situation had been as simple as that, I wouldn't have worried; the truth is that 'simple' can no way describe my experience - I believe the best term, in this regard, is 'mysterious'.

Sometimes, my situation would go beyond just waking up on the floor. In some cases, I would wake up wearing a different pair of clothes from the one I slept in. In other cases, I would feel strangely full - an indication that I had recently eaten, the food was always different from the supper I took the night before. And whenever I checked my pantry, I would discover that a certain quantity of food had been taken. The kitchen would reveal that a meal had recently been prepared.

The only logical explanation was that I had done all these in a complete state of fugue. That, of course, would explain why I never had any recollection of the events that happened in this state.

And yet, deep within me, I felt something a lot more mysterious than that had happened. Each time I woke up, I always felt something had been taken from me. The feeling of strange incompleteness would overwhelm me every time I opened my eyes. If I was a lady, I would have thought someone always stole into my room in the middle of the night to violate my body - but that was not the case. In fact, the possibility of such happening was highly unlikely; because, besides the fact that I was a man and had never noticed any residual effect of unbridled sexual regatta, I always bolted my door from behind. And whenever I woke up, I always found the bolts particularly intact - no indication of any form of foul-play could be established.

At some point, I imagined that an intruder might have gained entry into my room via the ceiling; but then again, that was ruled out. The asbestos didn't appear to be tampered with. Besides, my room was, to some extent, burglary-proof; a strong iron bar had been professionally laid behind the ceiling during construction. It was a precaution against any form of intrusion. So, the idea that someone had stolen into my room should not hold water.

Therefore, after considering every angle, the only logical explanation was the fugue state. Even if I had consulted a shrink about this matter, there was no doubt that we would arrive at the same obvious conclusion. But like I already hinted, something eerie sufficed.

One night, I decided to carry out a personal investigation. When it was time for me to sleep I first firmly bolted my door, then I brought out my phone, activated its night vision and set the video recorder in motion. I hid the phone in a spot where the camera directly captured my bed and the majority of the room; and I made the phone as inconspicuous as possible. I knew I was only reaching, since there was no way an uninvited guest could have gained access to the room.

I soon dozed off and, hours later, opened my eyes to the rays of the morning sun that came through the window. When I checked the time on my bedside clock, it was already past 8. I sat up groggily; at least I hadn't woken up on the floor this time around. I was grateful. I looked at the door, it was just as I had left it before I slept. Then I suddenly remembered the phone. I quickly jumped out of bed and located it from where I had hidden it.

To my surprise, the video was still recording. It had been recording for the past ten hours. I was impressed. I pressed the 'STOP' key and returned to my bed to watch everything from the beginning. I was hoping that this would provide the answers I sought.

And it did - but it was not the answer I was prepared for.

For the first two hours, I was staring at myself sleeping. I didn't want to fast-forward because I was afraid of missing anything. It was like watching a dry wall. Occasionally, I would toss and turn but nothing significant happened.

Then it happened!

It was an intruder after all. How the figure entered the room is still a mystery to me. I watched in horror as the intruder hovered before me on the bed. It was like I was staring at an apparition. I couldn't catch his face. It seemed like the figure knew where the camera was and he was intentionally shielding his face away from it. To be quite frank, I couldn't even tell if the figure was a male or female.

Then I saw the figure produce a dagger. First, he slit my throat - I watched in horror as I gurgled; blood rushed to my mouth and I began to spasm violently. Then the intruder raised the dagger up and brought it down hard on my chest. The spasm stopped immediately and I laid there still - very much dead. I could see my dead eyes staring at the ceiling. There was blood everywhere - the ceiling, the walls, the floor, the bedsheet - my room was like an abattoir.

The killer dug out the dagger from my chest and kept it away. Then he dragged my body off the bed and out of the room. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Blood trail followed as he dragged me out of my fortress. After a while, the figure returned and took my position on the bed. He didn't even bother to wipe off the blood. His face was still shielded from the camera.

My hands shook violently as I watched the intruder sleep in my bed. For the next six hours, the figure slept peacefully in my bed. I couldn't stop the video. It was like I was in a trance. I watched as dawn approached. The figure didn't rise from the bed within all these hours. The sun shone into the room and I watched as he turned around to the complete view of the camera and rose from bed.

I was staring at myself.

I sat groggily on the bed, in the puddle of my own blood. Then I remembered the camera and jumped to my feet. I saw myself walk towards the phone, pick it from where I had hidden it the night before, and press 'STOP'.

The video ended.

I looked around the room. Nothing seemed out of place. There was no blood anywhere.

And, I am alive!

©Larry Sun
November, 2020

I Have been trying to understand,but I give up
Re: The Journey To A Thousand Flash by Kimmiebabie(f): 10:47pm On Nov 13, 2020
Its been so long I used nairaland. Gosh I've missed so much. Hi Larry
Re: The Journey To A Thousand Flash by Bukolaberry(f): 11:17pm On Nov 13, 2020
thanks again, but seriously I don't understand , i had to read all over again still the same, I tried to picture still same , thank you I for stressing my brain again after the ghost story.
Re: The Journey To A Thousand Flash by LarrySun(m): 9:19am On Jan 13
THE JOURNEY TO A THOUSAND FLASH

Flash 27: The Full Moon

For Akintayo Akinjide (Divepen)

I lived in a small village in the south-western part of the country. After careful thoughts, I have chosen to keep my name and that of my village to myself. The singular reason for jumping on this wagon of personal discretion is simply because the village is now nonexistent, yet it exists; I am dead, yet I still live.

The absurdity and horror began after the New Yam festival. There were about a thousand of us in the village, but one by one we all fell when it appeared - it was the full moon.

The first set of people who saw it were initially fascinated by its beauty. The full moon had always come out in its time for hundreds of years in the village, but there was something incredibly unique about this particular one. Besides the fact that it seemed about close enough to be touched, it was a ball of horror that, at first, shimmered through cumulus blue clouds scattered like popsicles across the blanketing spectral yonder, then finally luminous against our tormented little village. It is quite remarkable how nature of such magnificence could arouse such terror.

Those who saw it and marvelled at its beauty were deep-sixed into a brief phase of hypnosis before they started to go mad one after the other. Obviously, the moon had something to do with their insanity; its sight messed with their heads - their sense of reason, their rationality.

The first incident of the horror was that of the oldest man in the village who easily lifted a grinding stone too heavy for even young able-bodied men of the village to carry. The source of the old man's incredible power must have been the moon - that was the only credible explanation for the sheer stupefaction. The old man, who had seen four score and ten rainy seasons, lifted the stone high above his own head and then released his grip on it. We watched in horror as the huge rock crashed into the man's skull and shattered it against the hard ground. He died instantly, bits of his manipulated brain could be seen as it popped from the head already knocked horribly askew.

It turned out that only a handful of us felt revulsion at the suicide we just witnessed - only a handful of those with their rationality still intact, those of us who were yet to look up at the sky and admire the beauty of the full moon. Those who had seen the moon showed no emotion whatsoever; instead, they went ahead to end their own lives in their own singular unique manners. A teenage boy produced a knife from the kitchen and drove it through his own throat in one swift motion. The knife was driven so deep that it's pointed end came out the back of his neck.

It seemed like they were all under a trance. They didn't kill themselves simultaneously, they rather did it in turns. One would wait for the other to die before going ahead to take their own life. A hunter had put the barrel of his shotgun between his mouth and pulled the trigger. A palm-wine tapper had seppukued himself with his own dagger. His bowels had flooded out of his stomach into his hands as he cut himself almost in half. Mysteriously, none of them cried out as they took their own lives. One even doused himself in paraffin oil and set himself ablaze - there was no cry of agony. A fisherman trying his luck at late night fishery heard the cawing of a crow and had looked up to the sky by reflex. He jumped from his canoe into the body of dark water, drowning himself.

There was a pattern to this visceral of horror. Besides the fact that these felos-de-se took turns in killing themselves, they posed no danger to other people. None of them attacked any one of us; even when some of us who hadn't gone mad attempted to stop some of them from committing suicide, they didn't attack us, they instead shook us off with unbelievable strength - both old and young alike. We couldn't stop them from carrying out the acts. In the end, we could do nothing but watch the horror. The gods had cursed us, and so they sent the evil moon to damn us one after the other. None of our traditional priests could ascertain the cause of this madness, this terror - we were on our own. If you wanted to stay alive, you must not look at the moon. But even with this realisation, some of us were not so lucky. A pregnant woman saw the reflection of the moon from the water she had fetched in a bowl and she joined the queue of the suicides. When it was her turn, she climbed a high hill and threw herself off of it.

All night long, we watched as people killed themselves in their own unique ways. They were our children, parents, siblings, friends, neighbours, acquaintances - we watched them go and we couldn't do anything to stop them. Even when dawn finally approached, those who had seen the moon continued to kill themselves. We prayed that such evil moon never revealed itself again, but it did. The following night, it appeared again, and, of course, the ignorant fell victim. Some fell by sheer accident. Every night, the moon appeared. It was clear that it wouldn't stop until every living soul of my village was claimed by the evil surrounding the moon.

By the end of the first week, my village became a necropolis. The rest of us, a few dozens of us, couldn't bury enough corpses. We were soon running out of graves to dig, or the will to dig them. Eventually, having lost all hopes of salvation, we let the corpses rot in the streets, in every dark alley, every canal, gutter, swamp - vultures had every day feast, termites rejoiced, earthworms slithered in jubilation.

In the second week, we were less than a dozen. At this point, some of us didn't have to stare at the moon before losing their senses. Trying to escape was fruitless; wherever you went, the moon would follow you; and in some cases, you didn't even have to look in the sky before seeing the moon. One of us had seen it in the dead eyes of a corpse - he ended up becoming a corpse too. There was a no succour anywhere - annihilation was our fate.

A man about my age had had enough. Situation had gone beyond redemption. He took a rope one morning and went to the back of his house. He was later found dangling lifelessly from the branch of the mango tree he hanged himself. The incredible thing about his death was that he wasn't a victim of the moon per se. He just had had enough and chose to take his own life. I had seen him take the rope, I knew that he was going to hang himself, but I didn't stop him - that was because I thought he had seen the moon too. How could I have known that his suicide was a result of frustration? That, indeed, is the absurdity of suicide. People who kill themselves have a personal adjudgement that life is not worth living - it is now therefore a topic of great argument to determine whether to praise them for their courage, or condemn them for their cowardice. I'll leave the judgement to your personal philosophy. Now if I was surmoned to the desk of adjudication, I wouldn't strike my gavel in indignation. It's a conundrum of logic, really, but I believe it is better to go down with all your senses still intact, just like my little friend did with his rope. However, if permitted to advocate for Lucifer, I'd surmise that taking your own life under the evil influence of the moon was easier. At this point, you wouldn't feel any pain - you were basically already dead before killing yourself. So, arguably, it is easier than the terrible agony you would feel as you watched your life slip away from you.

In the fourth week, I was the only living person left. This was a battle I wasn't going to win, I knew it. I had come so far all for nothing. It seemed like I was the only survivor in an apocalyptic world. I couldn't go on this way, I would run mad. I knew that at this point I had only two choices; I must either submit to the power of the evil moon or just take my own life like my friend did. No matter how many times I calculated the odds, no matter the formula I used, no matter the evaluation, the method - the answer was always 0. Either way, I was going to die. No matter how long I tried to stay alive, I wasn't going to win this one. I must make a choice now. Solitude was already messing with my psyche. I might be many things but I know that I'm not a hypocrite. I know who I am - a coward, a cow-freaking-ard! I couldn't take my own life like my friend did, even though that was what I wanted, I just couldn't bear going through that kind of agony. Yet, I didn't want the evil moon to claim my soul. If I gave in to evil, my soul would be forever damned, just like a thousand of the other people from my village. But by taking my own life on my own terms, my soul would be free. This was a philosophy I must allow myself to believe in - that's the only thing left that's giving me a semblance of rationality. My belief, on this note, is symbolically stuck between that of an atheist and a fanatic. With much thoughts and rigmarole of the mind, I settled upon the coward's way. I damned my soul.

When the moon appeared again that night, I stood in the village square, spread my hands and looked into the sky, welcoming the madness.

For the briefest moment, it seemed like I had stopped existing. I could feel it from the depth of my soul. Something in me was gone. I can't say it because I don't know, but I felt it. Perhaps it's a part of my soul. And then again, I felt something new. I can't say it because I don't know, but I felt it. It was as if something had been taken away and had been replaced by another.

Now here is the shock; that not unlike a rookie chess player experiencing en passant for the first time. I still haven't recovered. I had been taken to the moment when the moon first appeared. This time around, nobody was killing themselves. Everyone who had died was here, except my friend who took his own life. It was as if he never existed. When I asked about him, no one confessed to ever seeing him. Life continued as if nothing had happened. I was the only person in possession of the knowledge.

If my friend wasn't here, then where was he? Heaven or hell? And the more pertinent question: Where was I now? Was this the damnation I feared, or was this a sick idea of paradise?

Whatever it is, I know that in a certain place in the south western part of this country, there's a village filled with dead people - a place where I was the last to die. How I died, however, would remain a mystery forever unsolved.

©Larry Sun
January 2021
Re: The Journey To A Thousand Flash by LarrySun(m): 9:19am On Jan 13
Kimmiebabie:
Its been so long I used nairaland. Gosh I've missed so much. Hi Larry
Hi Kimmie.
Re: The Journey To A Thousand Flash by Bukolaberry(f): 9:51pm On Jan 14
finally you confused me, thanks the greatest of all time,its in you, the legend .
Re: The Journey To A Thousand Flash by Khriztarl(f): 3:06pm On Jan 15
Thanks for this Larry. Nice flash here.

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