₦airaland Forum

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dupsai:
Good work here Divepen? Is this a short story? It's so loaded with moral lessons and it served Tife right.That is what you get when you are not satisfied with what you have.

*Yes it is a short story
Thanks

mhiz:
Oh my God!!! see gobe

Original one oo

nimat158:
Keep my seat for front.

lol... That was the end

2

‘I need a new necklace’.
He cocked his head to the side, and frowned. ‘What? You don’t need a necklace. What is wrong with you? Others wouldn’t not be coming for you’.
‘I’m not going. I didn’t want to go o. You were the one that insisted that I go. am I bothering you about a necklace? It’s just that I can’t go without a better necklace. ‘
‘I don’t know what you want us to do. I’m tired. I’m tired. If not that Chibuzor insisted I bring you along, I would have asked you to forget it’.

‘Tell him anything. Tell him I fell sick that I can’t come.’ I said and crumbled on the bed, frustrated. He came to me and rubbed my hair. I sniffed. I just can’t go to the get-together without being fully dressed.
‘I can’t buy necklace at this time. Can’t you borrow it?’
My head pounded with joy. I have totally forgotten the necklace, my desire. I sighed.
‘Yes… Yes... I will meet Rasheedat. She will borrow me’.

I need not disturb you with the details but I must emphasise that Rasheedat, despite being my friend warned me not to allow anything happen to the necklace. The necklace was rare. Maybe, that was the reason I fell in love with it. It’s type was rarely found anywhere else. Of all the jewelleries shops I’ve searched, it’s type wasn’t there.

Of course, at the party, my joy knew no bound. I was the queen of the day. Chibuzor-my best friend- kept taking me about despite the presence of his beautiful wife, Kike, that humble woman. She was the one with my husband and I loved that. The party went as planned. Ireti was side-lined. All the women in the room wanted to know where I got the dress and the necklace. It was just too beautiful for any normal Goldsmith to have made. I laughed throughout the party, and drank more than normal. I was tipsy. I really enjoyed the day. And I couldn’t stop thanking my husband even as we headed outside. He was also tipsy, so we left his car at his friend’s place and opted for a cab. It took us a long time to get one especially as we are in Nigeria and the only available vehicles were personal ones, busses and bikes. After a long search, we found one and headed home. Even the driver knew how happy I was.

In fact, the happiness was supposed to meet the next day but my real problem started when we got to the door. I touched my neck and the necklace was gone. I shook my head. I was definitely still tipsy. I touched it again. It wasn’t there.

‘No. No’. I muttered.
My husband halted on his track. He stirred towards me’ What’s it honey?’
‘Oh God! Oh God! The necklace’
My husband stiffened. He nodded severally. ‘What happened to it? He looked at himself and switched on the torch of his phone. ‘What happened to it? Where did you put it?’

‘I don’t know’ I shouted. My hands were shaking right like a leaf in the wind. ‘What have I done? The necklace is not here.’
He pointed the torchlight everywhere; I was so fretful that I couldn’t search for it myself.
‘What have I done’?
‘Don’t worry I’ll find it’.

I crouched on the floor, not minding how expensive the cloth was. He was gone and the whole place was dark. I cried as I repeatedly checked my neck, hoping an invisible hand would return it there. The necklace can’t be lost. It mustn’t get lost. I don’t know the price. The prices of everything had skyrocketed, how will we get it? I looked at myself and knew I was done for.
After an hour, my husband returned dejected. The necklace was gone. I cried. At first, my husband consoled me. Then he blamed me but I didn’t reply; instead, I kept crying my heart and eyes out. He slept off, but I didn’t. I cried into the night, then into the morning and into the next night. I fell sick and worried a lot.

After few days of my worry, my husband couldn’t take it anymore.
‘Okay we will get a new one’.
‘Thank you. Rasheedat must not know about this because she would cause a big trouble for us. She hated people misplacing things that belonged to her.’
He stared at me. I don’t know how I looked but I’m sure it was one of those appearances he detested. He moved nearer and cuddled me.
‘It will be alright. I will get a new one no matter what it cost’.
‘Are you sure?’
‘You know me. I fulfil my promises no matter how small they are. And, luckily we still have the picture of it on the phone’.
I tried nodding but my head was fixed between his hand and his body.

Therefore, he set to work on it. It took him two days to get a shop abroad that sold it. But, no matter what he thought of it before, when he returned, I saw him dragging the shadow of himself back home. He sighed and shook his head.
‘The jewellery is sold for ... ‘He said and shook his head dejectedly and lowered into his hands.
‘How much is it? I said with fear striking chords in my body.

He shook his head. I edged forward on the seat.
‘They described that the jewellery was gotten from a rare gem and the workmanship was expensive’.
‘So?’
‘ Six fifty hundred thousand minus shipment fees’.
‘What? Didn’t you bring down the price?’
‘ Sorry, I couldn’t. It’s a fixed price. You know they sell to very wealthy people who don’t haggle prices.’.
I knew I was done for. Rasheedat can lock up her friends because of her possession, even my husband was a witness to one of such events.

‘I’ll face the consequences, no matter what it is’
‘I promised already and I’ll do everything possible to get it’.
‘Don’t be stubborn about this. I’ll bear the brunt.
‘I said no’ He said, stomping the floor. I could only sigh now.
The first thing to suffer my husband’s stubbornness was his car. He sold it for 200000 naira. Then we went into borrowing spree. After which I returned the jewellery to Rasheedat. Luckily, she didn’t notice the difference.

At that time, I, who was just a housewife had to get a job. My husband was now cold towards me and I myself withdrawn. We lived like neighbours. Even neighbours have conversation, but we didn’t.
After five years, we were able to pay the money to the people that lent us. By the time which I was older than I looked, uglier than I looked and my husband rarely had time to fancy everything he did in me again. Although, he still loved me. I know from his talks and from his little acts. But, his mind was always on how to regain his status.
I also had the thought of meeting up to standard, and I kept planning and planning until I ran into someone in the market one Saturday evening. I looked up from my worries.

‘Oh Mama, face where you’re going?’
I was transfix with mixed feelings- should I avoid her or should I tell her everything because I still felt like making her know she was the cause of my woe.
‘Rasheedat, it’s me’.
She stopped in her track. Her perfume met my nose lapping at its scent. I controlled myself because there was nothing I could use to show superiority.
‘It is you ... who?’
‘Me … Me’ I said and hit my chest.
‘Tife?’

I nodded.
‘Tife! Tife!’ She shouted in the market and hugged me.’ What happened to you? How are you like…?’ Her look hovered on my body. I cringed. ‘I came to your house and they said you people had left the place. Why? What happened?’

‘Is it not you?’
‘Me?’
‘Yes’ I said emphasising the yes.
She stiffened and bit her lower lip.’ What did I do?’
‘The necklace’.
‘The necklace?’
‘Yes. The necklace I misplaced it’
She blinked severally and pouted. ‘But you returned it then’.
‘That was not it’.

‘What’ Her face had the same fierceness of a lioness. She looked about her as though people were already seeing the anger pouring through her. She moved nearer and her voice was lowered ‘Where’s my damn Necklace. Which necklace did you give me’?
I brushed off her imaginary attack. ‘The deed has been done. God! That necklace was expensive. I bought it for five hundred k’.
Her eyes widened. I knew the price would be the higher but I was lucky enough to have gotten the exact one for her.

‘What?’ I said in fury and my anger blared like a siren. ‘Is it not the same thing? Have you forgotten that I have eyes for things like that? I made sure the specs are correct and you yourself can attest to it that they are the same’.

Her mouth was widely apart. I was happy I still had the upper hand. Rasheedat was speechless for the first time. Normally, the best form of showing superiority was to say the word and leave but I couldn’t.
‘But... But ,… I bought the fake. It’s just 12500 naira'.

No Coincidence.

Time ticked. Cold air entered. I rushed to window. It was the source of my trembling. I was about closing the window when I saw something moved. Normally, I shouldn’t have seen such thing because of my bad eyesight. However, I was sure the sight in front of me was indeed true. My heart suddenly had volcanic eruption of joy. I rushed out of my room.

I opened the door and saw him in front of the door. I knew I was tall but I never imagined it could be this intimidating. I felt it also. He looked at me with tears in his eyes. I felt like hugging him. It looked as if I had not seen anyone as handsome in my life. It looked as though I had known him all my life. It looked as if I didn’t just meet him three weeks ago.

If he had met me three days before that day, maybe I won’t be telling this story today. However, I came across some books that changed my perspective about life. And changed my habit.
‘Will you come inside?’ I said. He smiled, the light from my bulb shone on his face. He was indeed handsome. I saw two moon build up on his cheek. What was wrong with me? This wasn’t right.
‘No.’

If joy were our source of life, I would have died immediately. He handed a wrapped cloth to me. I untied it. It was my book, the one I gave him. He looked down.
‘Thank you ma. Thank you very much. I will forever adore you’.
‘Nah! Adore Karo Oforofuo’.
‘No. You were my saviour not Karo. If you had not been reading that day. I wouldn’t be here’.
‘ I didn’t change you’.

He hurriedly took my hand and kissed it. Butterfly danced in my belly. At that time, I wished I were born some six years before. I would have done something to be his girlfriend. Maybe he would have had the confidence to ask me to be his girlfriend.
‘I only came to return this book and hoped to get another’.

‘Yes, you’ll get another’, I said and ran inside.
I had many of them for years but refused to read any of them until I read a book by one Nigerian-Writers-Hub’s authors, Peju Amadi. I had become so enthralled by their books. I became so engrossed in their publishing house that I had to get books written by all their authors. And luckily for me, they don’t write only fiction.

I hurriedly returned to meet him holding himself in the cold. I brought the book, and a basket of food.
‘Not today again’.
‘What?’ I said, perplexed.
‘This?’ He said pointing the basket at me. ‘You should stop giving me these. Let me start fending for myself’.
‘You’ll do that soon. But now, I don’t want you to be dissuaded by anything. Jesus himself loves you and he is expressing this love through me to you.’
He nodded.’ Thank you ma’.

I hesitated a bit, but had to change my mind. I ruffled his head. He smiled and kissed my hand. I know I was in love with a criminal, who was by far younger than I am. And I had aided and abetted him. But there was nothing I could do. I just couldn’t start judging for their yesterday, so says one of the books I read.

Moreover, I didn’t aid and abet him. I just prevented him from making a decision that would have been the cause of world trouble. Yet, not I but the book he read.
That blessed day, which would have presented itself as unblessed, I was sitting in one of those Lagos BRT bus. I mean those long coastal. And I was engrossed in a book, where she was talking about how she and a team of determined fellow changed the face of book in Nigeria. I was so much into the book and I would have remained so had I not heard a stifled cry.

I looked up from the book to see a young man beside me. I knew he was there, but I didn’t take cognisance of him. I silently remanded myself for such stupidity. If I remembered vividly, The Celestine Prophecy said it wasn’t coincidental that people meet. It wasn’t coincidental for people to seat together in a car.

I looked at him. Normally, I would have cringed at the way he looked. I would have wondered and hated the way he dressed. I was one of those few people who hated those people wearing Muslim cloths, jalamiha. It nauseated me.
‘Brother, what’s wrong?’
‘I am wrong’.
I nodded.

‘I was reading your book with you. I am wrong.’
I nodded again. He cried. People looked at me. I felt like telling them to take their eyes away, That I wasn’t the one crying. I looked at them, especially the ones who stared at him and knew I had to do something to stop him being disgraced. I touched him. He jumped as though my hand was rigged with electricity.
‘Don’t touch me’ He shouted and stood. We were in a traffic jam. That day was a special day for Nigeria. Nigeria was hosting the president of two countries- America and Russia. The security was tight. Our bus was at the front. People had been shouting since but I wasn’t concerned. H moved out of the bus and ran out of the car.

; Hey… Hey your phone’ I shouted after him. He didn’t turn back. There was something wrong. And I don’t mind going late to my place of work because of him. After all, the convoy was delaying us. I ran after him. He sped on. Police were everywhere and looked as though they were machines who would shoot anyone that moved. Mopols and soldiers looked as though they were gun machines, as if they had no feeling. But I couldn’t wait to watch them because I had to catch up with this guy. He was younger than I am and was faster. I ran on. I must catch him. And I did but not until I discovered we were in a very secluded place. He bent and cried. I moved nearer. He seemed not to notice my presence. I swallowed.

‘Leave me alone’.
‘What’s wrong with you?’
‘I said leave me alone’.
‘Tell me, what’s wrong with you?’
‘Just leave me alone. Leave me alone’.

I felt awkward. He was right. I was supposed to be at my place of work. I looked around and saw how secluded that place was. It was as if I was thrown into the bottom less pit. Hairs raised on my body.
‘Take your phone’. I said, extending it at him.

‘Leave me alone. I don’t want.’ He shouted and moved away. I was scared. This boy was having some problem. I can’t just leave alone. I couldn’t. His face was ruffled with fear. He limped.

The phone rang. He ran to me. I thought he was expecting a call so I extended my hand towards him.
‘Take. Take it’ I said and raised my gown as he splashed muds from the previous day’s rain.

He hurriedly removed the battery and threw the phone on the wall. I shifted back. My heart pumped faster.
‘What’s happening?’
‘I wanted to kill them all. I was stupid. It wasn’t their fault’.
I nodded. Normally, I wold have asked him questions but I had read that men don’t like to be interrupted when talking.

‘The plan was going on well until I met you. I was also reading the book you were reading with you’.
I nodded again. Questions poured from my heart. I wanted to know to know many things at once. But I held them back.

‘The book… The book changed my heart’. He bent and started removing the cloth he wore. I moved back. What was wrong with him?
Then he removed it. He wore a black vest that had so many cans attached to it.
‘What’s that?’ I said, pointing.

‘These are bombs. Bombs. It was meant to destroy many things. It was meant to kill American government. I wanted someone to pay for what Bokoharam did to my parent. They could have helped. They left Nigeria Government to face the trouble alone.’

Questions rocked my mind.
‘Bomb….’ I said. My inner organs trembled. I moved back. This was death in front of me.
‘Can you disarm it’.
He nodded. He did. I stood perplexed as he did all.
‘I know you’ll call the police’.
I shook my head. ‘We won’t tell the police. Let’s go to my house. You didn’t do it. You only planned to do it.’
He looked at me as if I was lying.
‘Can you give me that book? I can’t follow you but I love to read that book again’.

I nodded and gave him the book. I didn’t know what I was doing but I wrote my address on it, And he left. From then he had returned the book to me and head gotten access to more but he refused to sleep in my place because he was afraid the people that entrusted him with the job would come for him because he failed.

Tonight, I laid to bed, as I knew I had change somebody. He’s one out of many, and changing him had saved so many soul. I had change a world. He had started rounding up guys that are also other problems and had started teaching them to love themselves and stop blaming the world. He thought them that for them to change the world, they must change themselves. I have change the world. A book had changed the world. I slept with joy.


WWW.nigerianwritershub.com

1


My story is a very long one and I wonder when we will finish it if I start from the beginning. So, I will start towards the end of it. No… I’ll start from the end.
I don’t even know how to keep living a life I hated with passion. I need not bore you with the fact that I was born into a poor home.

But I was lucky enough to marry a man who loved me but wasn’t rich enough to provide for my insatiable desire for wealth. I couldn’t fathom why some people were born into a family of wealth. If life was truly a lottery, I had chosen wrongly by coming into Nigeria, I had done wrong by being born into Ajegunle.


Despite my husband comfortable riches, I couldn’t believe I still had the shawl of poverty wrapped around my neck even at the age of thirty-two. When we were in the University, I had plans to make it big in life. I wanted to surpass Bill Gate, Dangote, Otedola and the rest. I came out as one of the best in school, but my husband had made me a full housewife.

The preparation for my woe started one fateful Saturday evening. My husband had just returned from having a nice time with his friends. And whenever he returned from such meeting with them, his view about life change- he worked all night to meet their standard. Maybe because they were all rich and he wanted to beat their standard or because they motivated him, I can’t tell. He was the poorest among them. He was still the only one living in a two-bedroom flat and still used a Golf car.

‘Boluwatife’ He said, caressing my hair as he loosened his tie. I was lost in thought. ‘What are you thinking about?’
I shook my head.
‘Are you sure?’
I nodded.
‘When did you become Agama lizard’ He said, and laughed. I smiled. I was lost in thought about the necklace I saw with Rasheedat, my bosom friend. I loved that necklace. I couldn’t ask her for the price because I knew she was expensive. Just like her husband, she rode Kia Rio when my husband and I shared his own golf to office. He was the owner and not the both of us. The necklace was laced with diamond and the highest I saw in Nigeria online store was two hundred thousand naira, which wasn’t even up to the standard of her necklace. She was a senator’s daughter and married to one.

‘Chinedu is organising a get together and he was particular about bringing you’.
‘Me?’

‘Yes’ He said, joy beaming through his face like a laser bearing through ones skin. I knew he was always proud of me but how will I relay my fear to him. ‘
He cocked his head as he did whenever he saw my face change form. I looked away. The feeling was visible on my face. ‘What’s wrong with you?’
I shook my head. ‘
‘You’re lying’.

I sat beside him as he slouched into the couch. ‘I definitely know when something was wrong with you’.
I pouted and stared into the air.’ I’m not going?’
He stroked my head and frowned the more. He wanted to cajole me into going to the party but I couldn’t.

‘You don’t want to go?’
I stiffened as I frowned. ‘Yes... I don’t have any clothe’.
‘You sure have clothe’.
I shifted back to face him. ‘What? Do you call those ones cloth? Those old rags. Don’t you know the calibre of people that would come there’?
‘I know now, but what does that matter?’

‘It does matter. I won’t wear those clothes of cheap material. Do you want me to look inferior?’
My husband removed his hand from my back. His face stiffened.’ What are you trying to say? Are you saying that I’m poor?’

I brushed an imaginary dust out of the air. ‘Leave that side, my friend. You know I’ll never mean that. What I’m saying is that my cloth would be up to the standard of the women coming there.’

‘I still do not get what you are trying to say’
‘I’m saying… Forget it. Will Jerry’s wife not be there?
My husband stared at me and nodded.’ I still don’t get’
‘Will Ireti, Shola’s wife, not be there?
He nodded.
‘Will Priscilla not be there?’
He nodded. ‘Of course she will there now. What’s wrong with you? In fact forget it .Forget it. What do you need?’

I turned to him. Now, that the opportunity had presented itself I grabbed it. There was this cloth Ireti wore the other day, I heard the price was twenty thousand. I knew a cloth that was better than hers and I’ve heard the ladies talk of this cloth times without number. God! If I could get one, Ireti would forever never look at me as she did. Many of our friends hated being near her whenever they wanted to feel better because her disdainful look could deflate anyone’s ego. I remember vividly the day she saw the last cloth my husband bought for me as a birthday present, her look made me scramble to the toilet to cry.

This was my payback time. I wondered why my husband couldn’t stop moving with politicians and rich men. At least, I know how I make other women feel, I mean those that weren’t as well to do as I was but I would surely make Ireti feel bad throughout the dinner if I got that cloth and that’s what I would do. If I got the clothe, all attention would be pull from her to me.

‘There’s this cloth, if you buy it for me, it would really make look good’.
He smirked and looked away. He wasn’t rich as others neither was he poor. The only problem I had with my husband was that he cared less about such things as new clothes. He believed in the future and to that, he spent most of his money. He had invested most of his money. As an economist, he knew the laws behind such investments. He spent less and met more needs than want.

‘How much?’
I grinned and looked down’ Thirty-five thousand naira’.

If it were in a movie there would have been suspense tone playing in the room, but it was real, the tone wasn’t playing. Instead, I held my breathe. He looked at me quizzically. ‘Are you for real?’
I pouted and looked away. ‘I told you. Forget it. I’ll see Chibuzor another time’.

He grinned.’ Okay. I have this money I was hoping to invest tomorrow. I will give it to you and use it. Buy the cloth’

I felt the pain in his voice but I was so sure that he would always try to make me happy. So, I locked my hand around his neck, pecking his forehead. He could only nod.

The afternoon of the next day met me at the boutique. The woman was so happy for me. She gave me a lot of attention and requested I come another time. I was on top of the world and treated like a queen. Yes, I understood how it felt to be rich. You are adored by all and sundry. You are not look down upon like a common person.

Even my husband couldn’t stop staring at the cloth, especially when I wore it. His eyes traced the lines of my body and I smiled like a baby whose mother praise for wearing her cloth perfectly. He kept singing the praise of my ability to choose beautiful things. He was a lover of beautiful things himself and my greatest fan.
‘Now, you will put small necklace to make it golden’, he said.

My heartbeat stopped. I had totally forgotten I would need to beautify the cloth. I stared at him and he looked at me as if I didn’t hear him right.
‘Yes now. The necklace would make it beautiful’

‘What! God! I can’t use that necklace. All those necklace are old and not to taste. God! How did I forget that?’ I brushed my unplaited air. I saw my husband’s eyes brightened. He loved my long hair and had told me times without number about how much he loved to see me brush my hair, and I the teaser, don’t hesitate to do that again whenever I notice his face brightened. However, I was not in the mood for teasing him today. God! I need a necklace.

Akintayo Akinjide



All right reserved to www.nigerianwritershub

yhermmie:
ohh thanks.. I'll try to correct that. thanks for taking ur time to read.

You are welcome.

Slendercutie:
Thanks dearie

You also write horror
.

Runnnnnnnn


While this is good your horrific happenings and fictions are out of the country in nature. Try African Horrors.

This is beautiful.

Actually it should be Eleven thousand eight hundred and six. You didnt include the coroner .
that's another serial killer on the loose. Nice one.

First Taste of Death


The sun peeked and she also peeked. Everywhere was beautiful. She got out- rather, she was pushed out.She didn't know where she was but it was beautiful.
She looked morosely.
' Ah.. Out of two hundred billion, I made it. I'm not a nonentity.'
But instead of her words to come vividly. It was a sweet ear-piercing noise that emanated from her mouth. She was infuriated. That was not her wish, and now she would make a fun of herself in front of this tall things that looked like her. They smiled. She spoke but only a cry came out of her mouth. The noise made the people smile at the woman whose hole was the portal of passage.
A long thing said,' Congratulations, it's a baby girl'.
Her mother said something. They took her nearer, she kissed her, closed her eyes and she never opened it again.
Dedicated to every person that lost their parent(s) at one time or the other, you are somebody.

A Minute Information
Rachael trudged on the street with the hope she would see a place to charge the battery of her phone. The darkness of the area mixed with the cold made everything look eerie.

Rachael kept trekking the dusty street, knowing that she would see a place to charge her phone despite being five streets away from home. The fuel scarcity has affected everyone; even service providers had gone off-line. Five days ago, T.V stations and Radio station went off-line, compelling people to opt for newspapers; however, Newspapers also stopped publication two days ago.

Just as she was about to give up, she saw it- a house, where generator was providing their electricity. Rachael was so happy that she raced to the place and did not stop until she ran into a hefty man.
‘Bros, no vex…’
He grunted.
‘Abeg I fit see place charge phone’.
‘Yes…yes…’

The guy led her to a place in the house, which, when Rachael got to, made her almost run back: many people were there, charging their gadgets; many of them were pressing them even while charging them.
Rachael rushed to plug her phone. She knew every minute count.

‘Sister, you don shake my phone’, someone called.
‘I’ll do it’, she replied.
Rachael was so hungry for information- she needed to know what was happening within the country. She needed entertainment also. Her body tingled when the phone came on, and licked her lower lips when she logged into her blog.

At first, she did not want to write anything but felt people needed information too, so she wrote ‘How’s is it going in your area?’

She felt the need not to write more, so she posted it and she surfed other sites for news. Religious people were already on their knee, especially the Christians who believed this was greatest sign of end time they’ve seen.

Great minds have been questioning the president, Jeremiah Pete, who had been trying to decipher the reason behind this problem.

Just then, she began to receive answers to her question. Rachael hurriedly read people’s answers, just to satisfy her deep hunger for information, and to read the way people would use languages to analyse this problem.

She was enjoying it until she saw one that made muffle a cry.
“I was robbed of my laptop in a house we went to charge. Some of the guys with whom we were charging phones together stuck guns into our back, and asked us to drop our things”.

She replied
‘Where is your place?
And waited agitatedly for his reply, with fear he would not reply that night again.

A big house at Ajede Street at Abesan in Lagos.
Oh God! That was where she was.

She stylishly picked her phone and knew that the best thing she could do was to run, and run she did, pushing past the hefty man, and didn’t stop until she got home.

‘Sister’, someone called from behind her as she stopped.
She turned to see a lanky man panting heavily.
‘I was there also…’

FriendZoned
Serenity. Cool music. He was right.
There was no better place. John sat at the table and waited. He wanted it to be the best thing he would do. He had never being so agitated. He checked his wristwatch and shifted again. Cold air blasted into his pores from the rectangular Air conditioner at his right. A waiter came to him and desired to know if he would like to buy anything.

‘Give me Malta Guinness’. He said. Normally, he wouldn’t take Malta Guinness. But it was her favourite. He would do anything to see her happy. He would do anything to make her always be the love of his life.
After he and Shola became friends, he had been harbouring the thought of telling her how he felt about her. But, he decided to wait until the bond of their friendship was solid.

John hoped she would really be surprised, just as he had imagined all year. The plan had been simple and because of its simplicity, she fell for the first part.
He checked the time again. She was ten minute late. He shifted. The music in the background seemed to talk to him.

I dreamt of you and never wanted to stop.
I saw your face and wished it would remain the only image in my brain.
I am obsessed.
I am possessed.
No regrets.
Just be mine.

She entered. His heart flipped.

She wore a red flora gown. The edge of the cloth kissed her knee and the sight of this made his blood become warmer. He had been seeing her as a friend for years. But today, he couldn’t wish for any other woman. Her long dark hair outlined her fair complexion. He swallowed. His heart pound hard again his chest. Light glowed around her.
‘Am I late?’ Shola said as she sat opposite him. He smiled. The plan was working.
He shook his head, raised his eyebrow, and said.’ Of course, you are ten minutes late’.

‘I’m sorry joor… at least, I got here before her’, she said as she brought a small mirror from her bag and patted her hair into a shape she desired, the way he loved it.
‘How do I look?’
‘Perfect. Just as I like it . Just as she would like it’.
She blushed.’ Leave me joor…’

He told her he wanted her to witness when he would be proposing to his girlfriend since she was his best friend. Although, when he told her, he expected to see disappointment or jealousy in her eyes. He saw none of such. She was his best friend, and everyone knew that. In fact, they thought the two of them were dating.

And when he told anybody he was not dating her, they thought he was pretending. The only person aside her who knew John wasn’t dating her was his friend, Wale.
‘I hope she’s beautiful. This one that you did not tell me, your best friend, who you were dating until you wanted to propose marriage to her’. She said and glared at him. ‘If she’s not beautiful, I’ll send her back’.
‘She would be here soon’. He said, smiling. He had planned it well. Her seat was backing the door.
‘Oh! There she comes’, he said and she turned. He hurriedly removed the case from his pocket, went on his knee, and opened the case.

‘There is-‘, Shola said as she turned towards him. She stared at him. Her eyes dashed from his face to the case and back to the face again.
‘Will you marry me, Shola? I don’t want us to practice boyfriend/ girlfriend era anymore.’
She stared at him. her eyes became wider. She inhaled a long breathe and whimpered. He smiled. She loved him and was happy.

‘You shouldn’t have deceived me’, she said. Tears dropped from her eyes and her eyes were now fixed on the ground.’ I love you… But you told me you wanted to propose to someone else’.
He nodded. ‘Is that a yes?’
‘After you….’ She said and hissed. She closed her eyes. Something was wrong. He watched her closely as she opened and closed her mouth severally.

‘Wale had proposed to me and I told him to I’ll give him a reply later’.
‘Wale? Did he not know we were in a relationship? Why didn’t you tell him?’
‘Why didn’t you tell him, at least, that you love me…?’
‘He knew…’
‘He didn’t-‘
‘Did you give him a reply’?

Tears streamed down her face. She stared at him and held his hand. His heart was burning. He swallowed hard as his body became numb and he wished the news would change.

‘When you told me you’ve found a lady and that you were going to propose to her today. I felt there wasn’t any need to wait for you any longer. So-‘
Hot liquid substance flowed across his face but he was not concerned. He wanted to know what happened.

‘I told him, yes, yesterday. You should have told me plainly. You know I am not good with…’ She said and burst into tears. She carried her bag and rushed out of the restaurant, leaving him on his knee. He stared into space as the music in the background came in.

And I …will always love you...

Flowers


Paula smiled at the stupidity of her Aunt and moved to the other part of the parlour. She just wanted to escape before the fair, overripe, rich guy made another advance towards her. If he did any foolish thing again, she would spill her thoughts – which was terrible. She was glad Biyi was coming. Her Sunday would have been a hell.
‘ Paula’, her sister said, making her turn hurriedly.’ Bro. Biyi is outside’. ‘Oh.’ She said and a big smile laced her face. Her valentine would make sense. Biyi was full of surprises.
The chance had come to escape the pompous fool, and her never-contented Aunt. ‘Paula, will you now leave him here’ ‘Aunty, please don’t let me-‘ she said, hissed and stormed out, banging the door behind her. Her long dark hair flowed behind her, as she ran down the stairs. Her body heaved with happiness. ‘ Biyi.Biyi.’
‘Hmm’, Biyi said. He rested against his black Toyota Camry. ‘Whoa…’ She shouted as she got to the last step. Not minding the drainage in front of her, she jumped on him. ‘You look so happy to see me’, Biyi said. ‘Yes o. Aunty Kenny wants me to start a relationship with Daddy’s friend’s son. They were like, “you are growing old” that I’m a flower. What’s their concern?’
‘Good’, Biyi said, sounding depressed. ‘Good?’ ‘I wasn’t talking- See-‘ Biyi said and stood straight. He held her cheeks. She looked up at him. He was taller than she was. His trimmed beard made her heart lurch for more of him.
‘I think we’ve got to break up’. Everything went silent. Paula stared at him, and widened her eyes. Her hearing and other senses focused on Biyi.
‘What? Why? What did I do wrong?’ ‘It’s not you. It’s not you. It’s just that’. He hissed, released her face, and turned. ‘I just can’t stand you being my girlfriend anymore’.
Her eyes felt as though sands were in them. Her heartbeat suddenly began to increase tempo. And her body became hotter than before. ‘What did I do?’ She asked, tears flowing down her face. She moved toward him, held his cloth and her breath.
‘It’s not what you’ve done…’ He said, turning,’ It is what you’ve not done. I don’t want you to be my girlfriend anymore’. He went down on his knee. Her mouth remained opened. Her face was transfixed, not on his face, not on his kneeling position. Rather, her eyes were fixed on his hand. It contained a case and in it was a proposal ring.
‘Will you break up with me as a girlfriend and be my wife?’ The jewel on the ring shone. And she nodded. She nodded again. And she nodded severally. ‘Yes…Yes…You idiot…Yes…’
Tears flowed down her face as she went to hug him. She got the best Valentine gift ever.

Flowers


Paula smiled at the stupidity of her Aunt and moved to the other part of the parlour. She just wanted to escape before the fair, overripe, rich guy made another advance towards her. If he did any foolish thing again, she would spill her thoughts – which was terrible. She was glad Biyi was coming. Her Sunday would have been a hell. ‘ Paula’, her sister said, making her turn hurriedly.’ Bro. Biyi is outside’. ‘Oh.’ She said and a big smile laced her face. Her valentine would make sense. Biyi was full of surprises. The chance had come to escape the pompous fool, and her never-contented Aunt. ‘Paula, will you now leave him here’ ‘Aunty, please don’t let me-‘ she said, hissed and stormed out, banging the door behind her. Her long dark hair flowed behind her, as she ran down the stairs. Her body heaved with happiness. ‘ Biyi.Biyi.’ ‘Hmm’, Biyi said. He rested against his black Toyota Camry. ‘Whoa…’ She shouted as she got to the last step. Not minding the drainage in front of her, she jumped on him. ‘You look so happy to see me’, Biyi said. ‘Yes o. Aunty Kenny wants me to start a relationship with Daddy’s friend’s son. They were like, “you are growing old” that I’m a flower. What’s their concern?’ ‘Good’, Biyi said, sounding depressed. ‘Good?’ ‘I wasn’t talking- See-‘ Biyi said and stood straight. He held her cheeks. She looked up at him. He was taller than she was. His trimmed beard made her heart lurch for more of him. ‘I think we’ve got to break up’. Everything went silent. Paula stared at him, and widened her eyes. Her hearing and other senses focused on Biyi. ‘What? Why? What did I do wrong?’ ‘It’s not you. It’s not you. It’s just that’. He hissed, released her face, and turned. ‘I just can’t stand you being my girlfriend anymore’. Her eyes felt as though sands were in them. Her heartbeat suddenly began to increase tempo. And her body became hotter than before. ‘What did I do?’ She asked, tears flowing down her face. She moved toward him, held his cloth and her breath. ‘It’s not what you’ve done…’ He said, turning,’ It is what you’ve not done. I don’t want you to be my girlfriend anymore’. He went down on his knee. Her mouth remained opened. Her face was transfixed, not on his face, not on his kneeling position. Rather, her eyes were fixed on his hand. It contained a case and in it was a proposal ring. ‘Will you break up with me as a girlfriend and be my wife?’ The jewel on the ring shone. And she nodded. She nodded again. And she nodded severally. ‘Yes…Yes…You idiot…Yes…’ Tears flowed down her face as she went to hug him. She got the best Valentine gift ever.

Crayfish Jimi knocked Lola's door.And waited patiently. He blew air severally to strenghten his courage. They had been friends for three years now, and he hadn't tell his mind.
' Yes? Who's there?' ' Jimi..' ' Ah...Crayfish.' She said as she opened the door. And gave him a warm hug. He stood there, with his hands behind him. He had just read a story on Nigerian Writers' Hub. A guy delayed telling his friend how much he loved her, and when he did, he made it look like a surprise. But it failed. He brought out his hand from his back. And held her hands. ' I don't want another seconds to pass...before I tell you how much I love you'. ' You said...'
His eyes darted from her face to the other part of the room. She didn't hear him. That was good. He was making a fool of himself. Maybe, she wanted them to just be friends. Just friends. He would change the topic. Or he could say when they entered the house. ' I said I....' He shook his head. ' I said I love you. I love you with all my heart. I want to spend the rest of my life with you as my love...'
She stared at him. The wind blew past him, and the Harmattan cold tapped the back of his head but he stood still. He had released her hand. She gave him a resounding slap. The force pushed him back. The stories he had read on Nigerian Writers' Hub had always yielded good results. He never knew the result would fall like this. ' Never ever in your life...' She shouted and pointed at him. ' Never ever play such prank on me again.'
He wanted to tell her he was sorry for loving her, he was sorry for telling her his mind about how he felt towards. He knew he had done it foolishly maybe he should have waited more. ' I'm not playing prank on you', he said as he held his face. The pain of the slap, mixed with the dryness of the harmattan season made him stick his hand to that part of his face.
' I really love you...I'm not playing prank.' Nigerian Writer's Hub had pushed him to do what he didn't plan but he must now show her his confidence. Afterall, it was confidence that helped Ebuka pass his last question in the interview question by Akintayo Akinjide. ' Shut up! Shut up!! Why did you keep me waiting for so long? I had planned that anybody that tells me his mind will be my BF because it seemed you didn't love me'.
Just then, a whatsapp message entered her phone. She looked down at it, smiled, looked at Jimi and hugged him.' God saved you. I would have kill you for losing me to another man'. She passed the phone to him. It was a message from a guy, Kay. ' Lola, I love you as I have told you before. I really love you.'

Knockout
Our first year in the Nigeria we rented a small apartment near a Government school nearby taught by many great teachers. My father wanted me to go the school. He believed real education can only be found in a government school.

The teachers were hefty, fat, slim, bald- everything made one teacher distinct from the other.

I liked them alot, especially my grandmotherly primary three teachers, Mrs. Folarin. I had a lovely name, she said, and she had me teach the whole class how to pronounce it. E-ven-lyn. As the only pupil who had ever travelled abroad, I was put in a special seat in the first row by the window, apart from the other children, so that Mrs. Folarin tutor me Yoruba without disturbing others. Slowly, I began to learn new word in Nigeria such as 'culture, traditional, black, Africans.
Soon, I picked up enough English to know that terrorism was thick in the air.

Mrs. Folarin explained to a wide-eyed classroom what was happening in Northern Nigeria. Boko Haram were blowing up places and people. She explained that if these people were not caught we would have what she called Insurgence.

At home, we were exposed to the sound of these bombs through media. I heard new vocabulary: Bomb, Explosion, Bokoharam.
Mrs. Folarin explained how it happened. She drew a house and later made white flurry of chalk marks to show it being on fire. She advised us not to allow religion lead us in killing human. She admonished us that fighting for religion was bad.

The months grew cold, November, December. It was dark when I got up in the morning, frosty when I followed my breath to school.

One morning, as I sat at my desk daydreaming out the window. Something loud exploded from outside the school just like the sound we heard on the media.
I shrieked, ' Bomb, Bomb!'
Mrs. Folarin jerked around, her big skirt ballooning as she hurried to my side. A few pupils began to cry.
But then Mrs. Folarin's shock look faded as another sound rocked the air.
' Why, Evelyn dear, that's banger. Celebration is in the air!' She laughed.' Knockout'.

' Knockout', I repeated. I looked out the window warily. All my life I had heard about the sound of Bomb.
After school I stalled at the stall of some women, admiring the knockouts as my friends showed them to me. Each one sparked desire to rejoice in me. And I looked at my one of my friends. I touched her arm when I saw the fearful look on her face. I told her my new vocabulary. ' It's only Knockout. It's not a bomb'.

Dedicated to everyone in the north, who live in fear.

.okay to spice this new month, let me tell you a story Before modernization, Three brothers left Lagos and entered Black Town. The whole place was full of bushes till they got to a path that divided into three other paths.They decided to take a path each. The first went to the place called the future, the second went to the place called the past. The last went to the present. When the first got to the past the townsmen loaded him with loads of lessons and sorrow. He couldn't stop being depressed even as he sought for a better land. He moved till he got to the present by the time it was too late to enjoy anything the people could offer because he was too sad and tired to enjoy the present. He promised to go there to cry with them again. While he was wallowing in the past, the second person who went to future returned, excited about what he saw though he was afraid of the trouble One would face before getting there. So he too embedded on his fear couldn't enjoy the present. However, the one who went to the present enjoyed the day and decided to do that the next day. With what had been described about the future one needed Orisha Nla to go smoothly so why the fear? Learn your lessons Akintayo Akinjide. www.nigerianwritershub.com

These are short stories that portray everyday life.

hmmm space the work bro.

wow

The sun peeked and she also peeked. Everywhere was beautiful. She got out- rather, she was pushed out.She didn't know where she was but it was beautiful.
She looked morosely.
' Ah.. Out of two hundred billion, I made it. I'm not a nonentity.'
But instead of her words to come vividly. It was a sweet ear-piercing noise that emanated from her mouth. She was infuriated. That was not her wish, and now she would make a fun of herself in front of this tall things that looked like her. They smiled. She spoke but only a cry came out of her mouth. The noise made the people smile at the woman whose hole was the portal of passage.
A long thing said,' Congratulations, it's a baby girl'.
Her mother said something. They took her nearer, she kissed her, closed her eyes and she never opened it again.
Dedicated to every person that lost their parent(s) at one time or the other, you are somebody.

Autopin:
Yes we accept manuscripts. Our terms and conditions are simple, the author maintains his rights and previleges that is he fixes the prices of his books, he can withdraw his book any time, he gets 60 percent of the price of the books, we would provide marketing advice but the author makes the final decision, your book will be sold in print and ebook formats, you books will be sold both in physical and online stores in the UK, US & 26 other countries. We charge a one time fee of N5,000 for designs and editing.

Can you show previous work. And what if we have all those

Wininiel:
When are you updating again?? we are waiting

Ask Buhari to give us light