sorry I didn't read earlier. You spelt my moniker wrongly.
Beautiful tale. I love the originality of scenery and the diction used. Beautiful tale.

The surprised person whose life had just been laid bare before him by this young boy stood aside, awed.

The smoking and random talks continued, and The Man shook hands with all of them, and was walking away until someone in the midst of them wearing a cheap suit ran up to the young boy, and whispered something in his ears. He turned back and smiled, and Saliu, just as the other smokers, were wondering what the fellow must have told the boy that made him smile so. Holding The Man on the shoulder, they approached the smoking spot. The person who had earlier pursued after The Man then spoke

"My name na Mister Akpati. I de work for ANPP" his lips were now the fulcrum of the people's attention. "I been no wan talk before but now, because of this sabi boy, I go talk" the smokers had now suspended their smoking and waited for the talk from this fellow of politics. "ANPP dey find people wey get strong mind, wey go work for dem" Buzz-like sounds could be heard around the circle. The men consulted themselves, nodding their heads as they did.

Mister Akpati put his hand on The Man, and said "Me, I dun choose this smallie, because of him brain. Who wan make money?"

"Wetin we go dey do" a fellow asked

A sly smile formed on Akpati's dark lips. He didn't answer the question though, he looked at the person who asked in a stylistic way. That look paid to you when you are supposed to know something, but don't.

"You be JJC? Na today you start politics matter?" a person who possesed all the features of a thug screamed from behind. All eyes turned backwards and looked at him.

"Na the usual na, you go thief box, cause wahala, go find small pikins wey go vote, burst some kind people head, the usual" the thug-like person explained.

All eyes followed the steps of Mister Akpati as he made his way to where the person who seemed to have an innumerable experience of election malpractice stood. He shook the person and announced to the others.

"Na my second worker be dis"

"Who go work?" he asked again

A hand was raised. Then another. A third. The gruff-looking man who lost his job did too. In a little time, all the hands were raised, including Saliu, who had been quiet all the while.

"Make we meet for here tomorrow. I go yarn una details by then" Mister Akpati said, as he freed the shoulder of The Man from his grip, digging his hand into his pocket, and brought out a bundle of crisp hundred naira notes, and went round, shoving it into each person's hands, the recipients grinned like excited monkeys.

Akpati walked away, knowing he had bought his party a small group of desperate and loyal conformists. He was going to 'yarn' them the details the next day, and he 'oiled' their hands to make them know that he means business.

Saliu snapped out of memory lane. Whatever Papi had told him was irrelevant to the present. He yawned lazily, stretching his arms to the air. He was somewhat happy--that his grand plan to be the lord of AJ was on. Two of The Man's boys had been struck down. Slowly, he would take the reins. Slowly. He smiled again, dusting off his trousers, then exiting the building, going off to Igbo Field, located at Trinity. It served as a football field in the morning but in the afternoon, under the thick of the sun, jobless men and boys alike trooped in quietly to smoke their brains out.

***********
The Man was agitated. Two of his students were down, and he couldn't place a finger on their deaths. He didn't have any direct rival or whatsoever because his cult was the pioneer academic cult in AJ, started to vanquish lazy students and dummies. However, if 'kasala' burst, he had two guns, who would happy wreck havoc on any adversary. Those men were the ones Saliu met in the Phase two hotel room when he announced the return of Blackie Olokpa.

He was really stressed and needed to think. Whenever he was, he went to the Trinity cemetary. It wasn't so far from his house. When he got there, all he had to do was to write a love letter for the gateman. He wanted to impress his girlfriend who was in secondary school. The Man always wondered what kind of student would date that low life. It had crossed his mind to insult the girl in a letter but then, it would backfire on him and his spot for brainstorming would be no more his.

He was inside the cemetary, on that sunny afternoon but the trees shielded him. He couldn't think quite clearly unlike other times. A funny feeling he had in his tummy. He was sweating. He needed to take a dump. He went deep into the bush and bent down, and did it. While wiping clean his buttocks with dry leaves, he heard voices from the other side. The other side was Igbo field. He adjusted his trousers to his waist and carefully climbed the fence. It was Saliu, talking with other red-eyed men over wraps of marijuana.

Unfortunately, he was seen by Saliu, and immediately he jumped down into the field. One of the men passed him a wrap but he declined. He wasn't a smoker. He just stood in their presence, and they became quiet, it was like they were discussing something earlier and now, they didn't want him to hear.

The men looked tough and he was a boy. Destructive eyes looked at him. The Man looked at Saliu but he evaded eye contact.

However, one gruff-looking man walked to his face, and asked "wetin you dey do here? You be spirit?" All the other men laughed like hyenas, and one could tell that now, their morale had been risen, and it wouldn't end well for The Man if he couldn't find an answer to his query. The Man looked unpertubed even though he was troubled. He ran his eyes over the tough-looking person.

He finally asked him "when will you tell her?"

The person looked disturbed "tell who?"

"Your wife" The Man answered "that you have been sacked at work"

"I know you are married because you have a ring on your fourth finger and you don't seem like the kind of man who fancies jewelry. You are sacked, and for days now, you cannot provide for your family. The bruise on your cheek, it was your wife, right? She hit you with her fist. I know this because a man's punch would be more severe than that.

Your marriage is going through serious trials and you can't bring yourself to tell your wife the truth. I understand. My uncle drank otapiapia because he was sacked just days after being employed. He had quit his previous job and pursued the larger pay. Like I say, I understand"

Surprise was an understatement to describe the look on the older man's face.

"How do you know this?" he asked

"Observation" The Man replied calmly. He was feeling like James Bond. The truth was, he didn't do much. He just had to study the clues on his persona, then connect the dots.

Papi bribed the gatekeeper of the school and he allowed them leave. He and his acquaintance, Saliu walked confidently into a street after changing into their house wears. Almost every student of Sinclair had a 'spare cloth' hidden in his bag, for the occasions where it calls for. There was nobody to protest their movement, so they confidently strolled into a compound.

Armed with nothing more than a thin piece of metal, Papi picked the lock of a door expertly as Saliu stood behind him, watching, hoping he would be able to learn such neat trick. They were inside the house. It was scattered, bedsheet flung on the ground, plates decorating the rug. True to his word, Papi didn't touch anything. He just dug his hand into his pocket and brought out a letter, which he placed on the bed. Saliu was astounded. Why go through such trouble just to deliver a letter? He minded his business. He looked closely at some pictures hung on the walls. One of them had a little boy smiling. Another had a very beautiful woman, smiling also.

Papi noticed Saliu, and he came closer, he too, looking at the picture with utmost concentration as if his life depended on it. Saliu saw Papi sigh pitifully, full of guilt, and remorse. Somehow, this boy, or the woman, meant something to Papi.

They were almost leaving when Papi said "wait, I don't know her name". Saliu was still in the dark but at least, he now knew that Saliu was here because of the beautiful woman. He ransacked through the room like Smeagol of the Lord of the Rings series, searching for the evil ring. At last, he found it--Saliu didn't know what but, he saw a smile on Papi's face.

They left.

Walking back, Saliu's curiosity couldn't be contained. "Wetin happen just na?" he asked.

Papi looked at Saliu in the eye "Can I trust you?"

Saliu nodded like an obedient lizard.

"I love that woman" Papi said

Saliu jumped excitedly, the words were bread and butter to his ears. It was also a surprise. How can such an intelligent, fine young man, who had almost all the girls of Sinclair clamoring for the tiniest bit of his attention, love a woman? Not a girl, a woman. Papi was quite irritated at Saliu's reaction but he didn't show it. Just a frown.

"How you take know am?" Saliu asked again, showing off his not-so-attractive teeth.

"Why should I tell you anything?" Papi asked coldly, walking faster as he spoke. However, due to Saliu's long legs, he soon caught up with him, whispering in his ears "you be my padi naw".

"It's a long, long story" Papi said

"Ahan--short the story na" Saliu clamoured. The seed had been planted in his heart and with every passing second, he wanted to know more.

"I'll tell you just one thing" Papi said, using his index finger to illustrate his stand.

Sad as Saliu was, he knew if he was unable to get the full gist, 'just one thing' would suffice. After all, half bread is always better than zero cake. He shrugged "What?"

"Her name is Kikelomo" Papi finally said, with a smile on his face.

FxHouse:
Boss...honestly, I am lost. Your updates are far apart, your story lacks continuity. One might have to go back to other pages and probably read other chapters and would still not catch up. The story started out very well, it was captivating, you caught attention, and what was left was for you to steer in the right direction. Now I am lost, too many characters, story is quite confusing. Instead of going direct to the point, you pay so much time addressing irrelevancies like describing a lady's wrapper and how its hanging, a boy's sandy laps, a man's shirt and all that, all in the name of playing with words.

Hit the nail on the head, make sure not to lose your readers because, honestly I am finding it hard to follow. You have let the praises from people on your use of words sway you into spending more time on words than the story line itself, instead of concentrating more on the purpose of the story.

I duff my hat for bibijay, she caught my attention from start to finish, I looked forward to every update with relish, her story on "allen avenue" was just on point.

Keep your eye on the goal boss, stay in check, make your story less fictional, waste less time on playing with words, this is prose not poetry, there's a certain level of expectation when one is reading a prose, and another when one is reading a poetry. Do not mumble things up. If you want to show dexterity in playing with words, do a poetry, if you wanna show creativity and the fact that you could captivate without losing your readers, focus more on actions from your story, stop forcing originality by spending so much time trying to paint streets or people or clothes or just any irrelevancy. Keep it straight and simple. I hope this helps.

Keep up the good work...its getting boring tho...really

It helps in a way. However, let me point out the fact that this is not a short story. Every update cannot be captivating. There are high and low points. About the play on words and describing 'irrelevanties' I swear, it is not intentional.

Thanks bro, anywhere you're confused, point it out, and maybe someone will fill you in. I guess the confusion is caused by the unconventional plotting I used in this novel.

LarrySun:
I didn't receive it. I'm sorry. Kindly resend.

Ok sir. I'll do that.

yorhmienerd:
Huh! Still short.

Sorry, sir. I'm absolutely displeased if causes you some inconvenience.

If you have observed, I try to stop in a 'good' place, not wanting to confuse my esteemed readers.

"Can you guess how old I am?" Papi asked Saliu a question which he, Saliu felt was stupid. But such people like Papi were geniuses, and such people didn't speak stupidly.

Saliu looked at Papi for a long time. He had a mild face, but his eyes were intense, it was like an adult's eyes, one that has seen things innumerable. Papi was also small-statured, but the bones of his body was strong, Saliu could tell. He looked like a person that spent way too much of his time lifting heavy things. He came to a resolution that this person wasn't that old, neither was he a kid. At the time, there were in the second class of Senior Secondary School, and the average age was fifteen, although some had repeated classes more times than they could count and ended up being in SS2, at the ages of 21-23. Saliu sighed, looking at the person that has thrown his mind into such parameters of in-depth thinking.

"19" Saliu finally said, damning if he guessed wrong. The truth was, he didn't really 'damn' the prospect of him guessing wrong. He cared. He wanted to impress Papi. He wanted to become closer to him.

He, Saliu, watched, as the lips of Papi stretched into a smile, like a rubber band does, when children tests the strength. Papi stood up, his head was just below Saliu's chin, which tried so hard to accomodate few strands of hair.

"You're perfect. I know you'll help me"

"How I go take help you?" Saliu asked

"I want to break into a woman's house. No--it's not a break-in. I don't want to steal anything. I just want to drop a-a-" Papi sighed, he was doing a bad job at explaining what he sought to do inside the woman's house "will you help me?"

A smile. Papi was confused; Saliu smiled. "I go follow you"

Papi was astounded at the bravery of this person. How did he know that it was a "follow"?

His surprise and happiness coined into something new-a feeling, an estastic feeling. His chest became lighter. The two boys chatted incessantly as they went to the canteen, where Papi bought agonyi beans and bread for the both of them, as they discussed the details of their break-in, Papi's face turned sad at times, but in one moment, it lit up in a laugh when Saliu suggested rather mischievously, that the bread was as soft as a woman's breast.

My story's not military. But, read it.

Tgold1:
Hehehehehe..... Nice story but its short bro!

The next update won't be.

"No, Chike! I want to visit you" Dami said from the other side of the phone. She was obviously angry that for close to the seven months we had been dating, she hadn't been to my lodge. I understood her anger.

"Okay" I mumbled, succumbing to her.

I heard a relieved sigh from her side."When?" she asked.

Immediately looking around the room, and going through my schedule, it wasn't possible that we meet that day. The room was untidy, Obinna's boxers were littered around the room, it smelt terribly, the rug was sticky and somewhat wet. In conclusion, the state of the room was unhealthy and I knew it wasn't fit to entertain Damilola. She would surely scold me for being so dirty.

"Tomorrow" I managed to say "I'll come to your place and i'll bring you over" I reiterated.

I could sense the dissapointment but there was little I could do "Tomorrow?" she asked once more

"Promise" I said

Goodbyes were the next thing and she said hers with a "muah"--like a kiss. I was on top of the world and I didn't want to come down. I kissed my phone too, the second Obinna burst into the room, looking at me with his ridiculous eyes.

"You dun craze oo, why you dey kiss your phone?" he asked in his thick, funny Igbo-accented voice.

I shrugged, sinking into the bed "leave me oo" I replied childishly, covering my ears with my headset and clicked 'play' on my 'Boogey playlist'

joanee20:


(appears) what did I miss? thanks for the mention..great story you have here..

thanks, ma'am. You're the one who made me start this. Sorry for the other story. I couldn't just complete it.

CHAPTER TEN
He was on the run. But even he, didn't know why. Running from himself, running from no one. Running from his thoughts. Someone seemed to be pursuing him. He wasn't delirious, even though alcohol was his favorite liquid, even though tramadol was his best candy. As he fleed away from no one, he told himself that he wasn't mad.
The wind blew ferociously, sending dust, paper, nylon and anything that could be risen off the ground to the air. The cloud was dark, evil, depressing. He ran, and ran, and stopped. He heard a voice behind him call his name. Turning back, he saw a familiar face he never thought he'd see again.

***********
He woke up from the lucid dream like a deranged person. He ran his fingers through his body, pinched himself, slapped his face, and he became sure; it was a dream. His head throbed as if Thor's hammer was used to hit it into shape. His body was clad in sweat. He shook, standing up from the bare ground on which he laid. He walked to the rectangular opening on the walls of the incompleted building which was reserved for the window and looked outside. It was hot, he could see people shielding their faces with their hands. It was only normal that it was hot after all, it was noon but people like Saliu, did nothing but sleep. But now, a terrible dream had woken him up.

Papi.

He remembered how they met in school. Papi was a brilliant chap who seemed to have the world in his brains. He would make money from writing people's exams for them, copying notes--in their handwriting.

Saliu was quite fascinated by his skills and one day, he approached him in the farm of Sinclair, the street name for the Ajeromi-Ifelodun High College. He knew he would find Papi there, for he was a very quiet person, who loved to escape from the noise of the real world.

Counting his steps, he walked gently, closer to Papi, who sat on a low stool amongst the weeds, head bent down. He didn't notice Saliu's presence or coming. As Saliu touched him, he, Saliu, saw what he had never before seen in Papi's eyes; fear. Papi was terrified at Saliu's invasion into his privacy, and he didn't hide it. He didn't hide his displeasure, he cast a long stare at the lanky invader, whose legs were like tooth picks, supporting his thin frame.

After acquainting himself with the strange persona who was this intruder, Papi asked "What have you come to do here?" much to the surprise of Saliu. It was weird, weirder even, for a person to speak such impeccable English inside the four walls of Sinclair.

"Nothing" Saliu blurted, unable to put in words what he had even come to do.

Papi was calm in the circumstance of this odd scenario. Only he knew what ran through his mind. He knew that for some reason, this lanky person could be trusted. He smiled, to which Saliu smiled back. He beckoned Saliu to sit close to him. They chatted and talked extensively on a wide range of topics, from football, girls, school, and then, in a suddeness, Saliu asked, out of fascination and curiosity "wetin you come do here?"

The small-statured Papi sighed deeply. He looked at his new-found friend in the eye and asked "will you help me?"

maputohq:

Larrysun inspired me. The first story of his I read was from the maiden edition of the Nairaland writers' collaboration. Reading the opening paragraph was like a smooth journey. I had to pause and wonder who it was. Men, the nigga is good.

I swear. The guy is a genius, who is supposed to have received international recognition by now. But, I believe his time will come. Let's just pray his talent fetches him good money and fame.

LarrySun and AudreyTimms are the reason why I write on NL. They inspired me. Plus, this list is good. Work was clearly put into the compilation.

Thumbs up, op and shoutout to everybody on that list. They are seniors.

Too bad I wasn't recognized. But fact is, my story is good. No be mouth. Click the link on my signature to confirm.

Nice storY. Do well to check my signature.
It will be the best decision you have taken this month.

.

As seconds turned into minutes. Minutes turned into hours. It became clear to the dazed John that life wasn't as it seems. His life was preserved by women. He had always treated women inferior.

Suliyat nudged John. It's better they get leaving. She promised the old woman that help will come her way. The thin woman had become heroine through her efforts in a moment of distress. Ebeyo looked like a mannequin. Lifeless, devoid of emotion.

They got out of the house, which had tempted their resolve, their bravery, their love. John held Suliyat's hands, and when they were back into the street, normalcy returned. The buzz of life immediately resumed. With both Ebeyo and the thin woman having declined returning back on Suliyat's car, they both walked slowly, as if entering into the market.

"Hey!" John's voice fought through the noise in the place, finding its way to the thin lady's ears.

"What's your name?" John asked

She flashed a smile that made her beautiful than she'd ever been. "Obiageli" she said.

Nearby stores and shops had people, likely the sales persons popping out and stretching giraffe-like necks, wanting to catch a glimpse of this scene and the people, went in and came out of the house.

"Obiageli, thank you" John said, with so much gratitude in his heart than words can convey. She kept on smiling, as if the words "thank you" was new to her. The truth was, she smiled because for the first time in as long as she could remember, her name was mentioned in a positive sentence. Men had taken her as nothing more than a cheap liquor seller, who had no ambition nor dignity. Men had slapped the living daylight out of her buttocks to satisfy their pervesion. One had even tried to rape her. But, she didn't quit. She told herself, that even if she had to endure the most inhumane actions of men, she would, as long as she raises enough money to learn bakery and start a shop thereafter.

She left. John scratched his head, as he followed her trail with his eyes till she had gotten away from his sight. It was illogical to him, why a total stranger, in Ajegunle, where the motto was "mind your business. Be wise" would want to help him, an egocentric, narcisstic person, who had no respect for any woman that wasn't his mother.

He got into the car. Suliyat had been waiting. He entered, and saw a wide grin on her face. It was the first time he had seen her smile that way. The smile was nostalgic. It rminded him of when he was a kid, and someone would smile like that, after proving a point.

"What have you learned? After this hell we've gone through, after how you almost died, after how your skin color changed, after you woke up. John, what have you learned?" Suliyat asked, highlighting everything bad that happened, leaving out how that life was saved by an act of nobility. He knew the point she was trying to make.

John looked at her, into her eyes. He leaned closer, she did too. The next action is known to anyone who had been privileged to have lived with his tongue inside a woman's, with their eyes closed, in that moment of bliss, which only Cupid could have ordained.

Does anybody have e books of African authors? Prefferably Ben Okri, Cyprian Ekwensi, Nguigi wa thiong'o and Elechi Amadi#fortheloveofbooks

The sinister smile was still registered on the woman.

Heaving a sigh, Mama Saliu asked "you love am abi?"

Suliyat turned, her back to hers, arms folded into each other. She wondered what this witch knew about love.

"Naso e do me when I meet Saliu papa" she kept giving answers to inexisent questions. Suliyat's eye popped wide as she said that. She wondered why a woman who claims to love her husband would then proceed to use him for fetish reasons.

"HIV" Suliyat said, looking at the woman "e no dey kill sharp sharp"

Now, surprise switched faces. The woman shifted uncomfortably, as if protesting against lying down.

She continued, pushing her luck in her flawed execution of pidgin English "if dem detect am early, come dey treat am, the person will not die immediately".

Mama Saliu listened with a slightly opened mouth. It was as if she wasn't the one who perpetrated the hideous crime. Suliyat was beginning to think, that either she was a very good actor, or she just might not be so guilty.
"De-detent, wetin be that one?" she asked.

Suliyat laughed mildly, the tension was gradually easing between these two. "O, detect? E mean if them know early" she explained contextually.

"okay, tisa"

A lengthy stare between both women. The older broke it, turning her face slightly.

"Him dun suppose wake up"

Suliyat was confused. Who was sleeping? She couldn't tell if Mama Saliu was speaking proverbally.

"Him go soon wake" she said assuredly this time, as the journalist's mind jumped in and between theories as to what this woman was talking about.

They had totally forgot that Ebeyo and her counterpart was in the room. When Suliyat's mind eventually flickered on their presence, she turned and found the fatter one sleeping, her mouth opened, and at intervals, sticky spittle escaped from them. Her cheeks now looked swelled as if the heavy hands of Goliath had served her a deserved blow. Save for her frantic breathing which could be heard, she could easily be thought to have slumped. This person was another prediction gone bad for she didn't looked like a light sleeper. Suliyat doubted if even a slap to the face would wake her from her courageous slumber, inside this house, where myriad fetish objects and activites might have called home.

Suliyat still got to know that rather, it was her prediction that was wrong.

A familiar voice mumbled rubbish, and Suliyat, saw happiness, fufilment and surprise all in the confines of the thin lady's eyes, which was looking past her.

Happy, albeit shocked, she was, when she turned and saw John attempting to stand up, his color was gradually becoming restored, his eyes were no longer bland.

The leaf worked. Suliyat and the good thin woman rushed to John and placed both his arms on their shoulders, helping him maintain balance on his feet.

Suliyat looked at John, this idiot didn't want to save himself. "You fancy death, eh?" she asked him, somewhat annoyed at his ridiculously stupid reaction.

"I-I am a-a d-doc-tor. I won't u-use a fe-fetish an-ant-antidote" he replied weakly, stuttering.

This man's persistence was a prick on Suliyat's skin. She hated him for his guts. He isn't even scared of death? She broke into tears, much to the surprise of the dying John.
Kneeling beside him, she pleaded.

"Please, John. Chew"

His resolve broke. He couldn't bear seeing her cry over him. He was proud of his profession, and under a different circumstance, he would stand by the tenets. He opened his mouth, and Suliyat carefully put it in. John put his teeth to use.

After some time, he fell and his eyes shut.

Fearing the worst, Suliyat wasn't alone in her surprise. Ebeyo and the thin woman held an enchanted look on their faces. Turning to the old woman who was now smiling devishly.

"oh no!" Suliyat kicked the air in anger, gritted her teeth, pulling her hair, she couldn't believe it- this woman, the devil incarnate had deceived her, and now, John was dead.

wackpoet:
Nice one . Not really a fan of romance ,especially those sacrificed on the altar of a good storyline but this your story is beautiful (small small with the hyperbole o). I cringed when the lead character professed his hatred for Biafra( because of woman) almost made me dislike the book ,but that depicts a good book
; one that can make me forget, for a second, that it's all fiction. More ink to your printer, and to my fellow readers; more thickness to your lenses; and to the pervs; more grease to your Vaseline

Thanks, sir. Please do check out my other story.

"Death sickness?" Suliyat said to herself, wondering what the old woman meant. She had never heard about such before.

Ebeyo coughed knowingly, and Suliyat knew, that she knew something. After all, these people were the ones swimming in the shallow waters of ignorance.

"She mean HIV" Ebeyo said

Unable to believe her ears, Suliyat burst into an hysterical laugh "HIV? Death disease?" she asked herself, before remembering the terrible situation she was in, and her laugh became lost on her face. She looked at John, and his body was no longer hot, nor cold, his skin was losing color.

Just as Suilyat was praying for the acceptance of John's soul. Held his hands, and allowed her tears seek to wake the dying man from his slumber. Just as Suliyat muttered "Amin" under her breath, the thin woman came running into the place. The bang of the door followed her. Looking at her hand, Suliyat saw a reddish-green leaf. She hoped that this was it.

The old woman, sensing someone's presence, to her limited agility, tried to sit. She seemed to be in serious pains.

"you dun bring am?" she asked, moping at the wall

The thin woman walked forward, as Suliyat and Ebeyo looked on. The old woman received the leaf with shaky hands, as she folded its entirety into her palms. Then she closed her eyes, and prayed to whoever she prayed to, or sang incantations. She then requested, with her eyes, for a bottle at the far right corner of the place. Ebeyo moved with such speed that defied her frame. The bottle had palm oil, popularly called red oil, as its content.

The bottle was placed on the ground, by the old woman's leg, and she, slowly, poured some on the ground, still reciting incantations in low tones. Three pair of eyes were still fixated on her, scrutinizing her every action. After the old woman had looked to the broken ceiling for quite some time, she dipped the leaf in the fast-drying oil.

She motioned Suliyat to approach, and take the leaf from her stretchered hand. She did. She needn't be told what to do. She took it to John, and pretended to want to kiss him. John's lips parted, and Suliyat smiled mischievously, it was comically disturbing how the mind of the men folk work. She squeezed the leaf into John's mouth. The dying man, stubbornly vomitted it, but the lady who wanted to save his life caught it before it landed on the ground.

She had the hot nature of the room to thanK. If it was any more windy, the leaf might have evaded her grasp. Once it touched the ground, it would lose its potency.

proproman:
Thanks. I'll check em out. I thought there was nothing like fantasy in this country given that everyone is writing either a mournful story about life or "ayo and seyi". I've got loads of ideas and can't wait to start writing. Thanx a lot.


And by the way, A LOT is wrong with "eze and the fisherman".

Be respectful to Nigerian literature. Not everyone writes 'ayo and seyi'.

I trembled like a flea pushed by the Harmattan wind, unable to believe my ears. "You were raped?"

"It was in my freshman year, and girls wanted to be girls. We attended a party off campus, and drinks, food, music-loud music." her voice began to break down, tears welling in her eyes, I held her hand stronger, urging her to share her pain with me.

"My friends were dancing, partying, the music was so loud" she paused, heaving a sigh, as the tears flowed freely through her cheeks like a stream. The journey to memory lane wasn't easy one.
"they danced, while he chased me, and penetraded deep into my innocence. He raped me!" she cried, burying her face on my shoulders.

"did you see his face?" I asked her, determined to hunt the monster who raped my Dami.

She cried even harder "no, it was so dark"

*********
I professed love to Damilola later that night, in the most explicit manner. Pardon the fact that I find it hard to share the details of those blissful and sweaty minutes, when we entangled our bodies, and souls into each others. It was whilst we bath in her shower, she held my hand and said to me,with an unflinching tone, looking into my eyes.

"Love me always"

I nodded, words couldn't make sense, or convey in the slightest accuracy, how I felt about this yoruba girl, whom my parents had sworn that I would have no business with.

*********
Rumors flew like excited kites. The hash tags #IPOB #MASSOB #BiafraBack were trending on the social media. I was online, being flown round to different places in the world at a go. I went through my twitter and the aforementioned hash tags came up. Apparently, there was a certain sit-at-home exercise, and my father called me, to tell me that the stipend which he was to send to my bank account was to be delayed, until further notice. What's worse? He seemed to be speaking with happiness. The old man didn't care if my intestines go on an hunger strike.

"Dad, what's happening?" I asked, placing my concerns as a citizen first.

Dad chuckled, then broke into an Oliver De'Qoque song. Then, there was silence from the other end. He then recited what I knew to be the Biafran anthem. His voice was so passionate, that I wished I understood better.

"Biafra is near" he said conclusively, it didn't sound like a brag, it sounded like a fact. I didn't realize the implications of this however, and life, as a 200 level undergraduate continued.

LarrySun:
What's the title of the attachment?

'I should have known', sir.

Mr Larry, it's me. Sent you the attachment. It should be in your e-mail inbox.
Please do check it.

yorhmienerd:
Why you no kan understand Yoruba

Lolz. My brain no gree learn oo.