My apartment in school sat inside a compound, alongside 9 other flats, the flats were arranged in a symmetrical arrangement and had an interconnection of lawns and driveways in between the houses, we even had a grdener who came in once a a week to water the grasses and snip over-growing branches of shrubbery. We had a Mikano central generating set and a sports area which housed a gym, an oversized (in my opinion)basketball court and a rather small pitch for soccer, I always found this ironic because nobody in my compound played basket ball, we all played soccer! I also wondered why the landlord decided to situate his nicely-built house in such a run-down neighborhood.
The neighbourhood my compound stood in was a seedy place, there were no tarred roads, no pipe-borne water, no electricity.
The indigenes stuck to farming and retailing their farm products and other amenities to students. We were a welcome development to them financially because we brought what they called 'Lagos money', which was local parlance for the pocket money we got from our parents and guardians( it didn't matter if they resided in warri) to purchase their wares. There were a few shops, a few block industries, a few Garri-roasters, only a few of the villagers owned generators or cars, but goats and chickens were aplenty. These were the people living around the poverty line.
Their houses stood in stark contrast to ours', and even though I suspected a few of them were envious (I could swear I had spotted a few green looks on the face of the family living directly opposite my compound), I got along with the neighbours, amicably .
On this day however, after calming Atunke down and convincing her to go home(home being a friends' house down the street where she had been staying of recent) and washing my face.
I stepped out of my house, to find the compound abuzz.

Hi everyone, I do hope this piece attains the lofty reading standards that you are used to on this forum, this is my first story EVERRR, so I must confess, I am quite new to this. I might not be as good as the greats on Nairaland, The Ishiloves', The Rock5555s, The Repogirls', Adegwureluz and so on. but please bear with me, I feel that my story deserves to be written, even if the writing standards are a bit amateurish, and my punctuations not always perfect, I shall try my best to make this a once-in-a-lifetime story. I hope you enjoy it.

Hi everyone, I do hope this piece attains the lofty reading standards that you are used to on this forum, this is my first story EVERRR, so I must confess, I am quite new to this. I might not be as good as the greats on Nairaland, The Ishiloves', The Rock5555s, The Repogirls', Adegwureluz and so on. but please bear with me, I feel that my story deserves to be written, even if the writing standards are a bit amateurish, and my punctuations not always perfect, I shall try my best to make this a one-in-lifetime story. I hope you enjoy it.

I got off the bed, and pulled her close in a brotherly manner, i put my arms around her shoulders to wrap her in a warm consolatory hug. As soon as she lay her head on my chest, I could feel the last of her resolve melt away, as fresh tears poured down her face freely, they mixed with the snot running down her nose, and by the time this mixture ran down to her jaw, it had mixed with salt water emanating from the pores on her face. Atunke was quite the sight on that evening. Her hair was dishevelled, her clothes torn and there was sand all over her body. I took this all in and came to a few conclusions as to what happened in my mind.
I finally brought her to a semblance of calmness and insisted she tell me what the problem was.
"Vera, Ahmed's girlfriend jumped me, the animal attacked me with a stick".
"She just came at me and whacked me with the stick o, I was so surprised, by the time I understood what was happening, I was on the floor and she was on top of me, pulling my hair and pummelling my head into the ground".
At this point, I interrupted.
"So, wait, she just came at you with a stick and attacked you?!"
"The two of you didn't have any issues before then"
I asked her. I found it a bit difficult to believe.
"I didn't have any issues with her o, the girl is mad, she just came and started shouting at me about how I was fuc'kin with her, she just kept saying Bleep Bleep what the Bleep, like all these crazy oyinbo people, that's all I know o". Atunke had this habit of finishing her statements with 'o'.
I suspected there was more to the story than met my eye. I had a feeling Atunke was trying to raise compassion from me so I would go and fight on her behalf, I smiled inwardly, that wasn't going to happen. Hmm, what did she want me to do now, this was a case of two ladies fighting, was I supposed to enter the fray, gloves on and beat up the offending Vera? Infact,I didn't want to take sides yet not knowing what had truly happened, another reason I did not want to hastily reach the conclusion Atunke was steering me towards, was because Vera was also my friend.

THE MATTER.
At the moment, I was on my bed, naked, except for a pair of boxers i usually had on for the occasion of my daily siesta, even though i was barely dressed, my whole body was covered in a film of sweat,so also were the pillow and matress, i knew this because i felt the damp coolness of the sheets on the skin of my back, my eyes finally settled on the reason they were so abruptly jolted back to consciousness. Atunke, my ex-girlfriends' elder sister stood above me, nudging me, trying to shake me awake, while at the same time calling my name in the low shaky voice of one who was weeping quiet, hot tears, My joy at seeing it wasnt the dreaded Mrs. Okafor quickly gave way to sympathy when I took in the situation. In deed i could see tears welling in her eyes when i looked closely at her face..
"Ah ah Atunke, what's wrong, why are you crying".
"Talk to me na Atunke, wetin make you dey cry". I asked again.
She just kept on sobbing.
I wasn't sure what to do.
I had never seen Atunke cry, in fact i thought her a strong young lady who could take care of herself, no matter the situation at hand. How wrong i turned out to be this particular one time.

TROUBLE DEY SLEEP
I awoke, with a start, torn away from the dream my brain had been conjuring while i myself was fast asleep, in summary, the dream had taken place in the house where i was born and bred, but for some reason, i was all grown-up, yet I had been dressed in a primary school uniform complete with socks and sandals, in the dream when the grown-up me gets to the school, i realise i have forgotten to take my books, lunchbox, money... Damn, i dreamt, "this was going to be a bad day",in the blink of an eye I had reconfigured the dream and now had my lunchbox and money, but still no books. As I was ruminating on this,I heard my very strict class teacher, Mrs. Okafor calling my name repeatedly, and shaking me out of my sleep. I started to regain consciousness slowly, What was Mrs. Okafor doing in my room?, without her beloved cane?! and behold of all wonders , Mrs. Okafor who was so adept at causing tears, was weeping herself!! My dreamy bloodshot not-yet-comprehending eyes flew open, while still trying to adjust they scanned the room quickly, wondering what had distracted me from my slumber.
In reality, i was in my room, in school- The University, . I was a student by trade,
, I saw education as my hustle, a hustle which wuld pay me the big bucks when I landed an oil and gas or telecom job after a four year stint of intensive 'hustling'. I attended all the lectures, took down all the notes, read for all my tests and paid to 'sort' all the courses. I school in a city that is different from the one in which i live, when i was filling my jamb form to enter t'he university, i thought going to another city that had an air- port, a social life and no relatives of mine was a great career move. So I chose Ilorin, University of. I could already see the bright lights of the city beckoning to me, me the toast of the party, however as God disposes, it hadn't turned out quite like that. There weren't that many parties and I found the few there were, weren't to my liking, too many unsavoury people usually could be seen smoking cigarettes and God only knew what else, there was the jumbo-sized stick which burned a bright red glow that illuminated the face of the smoker, bellowing pungent smoke. I was sure these couldn't have been cigarettes. As the jam of bodies in the hall grew, and moved in harmony in a music-induced hypnosis, they massed this way and that to the rhythm of the music. This always seemed to be the cue for some unhappy hemp-smoking fraternity boy to decide his sneakers, which were dirtier than the floor to start with, had been stepped on(and in effect cleaned! Though he wouldn't see it that way), we would all hear a bottle smash, by the end of the scuffle that arose, somebody would be bleeding. No sir, after two such parties, it was home, sweet home for me.

I am writing this essay with one purpose in mind. As i sit here in the dark, alone, with my haunting fears, alone with the recurring memories of the monsters in my recent nightmares. I am seated comfortably in the embrace of a soft welcoming sofa inside a room that bears no description as it is pitch black, a thick night that bore no stars, and no sounds, save for the crickets chirping away endlessly. My eyes cannot discern any of the features in the room i am in. It feels like i am in the cold, dark outer space with the sofa the only thing keeping me anchored to mother earth.
I do not know if i would achieve this purpose i seek, because it is an almighty purpose,and at the end of the day my story may not be worthy of that achievement, but, in my reaching for this hope, i pray to find a listening ear, a reading eye, a kindred mind, one such friend who will escort me on my journey in search of justice- and revenge. Please spare a little bit of yourself to join in my purpose.
A grave injustice has been done, innocence has been pillaged by the agents of darkness, truth has been twisted to pander to hate. And mankind to mankind is no longer just, nor kind.
Human beings have grown more selfish,by the century, and greedier by the decade, we have grown all these vices; hate, violence, jealousy- to the detriment of other human beings, poverty has changed even the honest man's mindset,corruption gnawing at his resistance, until he is as he is now,a hyena, laughing and licking his lips, at the scent of blood, a beast in a dog-eat-dog world.
My story could be your story, but i pray to the Almighty God, that even my gravest enemies should not go through what i have been through,nor have such horrors visited upon them. Talk less of you, my friend, and even though i wish to share with you my story, even though i wish you to see what i saw, i am happy, nay ecstatic, that you shall only have to experience it from the relative comfort of wherever you are reading this story from.
Also i feel like you are not just my friend, i feel a personal connection to you,it's almost as if... i know this may sound strange, but its as if you are me! And so in order to nurture this bond, this connection i have with you to even greater strenghts, throughout the duration of this story, we shall share the same name... and surname! If you may please substitute my name for yours, i would be most grateful. This is so that you can get better immersed in the story, in order to see what i saw from as close to the 1st-Person's perspective as possible..
And now if we may wrest our minds back to the issue of my purpose, would it be too much if i asked you to please feel free to comment on this story. Please, whatever you may think, whyever you may think so,your ideas, your advice would be highly appreciated. If you would do that, then my purpose in writing this essay, as daunting as it is, would have been achieved.


Also, as i mentioned earlier,i have desisted from naming the main character, i have done this because i would like for you the reader to substitute your own name with the character in the book and to read the story like its your own story, as if it speaks of your own life.

So help us, God.


Here we go.

its like you don't know this our madam. Just prepare o, this story will drag on till December 2013. Mark my words!

words marked

Oga Writer, you yourself see what others do not, your inner eye is wide open, and everybody can see. How do you hold on to your imagination,as far as it goes, how it twists and turns?