down by the river side the green grass grow there sit nene washing her clothes she sing she sings she sings so sweet..............old roger is dead nd gone to his grave hm ah gone to his grave they planted a mango tree over his head..........who sat n watch my infant head who gaze upon my heart my mother....

Dear Moderator,
Please find below a short story written by me I will appreciate constructive criticism
Thank you.

Title: “Just Before Noon”
This television must work, oh God let is work .It’s Saturday morning, I was battling with the antiquated black and white television set that has refused to display pictures on screen. I kept turning and adjusting the adjustment knob, I must not miss today’s Cadbury breakfast show. This television must work; my sisters were busy with the normal morning chores.
Mummy is not home yet what must have kept her this long, she was not even home last night, I knew she would soon be back, she must not come back without food being ready leaving the television set that has refused to comply despite all my plea to it. I quickly rushed to the woman down the road called ‘Iya Sunday’ (Sunday’s mother)
Iya Sunday is well known in the neighborhood for selling all manners of things from grocery to provisions to food stuff even house hold furniture’s you just name what you need or want and be sure to get them from Iya Sunday’s small but well stocked makeshift store. Iya Sunday sells her wares same price the market women sell theirs so why bother go to the market ,we(my sisters and I) named her “Iya orisirisi” meaning the woman that has all stuff the good, the bad and the ugly.
I was happily swinging the family size loaf of bread with three sachet of powdered milk in the black nylon bag, items purchased from Iya orisirisi store. All eyes were on me as I approached our upstairs building that has seen better days from wear and tear the building has been drenched by rain and heated by the sun dilapidated building you might want to call it, it really cries for renovation the 1950s model kind of house that habits all manner of people from different works of life and culture ,the Yorubas, Igbos, Ibibios, Urhobos, Efiks' etc, a barrack you might want to call it only that the occupants are mostly civil servant and petty traders and not military men
Am almost home now, why is everyone steering at me ‘haba’ did I peep on my dress or is my dress torn somewhere exposing my femininity that am not aware of all eyes seems to be on me, well they are lookers anyway jobless and idle people “abeg” let them keep looking my mind is fixed on how to slice the tomatoes, pepper and make sauce with which we were to eat the bread and make tea before mummy returns from the hospital our breakfast that morning which we never did eat.
Mummy is not on admission but daddy was. My daddy a six footer, dark in complexion a sight to behold his dentition though not clean-white and one that will never win a closed -up competition contest were milk colored with an opening by the side displaying that a tooth had been pulled out at one time. His legs are so long that I wonder how someone could have such long legs but it's expected from a man with such an intimidating height, daddy is one that doesn’t talk much so you could guess that since he is taciturn then he is not known to make troubles but one that will give you a match for your troubles if you dare offend him. I will like to describe his person with this phrase ‘if you step on his foot he will walk on your nose’ I love him though might not be his favourite because I hate running errands daddy can call you hundred times within a space of ten minutes :bring this, bring that, come here, go there do this, do that it’s so frustrating when you are watching your favourite 'Tales by moonlight' and daddy is at home he will call you to run these numerous errands that you end up missing your favourite programme on T.V ,but I would gladly joyfully happily and more willing to run those errands that I won’t mind going to the moon or losing an Oscar now just for daddy.
Daddy is diabetic his been battling with this aliment for some time now been off and on admission in hospital been placed on a special diet, been on medication but has not been deterred by his health challenge he still has time to run his fumigation company with firms and private individual(s) proceeds from his business has been sustaining the family, a family of five all girls and a mother who is just a primary school teacher.
I am almost home now climbing the staircase to our room and palour apartment a place that has been home to me since I was an infant now a teenager at puberty . At the entrance of the house I see different sizes, shades and colour of footwear most of these foot wear have seen better days due to wear and tear both in the sun and rainy season you could tell from the look of these foot wear, why all these slippers in front of our palour. I tried to peep into the room seas of heads all wearing a mournful look I summoned courage and entered. I recognized some faces in the room, mummy seems forlon pale and looking older in less than 24hrs that I last saw her when she and my dad went to the hospital for one of those regular check-ups,then the voice from our pastor’s wife jolted me she said ‘God know best’ those words cut deep into my soul ‘God knows best’ I thought .It can't be true, it must be a dream I screamed aloud grabbing my daddy’s picture from the wall where it was hung on the wall, someone should please wake me up from this unpleasant and horible dream, oh God is it that my mummy is now a widow and that I and my siblings are now fatherless ? oh God this is unfair but God we served you believed so much in your healing powers were you not the God that raised Jarius daughter from the dead you even raised Lazarus from the grave after four days in the tomb, nothing absolutely nothing is too difficult for thee, my God please do something show your power and let all these people mourning here know that you are God. I pinched myself so hard just to be sure I wasn’t dreaming
Far from dreaming, it is reality and never to be a dream daddy is no more he is gone and gone for good he has played his part and acted it well on the stage on life never to return no amount of wailing and crying will ever bring him back, the cold hands of death has snatched away the pillar of the house the axe of death has chopped down ‘Gabriel Akpodiogaga’
My whole world looked bleak falling like a badly arranged set of cards all right there in front of me. I fought those tears building up in my eyes from falling; I have lost my father just at sixteen years of age an S.S 2 student with those dreams hopes and aspiration of becoming a lawyer all gone into the wind within a twinkle of an eye.
Oh death you are wicked
Oh death where is thy sting?

am interested presently working on a short story.will send my email id to ur box and my short story for criticism.thx