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May you always be brave in the shadows till the sun shines upon you again.

HIDDEN DARKNESS CH 19

Devils come out to play when light loses to the darkness. Nestled in the bosom of the dark, fear thrives giving life to our worst nightmares. Every subtle movement, the gentle close of a door, the uneven creak of a cracked floor tile becomes a promise of the terrors hidden within the inky unknown.

In the heart of Tinubu Square, located within the metropolis called Lagos, home to millions, two people stood hidden away in the darkness.

"King maker... You must be a fool. I was given a task, to find and deliver you. Nothing more. By this time tomorrow you'll be someone else's problem."

Ola released her arm, the glow of a kerosene lantern approaching the couple.

"This world can be full of surprises."

He looked up at the star filled sky. They twinkled brightly. It was a rare sight in this part of the city, the artificial lights usually drowning out their brilliance by now. Walking away to the hum of a city full of generators, lights once again came to life, rendering the city in alternating strips of white and black. The floating lantern passed by Ola, its target the woman who still stood in place. Malaozi's heart beat a rhythm that confused her, leaving her flustered and lost. She closed her eyes, meditating on her mind and body, returning it to the state she was accustomed to. Wrinkled fingers pressed against the taut flesh of her waist. It jarred her, knee moving up unbidden as training took over from her distracted brain. It found the two withered eggs between the legs of the old caretaker. Head whipping to the side, his eyes saw an explosion of brilliant colors, the pain sending him on a quick one way trip to the ground, lantern not far behind.

Malaozi looked at the old man presently clutching his manhood while screaming in pain as incoherent curses were strung together. She couldn't make out much but here and there she heard 'mama', 'fada' and what she guessed was meant to be some part of her anatomy. Suppressing the urge to put the man out of his misery permanently she left him there once she ensured the kerosene lantern posed no danger. At the entrance of the square, a Range Rover stood with its lights on and engine running. Two black suited men stood vigilant at its doors. It blocked off one lane of the one way road but none of the cars having to make their way around gave a single toot of their horn. A strange thing to see in this city famous for its mostly crazed and fearless motorist. Malaozi suspected it had something to do with the Toyota camry behind the Range that had its windows broken and tires slashed.

"Where is the package?"

Malaozi asked the man holding open the door of the jeep for her.

"Currently situated in the owners corner, Red Angel."

"Good. There's a man rolling in pain within the square. You'll find him near the woman statue. Give him 300,000 Naira for his trouble."

"It will be carried out."

"Actually make it 100,000. He pissed me off. What of the Toyota behind us?"

"The package said we should find and reimburse him. If I may say, he seems to have changed..."

The suited man had been in the business for sometime, having served the family for years. She ignored his statement. Getting into the drivers seat she sped off, leaving the men behind.

"Where too?"

"You wanted a drink. Taking you to a bar."

"I could also use some female company. Not that you aren't female but i'd prefer someone who wouldn't kill me for complementing her figure."

"I know a few establishments that provide female companionship at a decent price and can also vouch for their medical situations."

"A brothel?! Do I look like I need to pay for sex."

Malaozi turned around, her facial expression answering for her.

"F-u-c-k. Just take me to a club."

Who does she think I am.

Ola slid to the seat behind her, his hand reaching up to poke her.

"Touch me and you lose that finger."

"Do you have eyes at the back of your head?"

She did not answer.

"The young priest, I need you to covertly get a secure phone under his pillow."

"Why under his pillow..."

"So he knows I can reach him anywhere. It can be unnerving when you know the place you sleep has been invaded."

"I'll make a call. The reading of your father's will is happening tomorrow."

"Has nothing to do with me."

"He knew you well. Instructions were left to put you in a strait-jacket and drag you there in the trunk of a car if necessary."

"Even from the grave he still wants to control me."

"Once the will is read, my task will be fulfilled and I will be done with you."

"Malaozi dear, I thought we were making a connection..."

"I must not have hit you hard enough this morning"

"Want to bet on this connection?"

"You have nothing I want."

"Don't be so sure. The bet will always be waiting for you when you realize I do."

"We're here."

Ola stepped out of the car, his rubber slippers slapping the tarred road. Coming out of the door behind the driver had landed him on the street. He looked out at the near empty Ozumba Mbadiwe expressway. A few cars lined up at the traffic light waiting for it to turn green. A danfo bus sped past Ola; nearly hitting him, his loose fitting shirt blown up by the passing wind. At that speed there is no way it can break in time to stop at the red light. Moments later he watched as the bus sped past the red light like it was trying to get him to register for MMM after the collapse. A year is not enough for change. Closing the door he made his way round the car. The first thing he saw was a line teeming with people waiting to get past two well built men in black short sleeve shirts that strained to contain their bulging muscles. Strapped to their chest were vest that had a similar design to body armor. Too light; those things will be as effective at stopping bullets as vitafoam pillows. Behind them rose a well lit building, at the top a sign with the word "Quilloxx" in large yellow neon light. None noticed Ola, their attention set on the security that barred their path to the club. Running parallel to the long line was a roped off section having a red carpet with butterfly's and "V.I.P" stitched into it every few feet. Showing no hesitation, Ola made his way to the red carpet. Taking care not to step on the butterflies he walked past the eager people waiting to get in. As he worked his way to the front, people began to notice him.

"Does this beggar think that is the line for free food?"

"See all the ragged hair on his head and face. Is this not a mad man?"

"Someone call pastor to come cast out whatever demon has entered him."

They could not help but look and laugh at the beggar confidently walking the red carpet. Some began to wait in anticipation for the show that would occur when he reached the the two large men manning the gate while some well meaning few urged him not to keep going. Before their expectation could be realized, a guy near the front, with an arm around a thing of beauty suddenly ducked under the velvet rope separating the V.I.P. from the peoples line.

"Oga you no see road ni?"

Ola watched as the guy left the lady he was with and confidently blocked his path in an obvious attempt to show off.

"Seeing as you are a nobody, I won't embarrass you in front of your babe."

"Shohh, see beggar oh! Wetin that one suppose mean?!"

"It's exactly as you think."

"No be by english. Betta reason your matter!"

"Shoh wetin dey worry you. Na because I follow you speak proper english ni? I cause am. I dey follow you talk like human being. Abeg if person fi sample this guy remove one of in teeth I go give you the moto behind me."

"Ahan, na so dem dey dash moto. Who you be. Baba free?"

"Keys please"

To the people in the line watching, it looked like the beggar was talking to his family gods to drop down from heaven the keys to the Range Rover behind him. When a set of keys fell from the sky, the shock on their faces left some gasping. Grabbing them from the air, the beggar pressed a button, the lights on the Range Rover blinking in response. Tossing the key to the security closest to him he walked past the speechless guy that had blocked his path.

The fist came out of no where, connecting with the guy who had been trying to impress the girl with him. As he fell to the floor he had a look on his face that seemed to be asking 'What have I done wrong...'. Others soon followed as men and even the woman he came with rushed to be the one to knock out a tooth. Ola did not bother to turn around, the other security letting him through without a word as someone was shouting with a gleeful voice "I got it, I got it..."

To have you at my side I happily damn my soul

THE STORY SO FAR : Darkness has fallen on the Lagos Metropolis and with it the underworld claim the city once again as the knowledge of Duhu's return spreads. For the day walkers they remain unaffected for the most part but there are an unlucky or 'lucky' few who slip through the cracks unwittingly stepping into a world they know nothing about as has been seen with Ekiuwa and Ola's newly found Priest -Ore-. Though Ekiuwa and Ore will be sucked into this world, there is another who will merely brush by. 

HIDDEN DARKNESS CH 18.5

Disbelief was the simplest way one could describe Ndueso's emotions at the moment. He let out a shout that alarmed those who lined up behind him waiting for their turn at the ATM. He didn't care as he stared at the text on the screen showing 71,000 Naira in his bank account. Rubbing his eyes he looked once again half expecting the numbers to turn to the 1000 Naira that should have been there, people behind him voicing their impatience. It was an account he had opened only a few days ago. He was sure he hadn't given the number to anyone. It could only be a mistake, the money intended for some other account. Quickly he withdrew everything, afraid the 70,000 would disappear if he waited even a fraction of a second more. 'To think I just came to withdraw 100 for offering' he thought, while walking to the church, his pockets weighed down. 

At the pulpit Ndueso gave a heartfelt testimony of what his Maker had done for him to the rousing applause of the congregation. Happily he dropped 7100 Naira into the offering basket as it passed by, counting it out in full view of those around him. At the end of the service, quite a few friends came to congratulate him on the blessings he had received but his eyes were focused on someone else. Mkpulunma was a thing of beauty and she didn't hesitate to flaunt it. Around her the youth of the church gathered, vying for her attention. Ndueso had tried more than once to ask her out but she had refused. Each time he was not surprised by her answer as the only place he could afford to take her was the local bar with a thatched roof where his few hundred nairas wouldn't be too small. It wasn't a secret she was a club girl. Today he was confident as he elbowed his way to the front of the crowd surrounding her.

"Mkpulunma make we talk?"

When she saw him, a brilliant smile lit up her face. Politely she excused herself from the youth that surrounded her, following Ndueso to a more secluded corner of the church compound. The flashes of jealousy were not limited to a few.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"I wan carry you comot. Tonight. Choose the place."

"Really?"

She grabbed his hand, excitement in her eyes. 

"Quilloxx is having an event today that's going to be a lot of fun."

"Ok. What time should I pick you up?"

"But it will be expensive."

"No worry about that mata."

Ndueso whipped out the thousands of naira in his pocket with a flourish. When she saw it her lips split into another brilliant smile, her chest lightly brushing against his upper arm.

"Wonderful! Here's my number. We can take an uber to the place."

"Oh, don't have the uber."

His flip phone not even able to download simple apps.

"No problem i'll order it and you can pay the driver when we get there. You'll get to see my special dance."

"You have special dance! Can I see now?"

"Nope. When we get in the club."

Seeing his sad look she quickly added 

"I'll let you see a little."

With that she worked her hips to the delight of Ndueso. It ended seconds after she started, effectively wetting his appetite for more. Before he could say anything, she had skipped away while shouting she'd see him tonight at 10. The time couldn't come soon enough for Ndueso as he nurtured a hope that he would have a chance to show off to her during their time together. 

twitter - @just2days

email - just2day@yahoo.com

Thanks for reading

pacifust058:
Thanks for the update

Thanks for sticking around

I will own you. Mind; Body; Soul

HIDDEN DARKNESS CH 18

From above, a city returns to a more primitive time, adopting the color of Maria who police often rode. A citywide power outage was not common in this metropolis home to millions, but this time it had forced safety circuit breakers to trip for many found within its limits. Within the dark fear grew. It grew among the children whose imaginations fed it, among the old who remembered it and among the adults who had tasted what lurked inside. The good citizens of Lagos quickly found their way to the safety of their homes, a growing feeling of unease quickening their steps as they surrendered the city to the world of darkness. Their anxiety was not baseless, for the underworld was stirring like it had never before. A single name spread like wild fire in a summer savanna. Passed as a whisper from lip to lip, it brought with it the sound of chambered rounds and striking metal. It was a name that had suddenly ceased to exist a few years ago. The reason why was not easily acquired. Many had let out a sigh of relief, some had rained hell at being denied their revenge, a handful shed silent tears for the end of an era while a few fanatically awaited a return.

On a quiet street situated within the estate commonly known as Lekki Phase One, a standby generator kicked in after the city wide power outage occurred. The house it should supply electricity was still unable to separate itself from the night. To call the building a house would be doing it injustice, its size making it more than appropriate to dub it a mansion. Though a two story building, one couldn't see the roof from outside its Babel high fence, a detail noticed by a youth sitting outside its gates in the driver seat of a Honda City.

The youth was not born in the city, only becoming one of the millions of inhabitants after obtaining admission to Lagos State University. It had been an exciting day for him and his family when the letter came. He could still vividly recall the words his father had uttered.

"Ekiuwa, you have made me proud."

Ekiuwa remembered it like it was yesterday. He had thought his heart would explode from the pride he felt after hearing those words from his father. Being the only child of the youngest wife in a large family of Cocoa farmers had come with its ups and downs. It was no secret Ekiuwa's father favored his youngest wife over all his other wives and children. This had brought with it both hidden and open hostility from everyone within their compound. It did not help that Ekiuwa's mom was not originally from Evbuomoma village. She urged Ekiuwa to study hard in school, knowing the wives would deny any inheritance for her son if anything should befall their husband. Wanting to make his mom happy, he did not let her down.

Evbuomoma village had become quite lively as Ekiuwa's father bought everyone rounds of Tchouk at the local bar. Simultaneously he aroused and appeased the jealousy of their neighbors as he paraded his sons success. A few of the men applauded Ekiuwa, happily drinking the free alcohol. Others went as far as advertising their daughters as prime candidates for marriage to the Lagos bound boy; a sudden shift now that he had prospects. Though Ekiuwa was called 'boy to fine' by the girls in the village, with the pressure of his father's wives and children, no girl or boy in the village would associate with him. When Ekiuwa heard these men describing how beautiful and proportioned their daughters were and how much of a good match they could be, he was unable to hide his embarrassment and discomfort. He ran out the door as quickly as he could to the roaring laughter of the drinking men.

Freshly eighteen, Ekiuwa was filled with excitement and fear the day he was to leave. Even though he had no friends, this was still the only place he had ever known. It was a struggle to step out from his moms embrace and board the vehicle bound for Lagos. She smelled of flour and sugar, not a surprise to Ekiuwa who held a large nylon of Yovo Doko. With freely flowing tears, she watched along with the rest of the village as the rickety bus pulled farther and farther away. Sitting in the vehicle, Ekiuwa could no longer stop himself from crying. But, with it came an intense determination; to make enough money to take his mom away from Evbuomoma. It had been half a year since that day.

The headlamps of the car were the only lights on the street. The beam lit up a large threatening black gate and a small man currently lying on a wooden bench beside it. The small man looked very much like the gatemen that manned many of the homes he had passed on his search for this street. The map that had been instrumental in leading Ekiuwa here rested on the seat beside him. It had been handed to him along with the keys to the Honda City. Dark, skinny and smelling like his bathing was done in a richly filled gutter, the gateman seemed to not be bothered about the car that had stopped in front of him. Face covered with a straw hat sporting two thin holes, he showed no signs of stirring. Eyes darting around, Ekiuwa's hand gripped the steering wheel, twisting over and over much like he did the clothes he helped his mother rinse in the stream. Though tempted, he did not press the horn to wake up the gateman. The instructions they had passed to him had been strict, but no one said anything about what to do in case of a blackout.

At a loss, he skipped the first step and brought out a silver torchlight from the glove box of the Honda. It looked like any torchlight you'd buy from the market. It wasn't until you held it that you'd realize it was too heavy. Training it on the gate, he turned it on. There was no beam of light shooting out the end of the torchlight but the straw hat on the head of the man lying on the bench moved. The gate slowly swung open revealing a darkened interior. Thoughts of putting the car in reverse and speeding away grew strong. He had seen quite a few movies where such scenes had occured. It rarely ended well. But memories of the bag full of cash they had showed him held him in its sway. Gritting his teeth, the car went in gear and rolled forward. He did not get far, another gate blocking his progress. Behind him the gate shut, cutting off any possibility of retreat. Metal struck his window, breaking it and sending shards of glass flying. A bright light hit his eyes, momentarily blinding him. Hand reaching up to shield his face, the drivers door was yanked open, a hand dragging him out by the collar. Ekiuwa fell to the paved floor, bits of glass that had found its way into his skin, digging deeper. A booted foot stepped on the back of his neck pressing him back to the floor as he struggled to rise.

"Name!"

"Please, please, mister... my name..."

"I said name!"

The boot pressed harder against his neck, pinning him to the road. Fear held him in its grip, his heart pounding against his chest like it wished to leave and find another home.

"Still not going to answer!"

A swift kick to his chest sent him rolling across the ground till he was stopped by another boot, the breath knocked out of him, his eyes still seeing spots of color. He had thought he had left behind such beatings when he left the reach of his half-brothers.

"Four and Eight, search the car!"

Struggling for each breath, his mind sluggish, Ekiuwa attempted to get away as he heard each distinct crunch of boot on glass shards. Over and over he wished he had never stumbled upon that job offer, wished he wasn't so desperate after he had read a letter that had come from mother.

"Name!"

A hand dragged him up by the neck as if he weighed nothing. 

"Ekiuwa."

A slap landed without mercy, the delivering hand covering half his face and driving away his ability to see while sending him back to the floor he had just left.

"I don't know any Ekiuwa. Name!"

"Olosho.... Olosho... please stop"

The foot that had been intent on delivering some more pain hung in the air. Hands helped Ekiuwa up.

"Apologies. Too much of a coincidence for you to show up when the electrical grid for the compound shorted. Security word accepted, you may go through. Follow the road."

Sight returning, Ekiuwa unsteadily made his way to the car not daring to say a word, his only purpose now to get far away from here as quick as possible. Beside the Honda, the ones called Four and Eight held MP-5's, their muzzles currently trained to the ground.  The second gate opened and he drove through. Behind, the word 'Olosho' was repeated and followed by laughter.

In front of large double doors stood a tall woman. Resting on a slim petite nose was a pair of tortoise shell glasses, in her hands a large lit purple scented candle. Electricity had been restored to the compound, the security lights making visible the many flowers that surrounded the mansion. She wore her hair cut low and bleached white in stark contrast to her midnight skin. It was a clash that commanded attention. An unnerved Ekiuwa was stunned by the appearance of the woman who waited for him at the top of the staircase leading into the mansion. For a second his mind forgot the pain and torment he had just suffered but his body didn't, tremors still evident.

"Come."

It wasn't a request. She uttered the word much like there was no other option but to obey. On the drive between the gate and the mansions front door he had considered turning around and leaving but he could not miss this opportunity. Subconsciously smoothing the only other pair of jeans he owned, he unsteadily made his way up the stairs to her. Ekiuwa had very little experience with women. Even after coming to Lagos this had not changed. Though quite a few of the girls from his classes had expressed interest in him, his inability to carry on a conversation and his lack of any disposable income had quickly left him high and dry. More than one had come up to say the fine face he had was wasted on him. It was a situation he didn't mind much as he focused on his studies.

"Phone."

Reaching into his pocket, Ekiuwa brought out a cheap flip phone, the screen now cracked thanks to the incident at the gate. It had been something he had picked up from the trash can of one of his classes. Classmates had laughed at him when he asked 'Who owns it?'. Happily he had claimed it after everyone showed their disdain for such old technology. Taking it from him, he could only watch as she broke it in half, dropped it onto the floor and crushed it beneath her stiletto heel.

"Drink this."

On his palm she placed a shot glass filled to the brim with a clear liquid.

"What about the money that..."

"I said drink it."

Having come this far he couldn't turn back now. With thoughts of his mother he downed it in a single gulp, the liquid pouring down his throat, burning as it went.

"Only follow. Touch nothing."

She said no more, heading back into the house. Ekiuwa following like a chick would a hen.

The mansion's interior was lit with candles giving off a pleasant scent. At first Ekiuwa assumed they were there because of the power outage but then remembered the security lights had come on while he drove to the building. Curiosity began to overcome his fear, eyes wandering while they walked through varying passages, rooms and doors. His head felt lighter and hazier as they progressed. On the walls were paintings of varying sizes. Early on he thought he could make out their content but as they walked he found it harder and harder to focus, the images becoming more and more blurry. Worries that were heavy on his mind began to melt away, replaced by a desire that seemed to be growing in strength. He kept his eyes on the woman walking in front of him, details about her he had not noticed gaining prominence; the fullness of her hips, curve of her back, ripples generated with every step she took. His hand reached out, the other grabbing it. 'What am I doing?" Ekiuwa asked himself. The midnight complexion woman stopped at a golden door with carvings of various wild animals locked in battle. Its depiction was fierce and life like, seeming to be a second away from jumping off the door and locking on Ekiuwa's throat

"Stand with your back to the door."

Ekiuwa's did not want to step any where near those doors; an inexplicable sense of danger coming from within, but to his surprise he obeyed. The woman walked up to him, a palm resting on his chest. It became harder and harder for him to focus. A wave of warmth spread from her touch, a corner of his mind telling him something was wrong. She pushed, her strength surprising him as he fell back, body tensing for an impact that did not come. He stumbled past the open door into a large room, the door sliding back in place in front of his eyes. Ekiuwa caught himself, jumping forward to claw at the door, a growing heat in his body. A whimper escaped his lips afraid to turn around as he realized what he drank was affecting him.

"He is quite lively, I think I want this one."

"But you had the last one."

"So what! I'm older so I get to set the rules."

"Oh, now you are happy to be older."

Ekiuwa's heart beat an inconsistent rhythm, the conversation going on behind him. It was becoming harder to think clearly. He had given up on the door, finding no way to open it but still unable to face what lay behind. 

"He seems to have realized there's no where to run."

"I like the ones that try to run the best. Such innocence is hard to find these days."

"I said I want this one."

"And I said you got the last one."

"Ok, what do you want for him?"

Ekiuwa's legs gave way, collapsing to the floor, the heat reaching levels he could no longer ignore.

"Please let me go. I don't want the money anymore. Please."

Desperate, the drink muddling his thoughts, Ekiuwa knelt where he was. Eyes closed, afraid to see the horrors that must be in front of him.

"He looks delicious, I can't let him go for any price."

"Why are you behaving like this. Be reasonable."

"Can't you see him. He is so tender, I would be a fool to give him up. Boy get up and let your eyes feast."

Once again he felt like he could not disobey, getting up and opening his eyes. Two women stood before him, hundreds of candles lining the room, giving it a soft glow, filling it with the scent of lavender.

"Beautiful."

Ekiuwa could not help himself, the word slipping out of his lips. He did not realize he had said it until after his ears heard the word. Truly he could not be blamed. A few feet away from him, two stood watching. They were the same and yet so different. His eyes traveled to the woman on his right. Her full lips were painted a deep red that glistened in the flickering candle light. Her eyelids supported luscious lashes that swept the heart as they opened and shut. Fair skin held a hint of red at the cheeks and hair tumbled down to her shoulders in unending curls. A black cocktail dress hugged her close, bare at the shoulders, ending before the knees and hiding none of the curves she possessed. His jeans tightened as his eyes took her in. Turning to the woman who stood beside her, he couldn't help but swallow. Nothing adorned her face. She stood there with no assistance from any man made alterations and still he could not look at her as less or more beautiful. Her hair, a mass of thick black Didi braids stood out against the pure white of the lace Aso Oke she wore. Behind them a large poster bed with drawn curtains stood quietly. His mind emptied, filling with carnal desires. Ekiuwa looked away, fighting the urges that burned within him.

"It's so difficult to find young virgins these days. Sokoto has truly done well."

"He can't even look at us. I haven't seen anyone fight that drink for this long. So cute."

Walking up to him a lacquered finger traced his cheek, breaking skin, drawing a red line that began to pool into a drop.

"Don't worry child, I promise you'll be handsomely rewarded if you don't disappoint me."

Her words gave hope to Ekiuwa in the little part of his mind that could still think clearly. Then he knew he had to fulfill the last task before he lost all rational thought.

"Duhu is back."

Ekiuwa could not understand what was so important about those three words but Mr. Sokoto had stressed to him he must deliver the message or he would get nothing. Why someone would pay such a large sum to deliver in person in this day and age of phones he could not fathom. Though he suspected it would not be so simple, desperation made him throw caution to the wind.

"Duhu!"

The two screamed the name, half the candles in the room extinguishing. The door behind Ekiuwa slid open, the woman who had led him here stepping in like a living shadow.

"Amo, Oma what is your wish."

"Get in touch with all the girls we have working tonight, anyone who sees Duhu and reports it will be rewarded."

"Yes Amo."

"Focus on the bars and clubs, he won't be able to resist after being away for so long."

"Yes Oma."

"This time he won't escape. How about it Amo, I'll trade you first crack at Duhu for this one here."

"As tempting as that is, you know my answer."

"Then we'll do it together."

"Yes, together. Call me as soon as we get word. Now let me have the room so I can train my new toy."

"Don't break him."

"Of course not. I'm not you."

twitter - @just2days

email - just2day@yahoo.com

Thanks for reading


CHAPTER 19 - JULY 11

tonyxxx:
Just reloaded your threa... …in anticipation

I have to apologize though it's likely not going to make up nor any excuse satisfactory for it being over 3 weeks since I last logged into Nairaland.

So you don't have to go through reloading i'll leave date of next chapter release at end of every chapter.

To doubt those close to you is to show your trust in them

HIDDEN DARKNESS CH 17

An unbroken metal fence with a concrete base formed an irregular shape around where Ola sat, his feet soaking in a large round public water fountain. Its waters currently lay still. At its center was a statue of four eagles in different stages of flight rising high above the earth, the artist skilled enough to make the viewer forget for a moment their wings would not ripple in the wind. Two much smaller pools shared its waters, one after the other, connected by a passage only slightly narrower than the diameter of the smaller circles. Together the three pools looked like an oddly shaped 'gunbai' fan. Surrounding the fence was a road allowing only one way flow of traffic. The sound of shouting traders, blaring horns and screeching brakes came together in a jarring symphony Ola had long since blended into a pleasant soup to feed his thoughts.

At the entrance to this space, closer to a rectangle than a square, was an old man with a sharp cutlass catching rays from the setting sun. He watched Ola, unaware his cutlass was currently cutting into his trouser. He was the caretaker of the square and had been dutifully keeping it in pristine condition since its renovation. Keeping out 'omota' and beggars that wished to bathe in the waters and sleep within was one of his tasks. Letting the beggar that currently had his feet in the waters of the fountain slip into the square was not planned. The woman who walked half a step behind him had been just too alluring for the old man, her gaze rooting him, lighting a fire within he had long thought dead. Before he could shake it off and assume a threatening position blocking the entrance, the man with a forest of untamed hair and ill fitting clothes had left him in his wake.

"Who you think you be!"

The beggar walked on as if he had heard nothing, a response which infuriated the caretaker; but he had lived a long time and sensed the beggar was not so simple. It was what stopped him from adopting his usual process of swinging his cutlass in a threatening manner. 

"Na your uncle be this?"

This was the only reason the old man could think of to answer why this beauty would be following such a man. Her expensive looking burgundy jacket and form fitting bottoms was a far cry from what the man she followed wore.

"No, but if you accommodate our presence for a few hours I can make it worth your while." 

"Wetin be acomoday? Make it worth? dis engleesh shaa..."

"I mean we'll use this place for a little bit and i'll properly reward you."

"Ahh!"

The old man got excited, his eyes feasting hungrily on Malaozi's body, a change she did not fail to notice but did nothing to address nor correct. The old man closed the gate behind them, a bit of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth as his thoughts traveled to possible delights. Malaozi found a bench at a satisfactory distance from Ola, sitting down. Directly in front of her was a statue of a boy lying on his side and reading a book. What the boy lay on could easily be mistaken for a vault.  A plaque hung on its walls with the words 'Knowledge is Power'. Too simplistic an idea, she thought. 

Together they remained motionless, the sun setting in the distance, the buildings surrounding them making it come sooner than it should. A brilliance of reds, orange and yellows came together, reflecting off the still water. As she watched Ola, he watched himself on the glass-like surface of the water. There wasn't a lot to see, much hidden behind the outcrop of overgrown shrubs peppering his face and head. What could not be hidden was what lay within the depths of his eyes. The last of the rays soon faded away, the darkness making its way to lay claim to the earth fought off by surrounding buildings security lights.

"Can you get the water jets to work?"

Ola shouted it out for Malaozi to hear but she ignored him much like she would a spoiled brat asking for Santa Clause to personally deliver his gifts. Water shot up to the sky, lights of purple, red, blue and green springing to life as if the gods had heard Ola's request and deemed it right to grant it. The water sprayed around the eagles making it easy for one to imagine it was their powerful wings that were forcing the water to move in lovely arcs.

"There's something sad about these eagles. They seem destined to forever be frozen, anchored at the moment before they soar into the boundless skies."

Glancing one last time at the tempting waterfall of crystal clear water, Ola got up, tracing the route of the flowing man made stream. Behind him, his pretty shadow stayed attached. Manicured lawns and pruned flora went by unappreciated, his goal something larger and more imposing.

"Do you know who this is?"

Ola stood in front of a tall un-moving woman situated right before the first pool, dressed in garb not of this time. In her right hand she held an 'Irukere' --symbol of authority -- raised to challenge the heavens, her face frozen in defiance. She towered above him, indifferent to his existence. He gave no time for an answer to his question before he continued.

"Tinubu. This square was named after her. Madam Efunroye's rich life could easily be material for a blockbuster film. Shrewd, fearless, ambitious and influential, she was a woman who understood and wielded power; turning men into royalty. It is no surprise she was known as the King Maker."

Ola turned from the statue, hand lashing out without warning. Grabbing Malaozi's arm in a vice like grip he drew her to him, noses inches away, their breaths clashing.

"Are you my king maker?"

The lights of the square and the buildings around them went off, plunging the space around them into darkness, deepening their privacy as Ola's question lay heavy between them.

twitter - @just2days

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shurley22:
Nice work op. Well done

favorable words. Thanks for commenting your approval of the work. Means a lot

Will the devil take me or will my maker protect me

HIDDEN DARKNESS CH 16

"May the Lord be in your heart and help you to confess your sins with true sorrow."

Unconsciously the words came out of Ore's lips. It had been drilled into him so well in the seminary, it wasn't until the last word faded away he realized he had uttered them. 

"Wait, did you say you are about to sin?"

His mind still playing catch up, Ore became aware the beginning of the confession was not as it should. Who comes to confess a sin before he commits it. No longer sure what was going on, he waited for the man on the other side of the iron grate to tell him he was wrong. His expectation was met with disappointment.

"It has been quite some time since my last confession."

"Should you not be confessing your sins since then? This is not how things work."

"It will work how I say it will work Ore."

A shiver climbed from his fingertips to the nape of his neck when he heard his name. He knew that voice. How could he forget the creator of the ordeal that had sent him scurrying to his now invaded refuge. All that was in his mind was to do nothing to set this man off, making a firm decision to give him whatever he wants.

"Do you remember what makes the confession box so sacred Ore?"

The question sounded simple, but for Ore it felt like his life was precariously balanced on the edge of a suya mans sharp knife. One misstep and he would find himself in pieces.

"Yes, whatever is said here is between a man, his priest and our Maker."

"Good, good, good, I think you and I will get along just fine. "

Ore let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. His hand reached up to the small beads around his neck ending in a simple wooden cross pressing against his chest. With a practiced motion he removed it, his fingers caressing each bead lovingly. It brought a tranquility to him, his tense body relaxing to the bone. 

"Priest, I am about to begin a killing spree. My life will soon be a walkway of pain, a road of violence and a river of blood. The innocent will not be spared. The darkness will embrace me once more as what was finally hidden within will be unleashed and I will once again assume the name that has been thrust upon me." 

The onslaught came through the grate, soft and without emotion but still containing the deadliness of a carpet viper. Ore heard it all, unable to tune even a single word out. The beads kept his mind at peace, a whisper guiding his words.

"Why are you telling us this?"

"I managed to leave the life behind though a lot was left unfinished but still the city calls me back."

"Must you return to such a life?"

"I have no choice."

"We all have choices. It is never to late to become someone new."

"I killed a man today Priest. Shot him clean through the head. There was no hesitation in me. Though it was self defense, I felt nothing from snuffing out a life. Even now I hold no sorrow."

"We were brought into this world for a reason."

"A reason? A village was massacred because of me, the two that survived I did nothing but give them a bag full of cash." 

"Child, then will you accept your penance."

"Don't call me child. What penance do you have in mind?"

"Do not willingly bring harm to the innocent. Change the lives of two people for the better."

Ola heard this and snorted. 

"Priest, no Hail Marys? or Act of Contrition? and you have nothing to say about the likely havoc I plan to inflict on this city?"

"We all all have our part to play in the world our Maker has created. I can only offer direction, free will leaves our choices to be ones own."

"Very well. Priest, you seem to have become a different person when in the safety of this box. You will not be meeting your Maker today. Tonight you'll find a phone under your pillow. We will meet again."

The door closed with a click, leaving Ore alone once again. The rosary fell from his hand, landing on the wooden floor with a clatter, breaking the spell that kept his tranquil state. Rushing to him was the reality of what just happened. The thought of having to meet that man again nearly drove him mad. Collapsing to the floor, his body curled up into the fetal position as he failed to stop the trembling.

Ola was not surprised Malaozi remained where he left her. His grasp of her nature was increasing. 

"I've called in a vehicle to take us to the cemetery."

"I'm not going."

The corners of Malaozi's mouth curved down slightly, a minute detail Ola did not fail to notice."

"Why?"

"Where did you learn those combat skills?"

Ola did nto bother answering her question, instead asking one of his own. There is so little I know about this dangerous girl.

"I don't owe you an answer."

"Then I don't have to answer you as well."

They stared at each other, Malaozi having the higher ground, forcing Ola to look up to her. He could see the stubbornness in her eyes. Coming up with nothing to break this deadlock his hand reached up to run through his hair.

"Israel, a combat training center in the Southern Negev desert. That is all I can say about it."

There must be more to it but I doubt standing here silently will get me anything more. Turning, Ola headed for the door.

"Wait! You said you would tell me if I answered you."

"Sweet Malaozi, when did I ever say that?"

She was about to argue when she thought back to his words, his back facing her. Jaws tensing she gritted her teeth her next words shocking Ola to the core.

"Please."

It was devoid of any of the domineering and haughty nature she had always expressed in spades carrying an unmistakably pleading tone. Who the hell are you and what have you done with the angel of death that has followed me all day. 

"I hate cemeteries."

"We have to go, I need to..."

Her words faltered, her eyes facing the ground unable to look up. He could see pearly white teeth biting her lower lip in frustration, an image that melted away the lethal aura that surrounded her and left her vulnerable and as adorable as anything he had ever attributed the word too. I must be out of my mind but damn she is cute right now.

"It doesn't matter. He's not in the coffin. They probably have him stashed somewhere. You want to say goodbye right?"

She didn't answer but Ola did not need her to, the tensing of her body told him all he needed to know. She probably wouldn't answer if I ask her why.

"Let's go."

"Where too?

"I need a place to think."

"Your family owns a high rise building not too far from here."

"No, I need somewhere more down to earth."

Making his way out the church, she followed, the cuteness fading away to be replaced by the lethal aura he had become familiar with. Walking past the fallen door, he began to say something but thought better of it; working his way onto the streets of Marina. 

twitter - @just2days

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tonyxxx:
Awesome!!! Been following your story silently for a while now,i have to say ure very good @ what you do & your updates never fails to make my day. Thanks for sharing a part of your mind with us.

As a reader myself I'm more often one of those silent story followers so I Greatly appreciate you taking the time to comment. You flatter me and I thank you for it though I know I have much to learn. Thanks for being a part of this

Bensoate1:
Nice one,thanks, you are good

You sir, are too kind. Appreciate it and will try to continue to note posted suggestions

Short sweet and rich. The storm became vivid. Nice work

This second date will bankrupt him lol, but meh me laughing at those jokes is worth a meal lolz Engaging story

oluangelkay:
Nice story. more update please. am really enjoying it.

Thanks for the favorable comment. I guess i really took my time with the update. Hope you continue to enjoy it

Dread in my heart. Fear in my bones. Don't know what to do. Maybe i'll pray for a glimmer of hope

THE STORY SO FAR : DRAGGED FROM THE QUIET VILLAGE IN OSUN STATE, OLA SURVIVES AN AMBUSH WITH THE HELP OF HIS UNWILLING BODYGUARD AND DRIVER MALAOZI, RACES TO THE CHURCH OF SAINTS IN MARINA LAGOS TO ATTEND THE FUNERAL OF OLA'S FATHER. OVERCOMING HURDLES (TRAFFIC, POLICE, SECURITY...) OLA MAKES IT TO THE CASKET OF HIS FATHER ONLY TO FIND IT EMPTY. NOW HE SITS WITHIN A CONFESSION BOX, A SOBBING PRIEST ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DIVIDE.

TANGENT : Here's a really long chapter to make up for last week, if anyone still bothering with this story. I'll keep posting so long as there's even just one reader. Thanks

HIDDEN DARKNESS CH 15

The soothing dimness within the confession box did not bring to Ore the usual comfort he had grown accustomed to. Signs of moisture could be seen on his priestly robes, his face still carrying track lines leading to their source. With effort he muffled his sobs. Sadly this was not the first time these lifeless wooden walls would hear his cry. It had become his sanctuary within the oppressive walls rising high around him. The box had been soundproofed years ago, confessions being between a man, his maker and his priest. A sacred trust spanning centuries, seemingly unbroken. He struggled to silence his weeping, a little voice whispering to him he was never truly alone. There weren't many parishioners who stepped within the confines of the box these days, a detail Ore was thankful for. Till date he had been spared the ordeal of being discovered, luck which was coming to an end.

Cathedral Church of Saints had not been the sanctuary Ore had hoped for, a harsh truth he struggled to come to terms with. When he had gotten his posting here, there had been a glimmer of hope in his heart it would be different from the seminary. How sorely he had been mistaken. Life dropping him into the clutches of the oppressive was nothing new to Ore. In search of solace his thoughts were swept into the past

Born premature, he had spent his childhood as the smallest among his peers. Children can be cruel and Ore always managed to find himself among the worst of the litter. Being pint sized should not have been enough to make him the constant target of their mean spirited play and it wasn't. What sealed his fate was his luck, brilliance and stunning features. The Creator had given him too much. Ore could not understand it at first. He only began to get an inkling when he had transferred to a new school in primary three. The first day had began with signs pointing to hopeful. No one knew him here. It was a new start. The class walls were covered with brightly colored drawings and projects. Most of the drawings seemed to be of the teacher currently standing beside him but Ore didn't give it too much thought. Introducing himself had not gone well, the intense gazes from everyone having a compounding effect, causing him to forget his name. Luckily he was rescued by his teacher.

"This is Ore, he will be your classmate from now on, make sure you take care of him."

When she addressed the class, her voice had the sharpness and no nonsense attitude of a danfo conductor asking for his money from passengers. Turning to Ore she pinched his cheeks.

"Soo cute... You can sit anywhere you like."

"Thank you miss Ihuoma. You are very pretty like my mom."

She was and she knew it. A life of being told how beautiful she was had numbed her to the praise. Male teachers in the school had a nickname for her that she was not aware of but she would have to be a corpse to not notice their gazes and advances. Ihuoma was surprised at the giggle that escaped her lips and the blush creeping up her cheeks from the words of this little child. Confused at the reaction of her body, she gave Ore a gentle push and went to her desk so she could focus on composing herself. Ore stepped on unsteady feet. Afraid to look at the faces of his classmates, he stared at the floor while he walked; making his search for an empty seat more difficult than it should be. It was a good thing he kept his head down or he would have seen some ugly stares directed at him.

It had not gone unnoticed by the class that miss Ihuoma had used a sweet voice when she talked to Ore. They only heard that tone when she was on the phone. Who she was talking to at those times, the children did not know. Unlike other teachers, miss Ihuoma did not have any favorites in her class. It was not enough to stop her students from trying, especially the boys. A fierce war was waged, their weapons being helpfulness, thoughtfulness and 'parent bought' gifts. Alas, their efforts bore no fruit; but since there was no chosen one, her class remained the only in the school that did not have to deal with jealousy or tyranny within its ranks. Ore's existence was an open candle held to turn on a petrol generator. It set this fragile ecosystem ablaze.

The first leg that tripped Ore was written off as the fault of his clumsy nature. He quickly apologized as he moved on. The next leg nearly sent him sprawling to the floor. Still, Ore apologized once again and kept walking eyes glued to the brightly tiled ground. A hand slapped his back, the pain bringing tears to his eyes and a whimper to his lips. He did not dare turn around to identify his tormentor, taking solace in finally reaching the back of the class and finding an empty desk. Dragging his stinging back into it, he hid his face using his arm and the surface of the marked table.

"Put your books away and bring out your pencil for a short quiz."

A groan spread through the class as they complied. A long thin tree branch struck the blackboard swiftly silencing the growing discontent. Everyone could not look away from the cane miss Ihuoma held in her hand. There weren't many who had tasted its sting but for those who did not have such luck, they were not shy when it came to sharing the terrible experience. They had called the cane 'beauty's beast' though they would never say that in front of her.

"Ten questions. Those who score the highest won't be given any strokes. For each point you score lower than the highest you will receive a stroke."

The intelligent among them couldn't help but do the math. A possibility of ten strokes. A shiver went round. Those who were at the top of the class weren't worried. No one got more than a 7 on miss Ihuoma's test and the first two questions were as easy as writing your name. It was a rare sight for even the worst of the students to get more than 4 from the shaped tree branch.

"Don't turn it over until I say start."

Threading her way between the rows, miss Ihuoma distributed the test questions, her cane still in hand giving incentive to all to do their best.

"Ore don't worry since you are new you don't have to take the test."

Every head turned at miss Ihuoma's words, their target a little boy who wished he was a little smaller so he could disappear into his desk. There were a wide range of expressions directed at Ore. For the most part the boys seemed to wish to eat him along with their school lunches in boxes painted with superheros and cartoon characters. Those who did not want to eat him were the girls in the class but they could do nothing but share the pity in their eyes. Sensing the danger in his predicament Ore reached out, managing to grab the skirt of miss Ihuoma.

"I don't mind taking the test."

"Such a brave little boy. Class you should learn to be more like Ore."

Later in life Ore would wonder if his teacher was intentionally trying to get him killed. At that young age he did not have such thoughts. With a smile she handed him the test. Many in the class were excited Ore did not take up the offer to skip. They couldn't wait for the satisfaction of watching the teacher having to tan his hide.

"Don't stress yourself too much, just do your best. We all know it's your first day."

As soon as miss Ihuoma had her back to Ore, an eraser struck him on the head. Through the aisle she sauntered unaware, behind her more erasers flying, most missing their mark but the few that hit passing across their message clearly. Ore could do nothing but hide his head beneath his arms. The rain soon ended, makeshift army running out of ammunition playing a part but more importantly miss Ihuoma now watched the class intently.

"You have fifteen minutes. Start! Raise your hand when you are done"

Everyone forgot their victim for a time as they focused on the paper before them. With the barrage at an end, Ore held back the tears that threatened to fall. It was not easy but somehow he managed. Turning his questions over, he too began.

Ten minutes later a hand rose above the students bent over their desk. Miss Ihuoma looked up surprised. No one ever had enough time to finish any of her test. The last three questions were set up to be above the level the class could handle. Technically getting a 7 out of 10 was an A. The last three questions were merely there to challenge them. Not wanting to disturb the other students she walked over and crouched beside the student.

With her hair so close to him, Ore could smell the fruity scent of her shampoo. Its mild sweetness transported him, making him forget for a time the reality around him.

"Are you sure you are done?"

Her voice, matching the sweetness of her shampoo woke him.

"Yes, I am."

"What about proofreading?"

"I have."

"Very good child. You can sit quietly here so the others can finish."

"I will."

"You don't need to bring so many erasers to class. Pick them up while you wait since I've collected your test."

Ihuoma smiled when she noticed the erasers scattered around Ore. She assumed he must be fond of erasers and had spilled them in a nervous fit when he saw the test. Confused, Ore was about to tell her it wasn't his but a small voice whispered to him it wasn't a good idea. He listened, complying as she walked away. Getting out of his seat he quietly picked up the erasers unaware of the rising eyebrow distorting miss Ihuoma's features as she sat at her desk grading his paper .

"Pencils up!"

Fifteen minutes had gone by too quickly for almost everyone in the class. Those who knew their own limited capabilities mentally prepared themselves for the lashes they knew would be unavoidable. As miss Ihuoma went round picking up papers, some smiled with confidence while others looked intensely at their desk. A few pencils were broken in a fit, the thoughts of their owners self evident. A few veterans in the flogged department already began padding their school uniform with cushion.

Gathering all the papers together Ihuoma quickly graded them all, the class watching her nervously, Ore forgotten as they awaited their fate. There weren't many in the class. Done she began publicly reading the names of each student and their score.

"Aliyu 7 over 10. Good job."

In the front a boy beamed brightly. He sat in the most coveted seat, the first desk in the middle of the class facing miss Ihuoma's work table directly. Aliyu was always closest to miss Ihuoma when she sat down. Due to this proximity he was most often called to perform tasks for her. Everyone understood it was due to convenience. He had not always been seating at that highly sought after spot. Desks could be traded within miss Ihuoma's class but both sides had to be in agreement. No one knew what Aliyu had offered to gain that prime real estate but most suspected it had to be substantial. The girl he traded with was currently seated beside Ore.

"Chioma 7 over 10 good, Amaka 7, Chibuzo 7, Bimbo 7, Femi 6..."

Femi was the first to obtain a score that did not match the seven's that had been previously called. His head fell to his hands, memories of how the cane struck the board still fresh in his mind. Those around him who already had their grade announced gazed at their fallen comrade with sympathy, whispering to him it was only one stroke. Those who were waiting for their scores hoped they wouldn't be subjected to the same bleak outlook. Still there were others who looked at him with envy knowing their score would never be seven, hoping they would be as lucky as him to get six.

More names and scores were called out, the lowest being a 4. That was by the classes officially recognized idiot. No one expected anyone to get below the class idiot, though a significant amount hoped Ore would . More than half the class had scored a seven this time around which was quite good. There were already congratulations going round as well as comfort to those who would be experiencing bitterness soon. It was during this period Aliyu noticed there was one name missing. Raising his hand, he didn't wait for her to call him.

"Teacher what about Ore's score?"

It was then the class realized she hadn't called it out. Many of the boys in the class suppressed their delight. For the teacher to try to push his score aside it must have been really bad. A few quietly praised Aliyu for bringing it up.

"Thank you Aliyu, I had forgotten. He finished before all of you so I set his paper aside. Ore got 10 out of 10."

A deadly silence swept through the room. A few thought they heard incorrectly, others assumed she must be joking. A few went as far as thinking miss Ihuoma was cheating. It was the first time anyone had gotten all her questions correct. It was not a well kept secret in the school the difficulty of her tests. The one to receive the most shock was Aliyu who had reminded the teacher.

"That can't be right..."

"Can't be right? Aliyu what are you saying."

"Nothing teacher, I thought I heard you say 11. I'm sorry."

"If it was 11 would you not be receiving 4 strokes. You should be happy it's 10. The boys should come out first."

Only then did the class remember what it truly meant for Ore to get such a score. No one would be escaping the cane today except for one new kid that no one really knew. Everyone burned with emotion, each ones mark the same. There was nowhere for Ore to run. To think his first day would turn out to be so. He had transferred to this school due to unfortunate events in his last but never would he have thought within 24 hours he would be enveloped by a cloud of red and black.

As each boy took his strokes, their eyes traversed the distance to bore fiercely into Ore who sat there with his head buried in his desk in a futile attempt to hide. He was the only boy still sitting down. The few girls around did not view him favorably either as they waited for their turn to be caned. Miss Ijuoma was efficient, her strokes landing with precision, the flick of her wrist willowy and supple, bringing out the most from each swing. Every boy sat down gingerly, thoughts of retribution at the forefront of their minds.

"Girls come out."

There were no gender bias in her class. The girls filed out, some already crying before they had even had a taste of the wood the teacher held. Ore still had his head buried in his desk, afraid to look up. A voice whispered to him to get up and open his mouth. The voice didn't talk to him often but Ore had noticed if he didn't do what it whispered things usually tended to become worse. Gathering together the little courage he had scattered around his spirit, he rose from his chair.

"Teacher."

It was barely audible, but it floated above the tears and whimpers in the class. Surprised to see Ore standing, miss Ihuoma stopped the cane mid swing, the first girl she was to lash almost collapsing even though she had yet to receive the first bite of beauty's beast.

"Yes Ore?"

"Would it be possible not to flog the girls since it's my first day? Or I could take it for them since it is my fault."

Another shock made its round, the class in disbelief at this little boys request. Though there weren't as many girls in the class as boys, this would easily mean at least 15 lashes. Bravery or stupidity they couldn't quite be sure.

"What a gentleman, you'll make a girl lucky one day. Girls say thank you to Ore and go back to your seats."

"Thank you Ore!"

The gratitude shining in their eyes could not be faked as their words echoed in the class room. Ore barely remembered the looks the girls gave him, what was forever stamped in his mind was the dagger stares the boys leveled on him. So began again the hell he thought he had escaped.

Within the sacred box, through the tears, Ore's mind had returned unbidden to the past. There it remained, flipping the pages till words floated through the iron grate that was the passage connecting sinner and priest, dragging him from the annals of his past.

"Father forgive me for I am about to sin... a lot."

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In death we remember 'THE SAINT' and not 'THE SINNER' though they be ONE

TANGENT : Thanks to Bensoate1 here's a much lengthier chapter, no idea if i'll be able to keep it up. No one noticed in the last chapter his half sister had 2 different names lol. Anyway it's been corrected.

HIDDEN DARKNESS CH 14

There was no change in expression as Ola closed the heavy lid. None could see what he saw, the angles and depth of the coffin providing the perfect cover. Empty. Probably has to do with why Malaozi can't tell me how he really died. A couple candles around the coffin went out from the wind generated by the closing lid. Picking up one with a still flickering flame, he lit the rest. Ola then turned to the priest who still remained at the lectern, watching him like he was a demon written about in revelations. Still in his early twenties and given the unfortunate task of presiding over this affair.

There were very few in the city of Lagos who did not know the man who should be in the coffin Ola still had a hand on. When the church were told the funeral would be held in their cathedral, the Primate wanted nothing to do with it. It was no secret the dealings of Ola's father were far from noble. But, there were very few  that would come out and say it; at least few that could or would remain breathing in Lagos. His first stance was a firm refusal, believing his creator would save him from any metal rain. The religious leaders behind him firmly applauded his decision. The next twenty four hours would test the man's faith and find him wanting. It was then they realized being told was more of a courtesy and not a request. None wanted to take up the mantle to preside over the Requiem Mass of such an infamous character. So began the handing down of responsibility till it reached the most junior of juniors.

Ola was surprised at how young the priest was.

"What's your name?"

"Ehmmmm, Ore."

"Alright then Ore, get on with it. You've got ten minutes to wrap this up."

Ore was speechless, the pages of the bible he held unable to keep still as he sought strength from the words within. Failing, he turned to the seniors behind him hoping for direction but they all refused to meet or acknowledge his pleading looks. Desperate he looked out to Gaddo and Lotanna who remained in the aisle.

"You aren't the boss of this show Duhu! Priest I want you to end this in seven minutes!"

Gaddo's words were like hundred pound weights being thrust unto an already drowning man. Ore's mind was filled with images of flight, his body turning ever so slightly towards the hidden doors meant for the leaders of the church. With a pounding heart he wished he had at least fought a bit in his attempt to refuse this task. His junior status had given him no such luxury, sealing his fate with but a few words. With easily heard stutters he skipped to the end.

"The the the virtuous man, though... though... though he die before his time... will will find..."

Ola cut him off.

"Nothing virtuous about this man priest, find another passage."

"He has... sought to to to please... God, so God has loved him... as as he was..."

"Come on priest, the only deity the man wished to please was almighty power. Try again."

Ore began to sweat, his lips now quivering as he searched while subconsciously keeping track of how much time had gone by.

"Ah, would that that... that these words words words... of mine were written down, inscribed on... some... some monument with... iron chisel and engraving tool,..."

He stopped, looking at Ola, his finger shakily keeping place on the bible. The people watching wanting to laugh but a glance at the four still standing in the aisle knocking that urge dead.

"Don't stop on my account, I particularly like this one."

Color crept back into the pale face of Ore when he heard Ola's words. Facing the bible once again he continued reading, his voice losing the stutter, growing in strength with each passing word as he lost himself in them.

" cut cut cut... into the rock... for... for ever. This... I know: that my Avenger lives, and he, the last, will take his stand on earth. After my awaking, he will set me close to him, and from my flesh I shall look on God. He whom I shall see will take my part: these eyes will gaze on him and find him not aloof."

A sigh of relief escaped the priest's lips as he finished the passage, the pressure on his mind causing him to completely forget there was more to the funeral mass.

"Well done. Don't think you have time for the Eucharist or the special prayers. You might want to just skip on to the drowning of this corpse carrier in water and smoke. That Gaddo is an idiot but quite ruthless. If you don't make it, by the time he's done with you, there will be nothing left for me to play with."

If the priest had not been properly motivated before, he was now. On shaky legs he made his way to the coffin, sprinkling holy water and running incense over it in record time. Without trying to hide it, he kept well away from Ola while he performed the rites, scampering back to the pulpit like a chicken running to a Muslim home on Christmas.

Ola climbed up to the sanctuary and occupied the cathedra. The authority of the church around him had incredulous looks on their faces but none said a word. Within seven minutes the coffin began making it's way out the door, his half brother and sister right behind along with those who attended. The church leaders seated on the platform had scurried off through their special door.

Ore wiped beads of sweat from his forehead, careful not to allow any fall on the bible. As soon as the last of those who came to attend the funeral passed through the now single standing church door he fled the lectern as fast as his church robes would allow, disappearing around the corner.

Ola watched him, a little amused but impressed the young priest had been able to resist the temptation to flee until the end.

"What now?... sir"

Though she had silently snuck up behind him, Malaozi noted how he seemed to have been aware of her presence.

"When was your last confession?"

"What?"

"Never mind. Wait for me here."

"You don't give me orders."

"Aren't you tired of saying that?"

"Aren't you tired of hearing Duhu?"

"Touche. Alright, I order you to follow me."

Getting up, he traced the path of the fleeing priest; not bothering to look back at what expression Malaozi's face was currently exhibiting but half expecting to feel a bullet punching through his back. In a secluded corner of the church were two ornately carved wooden doors. Ola stood in front of them, memory of the first time he had walked through such a door popping up unbidden.

What he had thought would be a clean operation had turned into a complete mess. Being tall for a child didn't mean he could easily reach the top of a full sized gas stove, creating their first hurdle. A wobbly stool had solved that little problem, though concentration was needed to keep it from keeling over. Next had been the challenge of tracking mothers movements. A smart but absent minded friend had been given that task to perform. If he had been smarter at the time, he would have realized the folly of such an assignment. Regardless, the possible payoff had made any risk worth it; or so they thought. Lifting the lid off the pot, little Ola's eyes grew wide as he saw the mouth watering pieces of meat bobbing up and down within a sea of palm oil stew. Their plan had been to liberate two pieces but greed came over him. His mind got distracted with thoughts of how to obtain them all; a fatal mistake during a heist. He crashed to the floor along with the pot of stew, pieces of meat airborne but lacking the wings to remain so. Mother had not been amused, the trip to the church for his first confession following soon after. Gingerly he had sat, his butt tender as he silently cursed the stool.

With a sigh Ola ran fingers through his hair, loosening knots before stepping into one of the doors. Within, he could hear quiet sobs as he made the sign of the cross. They came to an abrupt stop when they heard Ola's words.

"Father forgive me for I am about to sin... a lot."

twitter - @just2days

email - just2day@yahoo.com

Thanks for reading

Smooth278:
Nice story full of suspense...

Thank you. It's not easy handling suspense that is also still engaging. Your comment tells me i'm kind of on the right track. Appreciate it

emperorblog:
nice story boss. dnt u mind sharibg ur story to my blog www.emperorblog.com.ng

Apologies sir, currently in negotiations with two sites for this story so I cannot currently allow that. Thank you for the interest sir. Will update you if there is any change

oblaq20:
good

Glad you like it. Thanks for taking the time to comment

Bensoate1:
Good story, but the chapters are just too short

Thank you for the favorable words.

Yeah, true. Sorry about that. Currently doing near 800 words a chapter. Should be returning to a steady 3 chapters per week which is near 2400 words total. I'll look into increasing the word count of each to 1200 and drop to two chapters per week so each chapter is half a length longer. Will that help?

Appreciate the comment

Hislordship12:
next update

Yeah. Recently finished my other story 'Bisi- the other woman' so needed some time to decompress. I'll be resuming an average of 3 chapters a week schedule now. Wish me luck

Thanks for caring enough to comment

I draw breath so I may live long enough to dance on your grave

HIDDEN DARKNESS CH 13

In the church, hushed whispers floated around, the name Duhu in every sentence. There were no shocked looks from those seated in the pews when the guns came out on this holy ground, in full view of the robed priest. They took it in stride, watching it unfold much like they were at a cinema. No one moved to stop the stalemate occurring in the aisle. 

"I see after all these years you still haven't been forgotten."

The expensively dressed man could hear the whispers, his finger bones cracking in displeasure, each one sporting a ring with a precious stone that could easily feed a modest family of four for a year like kings.

"Is that jealousy I hear Gaddo? It's not a good color on you."

"Why you little..."

"Stop!"

A soft alluring sound floated above the rest. Not a single red blooded male -- and a few of the fairer sex -- in the church could resist its pull. They all turned, wishing to see the beauty that possessed such a sultry voice that stirred them with one word. Their quest did not bear the fruit they expected. A dark veil held at bay their charged filled gazes denying them knowledge of her facial features; a wide brimmed hat hiding her hair. She floated into the aisle, making her way to where the four held their standoff. From the neck down she wore loose fitting black garb, every inch of her skin hidden from the hunger of those who watched. Still, it could not stop their imagination, the aura she exuded fueling their carnal minds. On her hands were thin dark gloves, a single ring riding on the smallest of her fingers. 

"Gaddo, tell your man to put away his gun."

"But it was Duhu whose bit..."

"Just do it please. Little brother, for me?"

Her voice dripped with honey, flowing as effortlessly as silk on smooth skin, melting away the tension, driving the men around her into a deeper spell. Namdi on the other hand was wary of the woman that had shown herself, the curly hair on his arms standing straight, his mind adopting the state of a gazelle that had found itself in the territory of a lioness. With a signal from Gaddo the man with the scar put away his piece.

"Baby brother now you."

"Lotanna, I am not your brother."

He gave a nod to Malaozi. She reluctantly put the revolver away, a finger running along the initials etched along the custom barrel.

"Duhu why must you be like this."

Hidden behind the veil, her lips turned to a pout; her tone that of a hurt 13 year old girl.

"Sister I don't know why you bother with the bastard."

"Hush Gaddo, he is still our fathers son. No matter what he does that cannot change."

"How many times today have I said, don't call me Duhu. I came here to make sure it was him in that coffin so lets get on with it."

Ola walked past his half brother and sister.

"Ungrateful half breed mongrel, no wonder your mother died a wretches death."

Gaddo did not bother to muffle his voice, each biting word clearly heard by those seated in the church. Ola stopped, his eyes looking straight ahead.

"Just cause this mistake managed to slip past the rubber when our father threw his w-h-o-r-e a bone we should call him brother? You must be joking."

A slap echoed within the confines of the church. None of those seated saw who delivered it, Lotanna's hand back by her side within the time it takes to blink. Gaddo held back the urge to rub his stinging cheek. 

"Little brother Gaddo, that is no way to speak to your baby brother."

"I am not your brother."

Ola walked on leaving those parting words behind, reaching the casket under the watchful eyes of everyone in the church. Up close he could see it was no off the rack coffin. Intricate carvings covered the 24 - carat gold plated box. Even in death you still surround yourself with splendor. The priest on the altar began to speak but thought better of it, finally shutting his jaw that had been opened for far too long. Without any ceremony Ola gripped the handle, the feel of sprinkled diamonds poking his rough palm not lost on him as he flipped open the casket. There was nothing inside.

twitter - @just2days

email - just2day@yahoo.com

Thanks for reading

AvatarMode:
You write beautifully well...

High praise. Really appreciate the kind remark and for taking the time to write them. Thanks a bunch

holarbolu:
Yeah! You're the man... Oh, wait, I haven't been able to discern your gender... Are you a sort of mystery being?

Lol, yeah lets go with mystery being, it has a nice ring to it

Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, Blood and revenge hammering in my head - Titus Andronicus

BISI - THE OTHER WOMAN CH 50

From behind the painting Zainab pulled out another folder, black in color, throwing it to Namdi before making her way back to her seat far from him. 

"Why don't you open the folder. You want to know who she was right. I'm sure you have your guesses."

The curly hair along Namdi's arms stood on end, her words sending an uncomfortable sensation up his spine. The folder remained closed.

"So how did you kill her Namdi?"

"..."

"Did you seduce her first so she let down her guard? Did she beg for her life? Tell me the details Namdi. What expression did she have as her life ebbed away?"

"It's enough Zainab."

His mind began to clear, mouth turning down, countenance darkening.

"But is it? Open the folder Namdi, learn who the bitch is. Learn the truth of who you can't forget even in death."

"And whose truth is that?"

Zainab didn't answer her gaze falling on the pendant in front of her, parts of the silver chain colored red. Zainab made no move towards the pendant, her gaze filling with disgust.

"She is your sister isn't she. A Shagari..."

"That thing is no sister of mine."

A vein bulged on his temple, indents appearing where he held the folder.

"Was this even about the affair? I loved you Zainab. Killed for you. For a lie?"

"Loved? Loved? Past tense Namdi? The bastard managed to steal your heart from me even in death. If i'm to suffer this pain I will not do it alone."

"Don't call her that Zainab."

"I shouldn't call her what? Bastard? Maybe LovePeddler is more appropriate? But is she not a bastard? Isn't her mother not a LovePeddler who seduced my father to give birth to a LovePeddler who... who... who..."

A sound escaped her lips, half laugh half shriek, head tilting to the rafters above.

"Tell me the truth Zainab, was it because of the affair or that the father you trusted so much had a love child?"

"Does it matter Namdi? Can it not be both? But there is more Namdi. Open the folder."

"I need to know why you... Every time I look at my hand all I see is red."

"She haunts you. Is she alone?"

"Tell me! I have to know. No, I need to know. When did you want her dead? Why?"

Silence was her answer to his outburst, face hidden from view by soft hands, hair spilling over her face. Namdi's hand tensed to reach out in comfort, a reflex he suppressed, instead sweeping the dishes to the floor, their contents splashing on the white wall to his left.

"Tell me Zainab! Was it when you found out about the affair... or was it a sin even more unforgivable."

"More unforgivable? Namdi, my father betrayed my mother. You betrayed me. Both of you swept up by two generations."

"What more can you do to me Zainab, you've already drawn more than a pound of flesh, painted my hands red."

"We'll see. Open the folder Namdi. Leaving it closed will not change what has already been written."

"Zainab there is nothing in this world that can cause me any more sorrow, any more heartbreak than what I have..."

His words petered out, shivers running through his body. In his hands an open folder, the contents laid bare and digested by a Namdi whose eyes were misting red the more he read. Every rational part of his mind shut down one after the other till all one could find was a single thought and emotion. It pumped through every vessel, filled every fiber of his being, taking life, granting him with a strength he should not possess. It rendered in him a transformation from man. Reading turned his world upside down for he had ended the life of not one but two souls.

Her laughter rose as she saw the madness mixed with pain blossom in him, behind her the storm raged on. Namdi rose, his face contorted, knuckles cracking. With a hand he upended the table, sending it crashing to the floor, crushing the dishes, burying the pendant, creating a straight path to Zainab.

"Come Namdi! You have killed your LovePeddler. You have killed your unborn child. The best things come in threes."

Each step he took was heavy, slow and deliberate. She matched them with light footfalls, feathers on a flat plane. There was no fear in her eyes as she watched him become more beast than man while the distance closed.

"It's not like the cancer would have allowed her live long enough to give birth. You did her a favor."

An inhuman roar tore through his throat, teeth biting down, his lip caught in its path, blood splashing, the pain bringing some clarity to his rabid mind.

"I wonder what the LovePeddler would have named it. If it's a girl would be best to skip all pretense and give the name that we all know it will grow up to be."

They had both covered half the distance, to their right, the threatening drop hanging at head level.

"I could have lived with the knowledge of my mother being right about my father, about him having a love child, even with you having an affair."

In his eyes Zainab could see her death but she did not cringe, only closing her lashed lids and waiting for his hands to fatally wrap around her once more.

"What I couldn't bear was her giving you what I could not."

His hands gripped her, but her neck remained bare. Namdi pulled her into his embrace. Eyes opening she couldn't hide the confusion as she stared at the closed door to the dining room. Namdi could only look at what hung on the white wall as he held Zainab. A fountain of blood splashed against the painting, adding to the bitter red, filling the air around them with a spicy scent. The ground rushed to him as he fell, receiving him with its unyielding nature.

"Namdi!"

Filled with complicated emotions she could not hold back, Zainab bound to his side, lifting his head onto her lap, a trickle of blood flowing from the corner of his mouth.

"What's happening?"

In Namdi's eyes was a far away look coupled with memories of Bisi. A racking cough brought up a mouthful of blood and spicy wine. All her talk about choosing 'us' now took a whole new meaning, her words that didn't make sense became clear. Actions as simple as an unconscious hand to the flat of her stomach. How he could have been so blind he would never get a chance to know. He struggled to turn to face the woman whose thighs his head lay.

"She couldn't bear to live any longer knowing the baby would die within her."

"What does that have to do with you Namdi!"

"A bottle of wine and a single cup..."

Each word a struggle, delivered with spasms racking his body.

"I'm sorry Zainab, if I had been decisive, strong willed, we wouldn't be..."

"Hush Namdi, you can apologize later let me go call..."

"No! Stay. Please. Whatever she put in the wine... There won't be enough time..."

Hey eyes misted but no tears fell, her features stricken with shock as she held him; stroking his limp curly hair. Namdi laughed, the sound weak, a motion causing more blood to flow in reverse.

"Our... fates... fates... truly... are...are... are... written..."

Another mouthful came up, splattering the walls as much as her. She did not reach to wipe it away, her dress showing no change in shade even as it absorbed the vital liquid.

"Namdi, please, please don't go"

Outside, the storm ceased to hear her whisper, a calm returning to the beaten land still blanketed with darkness. Above a sea of stars his mother beckoned, the sound of a doorbell unimportant to his closing eyes; his last view of the world a grief stricken Zainab.

THE END

twitter - @just2days

email - just2day@yahoo.com

TANGENT - Well we made it (Except for Namdi anyway. Too soon? Lol), who would have thought. Is 50 chapters short or long? Lol. Though rushed towards the later chapters, I hope it pulled together a little and the bow I tied didn't have too many loose ends. I'm sad and a little glad it's done. Wonderful feeling to finish but I will miss these 3. Zainab, Bisi, Namdi and I would like to take the time to thank the commenters in order of appearance so my favorites remain a mystery

muhammed50
Ayanfe29
mitchyy
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OlufemiWhit
oluwizard
classicpeezy
oluwafemi1993
madman
tayot1
gokefolaranmi
Hardeybaryor
rayvelez
ikechizoba
INDUSTRIALFAN
Khostlybeauty18
Oluwakemi65
itsandi
AvatarMode
felapikin
Ehmjay
MYKELDAYO
surveyorchimez
WHOcarex
AryEmber
Adamummya
Ann2012
ChisomDgreatest
Taniaa
davidgrace
superpauL
ogene007
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Exoticmm
Missmossy
Boomboost
Aybm
dimssy
ogunholla
Ayokunlemi96

I pray I forgot no one. To the liker as well as those who lurk in the shadows and enjoy anonymity I thank you. I am for the most part the same, i'll assume from the views you appreciate the work. Promised myself to keep going if I could get just one person to keep reading; guess that worked out.

I'd also like to thank those who worked behind the scenes on this journey, they'll remain nameless for now. And now to make what is already long even longer, and for those who scrolled/read this far, here is what I'm toying with to work on next, haven't decided. will probably puzzle those who use the 'go down' button.

TO LOVE A MAMI WATER (WORKING TITLE AND DRAFT)

The bridge from the natural to the supernatural is held by imagination

Formless, drifting from a realm of its own, the wind came down from the night sky to play along the divide between land and sea. As it sped past it witnessed the revelry of people as they drank and danced. Flipping skirts and upending umbrellas, it made its presence felt, enjoying the shrieks and shouts that rose over the music. Onward it raced, ripping off a sign board with 'Elegushi' written on it, searching for more to quench its thirst with wonder. On its path, a large rock rising high above the sea came into view. A rock held no interest to it but above was a woman in white steadily making her way to the edge.

Hair, black, long, silky and not her own covered much of her face. On her body a bleached dress clung to her supple form, ripped, stained. Behind, a pair of slippers marked her trodden path. Beneath her bare feet, jagged rocks tore at her soft soles, bruising, unhindered in their attempt to break delicate skin. Forward she walked, each step accompanied by pain, the edge getting ever closer. Above, where the gods ruled, clouds denied the full moon its time on earth.

A sudden gust hit her, hair whipping in the formless wind revealing the features that had been hidden. Almond eyes struggled to remain open in the gale, pearly white teeth set in determination. A ringless hand reached up to block, rising just above her duchess nose. In the cloudy night her smooth ebony skin blended deeply. Each step became as heavy as a mountain to her light 5 ft 7 frame, but still she persisted, fighting the wind  till she made it to the brink.

Reaching the peak she braced herself against the wind that struggled to deny her wish. In the distance the bright lights of the clubs and bars lining the beach shone brightly, the music faint. Turning from the sight she looked down at what awaited her. The sea dashed against the large rock, wave upon wave crashing and receding, revealing sharp unforgiving rocks. For a moment the clouds parted, a moonbeam breaking through illuminating her. She glowed, a beacon in the darkness. No tears shone brightly nor crawled down her dimpled cheek. No words were spoken as she took that final step into the night sky, gravity embracing her like a mother would a lost child.

With a splash her body struck the water, the sound drowned out by the chaotic sea. In a feat defying the gods, no rock found her descent. It would not matter for the cold of the sea would finish what they did not. The impact from such a height knocked the breath out of her, an inability to swim leading her farther and farther into the depths. In the frigid waters her dress fanned out, giving her wings of white. Her lids grew heavy, oxygen deprived mind shutting down, the surface getting farther and farther away, beyond where any human could swim to. Before they completely shut she thought she saw a man.

He held her waist, stopping her descent. Firm to the touch, the hand brought her to him. She could only use one word to describe him, 'exquisite'.

"Ominrin."

Her oxygen deprived mind thought she heard him say her name. An impossibility that did not matter as her eyes began to close for the last time. Lips pressed against hers, gently, firmly, sealing, breathing life back into her. Ominrin's starving lungs drank deeply, the kiss intensifying beneath the salty depths. Still it could not fight the cold, her mind succumbing, the world fading to black.

With a groan Ominrin's eyes opened, her bruised bare feet tickled by the tide. Sand peppered her exposed skin. A finger touched her lips, a faint sensation still present. She gazed out to the sea, wet to the bone, wondering if it was a dream.

INDUSTRIALFAN:
Namdi Namdi Namdi..... #facepalm

lolz. Yeah, murderers remorse, very poor timing. A psychopath would not have this problem.

Thanks for commenting

holarbolu:
I'm sorry I've not been updating good people...anyways, I promise to make it up to you soon

Happens. Best not to burn out. Goodluck

Let Justice be Done though the heavens may fall

HIDDEN DARKNESS CH 12

Ola adjusted his clothing in front of the still closed doors of the church. Behind him was a trail of fallen bodyguards, most unconscious while the rest wreathed in pain.

"No amount of adjusting will make you look any more presentable"

He ignored her as he continued to adjust till he was satisfied the hand gun he was concealing wasn't visible. Fingers ran through his wild hair, loosening knots.

"Two churches in a day, what a pain. Alright lets do this."

The double doors burst open, one falling to the floor raising a loud cloud of dust, Malaozi's booted foot the offending party. There wasn't a single soul within whose head did not turn at the sudden commotion. The dust floated and swirled, causing Ola and Malaozi to fade in and out. Everyone within the church struggled to see through the dust storm, some hands hovering over various hidden holsters.

Seconds ticked away, the dust settling revealing a beggar standing a step in front of an angel dressed in a burgundy jacket. The clouds cleared as if in deference to the man, the sun shining behind him, surrounding him with brilliance, causing those in the church to squint. The rays, freed from the blockade of the grey clouds, streamed through the stained glass of the church bathing the occupants in holy light. 

Looking around, Ola observed the splendor of this religious edifice. It was nothing like the simple nature of the church he had left behind in Osun. To his left and right stood gilded pillars stretching to the lofty rafters where vaults and pointed arches watched over ceiling paintings. Wooden pews, completely black in color with no discernible grain lined the church. Aged African Blackwood for pews... If that isn't extravagance I don't know what is. Though now padded, it bore its age well.

Ola strolled in much like he was taking a walk in his backyard during spring, hands behind his back, completely ignoring the piercing gaze of the crowd. Beneath his feet, polished marble echoed each step in the now silent church. At the end of the aisle was a closed casket. Above, a shocked priest watched from the pulpit, his jaw succumbing to gravity. No one moved till Ola was more than half way to the waiting coffin.

"Duhu!"

An expensively dressed man ran into the aisle with a roar. Malaozi, still keeping in step with Ola dashed forward to intercept. A fist lashed out, her target the mans trachea. It did not reach, a thin man appearing in front of Malaozi with an open palm, catching hers in mid flight.

"You!"

Malaozi's vision filled with red as she saw the thin scar running down his right cheek, her rational mind shutting down, an animalistic instinct taking over. In one fluid motion, a silver fast draw colt 45 appeared in her hand, pointed at the head of the man who had stopped her, thumb cocking back the hammer, trigger finger already squeezing.

"Malaozi stop! No killing here."

Ola's voice cut through the red fog filling her mind, driving back the monster that had been unleashed to the cage from whence it came. Her breathing was heavy, her gun disappearing with a struggle. In her eyes was murder, her lower lip bitten till her teeth drew blood. If looks could kill, the man who blocked her fist would be dead ten times over. Regaining a bit of clarity she could now feel, pressed against her stomach, the cold muzzle of a gun. Fury burned in her as she realized he had been faster.

"Don't call me Duhu. Call of your dog."

"It was your bitch who attacked first."

"She was trying to do you a favor. When a dog goes rabid, you put it down."

"I'd like to see her try."

"Is that so, alright then. Hey, aim your gun back at him."

"It never left, sir. No need for a rabid dog to have a litter"

Ola gave Malaozi a glance and noticed her gun had only switched targets. It was now pointing at the thin mans groin.

twitter - @just2days

email - just2day@yahoo.com

Thanks for reading

How deeply I Love to Hate. How deeply I Hate to Love

TANGENT - There have been a couple comments based off the first chapter saying Zainab died. For a time I've wondered why that was so. Having reached the beginning once again, reading the words written months ago, I now understand. I guess time does change the view of ones world.

I was planning for this to be the last chapter but was talked into giving it a nice round number 50 causing me to split what has already been written into two. Thursday will close the door to the world of Bisi, Zainab and Namdi. You all have been great

BISI - THE OTHER WOMAN CH 49

Shadows danced at the mercy of flickering lights. In a circle they moved, an offering to the light of life, white walls integral to their continued existence. Within, Namdi and Zainab sat, the length of the table between them unable to contain the growing rift.

"Why did you show me this? Where is the rest? Who is she?"

"She was dying Namdi."

"You knew she had cancer! Then why? Why make me go through this? She already didn't have long to live."

"I can't share you for five months."

"But I chose you... I chose you..."

Zainab rose from her perch as she spoke, crimson dress flowing around her, reflecting fire. Her sole interest was the man who sat before her, the pendant on the table not spared a single glance.

"Not another step."

Namdi did not look up, his attention stolen by the lifeless rendering he held, his mind filling in what was missing. His focus was not lost on her. Zainab's heart yearned for what was.

"Things can go back to what they were."

"We can't just pretend like none of this ever happened. Even now my hand still..."

"Why not? Namdi tell me why not? Were we not living fairy tale lives before she..."

Zainab couldn't finish, her teeth gnashing together, heart bleeding as her mind recalled all she had lost to her. Namdi struggled to purge her image from his mind, attempts that only served to make her more life like, more alive in his conscience.

"I can't forget her, I just can't."

Zainab had moved each time she spoke, covering half the distance that had been between them. Outside the tempest raged on, refusing to be outdone.

"You can. Namdi you will. Just look at me, all you need to do is look at me."

In her eyes was a pain born of her love for the one who sat there unable to tear his gaze away from another. 'Even in death you still hound me' she thought, her lips parted on a slow road to despair.

"Don't come any closer."

Only a few feet remained between them. A tear splashed, wetting the paper, his vision a mix of colors. Pain threatened to crush him. It was too soon, too fresh in his mind. To see her again, even in the form of a static capture rung his heart in a way he almost could not bear. What he hoped he had left behind, what he willed to not be true, he now knew had not been put to rest. 

"Please don't come any closer Zainab. I just need time."

"You chose me Namdi. You killing her was choosing me; can't you understand that?"

There was no response, red eyes still glued to the now wet image.

"Look at me!"

Zainab's tone came out icy cold, unable to bear anymore of her hold on him. Shaken, Namdi looked up, her brown eyes locking his, refusing to let go. In it he saw a tenderness that couldn't be faked, evoking memories of happier times, simpler times. As she walked, her lips continued to move.

"She came to ruin us, but you saved us Namdi. You saved us. I love you. I can never stop loving you, in this life or the next."

Closing the distance, her arms circled his neck, pulling herself to him, the folder and papers falling to the floor. Her heart rested against his, both beating to their own song. 

"I'm so sorry."

Over and over he said it, his voice hoarse, mind heady with the scent of violet.

"Hush my love. It's alright Namdi I forgive you."

Her body warmed from his words. Possessing him once again filled her with a bubbling giddiness she had not felt in a while. All had fallen into place.

'Bisi i'm so sorry!"

Zainab's heart went cold. Much like a sledge hammer driving through a frozen sculpture it shattered, bits and pieces raining down into an endless abyss never to be recovered. What remained was a blackness, a viciousness, a wrath possessing one goal; one aim. To destroy this man she loved.

twitter - @just2days

email - just2day@yahoo.com

thanks for reading

Apologies, no chapter till Tuesday. Though mostly written I am dissatisfied with the tone among others and since it is an important one, need time to figure it out. Thanks for understanding

Boomboost:
A woman that makes a man kill... Zainab is no victim.

Lol, in her defense she didn't explicitly ask him to kill. Yeah, in an angle she isn't a victim, but there is an angle that she is I think.
Thanks for taking the time to comment

Oluwakemi65:
Nice work sir.

Thank you sir. Sweet of you to say

holarbolu:
Come and drop something here, please

Scene in the church will be introducing a couple important characters and set ups that will decide a lot of the story. I'm still indecisive as to some of the key elements concerning the characters. Apologies, I'll force a decision and drop chapter on Tuesday. Thanks