₦airaland Forum

CHAPTER ONE
THE ACCIDENT

Life wasn’t a basket of sweets, was the first parental advice I remembered receiving from my late parents before their tragic death. It was probably when I was five years but history would tell better. Back then, I had dealt with so many punches life threw at me. Life wasn’t fair to me. I was so ripe to die only if death was judged from experiences gathered.
What is life? This was a question I kept asking myself, but I rather sooth myself with deceitful answers just to suit my sentimental thoughts.
I grew up on the streets of Lagos, Nigeria. They said it was a city of hustlers. I came, I saw and I succumbed to its hostility. I was just a kid trying to understand the fable called life. Life wasn’t easy but death was tougher. Sleep was a great deal but keeping awake was psychological suicide. Wetin man go do? I forgot I was still a kid, wetin kid go do?
After the death of my parents in a fatal auto accident, yet they were both walking back from church. A place meant to immune us from death for a week or so. Probably that was what I thought, but unfortunately life doesn’t work with mans reasoning and prove.
My dad do say back then (shit sometimes happens). I remember now so clearly, they were both working hand to hand back from church, that fateful night, dad was at the top most form of his humorous self, while mum kept laughing like she took laughing gas. I wish I could lay my hands on that gas right now because my heart feels so heartbroken. But this is just a flash back, so I said to myself, dude pull yourself together and say your story.
Dad asked me, junior if you were to die this very minute, what would be your last action? I smiled and looked up to dad and I replied: dad I would be reading my bible while licking my favorite soya milk ice cream. You and I knew I was lying, so this should have been my original reply: I would be playing play station-2 while licking my favorite vanilla ice cream.
All the same dad had a loud laugh and ruffled my head saying, that’s my boy, just like you say that’s my dog, yet I blushed all the same. But something was wrong with mum; she had this sober smile and I asked her what the problem was? She just looked at me and said, junior you won’t understand and I smiled. Yes I smiled and that was the last I saw my mamas eyes.
At that point a truck which by-standers said failed to control its brake came rushing towards us like a mad cow which was just de-horned. My mama was crushed, my papa was murdered and my soul was shattered.

this is my first post on nairaland, please show me love.

i have been on nl for sometime now. i want to tell a story different from yours.

sorry for the punctuation errors, iam not using an english laptop, so its hard for me over here.

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