₦airaland Forum

oghenekome51:
Wow! Wow! Wow! Larrysun ure da bomb! Honestly, dis story cost me my tears n am glad cos its so touching! I jus hope peter would tread carefully! Pls com n update sha! Thank you!

Thank you so much, ma'am. I'm glad you're enjoying the story.

zyzxx:
The friendship of these two boys would cause a powerful ripple on the destiny of each one of them, and on the fates of some other people.
But they didn't know that.


greet writer larry the seer




Badest combination 'black and basket ' bsquare


More wisdom larry

Lol @ Bsquare! That's very funny.

sagon1:
Well done bro,but please try to update soon.

Okay, sir. Thank you, sir.

lenmafon:
black wants to be an educated thief or a one with goodvgrammar, even when he cannot go back an finish school, he still wants to upgrade himself ehmmmmm lovely. nice work larrysun, keep them coming

From all indications, I think it's Basket who wants to become that educated thief. Lol!

Thanks for reading, ma'am.

Nickymezor:
Great job mr Larry, tnx for d nice update

Thank you for always following, ma'am. Looking behind me and seeing you gives me great joy.

Chapter One - VIII

Peter Black woke up before Basket; he had just discovered that his new friend was a lazy sleeper. It was almost two hours after Black had awoken that Basket yawned his way to consciousness. Both boys went to bath in the stream and later had their breakfasts. They still lived on the money Black had realised from the purse he had absent-mindedly picked three days earlier. The boys dined at a local restaurant and ate to their fills. They ordered for a food they had not eaten in a long time: pounded yam and vegetable soup, the soup adequately garnished with stock fish and various periwinkles, including antelope meat served in different dishes. The boys joked and laughed as they dined. They ate until their stomach refused to accommodate any more morsels. After the meals, they paid and left for home.

At home, the uncompleted building that was, while they waited for their food to digest, they planned what they were going to steal for the day. Because they still had enough money to feed them for at least a week, they both decided to steal something that was not related to food.

"I already said we should steal a dictionary." Basket reminded.

"What good would a dictionary do us?"

"A dictionary would build our vocabularies."

"And what good would a built vocabulary do us? Have you forgotten that we are no longer school children? A dictionary is useless for us now."

Basket pondered over the statement and said aloud, "We can still go back to school. It's not too late for us."

"And where would we find the money to enrol ourselves?"

"We can steal it."

"You're crazy. We can barely find feeding money in this godforsaken area, yet you're talking about the exorbitant sum admission requires. Besides, what happened to our own dream of getting enough money to vacate this place for a better shelter?"

"We can start saving. Let's begin to save anything we get, and with time, we will have enough money for both accommodation and education."

"Yes, with time," Black nodded affirmatively, " Maybe after one hundred years."

"Listen, Black, my friend. We cannot remain like this forever. This is Wednesday, our mates are in schools learning how to become great people and we're here debating over what to steal and what not to. You should agree with me that education is very important. It is our right—our responsibility—to be educated. Ii know I'm not going to remain a thief forever, I don't know about you. I know that no matter how skilled and experienced a thief is, he shall one day be caught."

"Says the boy who stole from a beggar."

"The truth is," Basket continued, "there is no ingenuity about stealing, no skill, no experience, no smartness—everything is luck. The most experienced, the most skillful, the smartest thieves have all been caught. We are here because we are still lucky. What are we going to do when our luck runs dry? Are we ready to face the consequence? Would we face the firing squads without flinching? Would we welcome the hangman's noose with open necks? Are we ready to endure the instant judgement of the crowd whose properties we have stolen? Even if we are not killed, are we eager to spend the rest of our lives in jail? You think about it, there is no bright future for thieves. Those of us who are not yet caught are only lucky for now. Where shall we be when the judgement day comes?"

Black stared at his friend for a moment and said, "Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much? What I can only tell you is that you don't know anything about me. There is a good reason why I steal. I hope you, too, have a good reason."

"I steal only to stay alive. I will stop if I have a better choice."

"Mine goes beyond that. But I'm sure you would not understand it if I explained. Anyway, we haven't decided on what to steal today. Please, don't tell me it's dictionary. Let's choose something we need for now. We will get a dictionary when we return to school."

Basket looked around the room and an idea lit up in his head, "I think what we need is something to keep us company."

"What do you suggest?"

"I suggested we get a pet."
"A pet?"

"A puppy."

"You're suggesting we steal a dog? Oh, come one, Basket. That's a terrible idea. I have a better idea."

"Really? Tell me."

Black stood up and said, "Follow me, I will tell you on the way."

******************************


********************************************************


Larry Sun can ghostwrite for you (novels, short stories, biographies, autobiographies, etc) at an affordable price. Contact him via email (larrysundynasty@gmail.com) or through +2349061754872. God bless you.

ezeigbo194:
lemme look for her

I trust you.

plainmirror:
LarrySun the king of adventure genre in literature.
The story line is about to take a new twist; a formidable alliance has been formed.

KingLarry #respect

Yes. Our friends make or mar us. God bless you, sir.

Dyoungstar:
LArrysun, well done.

Na you try pass.

My brother from another mister. I hail you, bro. I've not forgotten my book cover design.

Iaz93:
LOL@ Only water would be placed on the fire.

Ride on, Larry. Nice work!

Oh! Iaz is here! This is awesome!

kingphilip:
Most times, only water would be placed on fire to convince the neighbours that they always cooked.

this part got me laughing but like seriously that isn't meant to be and the thing is that these things still happen in many homes today

Larrysun God bless ur brain n keep u strong

Thank you so much, sir. Am I permitted to call that number on your signature? I just want to hear the voice of the legendary King.

LogoDWhiz:
Lol. Okay o

this one wey we neva finish chapter 1

We're gradually reaching the end of the first chapter. Thanks for following, sir.

*Chapter One - VII (Continued)*

When they reached Black's abode, both boys dined on the sausage that Peter had kept. As they dined, they also continued chatting; each boy seemed interested in knowing about the other. They were trying to develop a mutual likeness, hoping to form a friendship bond. Both boys had lived so lonely that they yearned for someone to call a friend, someone to talk to. They were now trying to determine between each other if they could be friends. Besides, they both had one thing in common already; they were both pickpockets. They needed to know If they had something else in common.

"What is your name?" Black asked.

"People call me Basket."

"Basket?" What a strange name. "Why do people call you that?"

"They say I'm clumsy; I can't hold anything steady. The name stuck on me when we were playing football and I was the goalkeeper, we conceded twelve goals in that match. My team mates were so angry at me that they tried to find me a befitting nickname. Someone suggested they call me Watering Can but the others said it was too mouthful, another person suggested the name Basket because a basket is never known to hold water, and so Basket became my nomenclature."

"And you answer to such name?"

"Of course, I do. I like it; as a matter of fact, I like the sharp intonations behind the pronouncement of the two syllables. I'm a proud Basket." He ended his explanation with a smile. Then he looked at Black and asked, "What is your own name?"

"My name is Peter Black, but I'd prefer you called me Black."

"Where are your parents?"

"My parents are dead."

"That's terrible. How do you survive?"

Black looked at Basket and hesitated; he was reluctant to tell the boy that he was also a thief. But Black didn't know how to lie, so he blurted out the truth, "I steal from people; just like you do, but in a more careful way."

Basket smiled broadly and said, "We're partners in crime. I'll love to learn some stealing tricks from you. No wonder you were able to see me take from that blind man. It takes only a thief to catch a thief. Anyways, we shouldn't consider ourselves thieves, we should see ourselves as keep-to-maniacs."

Black frowned and asked, "What's a keep-to-maniac?"

Basket looked serious, trying to remember the meaning of this word he had recently heard from somewhere. "It means someone who enjoys keeping other people's things to himself."

"Then what is 'maniac' doing in the word?"

"I don't know. I don't even know what 'maniac' means."

"Maniac means a madman. Does that mean that thieves are mad people?"

Basket shrugged, "I don't know."

"If thieves are mad people, does that mean we are mad?"

"You ask too many questions. How old are you?"

"I am twelve years old."

"I'm fifteen years old," Basket beamed, "That means I'm older than you."

"Didn't you know that already?"

"How would I know that? I didn't know your age."

Black wondered why his first friend would be such a mental sap. He changed the subject and asked, "Where would you sleep tonight?" He was hoping to offer Black a shelter.

"I'm going to pass the night here."

Black was glad. He was tired of sleeping alone since his mother's demise. Sometimes, the nights scared him, as if one wild animal could suddenly sneek up on him and eat him up. Having a companion to keep him company in the night was a good development.

"What about tomorrow night?" He found himself asking Basket.

"I don't know, but I will know if tomorrow comes."

"Why don't you live here with me?"

Hearing the request, Basket carefully looked at the room and shook his head. Black thought he was going to decline the offer but Basket replied by saying, "We will have to rent a normal room as soon as we have enough money."

Black liked the idea and answered, "Yes, we will."

Basket asked, "So, what is our plan for tomorrow?"

"As you already said, we shall know if tomorrow comes."

"I suggest we steal a dictionary tomorrow." Peter Black smiled at the one who could not hold anything steady. As Basket smiled back at him, Black knew that he had found a friend.

The friendship of these two boys would cause a powerful ripple on the destiny of each one of them, and on the fates of some other people.

But they didn't know that.


********************************************************


Larry Sun can ghostwrite for you (novels, short stories, biographies, autobiographies, etc) at an affordable price. Contact him via email (larrysundynasty@gmail.com) or through +2349061754872. God bless you.

ezeigbo194:
u no call me bt i call my self.....good job fire on

Eze!!! My great brother! You're welcome, sir. I didn't see your sweetheart from the Paradox of Abel, where is she?

LogoDWhiz:
Wow! That's much.

This is going to be long!

Lol! Not too much.

LogoDWhiz:
Interesting.


LarrySun, if I may ask. How many chapters does this story have?

Just thirty-five chapters.

Missmossy:
Aww the guy was massacred in the fire. Very saddening, Black has learnt a thing or two, he should know better now. LarrySun Thumbs up, you are really capturing the scenes very vividly. More wisdom to you.

Thank you so much, ma'am.

*Chapter One - VII (Continued)*

Life in the area had continued as usual; no one paid any interest to the small twelve-year-old black boy. Buyers and sellers negotiated over wares, skinny porters transported heavy goods on wheelbarrows, fat porters moved light loads with their heads, conductors hailed travellers to board their vehicles. The noise went on and on until a conductor and a driver began to argue over the money realised, and the argument soon escalated into a brawl that required the brandishment of jagged-edged bottle to threaten each other. No one attempted to stop the pugilists from displaying their boxing prowess; a small crowd gathered around them with the expectation of catching the sight of spilled blood, or at least the dispacement of a tooth from its gum by the brutal effort behind an inflicted punch. But none of these sufficed and the spectators were gradually getting bored with the chicken fights, the fighters refused to use the weapons they held, all they were doing now was gracing each other's personalities with series of abuses and curses, not much unlike what two quarrelling ladies would do. But because there was nothing else more exciting, and with the hope that something more interesting could be displayed, the crowd still feasted their eyes and ears with the foibles of the two obviously slow-witted transporters.

But it wasn't this scenario that appeared strange to Black, although strangely ridiculous in its own way. What the boy saw hereafter was something as dangerous as it was cruel. At a far corner of the square was a blind old man standing bent; he was holding a long walking stick in his left hand, a small bowl in the right and saying prayers with his mouth. It was evident that the man was begging for alms; occasionally, he would say a prayer he had already said and back it up with a familiar dirge. He wasn't prayer for himself, his prayers were meant for the kind people who would bestow a coin or something edible. Some few people would walk past and deposit some money into the bowl. Black recalled his father giving alms to beggars a number of times before his imprisonment.

Then as the beggar continued to pray, Black saw a boy creep towards the old man, the boy reached the bowl and deftly picked some coins from it. Black could not believe his eyes; he nursed an open-mouthed astonishment. Why would anyone stoop so low to rob a helpless beggar? He could not even imagine engaging in something as aweful, and dangerous. He was afraid for the boy, this was not a neighbourhood where you could steal and get away with it; the boy would be killed if he was caught. And because Black could not want to witness again what he had two days earlier, he ran towards the boy to stop him.

"Return it immediately!" He whispered nervously into the boy's ear as he reached him from behind.

The startled thief sharply turned around with fright. He was scared that he had been caught. He wanted to take to his heels but stopped on discovering that it was only a young boy talking to him. "Who are you?" The thief asked Black.

Black looked at the thief carefully; the boy was visibly older than him for he was taller and broader, Black judged that he would be about seventeen or eighteen years old, just about barely younger than the unfortunate thief of two days before. It was not only his body structure that seemed remarkable about the thief, he also had an alert, dangerous look, like a black cat that could smell a nest of newly-born mice. Something about the thief told Black that he should stay away from him. Unlike Black who was small and dark-skinned, the thief was big and light-skinned, and he possessed an equal pair of big strong hands.

"I said you should return the money you picked from that bowl, or would you rather I screamed?"

At the utterance of the threat, the thief poured the coins back into the blind man's bowl. And the beggar, because he had lost his sights and was unaware of the activities before him, bowed in gratitude at hearing the sounds of coins dropping into his bowl, and he rained prayers on the thief who had just robbed him moments earlier.

As soon as the big boy dropped his booty, Black dragged him to a safe corner and nagged at him.

"Do you want to get killed?" Black asked. He wasn't shouting but his words carried a loud weight.

"No, but I am so hungry." The thief replied grimly. His eyes were darting this way and that way. He seemd to be ready to cart off with even Black if he were edible. The boy looked more haggard than Black even though he appeared stronger and bigger, but Black still looked healthier without a doubt. Black himself recalled the time he had been more than as hunger-stricken as this strange fellow before him.

"How could hunger drive you to engage in something so suicidal?"

The boy looked sharply at Black and asked, "What do you mean by 'suicidal'?"

"Weren't you aware that a thief was burned to death here two days ago?"

"Of course, I was."

Black stared at him with disbelief. He guess the boy to be physically big but psychologically small. "And you still went ahead to steal from a beggar when the temperature of the cremated thief had barely dropped? That is a very rash thing to do. I'm sure you need a doctor who treats lunatics, food is only a minor variable."

The boy stared at Black and replied, "I don't understand what you are talking about. I'm hungry. Can I get some food?"

"I will have to take you to where I live, I have some snacks there. Where do you live?"

The thief spread his hands, "I live everywhere, I live nowhere, I don't have a home."

Black was not surprised to hear that, the thief must have been living in the streets, too. As he led the boy to where he lived, Black continued to ask the older thief some questions.

"Where are your parents?"

Black was expecting him to tell him that he had lost his parents too, but he was not prepared for the reply he got.

"My parents live in the neighbouring state. I ran away from home."

Black was so shocked with the reply that he paused in his track for a moment. He decided that the boy could really be insane. Which sane kid would live his parents to live a life of solitude? Black would give anything to have his parents back alive.

He didn't understand that his new friend was the child of an alcoholic slattern and a dipsomaniac father who was a frequently unemployed mechanic. The boy, on growing up, had recalled in various occasions his mean-spirited inebriated father always arguing with his equally intoxicated mother. The bone of contention was always money, but the quarrels easily changed to the incredibly terrible dinner she had prepared, she throwing back accusations on his eyes for other women and his sloppy manners, the huge losses he had incurred in gambling his thin income away, and lastly the lack of food in the house. Most times, only water would be placed on fire to convince the neighbours that they always cooked. But above all, the thin walls of the decrepit house they lived in did little to muffle the voices of the parents each time they argued. The child got tired one morning and left the house without the intention of returning. But his drunken parents did not notice his absence. They cared more about their bottles of rum than about their child.


********************************************************


Larry Sun can ghostwrite for you (novels, short stories, biographies, autobiographies, etc) at an affordable price. Contact him via email (larrysundynasty@gmail.com) or through +2349061754872. God bless you.

Jumizie13:
hmmmmmmmm

Hello younger sister. Howdy?

Chapter One - VII

After two days of witnessing the horrible live cremation, Black, cowered with fear, took a stroll back to the square of the incident. The charred remains of the thief had been shovelled away, but the dark ground still revealed the evidence of the barbarious act that occurred two days earlier. That particular section of the floor was black, there were even the metallic rings that made up the tyre after the rubber had burned off. Fire had transformed the initial colour of the metallic element into orange, some parts of the rings were coated with grey sulphuric substances. Black stared at the dar floor for a long time, remembering the horrible cry of the thief that burned.

The usual activities of the square had continued, as if nothing spectacular had occurred two days ago. Black surmised that what had happened the two previous days was not the first of its kind; some other thieves, or criminals, must have been set ablaze prior the one Black witnessed. The suspicion of that fact momentarily set the boy's heart racing, and that moment he wanted to leave the location, he wanted to stay away from here as far as possible, but he could not do that now, he had just discovered another uncompleted building that provided him shelter; the house was securely roofed and the windows were fixed, what was left to finish the building was the fixing of the doors and the plastering of the walls. Even the ceilings were already fixed. The house owner might return anytime to complete the house, but Black was sure that the building would shelter him for a few days, or months, before the owner would evict him. Besides the fact that he had found a shelter, he couldn't leave the city because leaving would mean abandoning his mother. Even though his mother now had no grave, Black still consoled himself with the belief that he resided in an area where the soul of his mother roamed. Black thought his mother was with him now, watching him, following him around, But he couldn't know if she was smiling or crying. All he could conjure in his tiny head was the image of his mother's bloated corpse when he pushed her into the hole. He guessed she would be weeping, as he had once found her in one of his dreams. She would definitely be weeping at who he had become. But little Black consoled himself with the thought that all he was doing was only the bid to honour his mother's request. She had asked him to take back their things from Chief Salami, Black knew no other way of achieving that other than first becoming who he had just become, a common thief. He didn't feel guilty for being a thief, or for taking a property belonging to someone else; he had make sure to always take from only people who would not suffer much at the loss of their things. Black would never rob an old woman or a beggar; even thieves live by codes of honour.

However, his presence here now was far from larcenous intents; as a matter of fact, he. Had decided not to make any robbery in this neighbourhood; the inhabitants of this area had never boasted of treating thieves with kindness. And Black had no desire of hanging on their bad sides; there were still more than enough litres of petrol in the nearest filling station, the petty traders had never for once declined to sell matches to potential customers, and more vehicles would always shed their bad tyres. Black's presence here was not to watch the part where the thief had burned alive two days earlier. He wondered where the soul of the thief would go. Would it stay in the realm of his mother's? Black was sure his mother would not like the thief if they met in wherever dead people always went. Before her demise, Black's mother had always had a strong disapproval of larceny; and she had hated Salami with passion for claiming the things that did not belong to him. She would not like to see her son joining the class of people she abhor. But Peter Black had no choice.

As Peter Black cast his face up, he saw something strange.


********************************************************


Larry Sun can ghostwrite for you (novels, short stories, biographies, autobiographies, etc) at an affordable price. Contact him via email (larrysundynasty@gmail.com) or through +2349061754872. God bless you.

Adesege:
Phew!

Mr. Larry the mysterious one.

Now i understand the sequel after reading this.

I love the twists. Unlike Nollywood movies where i know where it'll end from the begining. You got me using my brain to decipher the next line of action. I like that!

I saw a comment telling u to get published. I think i'm seconding that.

"No one is interested in the process but the product". So Mr. Larry, go out there and get published. It'll add more to your feathers. Remember your character, Ariel, in the sequel. Let the challenges make you.

- Adesege

Thank you so much, sir, for reading. I'm happier that you enjoyed reading it. I promise never to disappoint you, sir.

About publishing; I want to get published, I want to get published than anything else. But, unfortunately, publishing seems like a tough venture. With many attempts, I've discovered that you have to be connected with people of high status for you to get published with good publishers. I don't want to settle for less. I refuse to acknowledge the offers of the mushroom publishers who offer only paltry sums. This isn't pride; it's just that I've sacrificed too much for my stories to allow them fade into obscurity after a few months of getting published. I know nobody; I'm just a simple guy who lives alone with a table, chair, pen and paper. Many have advised me to delve into self-publishing, but fund is also another tiny straw. I finished The Brand of Cain in 2010; after five years, it has gotten to that stage where I'm no more in haste to get published. Funny enough, my frustration inspired me to create the Ariel character in the sequel . I'm sure that one day, somehow, my stories will bloom to the world. The light at the end of the bridge is what keeps me going; it's what's making me plot stories over stories, and I'm not going to stop until I give my last sigh, even if that light I see in the tunnel is the flash of an oncoming train, I'll remain steadfast.

Thank you so much, sir, for your concern. May God bless you and your family. Hopefully, one day, you will lie in your cosy room reading a paperback by Larry Sun .

plainmirror:
I have this feeling that all this rigors black is subjected to is programmed by nature to forge him into a great man.

Fingers crossed, thumbs up Larry!

This may be true. Still, I wonder what may be great about a thief.

Jollyjoy:
So touching. Make me remember d past. (tears)

The past? I'm so sorry!

babaireti:
Here I come,a new member on this thread

You're very much welcome, sir. I hope my writing style pleases you. My humble regards to Ireti.

Akposb:
Not going to let my mouth stay mute.

First of all I love your choice of words as it aids your description. Also this story is a clear depiction of the struggle some people face in this country.

Just keep on as I am enjoying this story.

Thank you so much, sir. Your encouragement has renewed my strength.

tohero:
You've been wondaful describing things as if it were real. 1000 thumbs 4u






Suggestion: I think there has been a wide gap between the "action" you started with and the "emotions" playing around now.



#team_junior+father+wife+son+mother

Thanks for your observation, sir. You're quite right. The Prologue is set in 2015, the succeeding chapters started from the early eighties. The emotions will gradually catch up with the actions of 2015. I'm sure you'll love the tale. God bless you, sir.

OMA4U:
What a great way to spend the weekend. Thank you, big brother. You have made my weekend with stunning updates.

I should thank you more, bro. In a way, you inspired this story. I love you.

zyzxx:
Larry dis great
more wisdom


Duba suppose to av Somtin kept for peter

Unfortunately, he didn't. The man didn't know he would die so soon. So sad!