₦airaland Forum

Rainstorms: congrats larrysun

Thank you, sir.

Beretta92: You're forgiven,Larry. Welcome back! As usual you held me spellbound. Waiting for more updates.

Thanks bro.

They got off the three-wheeler too; each person still keeping mum, as though they were walking towards a funeral pyre. A man with a bunch of wild columbine in his hand was following a herd of forty-seven cows. Daniel actually counted, because he had learnt the art of observation from a detective three years prior.

Mr. Johnson broke the silence. “Do you know, Daniel, that I’ve never seen my in-laws since the past twenty years?”

Of course, which in-law would tolerate a brute like you? “Why? What happened?” Famous asked, as though he cared. All he cared for at the moment was his arm remaining where it belonged by the time he reached his family. He didn’t want to arrive home in a dangling sleeve. And as his captor had advised, Daniel prayed they find Remi.

They approached the gate of the house at 4:15pm.

The house itself was a big building with a lot of windows, and the few people whom knew the year the building was erected were long dead. Perhaps, if Daniel was alive at the time the house was built, he wouldn’t have ventured before its gate.

The house was originally built with red bricks at the time when civilization was yet to set in the environs. It was the palace of a powerful king who had once ruled, until his tragic demise. Myth had it that the king was a madman who delighted in killing human beings each day since his ascension to the throne at the age of eighteen. The king died at seventy-six years old. So, he killed about twenty-one thousand, five hundred villagers in his lifetime. Ten years before the king’s demise, a terrible plague struck the village. In the first year of the plague, young children died by the tens each day. In the second year young women –including the pregnants - joined in the death race. The scale rose sporadically, death tolls skyrocketed, and the mortality rate was so much that about five thousand inhabitants were lost in a single month. A record even over ten times greater than their king’s. The oracle was summoned and they were informed that the every person related to the king had to be sacrificed for the plague to lift, for the king had done the unthinkable before his death; he’d sacrificed a virgin. Virgins in the village were never to be killed, not until they had tasted in the pleasure of the bed. And the king, in his thirst for daily blood, had killed a nine-year-old girl – a virgin. As soon as the chief priest gave the revelation he slumped and died. Eventually, everyone would die if the king’s relatives were not sent to the other side.

By the third year after the regicide, the village was reduced to a ghost yard. Before civilization, the cursed village was called The Land of Ghosts, because skulls filled the soils. For almost half a century, nothing grew on the lands all around the village. It became a desert. Half a century after that the lands became a thick forest which covered up the palace built in red bricks and painted in red blood. Civilization set in, The Land of Ghosts became a section of Lagos State. And the palace was rebuilt into an impressive edifice. The builders gave nary a qualm to the numerous skulls and bones they dug out of the soils. And they paid dearly with their lives.

A mansion was built.

FOUR

They spent almost twenty-four hours before arriving in Lagos, because the rickety bus they boarded developed flat tyres, carburetor, transistor, accelerator, radiator and whatever –tor inherent in a vehicle’s anatomy problems. If left for Daniel alone he’d have boarded a plane but Mr. Johnson would never hear of that, even when Daniel insisted on paying footing the ticket fee of both of them. It wasn’t that Mr. Johnson was scared of heights, or because the price for the two of them in a first-class travel could gag a sword swallower; he was just afraid of dying. He launched into a verbal education of Daniel about the unfortunate events inherent in Sosoliso and Bellview in the years past. He explained how so many things could go wrong in the air. Like, say, an engine might fall off, probably because a mechanic sabotaged it. All these claims and beliefs had resulted from the effect of all he suffered when he lost both his parents in an air crash that occurred far back in 1985. This year’s Christmas Day would seal the twenty-seventh year after the sad event. He was still a secondary school kid when the tragedy happened.

The sudden demise of Tunde’s parents led to his opting out of school for lack of tuition funds. If Tunde Johnson had been educated, he could possibly have become a scientist or an inventor of time-capsules; he really was that intelligent. It was his intelligence, not his social status, that got him inside the hot Ruth’s pants and impregnated her when she was barely seventeen. He was at first not sure if the pregnancy was really his, because Ruth had been quite a loose girl since the age of twelve. So, naturally, Tunde had denied blowing the balloon. Ruth’s furious father had sent hoodlums against him, he was beaten so hard that he was hospitalized. But the father of the pregnant girl paid for his treatment and got him locked up thereafter. Tunde spent nine months behind bars; he was released by the police only two weeks before Ruth put to bed. The man had forgotten him there in the cell.
Some tests were conducted which confirmed that Tunde was the father of the child. The rich man had later apologized to Tunde for the hard way in which the situation was handled. He arranged a wedding ceremony for Tunde and his daughter, and both man and woman were joined in holy matrimony. But this did not alleviate the resentment Tunde fostered against his father-in-law. He hated Jamal with passion, and he was patiently waiting for the best time he would take his revenge on the man for what he had done to him. His hatred for the man grew so much that when Jamal offered to assist him financially, a pecuniary intervention which he desperately needed, Tunde had humbly, with a smile, declined the assistance. Tunde was not one of those few people who possessed the spirits of pardon. He kept every memory green, especially the bitter ones.

When Tunde was only ten years old, a neighbour had turned his ear for stepping in his garden. Tunde waited three years to get back at the bad-tempered man. Because the man was older and more powerful than he was at the time, Tunde could not twist the man’s ear in return. So, he waiting until the man got married and had a baby. When he was alone with the child, Tunde twisted the baby’s ear in as much painful a way as his father had done him three years prior, making sure that it was the left ear he twisted, for the baby’s father didn’t twist him in the right ear. The baby had shrieked with pain but Tunde had disappeared from the scene before people began to rush into the room from whence the shrill cry had erupted. Tunde had felt guilty for his action thereafter; the baby wasn’t the offender, it was the father who should be punished. He hadn’t really revenged; taking revenge on innocent people, he realized, wasn’t his style. He shrugged his guilt off, at least, the pastor had preached last Sunday from a verse in Jeremiah; about a man who gobbled a sugarcane or something without giving a thought about what would happen to the children’s teeth. Young Tunde never really cared to listen attentively to sermons.

Tunde, now an adult, was still looking for that man who had twisted his ear when he was ten. If he saw the man, he would definitely twist the man’s ear and finally be at peace with himself. Even if the man was going to become the next President of Nigeria, and if there was the likelihood that he could be shot for his attempt, Tunde didn’t care. Besides, the man who twisted his ear when he was only ten was a stark illiterate; the probability of his becoming the next Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces was very slim.

“Do you really mean what you said, Mr. Johnson?” Daniel Famous asked as they finally got off the bus. He was taking his steps with caution because, while sitting huddled among the travellers in the bus, the blood that was circulating around his body had departed his feet. For each step he took, he felt stinging and tickling sensation course through the lower part of his body, right from the patella down to the metatarsal region. His gait almost resembled that of Simon Peter trying to walk on water like Jesus.

A Coca-Cola truck was parked at the other side of the road, and the driver was unloading crates and carrying them into a restaurant.

“What did I say?”

“What you said about my arm and flogging. You don’t mean that, do you?”

The man adjusted his lips, forming what he probably read some place was known as a smile. He said, “I don’t make idle threats, Daniel.”

The younger man’s eyes opened large, “You are joking, right?”

The smile grew broader, “Yes, I’m smiling, Daniel, but I’m not joking. Just pray we find my daughter.

“It seems to me like you want people to be afraid of you.”

“Fear implies respect.”

“So far,” Daniel lied, “You are not registering high on my terror metre.”

“I will warn you not to see my threat as a-a-what is the expression I want meaning a big stir about very little?”

“A tempest in a teacup?”

“Yes, thank you. Don’t see my threat as a tempest in a teacup.”

They reached the car park and boarded another bus, this one cosier. They did not resume their conversation. When Mr. Johnson told the bus-conductor where they’d be alighting, Daniel frowned.

Because it was Christmas eve already, the traffic was slower than usual. They spent over an hour before arriving at their bus-stop. The common tricycle transported them to their exact location.

I'd like us to do this again, but with more number of words though. Between a thousand and five thousand words perhaps.

maputohq: Larrysun ...congrat

Thank you, my good friend.

Orikinla: It is allowed in fiction and shows that the story is based of the realities of the time.


Okay. Keeping my fingers crossed.

zyzxx: congrate larrysun

Thanks buddy.

halfcaste1: Congrats LarrySun

Thanks bro.

Tovot: Whatever .........

Seriously, when it comes to pissing people off, you win a gold medal... smh...

Tovot: *gay
alert* so you can miss him? send him a pm na, besides nice thoughtful
poem, did you write it? goodafternoon

Of course I wrote it. I sometimes try my hand at poetry.

Btw, why do you think I can't miss him? The guy is a lovable fellow.

Tovot: @larrysun, mynd44 might not see your mention due to the changes Seun made in some usernames. the '_ ' isnt in his name again.

Ya, I know. I intentionally wrote it that way.

AudreyTimms: Congrats LarrySun. @Kennikazi, yep it ws indeed fun. I enjoyed reading from other writers. I'll check out ya site. Cheers!

Thanks buddy.

5minsmadness: Or the most number of follwers
I was thinking it would be a kind of judgement thing. Like content, number of words, finality of the story i.e merits based on the completeness of the story etc., proper use of words and the like!

Well, congrats to larrysun anyway.

Thanks 5, but, except for the number of words, I don't think we can comfortably base those other criteria on short stories of less than one hundred words.

5minsmadness: Hold on kennikazi! You didn't see my last entry, saved? Its within a hundred words oh. And how come larrysun is the winner?

It's because Larry Sun has the most number of likes.

I miss Mynd_44

Many a time, I wonder what marks our time in this planet?

If one person's action can really make an impact on the world,

Or if the choices we make matter to ourselves...to our loved ones,

Then we're tethering on the brink of either glory or gory.

Like the butterfly effect, do our actions or inactions determine someone
else's destiny?

I believe they do.

And I believe that one man can change many lives.

For better...or worse.

Sometimes, in order to move forward, we have to go back.

In this case, just a few minutes,

A few minutes of errors may alter a lifetime of perfection.

And we find ourselves returning to those pasts,

Gathering shards of the broken mirror,

Connecting the dots of million images,

So that we may see ourselves in a single piece,

As we start all over again.

And give hope to those we love...those who love us.

Good afternoon, friends.

toykathy: This is just to appreciate all wonderful writers on this forum. Have been wanting to do this for a long time now, even if this isn't gonna put cash in your purse, but I'm sure it will put smile on your faces.
To all who inconvinient themselves to make the little time we spend here worthwhile and keep our companies with beautiful stories, on behalf of myself and my fellow readers, ghost readers, we want to say a big thanks to each and evry one of u. Bigger u we pray, more ink 2ur pens and may u find more happiness as u continue to make us happy. Thank u all.
Tiffanyj, Temitopedaniel, prettyspicey, queenxter, kayemjay, princesa, zuby77, repogirl, glowingscenes, vonn, flakkydagirl, royver, 360prince, larrysun, rapmike, davep, d9ty7, therock555, sammyhoe, bukkydan, exixlove, omoshelwa, stefikal, dorisbest, frank317, akinlex, divepen, uzolexis, underage, xeniaontopp, misshorlah, trixandra, ezepromoe, domawoleye and whole lot of others.
More ink 2ur pens and may God bless y'all.
#millionhugsandkisses#

Wow! I'm short of words. Thanks for the appreciation, Toycathy. Who are we writers when you readers are not there? You motivate us.

I'm using this link to appreciate all my readers out there. God bless you all.

Rainstorms: How many am I allowed to write?

I don't know.. I thought it should be a story per writer. I may be wrong though.

Okay. I'll contact you.

How many stories are you going to write, Rainstorm?

bigsholly: Wow larrysun is back oooooo. I just pray you are back for real, with this update am glad you haven't loss your touch

Thanks. I'm back for real.

PBeni: Cool update Larry. Am glad you're back to do what you know how to do best.
Keep it rolling hommie...

It's good to see you, PBeni. Thank you.

oyestephen: larry is back!!! you're forgiven
instead of smacking you, i'll gladly smack cain.......

Thanks, man. I promise not to disappoint again.

Olril18: thanks very much,thanks for the correction.

What's the genre of the story?

Kindly space out your paragraphs.

February 1993

It had been over eight years since the past incident; an incident that was going to repeat itself tonight. Cain relished the thought of revenge; he always enjoyed serving his meal of retribution in a temperature that matched a dog’s nose. It had taken him eight terrible years to locate his prey – eight years of green memories and endless search. At last, nature had brought his prey to his path. He’d come here to Jos only for a business deal when he discovered that the client who had bid for a mortgage over a piece of land of about ten hectares was the treasure he’d been hunting for the past hundred months. On sighting his quarry, he’d systematically refused to disclose his own identity; making sure that the man did not even sight him, for, undoubtedly, the man might scuttle off at the slightest recognition of him. And the chance of ever seeing him again might be close to impossible if he lost him – that was what he’d never allow, no matter what sacrifice it would demand of him. He’d gotten everything about the man in less than twenty-four hours after spotting the man. He knew where his quarry lived, who his family members were; and one time, Cain wondered how the man was able to raise such a quiet and responsible family. He also wondered whether his quarry’s wife knew the kind of husband she’d married. But also inwardly, he knew that he shared something evil in common with his prey., and that common interest was the reason why he was going to attack the man’s family tonight.

The night was warm; and a full moon stood proud and majestic in the midst of exalting stars. Even if anyone passed that time, nobody would notice the figure that stood under the shadow of the mahogany tree that remained rigid like a figurine in the street. Cain was always more comfortable in the shadows than in the light; for the shadow provided him secrecy whenever he planned his evils. He had been standing there in the shadows for about two hours, waiting for his quarry to arrive. He’d planned all his intentions this night even to the minutest detail. To blend with the darkness, he’d purchased a black overcoat and a black hat. He was dressed like an undertaker, and he was holding a pistol in his hand.

Patience, which had not been his strongest virtue, was what he found himself exercising. Occasionally, he would take a stroll down the quiet street and back to the dark comfort of the tree. He was already familiar with the street, as if he’d founded it. Thirty minutes after his fifth stroll up and down the street, he saw a car approach and he immediately knew that it was his quarry coming, even without seeing the man behind the wheel. He just knew that the car approaching was the one he’d been waiting for. He watched very closely as the car reached the massive gate and stopped. Cain could see his prey now; the man came down, pressed some certain code in the walls of the gate and the gate swung open. The man appeared quite tired; the day must have been quite hectic. He watched the man and smiled as he imagined what he was going to do to him. Cain had decided that he was not going to kill him; he was going to inflict upon the man a fate nearly worse than death. He could see the man clearly but there was no way the man could see him. Cain quickly came out of the dark and crouched himself close to the vehicle as it was being driven into the compound. He moved with the vehicle, making sure that he was not discovered through the back reflector in front of the driver. The gate swung close just as slowly as it had opened. Cain smiled wickedly again. The driver didn’t know that he’d just allowed the devil into his home.

Before the man could come out of the car, Cain quickly hid himself among the flowers in the garden. He watched from within the bouquet as the man walked to the entrance of the house. The man turned the knob and the door gave way; the door was not locked. This pleased Cain, the unlocked door would give him easy entrance into the house. He tarried among the lilies for another five minutes before coming out. He stood up boldly and walked confidently to the door. Before he turned the knob, he brought out the pistol he’d pocketed when he followed the car into the compound. He opened the entrance door and slowly stepped inside. The sitting room was a large and well-furnished one. His quarry was evidently a very wealthy man. He wonder who was richer between he and the man he was about to attack. Before him, Cain saw an arch that separated the dining compartment from the sitting room. And sitting by the table were the family members having their meal. Cain was filled with glee at this; he hadn’t thought that he was easily going to have all the family members in one place. He slowly shut the door behind him, making careful sure that the door made no sound as it closed.

The man’s wife was the first to notice Cain’s presence in the room. “Jesus Christ of Nazareth!” The woman screamed, dropping her fork and knife.

Cain laughed wickedly. He knew why the woman had screamed. She’d been taken aback by his ugliness. A very ugly man dressed in black and pointing a gun at you was a good picture of Lucifer. Cain felt like Lucifer.

He took five careful steps into the room now, smiling as wickedly as he could. He needed them to be very much afraid of him. To Cain, fear implied power, you could measure your strength by the level of fright found in your adversary’s eyes. And these adversaries of his – these foes – were scared beyond description.

It was a family of four – the parents and their two offspring; a male and a female. The head of the family was still fully dressed; he must have jumped behind the dining table as soon as he stepped into the room. The wife and children were already in their night wears. The daughter was a young woman of about eighteen years old and the son looked younger, about sixteen or something. Cain continued smiling in his ugly manner. This was going to be a memorable night for the family.

He was still pointing the gun at them when he said, “Forgive me for interrupting your repast. You can return to your meal as soon as I’m through.”

The man’s wife had jumped upright, her husband was standing up slowly with his terrified eyes staring at the pistol, afraid that it might go off anytime soon. The children still remained seated with fear and confusion plastered on their faces; they were staring at Cain as if he were a specie of dinosaurs that had suddenly returned from extinction.

“Who are you and what do you want?” The man’s wife asked, she was shaking uncontrollably.

“I am your nemesis!” Cain roared, “I am your nemesis! I am your nemesis!” he kept repeating that for about ten times before he stopped to catch his breath.

He looked at each family member one after the other, as if he was just seeing them for the first time. He ordered the children to stand up and bring their chairs to the middle of the living room. He was instantly obeyed. He then commanded the parents to seat on each of the chairs provided. When they’d done that, Cain dipped his hand into his pocket and extracted two pieces of ropes. He gave the ropes to the son and told him to tie his parents to their chairs. When the boy refused he gave him a hard slap and ordered him to do it, he was aiming the gun at the boy’s head this time. He was threatening to kill the boy if his order was not obeyed. This spurred the boy to do as commanded; he firmly tied his parents to their chairs.

“Do you remember you doing to me what your son is currently doing to you?” Cain asked the man as the boy continued to knot the loops. “Can you see how it feels to be tied down, helpless and incapable of freedom?”

It was at this moment that the man cast his eyes away from the gun and looked at Cain. He was sweating profusely as he studied Cain’s face. Finally, he shook his head and said, “I don’t know you.”

“Liar! Liar!! Liar!!! Pants on fire!” Cain screamed, he poked the man’s head with the pistol. “You cannot have possibly forgotten what you did eight years ago. Eight years is not such a long time to forget that. But your nemesis has returned, you are going to have a taste of that bitter brew you concocted, I promise you.”

Having said that, Cain suddenly turned to the children and said, “De-robe yourselves.”

“What?”

“Are you mad?” The boy asked, but he was immediately blessed with another terrible slap, both his cheeks had turned crimson from the impact.

“Watch your tongue, boy.” Cain warned, “Didn’t your parents teach you manners?” He paused a brief moment and asked, “What’s your name?”

The boy did not reply. This annoyed Cain immensely, he was about to shoot the boy when his mother answered, “Abel. His name is Abel. Please don’t kill my child, I beg you.” The woman was weeping now.

“Abel?” Cain was surprised. He laughed out loud, “Seriously? His name is Abel?”

“Yes.” The sobbing woman replied.

“Wow! This is God’s will. It’s God’s will that I’m here. This isn’t a coincidence, this is fate. Does any one of you imbeciles know my name?”

They all stared at him as if he’d suddenly turned mad.

“My name is Cain!” he shouted, “and Abel here must do as I command or there will be unpleasant consequences. If he ever disobeys me again I’m going to kill him. I don’t care if another Bible story is written about us.”

He turned to the children again. The girl was already weeping like a baby. Cain said, “Now kids, for the last time, get rid of your clothes.”

The boy and girl pretended not to have heard him. They were not ready to UnCloth.

Cain stared at them and said, “Oh, you’re stubborn, both of you. I’m going to count down from ten and if you are still wearing anything at all, even lipstick, I’m going to shoot you until you are dead. Do you hear me? The gun is fully loaded.” He unclipped the pistol and showed them the bullets in the chamber.

“Now, ten…”

“Please obey the man.” Their wailing mother implored.

“Nine…”

The children seemed not to have heard their mother. They were not ready to obey the intruder.

“Do you want to die? Both of you?” The woman turned to her husband whose face was cast downward, “Won’t you do something? Tell your children to UnCloth.”

“Six…” The countdown continued.

“Please obey the man!” Their father commanded with a strong voice.

“Three…”

The children began to hastily UnCloth.

“Two…one.”

The boy and the girl were totally naked.

Cain smiled. He walked towards the girl and pulled at her firm bosoms. The girl was crying as Cain tugged at her two br*asts and squeezed the n*pples.

“You should be ashamed of yourself. You’re going to r*pe a young girl.” The girl’s mother said.

Cain smiled at her, “No, I’m not going to r*pe her.” He turned to the children, “Now, Abel, listen to me carefully. Right here in front of your parents, you’re going to have a sexual intercourse with your sister.

“What!” The parents screamed.

“Never!” retorted Abel, “Nothing will make me do it. I don’t care if you kill me.”

“Of course you’re going to do it,” Cain replied, “You won’t want me killing your parents and your sister in your presence. If you refuse me I’m going to start by killing your mother.” Cain placed the muzzle of the gun against the boy’s mother’s temple. “You better excite yourself now and do as I said, we don’t have to make this unnecessarily bloody, Abel.”

“Please don’t do it.” His father pleaded.

“Abel, are you going to watch him kill Mommy?” his sister asked hysterically.

“Are you going to do it or not? I don’t have all night, Abel.” Cain said. His finger was beginning to press the trigger.

The girl, seeing this, quickly spread herself widely on the floor, “Abel, come on!”

“Abel, don’t!” his father screamed.

“Come on, Abel. He’s going to kill them if you don’t. He’s about to shoot Mommy! Come on now!”

The boy, seeing no choice here, climbed on his sister and slowly entered her. He was weeping like a baby as he thrust home. His sister’s eyes were tightly shut as she wept copiously. She was shivering with each feeling of her brother inside her.

Finally, Abel gave a loud gasp. He felt suddenly light and collapsed on his sister. Even the girl was too weak to rise. They both remained in that position.

Cain whistled and chuckled with delight, “Phew! That’s impressive.” He turned to the children’s father, “Aren’t you impressed? That boy really knows how to make love. You should be proud of him.”

“You’re a devil!” the man’s wife cried.

“No,” replied Cain with equanimity, “I’m Nemesis. Your husband here is the devil.”

“I curse you!” The woman lashed out, “I curse you with sickness and sorrow, with hunger and pain; your house shall be consumed by fire, and your children shall die terribly; your enemies shall prosper, and you shall grow old in sadness and regret. You shall die in foulness and agony.”

“Blah, blah, blah…” Cain said wearily, “I’ve got to leave now. But before I go, there is one more thing I need to do.”

He untied the woman from the chair.

As Cain left the house, he could hear behind him the wails of each member of the family. He was at peace with himself now. He’d revenged for what had been done to him eight years ago. He walked out of the compound into the darkness beyond, knowing fully well that the life of each member of the family would never be the same again.

Cain had destroyed a happy family.

I have a long list of apologies to make to these people:

Spendblex: Kindly forgive me for my execrable conduct. I hope you’re still around.

YOUNGKAHUNA: I hope I got the spellings right. I want you back to lead me back on the right tracks. Forgive me for my long disappearance.

Adinije: You have the right to hide a bullet in my skull for ignoring the story. I only wish you’d show mercy.

HumbledbYGrace: What can I say? I’m on my knees. I’ve offended you in more ways than a dozen.

Domido: I’m back like the prodigal son. I hope you’ll take me back.

Avicky: Larry is so sorry. Please forgive him.

Donifez: I’m sorry for keeping you waiting.

Phummiejewels: If you can have a tiny space in your kind heart to forgive me.

Iaz93: I’m so, so sorry, my friend.

Olulu: The king not from Zulu, I bow. I seek your majesty’s forgiveness.

Damex333: I’m fully back, nothing is going to take me away again. I promise. Kindly forgive.

Obinnau: My esteem moderator, your humble Larry seeks your forgiveness, sir.

Semid4lyfe: The worst mistake I’ve ever done is upsetting you (my favourite supermod of all people). On bended knees, sir.

Beretta92: I’ve been such a pita (pain*in*the*anus), I’m so sorry.

Emperortj93: I’m very, very sorry. I didn’t intentionally ignore the story. God knows. Please forgive me.

UjSizzle: Wherever you are, whoever you are….my heart seeks your forgiveness.

Redmosquito: This is one person I’m not gonna apologize to. He understands my plight . But, I’m sorry, buddy.

RightYansh: The update is here, sir. Forgive me.

Oyestephen: You deserve to smack me on the head, really.

Movmentish: I should write you a personal apology letter. I hope ‘I’m sorry’ will suffice for now.

Iv4fb: I’m so sorry

Pillzthadrugz: I’m sorry to disappoint you. I still hope you follow anyway.

Uniquexty: It’s been a while. Are you still around. I’m using this medium to tell you that I’m sorry for everything.

Nokingasgod: I so much want you back. I’ve not been the best person lately. Please forgive me, sir.

Kepsi: My friend, only two words for you: forgive me.

Eghuan1: I’m so freaking sorry for keeping you waiting.

Afamdman: I made a lot of mistakes while writing this story but the greatest is keeping you waiting. I’m so sorry.

Phatkemi: Please forgive me, it won’t happen again.

Dongok: Thanks for not turning me to a lizard yet. It won’t happen again.

Bigsholly: I have been an utter scoundrel. All I can ask is your forgiveness.

Iebanehita: I have no excuse for my rude act. Kindly forgive me. I’m nothing but a spoilt brat.

EzePromoe: it is justified if you shoot me in the head, but I sincerely hope the gun is unloaded. I’m so sorry.

Onyejiokem: I went off wandering, but the breeze has blown me back. I’m sorry, sir.

Betgal: I was not only missing, my rationality went missing alongside. But I’m fully back now. I’m sorry.

Ice4jez: Your anger is understandable, but I hope you still have an iota of belief in me, sir. Please forgive me.

PBeni: I seek your forgiveness.

Zinylizzy: I’ll let you spit in my right eye for my terrible action.

Luvmijeje: I know you are a kind-hearted lady, I sincerely hope you forgive me.

Joble: My conduct can only be described as that worse than Cain’s; I left you hanging. I’m so sorry.

Kay9: My boss, I know I’ve disappointed you. I only hope this story makes up for my terrible action. I’m sorry, sir.

Breadplanet: No word can describe how terribly sorry I am.

Wesslier: I want you back, sir. Please don’t leave.

Tekel: I seek your pardon.

Kingphilip: Only God knows what came over my befuddled big head. I hope you can forgive my silliness.

Lastly (not the least), I apologize to my brother, Brokoto, who has been supporting me all through. I discovered that he’s deactivated his account. Does anyone know how I may reach him. I so much miss that guy.

Phew! I offended almost fifty people? How the hell did I do that? I sincerely apologize to you all. You don’t have to begin the story again from the start; we’re still at the inception of the plot.

Let me just do a brief narration of the story so far:

PROLOGUE: Cain Martins went to visit his sick mother in the hospital; Pamela had summoned him to come because she had a confession to make. But the drunk Cain didn’t wait for his mother’s confession; his interest was in the money hidden in the back yard at home. Pamela died with her confession.

However, another woman gave up the ghost at the precise time Pamela died. While Pamela died with her son’s name on her lips, the other woman died after saying the word: Abel.

CHAPTER ONE: [2012] In Port Harcourt, Daniel Famous met a pretty girl in a bus; the girl was travelling to Lagos to visit her grandfather. It was a case of love at first sight, but Daniel always had a weakness for pretty women anyway.

Ten years earlier, a boy escaped the holocaust he witnessed when armed-robbers engaged in a shootout with the police. The young boy, Mark, escaped with a large sum of money. The boy never went home.

CHAPTER TWO: Jamal was seen praying in the mosque, something he rarely did.

His daughter, Ruth, was introduced coming to spend the Christmas with her parents.

David, Jamal’s son living in the East with his wife and kid, received an anonymous phone call. The caller wanted him to come home and spend the Christmas with his parents and siblings

CHAPTER THREE: Daniel Famous sought out Remi’s father and told him about his daughter’s action. The older man decided that he and Daniel would travel to Lagos to find Remi. He threatened to cut off Daniel’s arm and beat him to death with it if Remi was not found.

Ariel, Jamal’s other son, was seen behind his desk writing the novel he was developing. Ariel was a writer. He was busy editing his work when he received a text message from an unknown source. The message read: Your parents await you for Christmas. Come home.

[Now, below is the final post of Chapter Three. Chapter Four will come after that. Please enjoy ]