₦airaland Forum

teeo: I wld also like to suggest that any book we wld be reading should have an accessible e-copy.

We might not be able to get paper backs on time so e-books could be easily accessed.

I agree with Teeo, the chosen book should have a downloadable e-copy. I don't know about Nigerian novels, but we can freely download some Western novels from manybooks.net.
Bless you all.

When do we start? Sounds interesting.

Mynd_44: Cos all my close friends seem to be dying one after the other.

All your close friends? That's serious. **Offers my hanky**

More please, LOL!

Damex333: Bloody scene,but i hope dt part is not d Nigerian version of 44 minutes.

LOL! No, it isn't. The part plays an important role in the subsequent tales. Stay tuned.
Bless you.

Iaz93: Mehn...e go bloody oh. Larry weldone

Thanks buddy.

They were very close to him now. He could feel the breath of the leading man on his face. The leader of the gang had the most expressive face Mark had ever seen; a full head of tinted red hair, craggy features, piercing eye, and the deepest frown lines ever seen on the face of the earth. It was as if the man had been born scowling. His appearance would intimidate just anybody; except of course, Mark. Mark was not a bit intimidated––just mesmerized by these robbers’ appearance; they were all clad in white singlets over black trousers. His fascination lied mostly on one of the robbers who had crucifixes on the chain he wore around his neck but a filthy pornographic picture was poking out of his trouser’s pocket. The leader of the gang looked at Mark––he was likewise fascinated at the boy who refused to run when others were. He was not sure whether the boy was remarkably brave or extremely silly for standing immobile in the ways of bullets and looking unflinchingly at the faces of dangerous armed robbers. He knew that it was money that was contained in the bag dangling from the boy’s arm but he wasn’t interested in that––their mission was in getting money over ten times the worth of whatever the amount held in the boy’s bag.

A fat robber raised his pistol and placed its muzzle directly on Mark’s temple. The gun could only be described as a positively bloodthirsty firearm. It was a unique handgun due to its ability to fire one shot at a time or numerous automatically, like a machine gun. It was perfect to induce terror into any poor unfortunate who found himself gazing helplessly into its muzzle. But Mark was unfazed, and he did not move or show any sign of fear. He was looking directly at the one pointing the gun at his head, Mark was looking at the robber like he was an ant that had just crawled out from under a rock. This ant was rotund, happy-faced and utterly child-like, as if laughter had found a home in his fleshy body. But Mark knew that the man could kill him without batting an eye, for behind the smile he carried was a very cruel slash. And the kind of gun he placed on Mark's skull was capable of literally taking a man's head off its neck. It could smash a man's shoulder into rags of flesh and broken needles of bones. It could rip open a man's chest, shattering the heart and everything else in its path, one of the dead guards could testify to that. The gun could also blow off a leg if it struck a kneecap. If it hit a face, it could turn it to a bloody slush so horrific that one would go sick on beholding the sight.

Their leader managed to stop the fleshy robber from pulling the trigger and wasting Mark, he didn't want the boy's blood splattered all around the walls and glasses of the bank. The leader sized Mark up with his eyes; he wanted to know him––to see what made the boy un-tick. But they still had the business of robbing the bank, they weren’t looking as though they were in haste, but it would be considered stupid to spend the whole of the day in front of a harmless boy. He signaled to his subordinates and they all went into the bank, leaving Mark standing in front of the bank.

Everywhere had suddenly become quiet; market women had left their goods behind as they ran for their precious lives, but some few market businessmen had managed to shut their shops before fleeing. The road had become deserted too, and in the bank everyone had been ordered to lie face-down, except a very old woman who refused them and dared them to shoot her. Mark thought for a moment that if this old lady had her walking-stick she would flog the robbers out of the bank and receive an award from the bank manager for her heroic act. The robbers ignored the lady and continued to pack money in very large bags. Mark caught one of the robbers give the bottom of a pretty young lady an affectionate little pat. Then Mark took his first step after about a quarter of an hour of standing rigid. He took slow steps down the porch of the bank, half-expecting one of the robbers to shoot him from behind as they had already done two unfortunate people. It appeared as if, except the old woman, everybody was co-operating with them inside the bank as there was not any shooting yet, even the robbers’ initials sharp commands on the victims had ceased. And they seemed too preoccupied with packing to notice Mark moving away. Then, suddenly, Mark heard from afar the wailing of the police sirens. This is bad, Mark thought aloud, there is going to be bloodshed.

Mark quickly hid himself in the security guards’ cabin. The owners wouldn’t be needing it for now. There was going to be an avalanche of gunshots, he knew, and sticking around at the bank’s entrance to find out was not among Mark’s intentions. One thing was to be unfazed about violence, another was to be ridiculously daring. Although Mark's juvenile theory was that man was always in danger; from traffic, from germs, from a hundred and one things, we'd be killed one way or another. The moment we began being careful of ourselves, adopting as our motto 'safety first', we might as well be dead. But Mark's latest action was contrary to this belief. He was now in the cabin. His current position did not guarantee total safety,but it was still preferable to standing around and trying to catch a bullet in the eye. Mark did not understand the importance of the police sirens. Why would policemen turn on their sirens when robbery was going on? Was it to scare the robbers off or prepare them for series of gunfights? Was it to assure robbery victims that help was on the way? The thought about the third possibility did not occur to Mark at the time––that the police turn on their sirens to warn against slumbering vehicles that might cause traffic congestions, hence disallowing the police from performing their civic duties.

The police finally arrived––two vans.

About a dozen policemen quickly jumped out and ducked behind their vans, they were all aiming their gun at the entrance of the bank. Like in the movies he had watched, Mark expected the chief-of-police to come out from his hiding with a megaphone in hand and command the robbers to come out gently with their hands behind their heads. But nobody emerged from among the policemen to take that mantle; they were all concealed behind the vehicles. Everywhere was silent again.

At exactly ten minutes later, the robbers came out of the bank, and with them was a teenager of about Mark’s age.

The teeth of a rake
I stepped upon in the day
Handle hit my pate

The night is quiet
Now the Christmas is over
And I got no gift

Beretta92: This is a very interesting story.i love d many twists n suspence associated.Larry,u're undoubtedly a good writer.a little more experience n heeding to literary critics n we'll have another most ingenious writer in you.Thank you.

Oh! Beretta...words fail me. Thanks a lot. I've learnt a lot from people's comments on the story. I'm gonna polish it better. I'm very glad you liked it, Beretta.
Bless you, sir.

Iaz93: *waiting*

Soonest buddy, soonest.

avicky: Se na award things dey piss u off? No vex pls.

Which Award? Aw, Avicky...you just turned the knife in the wound!

Iaz93: Larry how far na??

I'm pissed yet, let me simmer.

El Guapo: [color=#0066ff]Congrats Big Sista Efemena!

U Done Did It!

Atleast for my Vote, a BJ is EnvisageD [/color]

That's rude, Guapo. Behave yourself, sir.
Bless you.