₦airaland Forum

kayusdguy:
Larry baba abeg no vex much na
this one is concentrated

LOL! Don't mind the guy.

Wadewaltz:
Larry is that you wearing a ladies wig,holding a gun

Loooooooool! I wish!

That's supposed to be Irele.

kayo80:
Nice one Larry Sun. I just bought 6 of your books on Okadabooks. You are a great writer, keep doing your thing.

Wow! You're the true fan! May God bless you abundantly. Thank you so much.

queenitee:
Such a lovely story Is there going to be a sequel? Like letting us into their happily ever after I simply don't want the story to end

Hehehehe! What happily ever after?

And no, there's no sequel. Lol!

Blackween:
this is a wonderful work of art, Weldon

Thank you, ma'am.

queenitee:
Mehn, this is getting serious

You haven't seen anything.

nastynic:
You are a living artifact！
thanks for the update

And you're a legend!

Ann2012:
Well done OP

Thanks dearie.

AJECKING:
i dey for ur back!...keep it flowing...

Thanks, boss.

To be continued...

However, you can download the full story from the link below:

https://okadabooks.com/book/about/let_the_guns_speak/25950

09061754872

The bullet had penetrated the glass window. The person outside was a killer himself, and his main objective was killing off these three operatives. As soon as the first man fell down dead, the calm but dangerous one who had initially aimed his gun at Irele's head threw himself to the floor and rolled behind the sofa. He was now weilding a pistol. To hell with the AK; that was too handful for this kind of combat. He knew who the guy was. He was a sworn enemy. His big brother had warned him about this particular person. He had strongly begged him to stay as far away from this killer as possible. He had said this one was the most dangerous hunter he had met. Big bro must have been exaggerating too much. The man didn't look dangerous at all when he first saw his picture. He was even responsibly dressed in the photograph. Which killer dresses like a banker? He must have considered himself a Nigerian James Bond or something. He would kill this idiot and make his big bro proud. The most brutal person he knew was his brother; this particular killer wasn't even close in the least.

Tobi threw open the door in one kick and fired into the chest of the man he knew would be there. He had calculated the move of this second killer as soon as he downed the first. The guy had fired five shots at the window. To Tobi, this was not a professional attack. An expert would not shoot blindly at something he didn't see. That was a stupid move for a trained killer. In the community of professional killers, these were merely janitors. He finished off the bloody killer with another shot to the neck.

Someone was screaming. He looked down and saw a woman in towel. What was she doing here? He thought this was the hideout of these killers. Apparently, he was wrong. The room was evidenced by the pictures of a lady that surrounded the walls. They were the lady's. What the hell were these guys doing here? And why was the lady dressed in towel? She must have been a captive. The car with a shattered window must have belonged to her. Whose blood was that in the passenger's seat? She was screaming too loud for him to connect the dots.

“Keep your voice down, ma'am,” he said calmly, but his words were drowned by the scream. The woman continued to scream at the top of her voice. Tobi was exasperated. He didn't know what he could do to calm her down. He would have shut her up with a single slap if it had been a man.

Then suddenly, from the corner of his left eye, he saw something slowly rise from behind the three-seater. He needed to act fast in this situation. He knew he would easily dodge being shot at, but he worried about the lady. He knew that she would be at the centre of the gun as soon as the killer stood erect. There was only one thing he could do to save the lady. It had to be a split-second decision or the lady would be shot dead.

He quickly reached down and, without seeking permission, untied her towel. He threw the towel at the rising figure and fired a clear shot. The towel covered the man's face and the bullet caught him in the right shoulder. The gun dropped immediately from his hand; that right arm had been rendered useless. He screamed louder than Irele.

Irele herself was not screaming anymore. She was dazed. What had happened to her towel? She stood up, totally frightened and naked. She was amazed to see the last killer wearing her towel over his face, then was more horrified to see the blood gushing from the bullet would. The strange new man raised his pistol and shot the other shoulder. The screaming man went down to his knees.

Irele quickly picked up the abandoned AK-47, aimed it at the bloody killer and said, “Say your last prayer.”

“What are you doing?” Tobi asked her, confused. This was a woman who was previously screaming like a witch. Where did she get the bravery to pick up a gun?

“I want to shoot him,” she replied firmly.

Tobi cocked his head to one side and asked why.

“Because he almost killed me. If your first gunshot had come a second late, I would have been deceased. He also told me to say my last prayer. I think it's fair that I tell him the same thing now that the table has turned.”

“Have you ever shot a gun before?” Tobi asked like an interviewer.

“No, but there's always a first time.”

“Have you ever held a gun before?”

“No, but there's always a first time.”

“It's not as easy as that,” Tobi said and gently took the gun from her. “This kind of gun is way out of your league.”

“Screw both of you!” The wounded killer said loudly. “You shot my arms! You shot my arms! You've turned me to a freaking handicap.”

“With quick medical attention, you can still get your arms working back. Answer my questions and I promise to get you medical help.” Tobi said, his eyes dead with seriousness. Anyone could easily detect how dangerous he was by looking at those eyes alone.

The kneeling killer began to laugh. “You must have really thought I was so stupid. Do I look stupid to you? Medical help my foot!”

“Who sent you?”

“Go to hell!”

Tobi cursed under his breath. He knew what he needed to do to get information from this thug. He knew how to make him sing like a parrot. But he didn't want to do that before the lady. He was sure she would faint with revulsion. He just had to play it cool. He decided to take another angle.

“Your brother sent you, didn't he?”

“What if he did? You know he will hunt you down and kill you,” he turned to Irele, “and you too, you wouldn't be the first.” He glared at Tobi as he made the last statement.

“Let him come,” Tobi clenched his teeth tightly together. He was getting angrier. Something within him was about to explode.

“I know,” The bloody man smirked, “I know about the massacre. I thought you had learnt your lesson. I can't believe you still had the guts to come after us when you know his reputation.”

Tobi hit his right arm with the butt of the gun. The thug screamed out in pain. “It's good to hear that you can still scream. It means your arm isn't totally damaged; you can still feel it.” He turned to Irele, “Do you have a First Aid box?”

“What are you doing?”

“Answer my question!”

“Yes, yes I do!”

“Bring it immediately.”

“What's this?” The bleeding thug asked.

“I need to stop the bleeding or you will die.”

“Isn't that why you're here in the first place? Aren't you here to kill me?”

“No, I'm not here to kill you,” replied Tobi as he tore the shirt of one of the dead killers and used it to tie the bleeding man's shoulder. “I'm here to take you hostage and have your brother come for you. I can't allow you to die yet.”

The killer scoffed, “You fool! You think I'm working under the order of my brother?”

“What are you talking about? Who else are you working for if not your brother?”

The thug couldn't answer; he began to whimper in pain. Irele came with the first aid box and Tobi began to work on the wounds. As he worked, he said, “I'm going to ask you just two questions now: Who sent you here? And where can I find your brother?”

The man in agony shook his head and said, “You don't know what you've just got yourself into. Your second question is the least of your worries right now. You don't know the kinds of people you would be dealing with after me. If you know what is good for you, leave this room right now with this stupid woman and run as fast as your legs can carry you.”

“What about that document?” asked Irele, “What is it all about?”

“It's the devil's manuscript. Neither of you should get involved with it. Leave it there and escape right now when you still can.”

“What are you talking about?” asked the lady.

Tobi shoved her aside, went to the kneeling thug and tear open the front of his shirt. Right there on his chest was the brand of the word FAN. Tobi shrank back in horror.

“You're a Fan?”

The thug nodded slowly. “Take the girl and leave immediately!”

“You're a Fan?” Tobi repeated. He could not believe the revelation.

“You know about us,” The thug observed, “How did you know about us? No one is supposed to know about us.”

“Is your brother a Fan too?"

Instead of replying, the thug gave a final smile and shut his eyes. Something that appeared like a caplet of cod liver oil suddenly appeared in his mouth. Before Tobi could react, the killer bit hard into it, spilling the liquid within into his mouth and swallowed. Within two seconds, he began to convulse and foam in the mouth before he gave up the ghost.

Tobi quickly grabbed the document on the chair, held Irele's hand and ran out of the house. On reaching outside, Irele quickly returned to the house and took her phone from the pocket of one of the dead men and joined Tobi who was already behind her wheel and hot-wiring her old Mercedes.

A tenth update (The 10th Generation) is also available for N50 only.

09061754872

To be continued...

However, you can download the full story from the link below:

https://okadabooks.com/book/about/let_the_guns_speak/25950

09061754872

Brutal Comeback of an Unbowed Soldier

Irele drove homeward like a maniac. All her life, she had never for one moment thought she would be a centre of such brutality. As she drove on, she noticed the blood that sprayed on the passenger's seat. It was repulsive. She felt like vomiting right there on the steering wheel. Why me? Why me of all people? Why did that bloody strange man choose my car of all the cars parked at the sidewalk? And most horribly, why was he killed? Who were those men shooting at him? What would have happened if they had caught up with me in this car? Would they have killed me too?

She missed an oncoming truck by an inch because of the speed she was travelling in. She could not get her mind off the blood on the seat beside her. She grabbed a rag from the dashboard and began to wipe off the thick red liquid that had smeared the upholstery. As she attempted to wipe clean the seat, her eyes caught a laminated document on the floor. She reached for it and nearly knocked over a teenager on a bicycle. If not for the lamination, the document would have been soaked in blood.

She managed to concentrate more on her driving until she got home. She went inside with the document, had a cold glass of water and sat down to reflect upon what had happened to her less than an hour earlier. She could not keep herself from shaking. If the shooter of the stranger had missed, she might probably be hit. It was by sheer luck that she was still alive now. A lot of innocent civilians had lost their lives in such a circumstance. She still couldn't control the nervousness in her when she went to the bathroom to wash off the blood on her and have a change of clothes. She left the document in the living room.

She was dressed only in towel when she heard a sudden noise from the living room. She quickly turned off the tap and listened. Someone had broken in. She could hear footsteps, footsteps of more than one intruder. She knew she was in danger; somehow, the killers had located her. How were they able to do that? How the hell did they know where she lived? Who were these people?

She was sure they had come for the document. Thank goodness she had left it in the sitting room. Let them just take it and leave. The document was left there in the open. They would easily locate it. She expected them to grab the document and go their own way. She didn't want to have anything to do with them or the red document. She was a simple lady living her own simple life.

The door of the bathroom was suddenly broken open. She saw the three killers smiling cruelly at her. She tried to scream and met with series of slaps on the face. She was dragged by her towel to the living room.

“What do you want from me?” She asked as she was being dragged to the metaphorical altar of slaughter. She was only trying to be brave, but it wasn't working; she was scared shitless. She had just had a shower but was now sweating anew. Something terrible was about to happen to her, but she didn't want to dwell on it because of the fear of losing her mind with such horrible thought.

The men weren't smiling anymore. There was nothing to smile about. They were killers - trained killers. They were totally oblivious of her near-unclothedness. They would have shot her point-blank in the bathroom and moved on, but they wanted to make sure there wasn't any loose end whatsoever.

One of the killers pointed at the document lying on the sofa and asked, “Is that the only thing dropped in your car, young lady?”

Irele nodded vigorously.

“What else did the man drop in your car?”

She shook her head vigorously. “No, nothing else. He dropped only that red paper. Nothing else. Please don't hurt me. I know nothing. I don't know the man.” She was on her knees now.

“Did you make another copy of that document?”

“No, sir. I didn't.”

“Lying would not work well for you, lady,” One of the killers declared. This one was a man of few words. He had been observing everything calmly. He looked most menacing. It was his bullet that ended the life of the runner. He was a calculated man; a calm but vicious nature.

“I swear I'm not lying. I didn't make any copy. I have no reason to do that.”

“We all know you do. Considering the kind of person you are.” Another killer said. He apparently knew her well.

“Did you read the content of the document?” The third killer asked.

Irele shook her head again.

The killer shrugged, “It doesn't matter if you read it or not. Everything will end soon. Who have you called?”

“Nobody. I called no one.”

“Where's your phone?”

“On the home theatre system.”

The killer took the phone and handed it to his partner who inserted it in his pocket. They didn't even bother checking whether she had made any calls recently. That didn't matter. They knew what they would do. After killing her, they would locate every contact in her phone book and eliminate them all. That was their code. No end must be left behind, whether loose or tight.

“What are you hiding under the towel?”

“Huh?”

“The towel you're wearing, what are you hiding under it?”

“The last time I checked, it was my body.”

“Oh, you're a smart tongue.”

“You are here to kill me. No matter how much I beg for my life, you will never grant it. You can as well kill me and save me from further humiliation.”

“It's good to know you understand your fate; but I we want to be sure that you are hiding nothing under your towel.”

“What do you think I'm hiding?”

“You tell us. It could be a mini-transmitter. It could even be a weapon. Get rid of that towel.”

Irele stared coldly at the speaker and replied, “Never.”

She was responded with a slap. “Loosen the towel.” The killers knew it was unlikely to hide anything in the towel; what they suspected her of was hiding something within her. In her own body. And they preferred to frisk her when she was still alive to after her death.

“Not while I'm still alive,” Irele replied, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.

“Very well, if that's how you want it,” said the calm killer as he pressed the muzzle of his Kalashnikov against her head, “Say your last prayer.”

The first bullet popped open a skull. It was gory! It entered the forehead and escaped through the back of the skull, lodging itself in the wall after crashing through the glass portrait of poor Irele. The skull was a watermelon. The inner flesh seeped out with the blood and some parts of the brain. The figure collapsed dead without taking any further wasted breath. Someone from outside had shot one of the killers dead.

Location: Lagos Island, Lagos State
Date: January 27, 2019
Time: 1200Hrs. GMT

Irele walked out of the supermarket with a basket bearing her purchases. She stole a fast glance at her wristwatch and discovered that it was exactly noon already; she was amazed, she could almost not believe that she had spent almost an hour in the store buying just few goods. He chastised herself for this; next time, he would have to get her priorities right. Time was too precious to waste on the purchase of body spray and some other apothecary of toiletries. She had a lot of tasks to achieve before today ended; although shopping was one of her plans for the day, she didn't thought it would take so much of her time.

Then, as she was approaching her vehicle, she suddenly heard the sound of a gunshot close-by. Irele was momentarily scared and ran to her car. She was not the only person running now; there were people screaming and bounding for safety. Hawkers threw off their trays and made a run for their precious lives, traders ignored their goods and took to their heels; gifted cartoonists would draw comical pictures from this tumultous setting.

Irele, like the bolting crowd, did not wait to confirm the shooter or who was being shot. The sound of the gunshot alone was enough to tell her not to linger around; she had heard more than enough stories of victims of stray bullets. She quickly unlocked the door of her car and got behind the wheel. She set the key into the ignition and started the car. Just as she was about to pull into the road and speed off, a bloody but dangerous-looking man suddenly appeared by the door; his neck was gushing out blood and he managed to speak in a guttural voice:

“Please, help me!” His eyes were pleading.

Irele screamed at beholding the bloody man. The man's shirt was soaked with blood.

“Please, help me!” The man said again, he was pulling desperately at the door.

Irele wanted to drive away but remained frozen with inaction. She was scared beyond any action. She didn't know what to do. Here was a man begging to be saved, but Irele didn't know how she would be the stranger's saviour. The man continued to desperately pull at the door and Irele resumed her screams. Then series of gunshots came again. The man had been hit in the back; his eyes opened wide as blood escaped from within his mouth and rushed to his chin and chest. But before he fell down dead, he dropped something he was holding into the car.

Irele was not seeing what the stranger had dropped; what she was seeing were five armed men approaching her vehicle. She quickly pressed on the accelerator and sped down the deserted road.

The five killers reached the dead man and searched his body. The document was not found. They didn't have to be told that the man had dropped the document into that car speeding down the road. The vehicle was now too far away to catch its plate number.

“The Red Paper is in that car!” One of the men lamented.

“We are doomed!” Another man exclaimed.

“No, we are not,” said the third killer, “I know the lady behind the wheel.”

OlufemiWhit:
you're really gonna fill up the pages of this story with your foolishness abi

Normally, people like you would throw insults at me and I'd just swallow them, but I'm done doing that. Initially when you accused me from nowhere without exercising the wisdom of patience, I tried to be subtle in my reply. But you just had to attack me. It's probably what you have been waiting to do for long.

Young man, I don't know who you are, and quite frankly, I don't care to know. It's obvious that there's a broken chromosome in your head, and I've managed to steer clear of retar.ds like you, well, until this moment.

Your comments are an overwhelming evidence that you are an enormous waste of rationality, of life, and I can only imagine that somewhere, somehow, a condom broke.

You dare come to my thread to spill the same garbage that has always been your identity? What business is it of yours if I decide to open as many threads as I want? The owner of the forum isn't complaining, the moderators aren't complaining - those who would read them would, of course, read them - but a roving nincompoop like you just has to foam at the mouth over my matter.

Besides, this particular story is completed, and if your senses have an angle of elevation, you would see where I posted the link to the complete story.

Please, if you can't stand the heat, get out of the bleeping kitchen. Just do something nice for once...get the hell out of my thread. You have such an incredible amount of negative energy...I'm done replying you.

You probably have a microscopic iota of sanity left. But hell, you can prove me wrong once again by quoting me. I'm done with you.

OlufemiWhit:
it would av been very wise if you didn't reply dis way

I'm sorry, sir. It's just that the content of your message was insufficiently intelligent.

nastynic:
Can i get a phone number？


i will like to pay via top up

No can do. You can only buy from Okadabooks for now.

To be continued...

However, you can download the full story from the link below:

https://okadabooks.com/book/about/let_the_guns_speak/25950

09061754872

It was already midnight when the seventeen-year-old boy arrived at the location. As instructed, he had come in through the paths in the bush that surrounded the arena. He would have reached there earlier if not for the twenty-five litres of petrol he had been instructed to bring along.

He set the heavy gallon down and moved to the wooden cabin. He peeped through the window and beheld the corpses within. He was not surprised, the man who had approached had informed him about what he was going to find here. He later searched around the areas of the windows, the man had also told him that he was going to find a bunch of keys. He discovered the keys under a leaf; it was almost entirely covered with the fallen leaf. He would not have found it if he had not come with the battery-powered torch he had also been instructed to bring. He unlocked the door with the keys, tentatively stepped into the room and over the corpses until he reached the briefcase that had fallen on its side. He retrieved the document in it and retired from the room.

Before leaving, the boy doused the corpses, the interior and exterior of the cabin with petrol and set everything on fire. The fire burned fiercely; fleshes cooked and burned, the building burned and collapsed, until what remained thereafter were charcoals and charred fragments of the cremated corpses.

The boy did not wait for the inferno to dull; he walked away with the Red Paper, the most important entity, something more important than any single human. The boy had been appointed to be the guardian of the Red Paper. He knew what he had to do; another fraternity would have to be created somewhere else.

The legacy must live on.

***

The Past
Location: Abuja, Nigeria (Ten Kilometres away from Aso Rock)
Date: October 1, 1990
Time: 2200Hrs GMT

The assemblage occurred in a remote area of precisely ten kilometres from the Rock. From the highest floor of this magnificent cabin built only with wood, some of the builders had insisted on catching the view of the distant rock's peak. Now this gathering was a secret meeting, but it was not that kind of meeting ridiculous rituals like a dozen men screwing away a lady were performed, or where members would place their vows as they drink from old calabashes the blood of goats, sometimes it could be human blood. Yet this particularly club was not one any of its members would publicly boast of belonging in.

Members of this fraternity (a group which they had come together to name themselves The Common Men; and below their individual armpits, just above the ribcages of each one of them, was the gothic tattoo of the inscription TCM; no one knew about the existence of this gathering except, of course, the members) numbered exactly twenty. Each member came from each state of the federation, and they usually had this meeting quarterly. In the meetings, they usually sat to discuss the fate of the nation and her citizens. This night, however, was not their meeting night. But the appointed leader, TCM-13, the one from the federal capital, had summoned the members to this sudden meeting. Upon hearing the summons, each member had boarded the next available flight, while those who resided in neighbouring states had employed the services of taxi-drivers to drive them to the location; they never allowed their drivers to transport them there for no outsider must know about the existence of this sacred place. None of their family members must know, not even their wives were allowed that knowledge. Two years earlier, a member from Imo had made the mistake of confiding in his wife about the meeting. The member had met with a terrible fatal accident and his whole family was thereafter wiped out. Nobody knew about how The Common Men knew about this disloyalty, but the Imo man's entirely lineage paid dearly for his loose tongue. And within two months, another man from the state had replaced him.

Today, all the members had arrived before dawn. Today was a special day; this day was the celebration of the nation's thirty years after Independence. Something spectacular was going to happen tonight, every member knew, except only one who knew what was really going to happen. All the members, the twenty of them, spent the early part of the night popping bottles of champagne, laughing and cracking jokes until it was time for the meeting.

At exactly ten o'clock, the members were seated around a large rectangular table in a similarly large but narrow hall fitted with three burglary-proof windows on either side. The men seated here were in powerful positions, people prided to belong among the high echelons in their respective constituencies. For added security, members were forbidden to call one another by their names, instead, each of them was assigned a code name bearing the number of their states when arranged alphabetically. For instance, the man from Abia bore the code name TCM-01, while one from Lagos was TCM-13, the current leader of the group. Because of the revelation which was soon to be explained, the members never had their meeting in any state of the country, except here.

When all had seated, TCM-13 took his position at the far end of the large table, facing the entrance. The man was apparently the smallest and youngest person among the twenty members, but his position gave him an edge of authority, and no member dare look him in the eyes or disagree with him, for any act of insubordination would warrant death. Any member from Lagos was usually the luckiest member. The room became totally silent when the leader took his seat. It was really great to be a leader; but sometimes, leadership could be a dangerous privilege, every member knew that, TCM-13 knew that. Just eleven months ago, his predecessor from Lagos had suffered a Caesarean fate; all the members had connived against the man for disagreeing with them over a mere peccadillo, and in the next meeting, each of the nineteen members had come into the hall with a knife, and they had collectively stabbed the leader to death. They had later cremated the body, ground it to ash and scattered the dust into the air. Then they had later replaced the leader with the current one.

TCM-13 stood up and addressed the men.

“I welcome you all to this August gathering. I will go straight to the reason why this meeting was called. It just reached my notice that there is going to be a shift of the nation's capital from the West to the North and...”

“How sure are you about this news?” TCM-6.

The leader glared at 6 and said, “I will oblige you to allow me finish my words before interrupting me.”

“I'm sorry, sir.”

“It mustn't happen again,” 13 said and continued, “My sources told me that this shift shall be taking effect by next year. I'm sure you all know what that means, don't you? Abuja will be the country's new capital and that means new leaders shall be hence appointed from Abuja here. I have no qualms about that; in short, it would be a welcome development since some more states would be created and new members would automatically be initiated into the group. But before this shift in power and the initiation of new members next year, we have to put various things in place.” He reached into the briefcase and extracted a document which he placed on the table. Everyone stared at the document as if they were seeing it for the first time.

“This is the original and only copy of the Red Paper. The future depends on what is printed on this document. But it remains invalid except it contains the names and signatures of the twenty of us seated here tonight.” He picked up the document and raised it up for all to see. “As you can all see, it already contains my name and signature. My name is hereby written in the book of history. You all know the significance of the Red Paper, you all know its singular importance.” He stoppedd and stared at the astonished Common men, he could see the fear in their eyes, the doubt, the terror. He smiled. Everyone knew what was at stake when he agreed to become The Common Man. Now it was time for them to show their mettle.

“So, what do you say?” The leader asked, “Are you all ready to become parts of the future? Show your identities, prove your bravery to the next generation. Come on, we are The Common Men!”

TCM-13 pushed the Red Paper forward and each member, with shaky hands, wrote his name and signed. Soon, the document contained the names and signatures of all the men in the room. The leader collected the document and returned it to the briefcase. Then he stood up, went to the wine bar and extracted a fresh bottle of wine and three glasses, he placed them on the table and sat down. All the nineteen men stared at him, confused, as he uncorked the bottle and poured the wine into the three cups. He did not drink the wine, neither did he offer any of the men. He stood up again and spoke:

“I have a very sad news to tell you all. An outsider knows about this group. I'm sure you all know what that means. One of us has said what he shouldn't have; he has confessed the secret of this group to an outsider. We have a mole in our midst; but the most unfortunate situation is that we don't know who talked among us. We all know how dangerous for this group it is that a non-member is aware of its existence. We have no choice but to correct this error, but there is only one way of doing that. Just sit down and relax; there is no cause for alarm, everything is under control.”

He sat down, closed his eyes for a few seconds, opened his eyes, sighed audibly and called aloud, “Come in.”

Three hefty men, each armed with an AK-47, stepped into the hall. The time was gradually shifting to the hour of eleven.

“Lock the door behind you and bring me the keys,” TCM-13 ordered.

The men obeyed as instructed. When the bunch of keys was handed over to the leader, the man flung the keys out into the dark night through the window; they were all locked in the room.

TCM-13 smiled at the nineteen terrified members and said, “Because we are all forbidden to directly take lives, I have therefore requested the help of these three gentlemen to do us the honour. They are going to make us matyrs. I congratulate you all for not only being a part of history but also of the future.” He turned to the armed men and said, “Take the Holy Communion.”

Without any question, the killers drank the wine.

“I'm ready.” TCM-13 said, spreading out his arms. The men instantly riddled his body with series of bullets. Then they turned to the nineteen Common Men and shot them all. The floor soon became a pool of blood and the table littered with bloody pieces of the victims flesh. The corpses of the slaughtered members lay in different grotesque positions. There was no survivor.

Shortly after the massacre, the killers also slumped and died. What they drank had been poisoned. The poison was not in the wine bottle but in the glasses.


***

The Beginning of the End

The Present
Location: Lagos Island, Lagos State
Date: January 27, 2019
Time: 1133Hrs, GMT

The day had broken clear many hours ago, the immortal sun was bright and hot, but the breeze still managed to wash the air. A few small clouds, much like the little scoops of vanilla ice-cream usually sold by young men on wailing bicycles, endeavoured to drift lazily across the blanketing blue firmament above. Sometimes, the roaming clouds would desultorily travel across the face of the sun, and the world below would enjoy a few respite of coolness before the heat would descend once more to torment everything that slithered, crawled, walked, flew or germinated. It was this kind of heat that usually put dealers in umbrellas and sombreros in business. And it was under this scorching element that the strange young man was running for his life.

He was soaked through and through with sweat as he ran; perspiration trickled into the corner of his left eye, stinging him sharply, blurring his vision. He blotted his slick forehead with the sleeve of his shirt and blinked furiously to wash the salt out of his eye. He was getting tired but he must not stop running now. His life depended on how hastily he could make his retreat. More important than his own life was the laminated document he held in his hand; this document was more important than anything else. What was contained in the document could herald a new era of something spectacular. And it was quite astonishing that circumstances had subjected him to become the guardian of this secrecy. He knew of the terrible things that would happen if the document got in the wrong hands.

He looked behind him and saw his pursuers; five men, five armed men! He increased the speed of his retreats. He knew the men's mission; their intentions lied not only on retrieving the document but also to end the life of its unfortunate bearer, for the runaway man had known too much to be left alive. The runner, however, had sworn to protect the document or die in the act.

His pursuers were running towards him with weapons drawn; only two of the five men held pistols, the others wielded machetes with which they were all too eager to hack him to pieces. There was not going to be any room for negotiation or mercy if they caught him; the men would literally eviscerate him, they would gut out his entrails and split his head into two so as to make sure he remained undeniably dead. The bolting man tried to run faster but his legs were giving way, exhaustion was gradually overwhelming him; he had been running all day but the men after him seemed more determined to slaughter him than he was of protecting the damning document. The men must not get hold of the document, he must not allow it.

He ran into a dirty street, tripped over an aluminum can and picked himself up again. As he rose he thought about hiding the document among the junks, but he shook the thought off his mind. The trash was not safe enough; the document would be too conspicuous there. Even an slowpoke would easily find it, and the killers after him were no imbeciles; they were trained operatives whose main jobs were finding missing things and exterminating any living obstacles in their paths.

The pursued man cut into another street and ran with the little ounce of strength within him. He was desperate now, looking around to hide the treasure with him, but there didn't seem to be any safe place to conceal the document.

He looked behind his left shoulder, the pursuers were no longer running after him, they were now walking with full confidence. They had probably suspected his exhaustion. They walked with full swagger, as if they had all the time in the world. The street seemed deserted; everywhere appeared silent except for the few birds who sang occasionally as they flew hither and yon. Innocent civilians had run for cover on beholding five heavily armed men pursuing a lone runner. The running man was momentarily afraid. He knew the time had come for him to bade the world his farewell. He was very sad; sad not because he was soon going to join his ancestors, of course that was inevitable in the circumstance; he was sad because the men would finally be taking the document from him. And he found himself pitying the unfortunate living people who would witness and experience the horror the content of the document would unleash all across the federation. It would be a global but colossal catastrophe.

As he tried to run into a crowded street a shot rang from behind him and the bullet caught him in the neck.

***

With the exception of some facts, all characters in this novel are fictitious. Any resemblance to living persons, present or past, is coincidental.

FIRST EDITION
Copyright © 2019 by Larry Sun
larrysundynasty@gmail.com
larry@pentinent.com
Website: www.pentinent.com
09061754872

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from the author. Publications are exempted in the case of brief quotations in critical reviews or articles.

OlufemiWhit:
Really¿¿ you neva get time complete Black Maria.....and you're gonna start anoda 1 -__-

It would be very interesting to see you sue me.

Reserved

The next update (The 7th Wonder) shall be posted next week Sunday. But if you can't wait til then, the PDF and other subsequent updates are available for sale at N50 only.

Contact me via WhatsApp or call to know how you can make payment. Thank you and God bless you.

LSD
09061754872
larrysundynasty@gmail.com

Update 6

The 6th Sense


It seemed like it was only Maria who witnessed the events of the previous night, for there was no mention of it the following morning. The other girls didn’t appear to notice anything out of the ordinary. The strange man, too, – the flogger, was nowhere to be found. He must have snuck out of the compound very early that morning, just before the children woke up. Maria shrugged indifferently. At least the man had left, and Madam Comfort looked absolutely all right. In fact, she was in a brilliant mood this morning. She was a lot different from the irritable woman she had always been. It was surprising that she didn’t curse or beat any child today. The other girls were puzzled about her sudden change of emotion, but Maria knew a lot better; apparently, the flogging the man gave her last night had done something to her. The little girl would have wanted the flogging to continue if that would keep the woman from victimising them, but she knew what the man and the woman had done was wrong; it was a terrible thing to do, and no matter what positivity it brought to the woman, it was still something immoral. She would not support something like that. However, she knew she was powerless against stopping such thing from continuing. Now Maria knew the agendas of all the men who usually paid Madam Comfort a visit. They always came to do some floggings. She found such act utterly disgusting.

About two weeks after Maria was exposed to something so shameful, Maria experienced the flow of blood for the first time. She was a ten-year-old girl with a woman’s body but she had never started menstruating until this moment. It came so suddenly.

She and some other girls were fetching water from the well at the back of the building when Naomi pointed out the fact.

“You’re bleeding, Maria,” she spoke with concern written on her face, “You’re injured!”

Maria was taken aback by the statement. “Bleeding? Where?” She looked at her body but found no blood. “I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding behind you,” Naomi pointed, “See, blood is flowing through your skirt.”

Maria followed her pointed finger and looked behind her. She could see it now; her yellow skirt was crimson red. She began to panic. “Oh my God! What’s wrong with me?”

“Let me go and inform Madam Comfort,” Naomi was about to dash off when Titi stopped her.

“No,” said Titi, “she doesn’t need to know.” She turned to Maria and gave a reassuring smile, “You have just become a woman.”

“What do you mean?” Maria did not understand anything Titi was saying.

“The bleeding is natural,” explained Titi, “I’ve been having the same bleeding for about two years now.”

Maria stared at her wide-eyed, “And you didn’t die?”

Tit smiled. “No, it’s not life-threatening.”

Maria looked behind the older girl and said, “But I’m not seeing any blood on you.”

“It’s a monthly flow. It comes only once every month and can span for five days or shorter, depending on how your body takes it.”

“I don’t understand.”

Titi smiled again and put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “You will understand in time. Now let’s go in, let me clean you up. Take note of this date, it will come again around the same time next month and after this one stops.”

Titi took Maria to an inner room and helped her change her dress. Then she took her to the bathroom and helped her wash. Maria felt unclean. Why must something like this happen to her? She didn’t want it. She would have begun to weep had Titi not calmed her down. Afterwards, Titi helped her block the flow with tissue paper.

“What if I want to ease myself?”

“It’s easy,” said Titi, “you just take off the tissue paper, clean yourself up after doing your thing, and then block the passage back with another clean pair of tissue.”

“This will be stressful.”

“That’s why you’re a woman. This is one of those things we have to endure almost all our lives.”

“I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want this.”

“Consider yourself fortunate that it’s happening. Like I said, you are now a fully developed woman. Now you have to be very careful.”

“How do you mean?”

“You have to be careful around men, Maria.”

“Why?”

“If any man touches you, you may become pregnant.”
Maria frowned, trying to understand what Titi was saying. How would another person’s touch lead to pregnancy? It didn’t make sense to her. Then it suddenly dawned on her that what Madam Comfort and the stranger were doing had something to do with what Titi was talking about. Still, she was confused. If that was what Titi was saying, then why wasn’t Madam Comfort pregnant this morning? Maybe the matron was pregnant already. Maria wanted to tell Titi what she witnessed the previous month but she kept it to herself. It was a secret she had sworn to keep.

What Maria was talking about started to slowly make sense to her. She must not allow a man to touch her. Now she believed that any man who literally touched her would make her pregnant. She was momentarily scared when she remembered how one of Madam Comfort friends had rubbed his hands on her body. This, she decided to tell Titi.

“One of Madam’s friends touched me about two months ago,” she said worriedly, “Does that mean that I’m now pregnant?”

At first, Titi carried a scared expression on her face. Then she asked, “What did he use to touch you?”

“His hands, of course. He was rubbing his hands all over my body.”

“Which part of your body?”

“My chest. He was squeezing my breasts. They were painful.”

Titi’s expression was of pity. “Oh, you poor dear. Did he touch you here?” she pointed at her crotch.

Maria shook her head.

“Listen to me very carefully, Maria. Do not let anyone touch you there! Not even with his hands.”

Maria frowned. “Why would any man want to touch me there?”
“That is where every man is mostly concerned about. They are ready to do anything to get between your legs. Do not allow them. If you do, you will become pregnant.”

“I will never let any man touch me!” she stared at Titi and suddenly asked, “have you ever been touched there?”

Titi cast her face down shamefully and nodded.

Maria was shocked. “Who touched you?”

Instead of answering, she suddenly smiled and said. “Let’s go out and play with the girls,” she ran out of the room before Maria could ask any further question.

It was months before Maria noticed what had been going on without her knowledge. The men who had been coming to visit Madam Comfort had not been coming to see her alone; they had other missions. Maria had discovered that at least a girl would be missing each night before they slept, but the girl would be returned early before they woke up. At first, Maria had always been worried that maybe something bad was happening to the girl – perhaps they wandered away in the middle of the night.

Then one night, Maria decided to stay awake in the night. At around 7pm, Madam Comfort usually made them have their dinners and then sent them to bed. By 10pm, all the children would be deeply asleep – especially when they had done some tedious jobs in the day. This night, however, Maria fought the urge to sleep off. Whenever she felt drowsy, she would open her eyes wide and battle the effect. She wanted to know why some of the children always went missing whenever she woke up to relieve herself, and why they would mysteriously appear back on their beds just before dawn.

Then at around 11pm, just about when she was submitting herself to the looming slumber, she heard the door open. Thankfully, she was sleeping at an angle where she could see everything going on in the room. She maintained her position; not moving a muscle, pretending to be deeply asleep. Madam Comfort came into the room, and behind her was a heavily moustached man. They were silent. Maria saw Madam Comfort step aside for the man to have a clear view of the room. Then the stranger pointed towards one of the girls. Her name was Binta. She was about fifteen years old, just about the same age as Titi. As soon as the man pointed to his choice, Madam Comfort nodded in understanding and directed the man to leave the room. Then the woman proceeded to where the girl lay and gently tapped her.

“Follow me,” whispered Madam Comfort as soon as the girl came to.

The girl obediently rose from her bed and followed the woman out of the room. Maria watched everything silently. She gave them about a minute before she rose up and left the room. She crept quietly, as quietly as she had done the other night she was snooping on the matron. She reached the door of Madam Comfort and listened. There was no sound coming from the room. It appeared to be empty. Then she started hearing some conversations coming from outside the building. They were outside, she discovered. She would have remained in the safe position she was had she been able to understand what they were saying outside, but most of their words came as mere muffles. If she would hear them more clearly she would have to go nearer. But there was no way she would get closer without being discovered.

A better idea occurred to her. She opened Madam Comfort’s room and entered. The window of the room overlooked the frontyard. She was taking a very dangerous risk. She didn’t want to dwell on what the woman would do to her if she was discovered in that room. That room was out of bound to all the girls. Entering it now was more than trespassing; Madam Comfort would destroy her and there would be nothing anyone would do about it. A voice within her told her to leave the room now when she could but she disregarded it. She must know what the woman had been doing with the other girls. She needed to know it so that she could prepare herself in expectation of the worst; or – if she could – protect herself against whatever evil that might be impending.

She quietly drew the curtains and looked outside. The stranger with Madam Comfort was leaning against his Volkswagen Beetle as he conversed with the woman. Binta was standing close-by like a mere slave. Her face was cast downward as the two older people discussed; a lot of their discussions about her. It was obvious that this was not the first time the girl would be brought out like this. This caused Maria to wonder how many of the other girls had been sold off this way.

“Make sure you bring her before 5,” Maria heard Madam Comfort say to the man who was grinning from ear to ear like a monkey. He didn’t seem to be fully attentive to the woman as he kept staring hungrily at Binta. If he could, he would pounce on the girl right there.

“Did you hear what I just said?” the matron asked.

“Oh, of course,” replied the man; his moustache ruffled as he spoke. Maria could hardly see the movement of his mouth; all she heard was the man’s voice. “She must be returned before 5.”

The woman stretched her hand forward and the man reached into his pocket and brought out some money. He counted the notes and gave some of them to her. Madam Comfort pocketed the money in her bra and stood back as the man directed Binta into his car. By the time he started the engine, Madam Comfort had already opened the gate. The man reversed out of the compound and disappeared with the girl she had paid for. Maria quickly stepped out of the room before the woman would return. She ran back to her room and lay on her bed. She had witnessed first-hand what had been happening; the evil woman had been selling the children into prostitution. She could guess what the man who had taken Binta away would be doing to her. He would touch her where he was not supposed to. Maria was afraid for the girl. What if she gets pregnant? What will become of her? Why is Madam Comfort allowing this evil in this orphanage?

Maria became more scared of the woman. Madam Comfort had proven that there was no line she would not cross if it meant making money. She had resorted to turning the girls into prostitutes after selling her own body to men. Now she was turning the home to a brothel. Maria was certain that there would be some men who would not bother taking the girls away. A lot of them would take them to one of the empty rooms and touch them there. Maria was afraid as she watched her own body. She was a girl who had everything a man might desire. It dawned on her that it was a matter of time before a man would demand to have her, too. What would she do when something like that happened? How would she save herself? She started crying when she realised that there was absolutely nothing she could do about the situation. When it was her time, she would be given out too and she would be touched. She might even become pregnant. Titi had told her that she would become pregnant if a man touched her. Her life would be ruined.

Madam Comfort was a true definition of evil. She had the responsibility of taking good care of them but she wasn’t doing that. Instead, she was using them for her own gain. The girls were not her children; they were her tools, and she would use them as she pleased. The children could do nothing about it. They had no one to report the situation to. They were totally helpless. Maria wished she had never been born. Why would she be given birth to only to live this kind of life? Her life was not hers to live; Madam Comfort had the absolute power over every kid in the orphanage. Maria was sure that the woman was capable of committing murder, and if she killed any child there she would get away with it. It was as if the government that put her there gave her the right to do as she pleased with the children.

She could not sleep that night. She kept weeping silently so that she would not wake the other girls. She was weeping for herself and for the girl that was taken away. What would become of Binta now? What was the man doing to her? She could imagine how the girl would be screaming in pain. It was horrible to think about. She wanted to stop imagining it but the horror didn’t leave her. She knew the man would not only be touching Binta, he would be stabbing the girl with his cane. She doubted that the girl would be able to urinate again after the experience. Madam Comfort might have enjoyed such immoral act, but it would be a torture to young girls like Maria and Binta. Being powerless against sexual abuse was a terrible thing for a girl-child, and the person who they were supposed to confide in was the same one subjecting them to this unkindness.

A few hours later, Maria heard the sound of approaching footsteps and she quickly controlled herself and pretended to be asleep. She saw Madam Comfort open the door and step in before Binta who was shivering. The woman directed the woman to her bed and the girl obeyed without questions asked. Maria noticed that Binta could not walk properly as she moved towards her bed. Her frame seemed shrunken from the rigorous experience she must have had with the wicked man. Maria felt very bad. She wanted to rise up and comfort the girl, but she must not do that. Madam Comfort would give her hell. As a matter of fact, she must not indicate her knowledge of what was going on. She knew the dangers of a loose tongue. She must mind her business and pretend absolute ignorance. All she could pray for at this juncture was that no man should point at her whenever they come to their room in those nights. But how that would be possible, she didn’t know.

She desperately wanted to tell someone the following morning. Maybe they could all have a meeting and find a permanent solution to the problem. There must be something they could do about what was going on. Couldn’t they write a letter the council and demand the removal of the evil queen? But if they wrote the letter, how would the council receive it? Even if by a mysterious chance their letter was received, would they be believed? The government officials evidently always did whatever they liked. Matron Nene had begged them to allow her take Maria but they had turned her down. If they could turn down that simple request, how would they take action about their complaints? She thought about telling Titi what she witnessed but she was scared the girl might take some actions that would turn around to hurt her. She remembered Titi’s response when she asked if she had ever been touched before. She had said yes but had refused to tell her who had touched her. There was no doubt that she had been taken by one of the men, too. And the fact that she refused to talk about it showed that she probably had an allegiance to Madam Comfort.

One thing was clear to Maria, she could trust no one.

***

pablobellins:
The Writer is gradually making the who whole book about Maria.

Why change d name of the book? I understand this is supposed to be a sequel to BLACK MARIA

And your description of things and people is too much, most of us get bore of it and jump to the next paragraph.

Fine job so far, bt i earnestly knw that a gal of 10years wil understand what went down in matron comfort room.

Yes, you're right, it's about Maria. It's everything that led to how she eventually met Black...hence the title BLACK MARIA.

And for all it's worth, description is the soul of storytelling.

Ann2012:
Well done OP

Thank you, ma'am.

The next update (The 6th Sense) shall be posted next week Sunday. But if you can't wait til then, the PDF and other subsequent updates are available for sale at N50 only.

Contact me via WhatsApp or call to know how you can make payment. Thank you and God bless you.

LSD
09061754872
larrysundynasty@gmail.com

Fazemood:
WAITING

Updated, bro. It's been a while. How are you doing?

IV

(Update 5)

The 5th Horseman

Maria became more careful around the new matron; she watched herself well, she didn’t want to do anything to upset the woman. Madam Comfort was not one to spare the rods, literally. She had a cane for every child, and she kept the rods around her. Any miscarriage of her orders would be rewarded with brutal flagellations. A day would not go by that she wouldn’t beat a child to stupor. She usually derived pleasure from inflicting pains on little kids. Whenever the cane was not handy, she would make use of her footwears or any available broom – especially brooms. She would beat a child so much that the broom would become a little bunch of broken stems; much of the splinters would have embedded themselves in the little child’s body. There was a time she tied a child to a child and beat her senseless because the girl had mistakenly broken one of her favourite plates while doing the dishes.

Madam Comfort never lifted a finger to work in the orphanage. All she would do was perch in a large chair like a frog and pronounce orders that must not be disobeyed. She made the children do the works even adults would be scared of doing. She would make many of them work on the orphanage farm from dawn to dusk. The bountiful harvests, however, were usually sold in the market and she would pocket the money. The children barely had enough food to eat. They worked like elephants and ate like ants. They would sweep, clean, scrub and wash. Madam Comfort would pack her dirty clothes and make the children wash them. They made her food for her. She never shared the same pot with the children. She lived like a queen in the orphanage and the children were her slaves. The girls never had the freedom they enjoyed under the leadership of Matron Nene.

Maria, in particular, was most hated by Madam Comfort partly because the little girl was more intelligent than she would ever be. As a matter of fact, Madam Comfort’s hatred stemmed from the fact that she was jealous of the little girl. Maria had everything she ever wanted to have but never got. It was like Maria was living her life. And so she always did everything she could to frustrate the girl’s life. The girl, too, always wisely tried to stay away from her vicinity. She would keep himself out of her sight except when the woman called on her. The first slap she had received from her had made the girl recoil into her shell. Since Matron Nene left, a smile had never crossed Maria’s lips. She never had any cause to smile. She was now a shadow of herself. The smiling jovial and cheerful girl everyone had always liked was gone. Now she was replace with a personality built with a loss of joy and hope. With Madam Comfort deciding things around here, she knew the bright future she had always imagined having was just a mirage now. She had no aspiration; her dreams were shattered. She was going to live the rest of her life in the service and fear of the cruel woman. She was all alone in the entire world.

A few months after Madam Comfort’s arrival, things began to take mysterious turns. Things that had never happened before in the orphanage began to occur – men started coming into the home. It was something the girls had never experienced before. Young and old men frequently drove into the compound of the orphanage and they would have long discussions with Madam Comfort. Most of them usually came in their cars and the matron would always send the girls into their rooms so that she could have some time with her guests. Maria, and many of the young children, always wondered what the men always wanted. The men would arrive in the afternoon and leave late in the night. At first, their visits were usually once in a while, but after some time it became frequent. Whenever it was around five in the evening, the children were usually asked to go to their rooms and never come out. They were to remain there till after the matron’s guests had left.

The children welcome this respite. When the men came, they would not have to do any work again as the woman would be busy with them. In a day, as many as five different men could pay the woman a visit. The children didn’t always care as long as they would not have to work like donkeys. Every day, they would look forward to the arrival of the men because that would mean that they would not have to do any work again for the day. Whatever the men and the woman were doing was none of their business; but they found it strange. Matron Nene had never done something like this before. Whatever this new woman was doing, it couldn’t possibly be right. There was absolutely nothing they could do about it. No one among the children would be silly enough to question the mean woman’s decisions. She did whatever she pleased and damned the consequences. She was in her own kingdom; she ruled it anyhow she desired.

Maria in particular was more concerned about what was going on. She knew the men coming to the orphanage were just as evil as the woman who accommodated them, if not more even. There was a way the men usually stared at her whenever she came. She didn’t like the stare at all. The way they usually stared at her always made her uneasy. One of them had once approached her and demanded to know her name. The man, who could be old enough to be her father, had started rubbing her body with his paws, especially her chest. Maria was old enough to know that there were some parts of her body people were not supposed to touch. However, she felt helpless because she had no one to report the incident to. Madam Comfort would do nothing about it if she told her. And so after that day, she always kept away from the man. Whenever the man called on her, she never answered. Soon, the man stopped calling her and started calling other girls instead. To Maria’s utter astonishment, some of the other girls seemed to enjoy the attention some of the men were giving them.
One night, Maria left the room she was kept in with the others. It was already quite late, at around midnight; she had woken up and had come out to relieve herself. The other kids were asleep. Everywhere was silent – at least that was what she had thought at first – as she entered the lavatory. While she was relieving herself, the only sound she heard was the splashing of her own urine, until she heard another muffled sound as soon as her urine stopped. It was faint but she could hear it. She was now fully sober to know that someone was making a sound, a sound that nearly covered the snores of the other kids. She was now fully awake to hear it clearly. It was as if the sound was getting louder with each passing second.

It was the sound of a woman at first, then she heard that of a man, too. They were a man and a woman. What’s going on? she thought. To her, it was like a man and a woman were fighting. One was definitely crying. She could determine that the crying woman was Madam Comfort – she knew her voice very well. There was no doubt that she was the one. Who is beating Madam Comfort? What has she done wrong? Who is the man beating her? Where did the man come from? Maria was worried. If someone was beating Madam Comfort, then they the children were not safe, too. The man beating their matron might later come and beat them too. She was scared. She had to do something about the situation. She thought about waking the other kids and informing them about the danger they were in; then she thought better of it. That would be a rash thing to do. She had to find out what was really going on first. She would be discreet and make sure that she was not discovered.

She slowly opened the door of the lavatory. The hinges of the door cracked so loudly in her ears. She had not bothered about the noise when she entered the toilet, but now that she suspected that something was amiss, she was nervous about every sound. As she came out of the restroom into the dark passage, she pulled off the slippers she was wearing. If she wore it, the man might hear the flip-flap of the approaching footwears.

She crept stealthily down the passageway, making as much zero-noise as possible. The sounds became more definite as she came nearer to the door. The man was grunting like someone hacking a heavy log and the woman was moaning. Maria didn’t know what the moans signified but she was sure that Madam Comfort was being punished. She wasn’t sounding like someone laughing. Maria expected to hear the sounds of whip just like she usually heard whenever Madam Comfort flogged the children. The man might be flogging her too, but that familiar sound was not heard. If he isn’t flogging her, Maria wondered, then what is he doing to her that’s making her cry? As she came closer to the door, she started hearing a third strange sound. It was the creaking of furniture. Maria knew what kind of furniture was contained in this particular room the two people occupied – it was a bed. Evidently, it was the bed that was creaking out so loud. What’s happening again? What has the bed done to the man? Is he beating her on the bed? Even if he is truly beating her, why did the man choose this late night to beat her? Why didn’t he beat her earlier in the day? And why would Madam Comfort allow herself to be beaten at this time of the night? Nothing made sense to Maria. The things that were happening around here right now were very weird.

Fortunately for her, the door was not entirely shut; there was a small crack. When she peeped through the crack, she was only able to see a friction of the room. The only definite thing she saw was the edge of the bed. It was moving forward and backward to the creaking sound it was making. She knew the older people were on the bed but she couldn’t see them. The lighting in the room was blue and dull, and the fan hanging from the ceiling blew steadily. The movement of the bed seemed to be faster and Maria desperately wanted to know what was going on. She thought about pushing the door forward but she was afraid it might make a creaking sound like the toilet, and it might attract the people’s attention. She knew what Madam Comfort would do to her if she caught her snooping. Despite the fact that she was being beaten by a strange man, Madam Comfort would never pass the chance of beating Maria senseless.

The grunting and moaning grew louder but Maria didn’t know what to do – she was seeing nothing. She waited at the door for about two minutes, deciding on whether she should push the door a little bit forward or not. Finally, she decided that making that risk was not worth the danger she would be subjecting herself. She decided to walk away. She would keep this within her tonight. By dawn, she was going to tell the girls what she witnessed. Maybe someone else had a better explanation for what she was hearing here.

As she was about to leave, she suddenly tripped and fell against the door, opening it as wide as it could go. Maria wished the ground could open up and swallow her before the occupants of the room discovered her. She was in deep trouble now, she knew. Madam Comfort would almost kill her. The man, too, might beat sanity out of her. For a few seconds, she remained lying on the ground; half of her body was already in the room, the other half out in the corridor. She was waiting to hear the familiar scream of anger Madam Comfort usually made before pouncing on her: Maria! But to the little girl’s utter surprise, the scream didn’t come. Hell, the couple didn’t acknowledge her presence. In fact, the moaning and grunting continued in earnest. Still lying down, she looked up towards the swaying bed; she could now see everything clearly. As she looked up, all she saw were four legs poking out of the end of the bed. The legs seemed restless as if the two people were fighting with their legs. Nothing had seemed stranger to Maria in her entire life. She couldn’t see the occupiers of the bed except their legs. She slowly raised herself to a sitting position and stared. She wished she had not seen what she saw. Indeed, she blamed herself for trying to find out what didn’t really concern her.

What Maria saw threatened her innocence; and it was something so horrible that it might have scarred other children for life. But Maria was a very intelligent and clever girl who would not allow immorality to overshadow her morality. Matron Nene had instilled in her such a value that had been embedded very deeply in her subconscious; and it would take a whole lot of more shameful immoralities than this to shatter her innocence.

There were two people on the bed quite all right, but they were both naked – as naked as the day they were born. The man was on top of Madam Comfort. He was so large that his bulk seemed to cover all of Madam Comfort. To Maria, he seemed to be hurting the woman, of course. But evidently, he wasn’t beating her. He was hurting her in a different way. It was obvious that there was another form of punishment that came with two parties being stark naked. Maria wanted to understand the reasoning behind this kind of weirdness but she couldn’t. She watched as the strange man flogged Madam Comfort with his waist. The man’s waist was coming up and down in a sequential order. Maria watched in horror when she saw the man’s cane. It was long and fat! Indeed she was only seeing half of it because the cane would come out a few inches and go deeper into the woman’s body. The man had chosen a strange part of Madam Comfort’s body to flog her in – he was flogging her where she was supposed to be urinating!

At first, Maria wanted to rush at the man and push him off the woman. No matter how much she and Madam Comfort shared hatred, she would not stand back and watch someone else torture her guardian. But the man was too large. There was no way she would be able to push him off the woman. The only thing she could do was tell the man to leave her guardian alone. Then as she was about to speak out, she heard something that shocked her to the marrow.

“Oh, don’t stop,” said Madam Comfort, “Please don’t stop.”

Maria stared dumbly. What’s going on here? she thought. Why would Madam Comfort beg the person punishing her to continue the punishment? What is wrong with Madam Comfort? Has our matron gone mad? As if her words were a catalyst, the man started pounding her faster. The bed cried even louder than Madam Comfort. The woman was crying and begging the man to continue. The groaning too was louder. He was grinding very hard at the woman, threatening to crush her under him. But the woman seemed to be enjoying this punishment. She grabbed the man and pulled him firmly against herself. Then she locked her legs around him like an octopus and the grinding continued. She was glued against him so much that Maria thought it was only one person on the bed.

The final scene that knocked her amazement off the cliff of rationality was when Madam Comfort turned the man over. Maria stared wide-eyed at the bed. Where has Madam Comfort found the strength? Now the woman was on top. She was doing the grinding. She placed her hands on the man’s chest and started rocking him. Her waist turning and turning. Her flappy breasts were jumping up and down, swaying left and right, rolling clockwise and anticlockwise.

Maria decided that she had seen enough. She wished she could pull the image off her eyes. She crawled out of the room and tiptoed back to her room. As she walked away, she heard the voice of the man. This time around, it was the man begging Madam Comfort to continue. Maria frowned. What was really going on in that room? It seemed like it was Matron Nene flogging the man now. But what was she using to flog him? Did she have her own cane embedded in her body, too? Or was she using the man’s cane against him? Nothing made sense. The more she thought about it the ridiculous it seemed to her.

She wished she had managed to shut the door behind her as she left. She was sure that they would not be aware of her presence even if she stood up and grabbed the handle of the door. They were lost in whatever they were doing. It seemed like they were in another world entirely; to hell with whatever was going on around them. But Maria cared; she wouldn’t want another girl to wake up and discover what she had discovered. No matter what the situation was, Maria was sure that what the older people were doing was evil, and it might ruin the lives of the other children in the home if it continued. The little girl shuddered with disgust. Even though they wanted to do something so dirty, why couldn’t they just lock the door behind them? And keep quiet for crying out loud? She wished she could return to shut the door, but she wouldn’t dare. It was too risky; she should be glad that she escaped without being discovered. If she decided to return, that might be the time the couple were through with whatever they were doing.

Maria had decided that she was going to keep her discovery within herself. The other girls did not have to know what she just found out. If, however, another girl discovered the same thing, then the report would come from the other girl’s mouth, not hers. She had enough wits to know when to keep her mouth shut.

As she entered the room and shut the door behind her, there was only one conclusion Maria made concerning the two people in the other room – they were both mad!

***