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First days of resumptions were always like that for him especially If Fizzy and Messiah did not resume that day. He was still dusting his locker when Fizzy entered. A fellow who was about his age, and whose name was originally Afiz but ‘modernized’ to become Fizzy and the name stuck as his alias. Fizzy seemed to squeak when he talked like the way a scratched CD sounded, when being played. Richard in his bent position did not see Fizzy enter until he felt a tap on his back. On raising his head, Fizzy made a swift motion with his hand, in the air, as if to slap him but Richard moved back and caught his hand mid air. They laughed. “You will be good at fighting karate,” Fizzy said. Richard laughed. “You have come this term again. How you doing na? I thought you were not going to resume today,” he said extending his right hand to Fizzy who took it with so much enthusiasm as though amongst all the things he had missed in school, was Richard’s handshake. They shook hands, a handshake that ended with the snapping of each other’s finger tips. To them, it was the way big boys shook hands and they should not be left out. “Rich Rich, how the holiday na?” Fizzy asked as he paced to his seat, greeting the rest of his mates too. “Well, I thank God, yours?” “Fine. How is Rachel your sweetheart? Did you guys see during the break?” Richard smiled. Did he have to add “your sweetheart?” Fizzy had just brought the memory of that naughty girl to his mind. “Well, she’s fine thank you,” Richard responded avoiding the second question, knowing how the chap loved meddling. “You’ve not answered my question,” Fizzy said, pausing to read Richard’s face, a mischievous smile crescented his lips. He would not stop putting Richard on the spot, a thing he hated so much, especially if the matter had anything to do with Rachel, like this one. “Afiz don’t even start. Whether we saw or not, it’s none of your business, we will see eventually when she resumes this term.” Fizzy cleared his throat. “Am just trying to be nice o,” he said as he bent to arrange the books in his locker. A little uneasy silence gained dominance between them, before someone entered, it was Messiah. “Hey guys!” Messiah said as he entered. Fizzy and Richard raised their heads at the same time in order to see the person. Now they were complete. Three friends, that each one was pleased with the rest. Fizzy and Messiah was two perfect match; they never left each other except during closing hours when they inevitably had to separate, sort of like twins. One would wonder how they got along so well though, because Fizzy was a football fanatic and knew nothing about science. Aside the first twenty elements that they were all taught in SS1, he knew nothing else, and that, by now, he was sure to have forgotten, and dear Messiah on the other hand barely knew how to kick a ball. It was either science or nothing at all. Richard had love for painting in the past but the love still lingered somewhere in him, and a little literature and football did it for him. His world revolved around painting, literature, and a little bit of football. “Messy Messy, how are doing?” Richard said as he hurried to receive him. Fizzy stood still. “Fizzy how was the break?” Messiah said, not wanting to leave him out of the conversation. “Well, I thank God, it was fine.” “Did you travel this time?” Richard asked. “Don’t you trust me? I went to Abuja this time,” Messiah said. “Good for you, I know it’s your first time visiting Abuja,” Richard said, an undertone of a seeming mockery. “Yes, but at least am better than some people,” Messiah said looking at Fizzy. “Better than who? Don’t try me o, who told you I haven’t been to Abuja?” Fizzy said frowning. Messiah laughed. “I was only joking Fizzy. Who annoyed Fizzy this morning na?” he said. “Don’t mind him. See, Fizzy, you better come off this attitude of yours, this is a new year and you know new year, new system,” Richard said. Fizzy crumpled a sheet of paper and threw it at Ric |
Creeza Divepen1 Larrysun Apollux |
CHAPTER ONE January usually came with dusty harmattan wind and cyclones that raised dust, crashed trees, and this was no exception. It was the period when plants suffered an excruciating dryness and breathing felt like what was close to being difficult to do. The period when breads became rock hard if left exposed, the period when fine films of dust coated everything, including eye lashes. It was the beginning of second term in Holy Field High School. And as it was usually done, new prefects were appointed in second term, posts were transferred from the SS3 students so that they could focus on their imminent Senior School Certificate Examination, to the SS2 students which certainly stares at their faces. “Welcome back once again. I hope you enjoyed the holiday?” the principal said. He was a stout-figured man with a regular look that one would mistake him for the school gardener. Although his spectacles—which left horizontal lines on his temple when he removed them—gave him a gentle-man look. There was a loud response from the students—mostly the junior ones who responded in the affirmative with so much gusto, and the senior students, insouciantly responded with a “yes” that was almost a mutter. Some of them did not even answer at all. After a few words of advice to the students, the principal proceeded to calling out the new prefects. “So, I call on Sunday Olaoluwa as the new head-boy and Olajumoke Matthew as the new head girl.” A loud round of applause welcomed them as they climbed up the raised platform, uniforms ironed so well that they looked papers, and smiles of accomplishment spread across their faces, obviously intoxicated by the new power they were going to enjoy, or use to intimidate others, as the case may be. “And Richard Adams for labour prefect.” The round of applause did not stop until after Richard was called out, his face was yet without an expression at first, but he quickly put a little smile on, to veil his disappointment. ‘Of all posts, why did the principal decided to give me the post of a labour prefect?’ he mused. Maybe because he usually mobilized his fellow students to clear up the grasses outside their gate, maybe it was because he loved to make the school surrounding clean by picking up dirt without any instruction to do so at his leisure time; what other students would not do until compelled. The principal must have seen him once or twice doing this from his office. Richard knew that the principal could see the whole school surrounding from his office one day when he summoned him. He had bent slightly and had seen every nook and cranny of the school premises from there. The gateman, an old man with a long cap like a bucket, was sitting at his gatepost nodding in sleep. The principal had sacked the previous gateman because he slept a lot, firing grammar at him, some of the grammars, Richard doubted he would find them in the dictionary when he looked it up and doubted that the principal himself understood it: “Your lackadaisical attitude will make me dispose of you today. I can not tolerate a lazy and insolent gatekeeper! Imagine him, incapios, indomestic element, kokonbility miscabullous!” he had said, and here was the new gatekeeper, risking the same circumstance that sent his antecedent packing. ‘Didn’t he know the principal could see him from here?’ Richard had wondered. In the classroom, a fine film of dust had coated his desk and chair like a transparent grey cloth. He hated to dust the wooly thing but did however, so did the rest of his classmates. Most of his them had not resumed and would not resume until next week. It had become a culture for students to give themselves a one-week extra break and Holy Field was not left out. Richard already envisaged how the day would go: the day would drag by, at a speed that would make snails look like they were rocket missiles, the clock would be very slow if not work backwards and he would be bored until the closing hour. First days of resumptions wer |
The Fabric Red Rose
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rformance and broadcasting of this book are prohibited. This E-book is free. Share with friends. Your comments, suggestions and observations are welcomed. You can reach Ojochide Usman via the following platforms: Facebook: Search Usman Lemmy or follow this link: www.facebook.com/usman.nicekid Twitter: @Nicekid_writes WhatsApp: 08146802207 Contacts 08146802207 or 09056598335 God bless you! signed Ojochide Usman. |
polimaf:Wow I love this! Think I will just go with your idea |
Nma27:Not any of those. . . Lol |
I met a girl sometime around January in my neighbourhood. We got talking and when I sensed what some guys call 'green light', I moved swiftly into action by asking her out. She agreed, and with the way things are going, I think she falls deeply in love with me by the day; it would be surprising to know that this girl calls me at night and requests that we meet at a rendezvouz, and each time I come, it'd be either she wants to kiss me or she wants me to hold her until hell freezes. It got to a point I began to think that perhaps she wanted sex but couldn't say it outright as that might make her look cheap or something (according to the beliefs of most girls). It's not like am a perfect gentleman though but then I don't want it to look as if I was some sex starved guy that just want to put it in any available hole, as if sex is the sole reason I proposed to her, and at the same time, I don't want to keep shying away for long so she wouldn't think that am the not-man-enough kind of guy. So my question exactly is do I ask her for sex? |
Can we say NwaAikpe is a childish adult ![]() |
hordmax:This guy i just gbadu you jare. You sabi book! |
marooh:Am okay. . . Lol |
marooh:Drunk people everywhere. #SMH |
ellapius:It appears you don't know what minor means, get a dictionary babe. . . Am done with you, you're disturbing |
fr3do:But i guess you won't say this if an NYPD officer embellishes cake with handcuffs, gun and even restriction or caution tapes |
ellapius:kikikikiki
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nwakibie3:This is how an average Nigerian thinks, one of the reasons we are still where we are! Too bad |
ellapius:Mumu |
Addicted2Women:Young man, it's obvious you have never visited a Nigerian library and your ego would not let you believe what others who visit tell you |
Dimples129:You're a bloody feminist! You know nothing about gender equality. . . Look up the word in your dictionary and thank me later! Awon ti Chimamanda |
Dimples129:You're a bloody feminist! You know nothing about gender equality. . . Look up the word in your dictionary and thank me later! |
greyboy5000:So when has buttom power (power to seduce) become something a woman should be proud of? Is that the power they want? If that's the only power they are left with, are they complacent? Do they enjoy it? If they do, then women are silly! Am sorry. . . |
kikake:You guys should stop saying this thing. They don't free Boko Haram members, except the ones they exchanged for the Chibok girls |
Please what is NEGODU? Not heard that word b4 |
westgermany:It's called Dirt Road Racing ma nigga |
[quote author=westgermany post=57453146]Car race for that kind road?
It's called Dirt Road Racing ma nigga |
Theblackstalln:
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Jonathan be like
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tayo4ng:[s] Getting where o Aunty? |
tayo4ng:[s] Getting where o Aunty? |
jotey:Chai, God bless you, you get eyes! ![]() |
NLPsychologist:Personally, i like this! Best comment on this thread so far |
Click like if you came to read comments like me |
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 ... 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 (of 46 pages)


now I know...Chinua Achebe captured the Igbo man in his book Things Fall Apart: Okonkwo was thought to be brave and fearless, but in truth the dude was pushed by fear