MrsExplorer:
"The Man is Coming"

I stared at David, my 8 year old son, not very surprised that he is awake at this time. I gave a very loud yawn as I tried to pull him close to me but he wouldn't bulge,

"What did you say?" I asked.

"The man is coming" he repeated.

I sat up on the bed, careful not to wake my sleeping wife and tried again to pull him to me, he still didnt bulge so i lifted and placed him on my legs.

"Which man?" I asked even as i thought of the best way to quickly get him to go back to bed, its 2 am and i need to wake up early.

"The man in red, he is coming, i saw him and he is coming"

"Where did you see him?" I asked with a little more concern and attention.

"When i was sleeping"

There was no way anyone could have gotten inside as i made sure i locked the door leading to our room and parlour apartment before going to bed.

"You mean you had a dream?"

"Yes"

I led out a loud breath, i didnt even realize i have been holding my breath all this while. I should have known. David was always waking up from his strange dreams or should i say he loves to sleepwalk. The doctor had said he would get over this as he gets older. I truly hope so.

"Its just a dream" I said. "You remember when i told you that dreams aint real?"

"But Dad, it is real! I saw him"

"You saw the man or whoever he is in your dream, now its time to go back to bed" I tickled him playfully as i spoke.

My children sleeps in the parlour while i and my wife take the bedroom. I carried David to the parlour, careful again not to wake my wife as she must be very tired. I placed him on the small sofa he loves to sleep on while i took a glance at Mary and Martha, my twin daughters, they were so beautiful and identical and in the semi darkness of the parlour i couldn't even tell which was Mary and which was Martha. They were asleep and i wondered why David couldn't be like them, always waking up in the middle of the night.

I double checked the door and windows to be sure it was really locked, then i made a big show of checking under the chairs and behind the curtains and even in the small shelf that decorates the parlour.

"See? There is no man" I said, making an elaborate and comical hand gesture to soothe him, but it didnt work.

"I can't sleep" he said.

"What if i sleep with you?"

"Ok" he said

I folded my self in the small sofa and cuddled him close to me, hoping this time he would fall asleep. Ten minutes in and he still wasn't sleeping.

"Dad, if dreams are not real then why are they so scary?"

I stayed quite for a pretty long time as i did not really have an answer to that question, i was dumbfounded, so much for being the all knowing dad. David might be a kid but his question is pretty logical. I made a mental note to find an answer to that question in the morning but for now i needed to sleep and so does David.

"I don't know son but they are just dreams, we have dreams when we sleep" I said in the most soothing voice i could muster, already getting slightly frustrated.

"But dad..."

"You know what son" i interrupted him "lets play a game. We'll count 1 to 100 together very slowly, when we get to hundred i'll answer all your questions"

So we started counting, i was very sure this would help him sleep, the counting technique had always worked for me when i was suffering from mild insomnia.

"1...2....3.........35....," He was begining to doze off, "36...37..........,62...,63..........,

A loud bang stopped me in mid count. It sounded like hitting the base of a very big metal drum with a strong stick. I jumped from the sofa just as my heart nearly choked on my throat. David jumped too, we were both standing, i held him and motioned for him to stay still. I listened and waited for another bang but there was nothing.

Just as i was about to lead David back to the sofa, i heard another bang louder than the frst one, then i heard someone scream. My tongue took on the familiar taste of fear and my heart began pounding so fast i thought i was having a heart attack. The noise had woken Mary and Martha and they looked at me, more confused than scared.

I quitely tiptoed towards them while silently whispered to David to go into the bedroom. I lifted my two beautiful daughters in my arms and carried them inside. My wife had woken up too and she was visibly scared.

"Honey, what's the noise?" she whispered.

"Its the man, he is coming" David said before i could find my voice.

"What man?" My wife asked, her eyes wide open and at that moment i knew i needed to be strong for her and for my kids even if i have to fake it.

I explained to my wife that David had a dream and in the dream a man in red came into our house. My wife stared at me then at David,

"What do we do?" She asked.

"We stay quite" I said.

There was another bang, this time i was sure it was gunshot. My thought was racing..,could it be an armed robber?

I stood frozen, it was the silent sob of my daughters that took me away from the shock, quickly i grabbed my phone from the bedstand with the intention of calling the police station in that area. It was then i realized my phone was dead, Fvck! My hand was terribly shaken and tried as i did to appear calm, i failed.

You think you understand fear? Wait till you see the face of your three children staring right at you with fear written all over their faces waiting for you to do something. At that moment you are there God and then you wonder if you would ever forgive yourself if something was to happen to them.

I grabbed my wife's phone and tried to call the local security man's number, it rang but he wasn't piking. I kept dialling.

"He is coming?" David said again.

"SHUT UP!" i screamed.

I was loosing it, never in my life have i been in this kind of situation and in becoming a dad, no one prepped you for a time like this. My scream was at that moment the more scary thing to happen to my family as they all soon burst into full sobs, including my wife. David was staring into space as if out of this world, unaware of what was going on. I pulled every one close and tried my best to offer comfort.

"Hey sweeties" i said, trying so hard to stop my voice from cracking. "We' re going to keep quite and not make any noise, no crying now. Its just the security men going round making sure that there is nothing wrong but i need to go do something in the parlour"

My wife held my hand, warning me not to go. I walked as quitely as i could to the parlour, switched off the rechargeable lamp then brought the curtians down, i double checked the door and windows, made sure it was locked then i went back to the room.


When i got back to the room, i signalled again for everyone to keep quite while i stood in front of the door leading to the room and kept dialling the security guards number, he still wasn't picking.

Outside, in the passage, there was a large sound like someone smashing a door open, a scream then 2 gunshots, another scream then laughter, a very loud and strange laughter.

I looked at my kids, they were crying, as silently as they could. I stared at my wife, her eyes were closed and she was mumbling something, i guess she was praying. I looked at David, he was the calmest, looking at me, No, not really looking at me, looking through me as if i wasn't there, as if he saw something no one was seeing.

I kept motioning for them to keep quite. Then i heard a voice, it was coming from the passage.

"Come out, come out, dont wait for me to pull down your door, you know i can do it, you know i would do it"

No one dared move, i thought of what my neighbours would be doing by now, we re eight tenants in this block and by the gunshots, a family could alredy be dead.

Oh God, i whispered. Please dont let anything happen to my family. I couldn't even remember the last time i prayed to God.

Then i had the laugh again and another gunshot, i jumped and so did my daughters. I ran to them and held them to me as if by that will, we could all just disapper and come back when this was all over.

"Dad, are we going to die?" martha asked.

Tears was nearly pouring down my cheeks,

"No dear, we are not going to die"

"He is coming, dad, he is coming" David's voice broke the silence that followed my statement.


"Ok lets play a game" the voice with the gun said. "Come out, open your doors and i wont have to kill you"

I heard nothing at first then i heard a door open, someone must have open their door, would the man let them live?

Immediately the door opened i heard someone's voice, i think he was trying to beg, then the sound of gunshots then silence, this was followed by the sound of a child crying. I know the voice, its Jide's, he is about David's age mate.

I thought of what would become of me or my kids if something was to happen to either of us. I kept dialling the security guards number, it was ringing but still wasn't picking.

I stared at my kids, i loved them, there were brave and doing their best to be quite, my wife was still mumbling her prayers. I have never really believed in the existence of God but at this moment, i am not sure i have much choice. If he was there, if he is there, he should please save my family.

I could hear the sound of the shooter's footstep walking up and down the passage way, taunting us, tormenting us, Jide was still crying, the shooter must have left him alone, maybe to torment us even more. The sound of his footsteps echoed in my heart, each step he took caused my heart to pound even more and then his voice, his voice, i am not sure i would ever forget that sneering laugh and its croaky nature.

Suddenly, something slammed the door leading to our palour, my wife led out a muffled scream while i tried with desperation to cover the mouth of my two daughter as they burst into franctic wails. In our fear, David was the odd one, his gaze was locked on the door, as if seeing through it and he kept mumbling

He is coming, he is coming, he is coming

Another slam, then the door knob began to shake and rattle, the shooter was trying to get in. I knew if he kept pushing, the door wouldn't hold any much longer. I needed to save my family, i have to save my family.

I looked around, darting my eyes across the room looking for something, a means of escape, a weapon, anything. I stared at the window, it had a burglary proof and if i could just pull it away, it would be our means of escape.

If you believe you are weak, wait till you feel the hot taste of adrenaline fill your mouth till it tickles your finger when you are in the face of danger.

I directed my family away from the window, wrapped my fist with a big blanket, grabbed one of the small stool in the bedroom and threw it at the window glass. It really didnt make the impact i wanted as the metal proof blocked the stool.

The door rattled again. It wouldnt hold any much longer. Quickly i ran to the parlour, my legs almost giving way from my shaking. I dragged one of the parlour chairs and placed it in front of the wall, using it as a wedge. It wouldnt hold the door for long, it would delay the intruder while i firgured what to do.

The shooter must have heard me move.

"There is no way you would escape this" he said while still pounding the door.

"Go to hell" I replied. i don't know why i said that but i figured if i'll be dying, i would rather die fighting than whining like a coward.


I ran back to the bedroom, grabbed an hammer and as forcefully as i could i began to hit the spots that held the burglary proof to the wall, thankfull the wall was not very strong.

My curse must have gooten the shooter furious as he decided to stop playing around. He gave one loud single push and i new immediaely that the door would give way soon.

I pried the metal proof open and began to break the glasses as quickly as i could. Quickly i led my two daughters through the window. I heard the door bulge, and then the scrapping of a chair on the floor. He was pushing the door open. my wife followed suit, one leg outside the window and then a shot.

I froze for a fraction of a second, feared for the worst, he must have missed. I pushed my wife off the window not caring how she landed but as i reached for David, he was no longer beside me.

I turned just in time to see him walking across the room towards the shooter, everything seem to slow down.

I watched as the shooter lifted his gun, pointed it at David and.....,

I covered the distance between me and david in two impossible steps, dived and grabbed David in the process, rolling on the floor even as the shooter squeezed the trigger.

Two shots were fired and then click, click, empty shot. The shooter cursed. He must have lost count of how many bullets he had left.

He reached into his right pocket, there was another gun there, a smaller one. i could see its shape as it materialized.

Quickly i reached for the shooter like a charging bull, i flunged my self at him, using my weight and the element of surprise as an advantage, my shoulder coming in contact with his rib in a force that sent us both sprawling to the ground,

but he was stronger and more fierce, before i could react he was already ontop of me with series of punchies, i tried to wrestle from under him but the pin was too tight and the punches were leaving me dazed.

I heard David call my name and that was just about all i needed. With all the strength i could muster i arched my body so i could escape from his grip, planted my teeth on his thighs and bite as hard as i could. I heard him scream but i didnt let go, i could feel the first flow of his blood as it dropped in my mouth.

He twisted away, grabbed hold of a cord and wrunged it round my neck in a very tight grip, i tried to escape but i couldnt, the cord cutting of my supply of oxygen, i kicked, punched and with each struggle i felt weaker, i was dieing.

Then i started to beg, tears falling for my eyes. I heard the monster laugh.

I was getting close to my last breath, i stretched my hand to reach something, to hang on to anything, i couldn't. The moment leading to death is the most troubling moment, you see you whole life flash right infront of your eyes. And soon you just accept the fact that you ll be dieing anymoent from now.

My last thought were those of my family, what would become of them.

I begged.

A shot! From somehwere behind me. I watched as the shooter fell, his brain matter splattered on the wall in front of me.

I gasped for air taking in as much as i could. I turned and before i collapsed, i saw the person who had made the shot.

it was david, a gun in his hand. Shaking!

"The Man is Coming"

I stared at David, my 8 year old son, not very surprised that he is awake at this time. I gave a very loud yawn as I tried to pull him close to me but he wouldn't bulge,

"What did you say?" I asked.

"The man is coming" he repeated.

I sat up on the bed, careful not to wake my sleeping wife and tried again to pull him to me, he still didnt bulge so i lifted and placed him on my legs.

"Which man?" I asked even as i thought of the best way to quickly get him to go back to bed, its 2 am and i need to wake up early.

"The man in red, he is coming, i saw him and he is coming"

"Where did you see him?" I asked with a little more concern and attention.

"When i was sleeping"

There was no way anyone could have gotten inside as i made sure i locked the door leading to our room and parlour apartment before going to bed.

"You mean you had a dream?"

"Yes"

I led out a loud breath, i didnt even realize i have been holding my breath all this while. I should have known. David was always waking up from his strange dreams or should i say he loves to sleepwalk. The doctor had said he would get over this as he gets older. I truly hope so.

"Its just a dream" I said. "You remember when i told you that dreams aint real?"

"But Dad, it is real! I saw him"

"You saw the man or whoever he is in your dream, now its time to go back to bed" I tickled him playfully as i spoke.

My children sleeps in the parlour while i and my wife take the bedroom. I carried David to the parlour, careful again not to wake my wife as she must be very tired. I placed him on the small sofa he loves to sleep on while i took a glance at Mary and Martha, my twin daughters, they were so beautiful and identical and in the semi darkness of the parlour i couldn't even tell which was Mary and which was Martha. They were asleep and i wondered why David couldn't be like them, always waking up in the middle of the night.

I double checked the door and windows to be sure it was really locked, then i made a big show of checking under the chairs and behind the curtains and even in the small shelf that decorates the parlour.

"See? There is no man" I said, making an elaborate and comical hand gesture to soothe him, but it didnt work.

"I can't sleep" he said.

"What if i sleep with you?"

"Ok" he said

I folded my self in the small sofa and cuddled him close to me, hoping this time he would fall asleep. Ten minutes in and he still wasn't sleeping.

"Dad, if dreams are not real then why are they so scary?"

I stayed quite for a pretty long time as i did not really have an answer to that question, i was dumbfounded, so much for being the all knowing dad. David might be a kid but his question is pretty logical. I made a mental note to find an answer to that question in the morning but for now i needed to sleep and so does David.

"I don't know son but they are just dreams, we have dreams when we sleep" I said in the most soothing voice i could muster, already getting slightly frustrated.

"But dad..."

"You know what son" i interrupted him "lets play a game. We'll count 1 to 100 together very slowly, when we get to hundred i'll answer all your questions"

So we started counting, i was very sure this would help him sleep, the counting technique had always worked for me when i was suffering from mild insomnia.

"1...2....3.........35....," He was begining to doze off, "36...37..........,62...,63..........,

A loud bang stopped me in mid count. It sounded like hitting the base of a very big metal drum with a strong stick. I jumped from the sofa just as my heart nearly choked on my throat. David jumped too, we were both standing, i held him and motioned for him to stay still. I listened and waited for another bang but there was nothing.

Just as i was about to lead David back to the sofa, i heard another bang louder than the frst one, then i heard someone scream. My tongue took on the familiar taste of fear and my heart began pounding so fast i thought i was having a heart attack. The noise had woken Mary and Martha and they looked at me, more confused than scared.

I quitely tiptoed towards them while silently whispered to David to go into the bedroom. I lifted my two beautiful daughters in my arms and carried them inside. My wife had woken up too and she was visibly scared.

"Honey, what's the noise?" she whispered.

"Its the man, he is coming" David said before i could find my voice.

"What man?" My wife asked, her eyes wide open and at that moment i knew i needed to be strong for her and for my kids even if i have to fake it.

I explained to my wife that David had a dream and in the dream a man in red came into our house. My wife stared at me then at David,

"What do we do?" She asked.

"We stay quite" I said.

There was another bang, this time i was sure it was gunshot. My thought was racing..,could it be an armed robber?

I stood frozen, it was the silent sob of my daughters that took me away from the shock, quickly i grabbed my phone from the bedstand with the intention of calling the police station in that area. It was then i realized my phone was dead, Fvck! My hand was terribly shaken and tried as i did to appear calm, i failed.

You think you understand fear? Wait till you see the face of your three children staring right at you with fear written all over their faces waiting for you to do something. At that moment you are there God and then you wonder if you would ever forgive yourself if something was to happen to them.

I grabbed my wife's phone and tried to call the local security man's number, it rang but he wasn't piking. I kept dialling.

"He is coming?" David said again.

"SHUT UP!" i screamed.

I was loosing it, never in my life have i been in this kind of situation and in becoming a dad, no one prepped you for a time like this. My scream was at that moment the more scary thing to happen to my family as they all soon burst into full sobs, including my wife. David was staring into space as if out of this world, unaware of what was going on. I pulled every one close and tried my best to offer comfort.

"Hey sweeties" i said, trying so hard to stop my voice from cracking. "We' re going to keep quite and not make any noise, no crying now. Its just the security men going round making sure that there is nothing wrong but i need to go do something in the parlour"

My wife held my hand, warning me not to go. I walked as quitely as i could to the parlour, switched off the rechargeable lamp then brought the curtians down, i double checked the door and windows, made sure it was locked then i went back to the room.


When i got back to the room, i signalled again for everyone to keep quite while i stood in front of the door leading to the room and kept dialling the security guards number, he still wasn't picking.

Outside, in the passage, there was a large sound like someone smashing a door open, a scream then 2 gunshots, another scream then laughter, a very loud and strange laughter.

I looked at my kids, they were crying, as silently as they could. I stared at my wife, her eyes were closed and she was mumbling something, i guess she was praying. I looked at David, he was the calmest, looking at me, No, not really looking at me, looking through me as if i wasn't there, as if he saw something no one was seeing.

I kept motioning for them to keep quite. Then i heard a voice, it was coming from the passage.

"Come out, come out, dont wait for me to pull down your door, you know i can do it, you know i would do it"

No one dared move, i thought of what my neighbours would be doing by now, we re eight tenants in this block and by the gunshots, a family could alredy be dead.

Oh God, i whispered. Please dont let anything happen to my family. I couldn't even remember the last time i prayed to God.

Then i had the laugh again and another gunshot, i jumped and so did my daughters. I ran to them and held them to me as if by that will, we could all just disapper and come back when this was all over.

"Dad, are we going to die?" martha asked.

Tears was nearly pouring down my cheeks,

"No dear, we are not going to die"

"He is coming, dad, he is coming" David's voice broke the silence that followed my statement.


"Ok lets play a game" the voice with the gun said. "Come out, open your doors and i wont have to kill you"

I heard nothing at first then i heard a door open, someone must have open their door, would the man let them live?

SalomonKane:
I intend to take you up on this.

Can't wait

It just totally baseless and outright stupidity to call a writer useless or lazy when as a matter of fact you have done nothing to improve that said writer. we write especially on nairaland, not because we expect a kind of reward but just to keep the fun going and a good for nothing fellow would say nairaland writers are useless and lazy.

If you must critisize, learn to do so constructively and you'll be appreciated for your wisdom.

Some of us even write here anonymously knowing fully well that we would never be known. Most of us write from offices, from mobile phones in the face of constant distractions from people around us, mobile notifications, etc all in a bid to keep the updates coming.

I hope to come back to writing on nairaland and by God any one that drops a stupid, classless insult would get the full wrath of my creativity.

Thank You for Divepen for raising this issue.

olatex25:

pls inform us or me when u are tru, i'll lyk 2 b d first buyer.

I am really very grateful. Thank you so much

Fabulocity:
Mrsexplorer!!! Why are you doing this? Leaving your audience with literary blue balls?? Is it fair?

Really sorry. I am building this into a big novel. Was advised to discontinue here.

fikfaknuel:
Wow. So many writing talents in naija. I might contest next year, God willing. I love that dark, murderous tale the most.

Me too

LeMubs:


***** MY FIRST LOVE (My etisalat flash fiction entry)


He had the most beautiful eyes.The pair, blue to a fault, almost unreal; my heart would skip a million beats when ever our eyes met.I would get butterflies whenever his cheeks dimpled, and the corners of his eyes wrinkled. Our friends teased him about his oddly shaped head:like an acorn his head was cone-shaped,one look at it would remind me of the dinosaurs in Jurassic park. However I was indifferent,I accepted his flaws and idolized him. His name was Mevi and he was the newest boy in my class.

"Mevi smiled at me" said Tanya, the daughter of our english teacher one day during break time. I felt betrayed. How could Mevi do that to me?. Tanya was the prettiest girl in our class,her gap tooth and dimples singled her out and she was obviously prettier than I was but then, Mevi belonged to me;he was my precious.

"Mevi touched my face" Mapo blurted during our walk home. I shuddered. Mapo was a girl with a petite figure and I was round and fat like a mortar. Almost instantly,I coveted her body,maybe Mevi liked petite girls.
I was wrapped in a cloak of uncertainty:when will Mevi talk to me?

Then one day,he came to my seat and asked if he could borrow my pencil, tears of happiness flooded my heart as I handed him my neatly sharpened pencil. Our hands accidentally touched and I felt as though I was touched by an angel. He was back to borrow my book;then my eraser and then my ruler but Mevi never smiled at me like he did to Tanya; he never touched my face.
The next week at school Mevi was absent,he never returned. I was inconsolable,he was my first love and he left with my heart.


Here is the link to vote for me
https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=696

It won't take your time
NOTE - to vote without stress use any other browser aside from opera
God bless you.

I saw this story, would go vote now but is this not more than 300 words

Funnicator:


He writes very beautifully.

I am on a Book and need a proofreader. I'll eventually send it to a Professional Editor when I'm finished but want a proofreader who will critique each Scene I write.

I could add little pay for this.

He is on facebook as Rapwize Sigmund Sucre

Jaisgr8:
Please; I can't access the link.
Was any email sent to anyone confirming; that they've been selected?..

If anyone can; help me search for BEDFORD DREAM; PLEASE

Go to the site, use a laptop and search for your story with the title you used in submitting it.

Funnicator:
MrsExplorer, do you have email to the Samuel guy who wrote about a Widow?

I could help you find out, what happened?

So the etisalat flash fiction contest was opened for voting last night and sincerely to me it looked like it was a "best comedian contest" The titles of stories were just as funny. Also I have read close to a 100 entries and it seem to me that only Nigerians entered this contest. Anyway i picked my top ten entries i wish would enter the second round.

If you are a nairaland and you entered the contest, kindly let us know, put a link here so we can go vote for you.



1. A WALK TO THE GRAVE by Abah Samuel Eleojoh

I am sixty five years old, a widow and i am going to see my son's coffin. He died three days ago and no one told me. They say because he is my only child i wouldn’t be able to bear the pain, so they kept the news from me till today.

How does delaying the news of the death of a loved one stop the pain from tearing at your soul? I walk towards the coffin, wailing as the charred pieces of my broken heart flutter in my mind, my stomach feeling like a bottomless hole, an abyss brewing the putrid milk of madness.

I place my hands on my head and let the tears flow. I’m flanked by three sober looking women. I know their job, they are to cry with me, wail with me and to hold me with all their strength if the madness in me sips out. For now their job is easy.

I watch as cars speed past the busy road,

“Now would be a perfect time to go mad” i thought to myself. How quickly can they stop me from throwing myself at a fast moving vehicle? It would be a beautiful way to end this pain, I'll be with my son again, in heaven or hell, wherever he is i would go.

But not yet, not until i see his body.

I get to where the grave is, i open the coffin and stare at the body. I stare a little longer, then i began to smile. I smile as my tears hit the coffin creating a puddle of chaos. Slowly, i started to walk away, away from the coffin, away from the grave, away from the wailers, in search of my son because that body does not belong to him.
https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=1630

I particularly loved this story because of the ending. Did the woman go mad or was she just really happy that the body does not belong to her son. I do not know the rules of flash fiction but i really like the writers point of view. Apart from issues with tenses this is a really good story and i would love to see it move to the next round



2. 274 DAYS AND NO MORE by Biobele Bob-manue

Mom advised me against listening to the radio, it is clear why, the callers always angry, some angrier than others.
This one who just called, called himself "Something must kill a man" it is his pseudonym, he said what he said angrily and called for cessation of the nation.
You can't blame me for listening to the radio today and the 273 days before, it has been my only source of entertainment.
The electricity is out and has been out for the past 9 months at a stretch, we have gotten used to it, it should not be so but in these parts it is a norm, it affects me more than before as I have nothing else to do.
I don't go out because of insecurity not as if staying indoors is any more secure, just the other day a mother of a set of triplet was murdered in her home at late noon, I had heard this on the radio which brings us back to the radio.
I manage to listen to the presenters even though they sound weird, some sound like they've got flu others sound like someone clamped their nostrils, I like a few of them though, four to be exact.
My radio had become my friend as the days boringly strolled by,
My radio and me burning time has become an old act I need a new past time, perhaps I shall take up writing, I will discard my radio on the morrow.
https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=829

This guy managed to talk about all our problems in 300 words. His structure is not very good but i love this nonethless. I see the radio as a representation of the things we do to safe us from boredom, however that same thing, is a constant reminder that our own pains and struggles. And notice his fear in his last line, "perhaps i shall take up writing" We all live with that self doubt. Kindly vote for this



3. A PREMNITION OF LOSS by Nimide Ogbeun

Is it weird that although you know when you're starting to hate someone it’s not the same with love. You might know you love them but the falling part is tricky.

Till date, I wonder when and why I fell for you.

Did I play a game of flames with our names, did I pick up a leaf branch and pluck the leaves out one by one, asking the wind If I loved you or if I loved you not?

Perhaps, it was your skin, the way it felt like like velvet and I always thought how unfair it was that I had skin like scratchy linen and you, soft velvet.

Or maybe it was the way your smell stuck on me each time we laid together? And even now, I still conjure it up, just like I do with memories of home, to a place filled with wet sidewalks and Harmattan.

I remember trying, rather hopelessly, to find the right word to describe how I felt. One that wasn't thrown around commonly and transcended any expressive tool. I wanted to sum it all up- the importance I felt with you, the fragility that threatened to break, the emotions that assailed me in your presence.

If only I could tell you all that I couldn't then, that nothing was as real as what I felt for you and still do. That, of all the things I loved most about life, experiencing it with you, was the biggest one.

I pray one day you forgive me for saying no when you knelt down, holding the most amazing ring I had ever set eyes on, asking me to be your wife.

It was fear that held me back- of you finding out I couldn't be with child.
https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=2877

This just reads like poetry to me. Even though all this Maya Anglou's style of ''its the way....'' is very common i still find my self falling in love with this story and what's good, it already has 22 votes as at the time of writing.


4. BLUE TIE by Vanessa Kanu[/i]

I watch him plunge the needle. I watch as the needle breaks through my skin, as the contents of the syringe are emptied into my veins. For the twenty third time in one week.

I study his tie. It’s blue. I knew he’d wear a blue tie today. Just like I knew he’d wear a black one the day before, and that tomorrow, he’d opt for a red one with intricate designs on it. I’m only looking at it now because...

“It’s a new experimental drug. It should work.”

Should. When he says that, I look at him and see what thoughts go through his mind; me, lying on the bed, eyes staring wide at the ceiling. He reaches out to close my eyes, and pull the sheets over my head. As I watch his thoughts, he says, “Let’s keep hoping.”

I sigh as he pulls out the needle, and holds a cotton swab over the wound. He means well. It must be quite hard, having to lie to your patients, just so they can hold on to hope, or make a remarkable recovery thanks to the placebo effect.

“Thank you doctor.”

“Come for your next series of shots, Friday, okay?”

“I will.”

I know he’s upset for telling yet another lie; that he wishes there was something he could do to stop the inevitable.

I want to reach out to him and tell him it’s okay. He’s only trying to be a good person while doing his job, and everyone lies. That in fact, I just lied to him too.

I most definitely will not be seeing him on Friday.

His blue tie fascinates me. Not because it was special; but because the car I saw that killed me in my vision, was the exact same shade of blue.
https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=655

[i]This is the best on this list so far. This story is deep and kind of just soothing and i am yet to recover from the effect that last line on me.




5. COLOR OF INSANITY by Arum Ogochukwu Samuel.


I am dying again but this time I am calmer. I wonder why you are staying with me. The reason you open your eyes each day to see me in the same clothes, while listening to my failures - as the venom from my endless complaints threatens to shut you down forever.

The darkness is usually filled by the whites from the fluorescent, when I am alive - now. These days I have not been able to experience any light. This, I am constantly reminded about by the white-clothed man who screams "receive the light!" and likes to sprinkle oil on my head, when he visits.

Sometimes, I know you want to kill me. You have always wanted to try poison, but you have not been able to get any. One time, you slipped a blade under your sleeve to slit my wrists, but you chickened out. I should end you now but I don't want to be violent today. The last time, I hit your head on the floor and my eyes opened to a terrible headache. I really should be careful when trying to hurt you.

I try to turn away but I am bound, not only in this tight jacket but also in chains. A lady in white is around now and you quickly disappear. I smile at her, as she cleans me up. She is nice. I want to rise and tell her that you are hiding the key to the chains, but she quickly leaves, perhaps if I see her again.

Now, I am closer to death. It is difficult to remain silent while I am trying to find you. You don't come now, you only stay in my head and scream. I scream, as the whites quickly fade away.
https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=2493

This entry is just dark, very dark. Insanity, suicidal? I really love this.


6. DADDY'S GIRL by Mfon Nta

I lay facing the ceiling, willing my body to go numb but try as I might, I still felt him; his slow strokes and his heavy breathing as he pumped his way to a release; I felt it all and I loathed myself. It wasn’t the first time, in fact, it had gone on for too long and I had to end it.
He was my lover and my hero, I worshiped the very ground he walked on. He had loved me all his life and I owed him everything. We had been there for each other after mother lost her battle against cancer. I was nine years old and he had been my pillar since then so when he wanted my body, I let him have it.
It was five years ago but I remember it like it was yesterday. He had come into my room late one night and sat beside me. ‘You look so much like your mother’, he said. I smiled, he was right; I did look like my mother; the dark skin, the thick curly hair and the pointed nose.
‘Do you think about her?’ I asked. He nodded, his eyes moistening with tears.
He held my chin and looked into my eyes as his face came towards mine. That night he took my innocence but I didn’t care. I loved him.
I felt him quiver as he neared the peak of his ecstasy and I knew it had to be now or never. I reached for a piece of a broken mirror and I shut my eyes as I stabbed his neck with it repeatedly until I felt him go limp. I pushed his body off and sat on the bed, covered in blood as I stared blankly at the body of my father.
https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=2637

One thing sexual abuse does to you is first it makes you feel like you deserve it, then you start to feel worthless and then you want to hurt someone, anyone. This story encapsulated everything. and you could almost feel pity for the father with the way the writer painted it. Great piece of work.



7. ENSTRANGED by Okechuku Kanu

The enticing aroma of freshly-baked bread wafted through the aisles and tickled our nostrils; it however couldn’t soften our rigid features.

I looked furtively around when she opened the can and started to drink. Nobody seemed to take notice.

“Sweetheart, I’m really uncomfortable with you drinking that before paying,” I croaked.

She said nothing, pushed the loaded cart to the Produce Section, before speaking in that dismissive way of hers.

“It’s just a drink. Nobody’s gonna get upset when I pay for it at the till.”

I smiled awkwardly; my new way of keeping my fury in check.

She picked some apples, peered at them, wringed her nose and dropped them back…in the wrong basket.

I reacted swiftly, returning them to their rightful place. She took another swig, looking bemused that I'd bother doing that.

“Why are you like this?” she asked.

The question bothered me, but I shrugged, because of my burgeoning plan.

At the Jewelry Section I gazed intently at a glitzy diamond necklace.

I left her on the home stretch with the excuse of “urgent bowel movement.”

She didn’t give me a second look. She’d meet me in the car, she said.

I waited in the car and inhaled smoke.

Sad clouds hovered overhead, patiently holding back their betrayal of dodgy emotions. Predicting rainfall would be as difficult as correctly forecasting this outcome. As I watched her approach the alarm-rigged double doors at the supermarket exit, can in hand, the miserable clouds released an avalanche of tiny raindrops, spattering around, bubbling off the parked cars like hot oil frying meat cutlets and blurring away the unraveling images. Somewhere in her bag lay unaccounted for, a precious jewelry surreptitiously placed there by an unhappy man. I closed my eyes and prayed that the shoplifting alarm would be.
https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=2227




Its not really easy to scroll through all the entries but from the few i could read, these are my favourites.

PopeExplicit:
Abubakar Adam Ibrahim has won the 2016 NLNG sponsored Nigeria Prize For Literature for his debut novel, "Season Of Crimson Blossoms". The award announcement was made on Wednesday, 12th of October, 2016.

Abubakar's novel "Season Of Crimson Blossoms", beat the other other shortlisted novels, "Born On A Tuesday", by Elnathan John, and "Night Dancer", by Chika Unigwe, to clinch the $100,000 prize. Chika Unigwe had previously won the prize in 2012 for her novel "On Black Sister's Street".

The Nigerian Prize For Literature valued at $100,000 is one of the world richest literary prize, and the richest in Africa. Previous winners of the Prize include, Kaine Agarry for "Yellow Yellow", Tade Ipaedola for "Sahara Testament", Akachi Adimora Eze-Igbo, and Chika Unigwe for "On Black Sister's Street" amongst others.

The three shortlisted novels were drawn from a longlist of eleven that included Etisalat Prize longlisted novel, "On The Bank Of The River", by Ifeoluwa Adeniyi, and 74 year old Ifeoma Okoye for her new novel, "The Fourth World". The three novels on the shortlist were particularly spectacular and we can't be prouder of Abubakar for winning the Prize.

Congrats to the winner and the shortlisted writers!

http://www.dwartonline.com/abubakar-adam-ibrahim-wins-the-2016-nigeria-prize-for-literature/

I must win this prize someday