₦airaland Forum

Illuminatus: Hehehe. Enjoying it?

Sure!

Nice story * following *
Try to be consistent with your tenses. You're switching presence and past. And also, spacing between dialogue.

Good job!

OMA4U: Can we also still participate?

Oga Mazi, answer me now....
Are we still eligible in next edition?

Nuges11: Guys, I just came across something I think y'all might be interested in. Some of you might have heard about it but for the benefit of those who haven't; its the commonwealth short story competition.

www.commonwealthwriters.org/prizes/commonwealth-short-story-prize/entry-rules/

Click the link to read more.

I've read through. Thanks....

[quote author=Mazi_Omenuko]Get ready for the next edition of the Short Story competition. Aunty Efe is offering sponsorship of the competition and if everything goes as planned, the winner will be going home with some hard-currency; we're talking in dollars; and not bukina-faso dollars, US dollars.

The one who pays the piper dictates the tune, so she's going to be setting the rules for the competition.

We'll keep you informed.[/quote]Can we also still participate?
Oga Mazi, answer me now....
Are we still eligible in next edition?

Nuges11: Princessa, can you make it to abule muwonleru before midnight?

Nuges, why now? Abule muwonleru, you wan enslave princesa ni? Lol......

[quote author=Foxy_Flow]

Where my name? [/quote]Sir Foxy, your name dey dere nah.... Check back of your screen, you go see am..





Seriously, you're the best among male folks.

Congrats! Nuges. Royver, T-flow, Miss_fibre, you guys are the best. I never believed I could make it to top 5 among you, hot guys. It's a privilege competing with you. I've learnt a lot. Thanks to Mazi, you've brought out the spirit in me. To the judges, I hail o! Na u sure pass.... Ishilove, Omolola, Efe, PRINCESA, Hbg, Repogirl, kayemjay. God bless you'll.

Whao! Princesa... Nice poem so far

* chop knuckle *

repogirl: * wonders * Did I miss the memo that said only scores to be submitted? Why am I the only one giving a detailed analysis?

Thanks so much. I've read the analysis and learnt from it.

Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone pg. 38

Okay o..... I'm done. Still staying on a ow key awaiting others.....

Miss_Fibre and Royver, you guys are too much. job well done!

She made hurried glue to my lips, and lured me down to the tiled floor. She couldn’t wait for bed, she preferred to have it right there. She hanged up her legs apart into the vacancy. I knew I had gotten into a tangled web of deception of a woman which I am unable to extract myself. My heart was beaten hard as I was being driven to ecstasy. I knew I had sinned, but when a man is in for intimacy, the blood pumping into the brain functions solely in one direction, until he had released the accumulated fluid in his organ. She felt me inside her, and began moaning. She closed her eyes to have a better taste of what she was feeling.

A smile lit up her face as she made her way to the bathroom. I remembered the story I was writing. My heart cut! Is this story coming alive or what? Wait oh! Hope I was not the character that slept with his neighbour's wife. If I was, what would happen next? Death! God forbid. I was scared like a baby would if he saw his shadow doing the same thing as he does. In a dreadful atmosphere and stab of conscience penetrating into me, I left for my room.

As I opened my door, what my sight caught was death. Yes! I was doomed. I was at the entrance when I noticed a footstep in the inner room. At first I thought it was a thief. I hid back in order not to be harmed. The person was coming out and muttering,"Ah! God saved you tonight, but not tomorrow. He looked at the picture he was holding, “David or whatever, you can’t escape this! I never failed a job!"

I was praying silently, and hidden in the bathroom. I knew he would have passed through there before. I hanged up at the wall to steal a glance at the person. It was Mr. Eric! He dipped the small short-barreled gun he was holding into his inner trouser. But the only difference this night was that he could speak without stuttering. He now had a smoothly crew hair cut. But his wife said he has travelled. Could this be a trap or what? Why didn’t he come and meet me in his room with his wife? I asked myself as it was becoming incomprehensible. My almost failed heart returned back to life as he left. I shut the door in trepidation.

A bad conscience creates malignant behaviour. Immediately I woke up the next morning, I couldn't wait till daylight when I left for work. Inside the car was I on the Ikeja express way, there was a little hold up as usual every morning. A black Rav 4 Toyota car sped up on the second lane to me. The driver gazed into my eyes. I couldn’t believe who it was. It was Mr. Eric again staring at me as a cat would stare at a rat it wanted to feed on. I followed his lips to read what he was saying. It was the last words he said last night. Another deadly looking man was on the passenger sit at the front. They both took a cruel giggle on their faces. I knew I had gone beyond the steps where the ground could collide against my feet. I was now falling. I could see the bad omen hanging up the sky. Oh! Why did I even write this story, this might not have happened if I had not written such a story. I created a death against a character in a story, but in real life it was against myself. If the story could surface, uhmm? I would be a goner. I quickly discarded the thoughts. I scrolled up the glass; I roughly drove away from the expressed road, and headed to an unknown street. I looked at the side mirror; they were chasing me. I made a u-turn into another street, but the crunch of gravels I collided with at the corner reduced the car speed. With an excellent steering curve, Mr. Eric crossed me with his car. And I was held at gun point. His partner came down with a machete shining like a laser surface. I had already raised my hands in the air; I knelt down in front of Mr. Eric I pled as fears were clinging my throat, "Mr. Eric, am sorry for sleeping with..."
"Who asked you question?" he yelled, and hit the butt of the gun on my head. I passed out!

Hours had passed since I woke up in the entanglement web of darkness, struggling furiously against the ropes binding my hands to the wooden arm chair. My head felt like someone had beaten on it like a pestle pounded on mortar. I futility strived to squeeze out my arms out of the bindings that attached my forearms to the chair. Twisting my neck, I attempted to take off the soft piece of material that was fastened wraparound my eyes by rubbing my face against my shoulder. It happened exactly the way it occurred in the dream. After a truncheon slap, the soft material covering my eyes was detached. It was same Mr. Eric pointing the gun at me. I looked around; it was the place I saw in the dream. My blood pressure augmented; a sudden urine gathered in my bladder as chicks would gather under hen if eagle comes around. What happened in the dream? I was shot! And also in the story, Mr. Eric killed his neighbour! The time I knew death could catch up with me anytime. But I was more immersed in nervousness when the greatest shock hit me like thunderbolt.

Femi was approaching and frowned with a gun pointing towards me: "good job!" he said as he shook Mr. Eric and his second in crime. "David, why are you so cruel?" the question confused me the more. Was Mr. Eric related to Femi or what? “You see, I thought you were a good friend. I sheltered you; I got you a good job. Despite all my efforts on you, you now when on to use something against me. You were being promoted every time while I was in one position. My boss no longer praised me, but you always. When you go now, you will be that senior engineer in heaven."

Every attempt I made to talk resulted in deadly slaps from Mr. Eric.

"No time, good bye." he came closer and placed the mouth of the gun on my forehead. I thought as my endowed brain would scatter on the ground in a cold murder. As he was about to pull the trigger, a voice echoed from outside,"You are under arrest, everybody! And if you move, you will be shot."

Rays of hope returned to my hopeless life as the police came around. Everyone was taken to the police custody. I was at the station for three days. Femi, Mr. Eric, and his partner were locked up, but I was left behind the counter. I was told that Mr. Eric and his partner had gone to carry out such a barbaric act they were about to do again when the police arrived. Investigations showed that they were the culprits, and the policemen had been trailing them around before they were now caught.

In Ikeja high court on Monday morning, what amazed me was when the judge referred to Mr. Eric as Mr. Kehinde Williams as the three were sentenced to life imprisonment.
A squeal of pins ran through my gloomy being as Femi was sentenced, but is Mr. Eric also Mr. Kehinde or what? Everything became more convoluted when Mr. Eric and his wife came into the court.

"M..r. Da..vid, I ju..st c..ame back f..rom A..buja when I h..eard w..hat ha..ppened. H..ope you were no..t injure..d?" Mr. Eric asked, inspecting all over my body if there were no scars.

So they were two different people, but I wondered why they looked so alike. "Not so injured, but I thank God and the police that intervened or else..." I replied. We were discussing this when Mr. Eric caught a glimpse of Mr. Kehinde, and he was exclaimed,"Ke..hinde!"

The crook looked sideway to see who called, "Eric", his mouth was wide open, "Eric, where have you been?" frustrated sobs set his whole body shackled.

"Kehinde, why! Why did you do this?"

"Do you know him? I have been wanting to talk ever since. He is your carbon copy." Mrs. Eric said as she was looking in amusement.

"Yes, He is my twin brother." Mr. Eric concluded the story," we departed fifteen years ago when our parents divorced. Mum brought me to Lagos while he stayed with Dad in Benin." Mr. Eric and Mr. Kehinde cuddled and were wailing endlessly, they never believed their meeting back could be in such condition.

So no one knew what had transpired between me and Mrs. Eric. Thank God, I will never do such again. I only forged a death against myself, but it never killed me.

TITLE: THE DEATH I FORGED AGAINST MYSELF

Hours had passed since I woke up in the entanglement web of darkness, struggling furiously against the ropes binding my hands to the wooden arm chair. My head felt like someone had beaten on it like a pestle pounded on mortar. I futility strived to squeeze out my arms out of the bindings that attached my forearms to the chair. Twisting my neck, I attempted to take off the soft piece of material that was fastened wraparound my eyes by rubbing my face against my shoulder. How long have I been tied up here? Different thoughts were racing through my mind while mischievous smile around alerted someone’s presence.

"Who are you? What have I done? Come and release me o" A high-pitched noise from me echoed the entire building.

"Will you keep shut?" A thickened dense voice yelled.

"Who...." I was about to scream again when an open-handed massive slap landed on my face. The round part of my eyes within the eyelids was hurt by the unkind spank. The person loosened the soft material on my face. My dimmed eyes were stripped to see a gun pointed at my forehead.

"Say your last prayer! One! Two!...." The stone-hearted man standing before me echoed, and before I could say a word, he had counted 'three'. The last thing I heard was my piercing voice 'ye!'

"Gaaann...ran! Gaaann..ran!" the alarm I had set on my Nokia phone awoke me from the dreadful nightmare. I was immersed in anxiety; my heart was beating fast like it never did. So it was a dream? I stretched my right hand across the bed to pick my bible, and recited Psalm ninety-one, "He who walks in the secret place of the most high...." I added Psalm four, ending it with my favourite verse;"....I will lie down and sleep in peace...” This particular verse had saved me from several nightmares especially when I used to have meaningless and traumatic dreams like falling from a high or into a pit. “Things that happen in the spiritual realm indeed control the physical." Since I had made it a night duty to recite Psalm four before going to bed, such dreams had ceased, and I’ve been experiencing elevation in every facet of my life.
Yesterday I was promoted to the post of a Senior Engineer in my company, Dangote Sugar Refinery Plc (DSR). The event was still as fresh in my mind as mayflowers. Thanks to my friend, Engineer Femi who paved my way into the company. I prayed him too will be elevated as I was. Because it saddened me whenever I remembered I met Femi at DSR as a Junior Engineer after he had worked for five years when I was still in the university, and I had been promoted three times, but Femi never was. I just wished he keeps hope alive, because good time comes only to those who still hope. He deserved something better. He squatted me after NYSC; he helped me get a good job till I had my own apartment - a big self-contain at Egbeda two months ago.
Some minutes later after the nightmare, I recalled that I had set the alarm on my phone to wake me up, so I could write or at least get ideas penned on my notes. I was in the final round in Mazi Short Story competition I was participating, and it was two days to submission deadline. I had to write something; I had always wished to know how to assemble words into literary jewels to express my thoughts. And participating in the competition was an opportunity to horn my writing skills. So I got off the bed to write the plot of a story I had cooked up in my brain. This story went this way: “I had a character that just moved into a new self-contain apartment. Two months after, another character, who I named 'Mr. Eric’, moved with his wife into the self-contain apartment beside the first character’s. Mr. Eric was a six-feet and half tall, black man. He had a jerry curly, blown up hair; a broad shoulder, and wide chest; and was as huge as hotel bouncers. He was also a stammerer. Mr. Eric travelled, and the first character slept with his wife. When he got to know, he killed the first character. The moral of the story: Do not lay with another's man wife." So my story line went. I would complete the story tomorrow before the deadline. Before I finished writing I was already dozing. I went back to bed and slept off.
I woke up the next morning. I checked the time on my phone; it was 6:30 a.m. I got up swiftly and dashed into the bathroom; brushed up my teeth; open the shower, and bathed myself clean. I rushed back directly to my wall hanger. I selected an orange with touches of white, slim fit shirt and a black pant trouser. I tucked in the shirt, knotted a tie, and picked my shoes on the slab of the wall hanger. It was 7:03 am, I was almost late. I made my way out. Outside my apartment was my new neighbour. The landlord had told me they would be packing in this week.

"Go...od mor...ning, sir" The man said, holding his wife on the left hand, and a brief case on the right.

"Good morning, sir and ma. You are my new neighbours, I guess?" I returned the greetings, smiling and staring at both couple. They were perfect. No doubt that they were made for each other.

"Yeah! We are." they both chorused, and the husband further inquired," i..t's g..ood to me..et you her..e. H..ow i..s th..is en..viro..men.t, and pre..cisely this house. You..." he cut himself as he thought they needed to introduce themselves first. It took him minutes to pronounce each word. It was obvious he was a conc. stammerer, "s..orry, I am Mr. Eric, and th..is is my wife, Mrs..."

"Mrs. Eric" I concluded it. He spoke better this time around. He seemed to hold his speech a whie and say it once as it hot.
But I was astounded, though I took it away off my face. The character's name in the story I wrote during my sleepless hours in the night was the same as my new neighbour, Mr. Eric. He was also same way I had describe the character. The most frightened trait was that Mr. Eric my new neighbour in real life also stammered as the one in the story. I responded after a second of silence, “good to know that. I am Mr. David." I extended my right hand out to him for a hand shake." Mr. And Mrs. Efe, as you can see, I am heading for work and time is flying. I will see you later. Welcome into this new house."

"Oka..y, Mr. D..avid. G..ood lu..ck as yo..u go." I hastily rushed out. I could not await him to finish his long speech.

Later that night when I came back from work. It was around 11:00 p.m. There was power failure, so I had pulled on a small blue tiger generator outside, while I was busy furnishing the story I wanted to submit. Not so long, thunder boomed, and the wind swirled; the curtains on the window were drifting right and left. I stood up to shut the window when I realized it has started raining. I did hurriedly leave my mini library to cover the generator. I met Mrs. Efe very close, trying to shift a drum under the rainy water that fell through the channeled part of the roof. I went close to join her hands and the empty drum began to fill with water.

"Thank you" she said as she was shivering like a chicken that just had its head cut off. She had been wet by the rain.
"You are honourably welcome. How is Mr. Efe?" I asked as I was making my way back into the room.

"He is not at home. He has travelled back to Abuja this morning. That's his ways of life. He never stayed at home for one good week. In fact I am not enjoying him and….."

I cut in. She was beginning to narrate stories I never asked or needed. But I pity her."Eeya! Sorry Mrs. Eric. You know, he is doing everything just to gather enough for the family. Don't worry. It's just for a while." I didn’t know how else to comfort her. "Good night." I was about opening the door when she talked again.

"Mr. David, can you help me with something in our room? I was trying to connect the television set plugs before there was power failure, so should the power backs. At least I would be watching T.V"

I thought for a while; well it is not bad helping her. "Okay, let me see." I followed her in.

"Here they are, I just want to connect these plugs." she said as she pointed finger at them one by one.

I bent down to connect the plugs. The grabbed that held me tight frightened me. I looked back in astonishment, it was Mrs. Eric. I quickly arose to my feet, trying to get myself out of her. But she took off the gown she was wearing. She teased me sexually, and my manhood began to lift a few notches as her unclothedness intrigued me. She went to her kneel, and held my leg so tight and began to plead, shedding hot tears. "Please I have not been feeling like a woman and it's telling on my body. I need you, please."

I was stunned. She needed me, for what? "See woman, I don't want trouble. Has your husband not been giving it to you as you want? Leave me, please!" I yelled at her and pushed her a few distance away.

She was staring at me with eyes of seduction, and my heart began to melt. "You see, my husband never satisfied me. He comes home once in two weeks and sometimes in a month. Even if he comes home, he would only do once and tell me he came home to rest, and not for sex." Tears were streaming down her eyes, "I am tired. Please listen to my cry for help."

I felt for her and found myself rolling towards her. She held my belt trying to loose it. "But you know this is temptation. And bible says thou shall not tempt thy Lord your God." I said in a cool voice. And in my mind I was reciting let me not fall into temptation; deliver me from evil...

"I am not tempting God neither you. All I crave for is intimacy." she whispered, still battling with my belt until I gave way.

Voted!

Crime - The tenth generation by Frank.3.16

Horror - The tenth generation by Frank.3.16

Action - The tenth generation by Frank3.16

Comedy - Adventures of Anthasatius by Vantee20

This Miss_fibre dey scare me o! Anyway I still dey on a low key.

All the best, my fellow finalist!

Nice one, christa! A wonderful writer. Jeun lo kosi were

edubros: tnx,oma4u.am flowing now on ma notepad cos i commit myself to writing everyday.thanks

Good to know you are now writing. I would love to read your story soon.

Keep the spirit.

Kslib: Did you download them onilne or you have the books?
..
..
All izz well!

I downloaded them online in pdf

@Efe: I really appreciate your efforts. I would like to have feedback on my story. But the story is long o. Please just find time for me.
We all appreciate your precious time spent here.

Just finished Bombay's Republic - Babatunde, caine prize winner 2012.

Now on Half of a yellow sun - Adichie
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