I am in need of a very good copywriter. Dm 07012809662 asap

blesskewe:
Thanks op

U got me hooked

My pleasure.

I'm glad you like it

Captaintitan:
Nice story line OP

Thank you.

Nice storyline here.....

frankwriter:


Thank you.

You're welcome.

More grace bro you are doing well

Episode 16 �

I was in the backyard and yet I could hear my father’s voice clearly as he asked Darlington my whereabouts. Darlington was stammering, trying to act like he didn’t know where I was, not until my father left a thunderous slap on his face. Gosh! I heard it and my whole body shivered. I took on my heels immediately. I left through the back gate. I disappeared with the speed of light.

I knew what my father could do. He was completely unpredictable. He was brutal and it was never advantageous to my siblings and I. He was built like a bodybuilder, incredibly muscular. He would use his leather belt on us, and not just across the buttocks, but the back, legs, and anywhere he could get to. I couldn’t stand to face my father in grandma’s absence, so I ‘bolted’ as in Usain Bolt, I ran.

Winks.

Darlington’s POV

I can’t remember the last time got swatted on my face but it came so quick than expected from Zee's father while I tried lying about Zee's whereabouts. If I could get such a slap, what then would become of Zee, I had pondered. He searched every nook and cranny but didn’t see her yet.
I was shocked when he came back the second time. I had thought Zee went upstairs, and that was where I directed him when he slapped me.

“Where did you say she went to?” he asked.
“I thought she went upstairs. I don’t just know. She left immediately she sighted you.” I confessed, just to avoid another one from him.
“Okay then, she will run and meet me here,” he stalked off.

I tried calling Zee only to see her phone vibrating on her bed. I sighed slowly and left her room.

Zee's POV

When I thought of where I’d stay and I couldn’t think of any of my friend's places to go. Then I remembered Janet’s shop, the fashion designer grandma told me about the other time. Her shop was not too far from our house, so I went there.

“Good afternoon, aunty Janet.” I greeted her.
“Zee, kedu? How are you doing?”
“Aunty, I’m fine. How’s the work going?”
“My dear, we thank God. We’re pushing it as usual.

There was a young girl in the inner room ironing clothes while Aunty Janet was using her feet on the sewing machine. I soon noticed she had her eyes on my belly, and I knew exactly what was going on in her mind, it was clearly written on her face but aunty Janet didn’t seem to ask about it or probably teased me of overfeeding, but she didn’t do any of that. She minded her business. I sat on the long wooden bench outside. We got talking and I told her that I only felt like leaving the house, it was unlike me and she was surprised I came to spend time with her, little did she know I was avoiding being beaten by my father.

I stayed back with her till when I felt grandma must have returned from wherever she went to. So I walked back reluctantly, dragging my feet as I walked. I was simply scared of the unknown. Millions of thoughts on how my father would handle me. My heart was beating faster.
When finally I got home, I tiptoed through the small black gate in the backyard. I overheard him discussing with grandma in the living room, so I paused to see if they were talking about me, but they were talking about something different. I peeped and saw him relaxed on one of the couches in the sitting room, directly opposite grandma.

I peeped and withdrew my face at intervals not until my footwear fell off my hand, causing them to look in my direction. I withdrew immediately.
“Ziora,” grandma called. I got frozen. She knew it was me even without getting to see my face. I didn’t answer. I remained calm. I thought my father would say anything but he was mute. Grandma added with one Igbo proverb, saying that no matter how long I ran or perhaps hide, I’d still come out. I still stayed quiet and remained where I stood. I was that type of person that hated confrontation, raised voices and violence scared me.

Unfortunately, I didn’t realize how fast my father was able to get hold of me. I didn’t know he was coming and when I popped my head from my hiding corner, he grabbed me on the neck. Damn! I screamed, begging him not to beat me but he didn’t listen to my plea. He shoved me in the direction of my room, threw me on the bed, and proceeded to use his belt to ‘tan my hide' I wasn’t sure how long it went on but my back was sore, but not bleeding.

I was crying out wild and it broke my heart that grandma didn’t make any move to interfere nor tried to stop him from hitting me hard, because I was carrying a baby in me. After I had left the house because she wasn’t around to intervene, there she sat unmoved in the living room. And what made it all worst was that my cousin's brother, Darlington stood at my bedroom door and watched helplessly.

I didn’t move from the bed nor talked to anybody throughout the remaining hours of the day. I lay there on my bed, tears streaming on my pillowcases. It was such a terrible memory to remember and that was the last time my father hit me. The beating really affected me. I’d have nightmares, I’d get moody and depressed for seemingly no reason.

During the days my father spent in the village, we were probably the second verse of Tom and Jerry. He did make me feel like I committed the worst crime. My sight irritated him that he didn’t want to look me in the face, always averting his eyes. I bet I was the worst thing that happened to him in recent times. And the truth is, he had this trust in me. He never believed I could be that wayward to the extent of having sex at my age.

He even threatened to get Meska arrested for having sex with a minor but deep down I was like, me, a minor? I was already eighteen. I knew he was just blabbering and would do no such thing. He had always been like that towards other people but certainly not his children, he would make sure he dealt with us.

He left the village after one week and he didn’t come purposely for my sake, other issues brought him home. When he went back to Abuja, I had issues with grandma for not coming to my rescue when my father almost took me to the land of the deaths. But grandma responded by saying since she couldn’t lay her hands on me, she left me to get the double from my father and that was why he didn’t move.
Just imagine what grandma said. What if I had died?

****

Fast forwarding, my days in the village was gradually coming to an end by the breaking of a new day. I was making plans for another phase of life; life in the University. The school was to resume in a week, so I made my hair and bought some new clothes that would ease my pregnancy. I bought footwear and other accessories too.
Darlington and I equally went to the market to get some foodstuffs, and that reminded me how hard I had been sustaining Meska with foodstuffs.

Being admitted to the great citadel of learning, Nnamdi Azikiwe University, Awka (Unizik) was such a gift from God and something I didn’t merit because of my wayward life during those periods. I thought God would have punished me by not granting my heart's desires.

I had mixed feelings about it as I was happy for I would finally go out of grandma's prying eyes and live an independent life, chasing my dreams. But on the other side, knowing I was going there as a pregnant young girl really bothered me. I was troubled by what people would say or think about me. Aside from that, I was faced with the questions of what and how to study, what to participate in, how to fend for myself and my unborn baby, how to cope with the dizziness and weakness of the body that comes with pregnancy, how to accomplish my goals, to mention a few.

Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve had my life planned out. I said to myself I was going to get my degrees, get a job, travel the world, and live comfortably with my hair done perfectly every day. And I would wait until at least 27 or 28 before getting married, and having kids.

That dream came to a screeching halt, realizing I was heading to the University as a pregnant young lady who might not even have the opportunity to meet up with lots of school activities. I didn’t have the slightest clue what the rest of my life was going to look like. I was enveloped with the fear of the unknown. To be honest, part of me felt like I had died. My dreams seemed like it was slipping away.

I also felt terrible knowing I had chances of meeting a lot of people I knew. I had some secondary school friends who were also students of Unizik. I had other people I knew from church and other places. I was worried about what they would say and think of me when they see my protruded belly on campus.

September, I was finally leaving Darlington and grandma behind to face another phase of life. I spoke with my mom, she encouraged me. My father was still upset and I didn’t want him yelling over the phone like a dog. Grandma said some words of advice to me. She encouraged me too. She added I should always remember where I’m coming from and since I was pregnant, I should mind the kind of friends I keep.

Darlington? Well, that one was sad I was leaving him behind. He badly wished he could come with me, but he promised he would visit me regularly to see how I was doing.

It was on a Friday evening, the weather was clear and inviting when I left with my bags and luggage in pursuit of my dreams and that welcomed me to a new phase of life; school life. Arguably, the best life, as they said. But I’d have to wait and see if truly school life is the best.

To be continued…
© Frank The Writer

-------------------------

We are gradually getting to the end of this story. �
One or two more episodes to go�


Do well to follow my Facebook page:
@ Frank The Writer


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kenearth50:
Nice storyline here.....

Thank you

Shyhumbility1:
More grace bro you are doing well

Thank you

Wonderful,l think am addicted to this story.Ride on Mr Op

Let it not end pls

Thanks for the updates. So interesting

Breathtaking and worth reading.

kceemart:
Wonderful,l think am addicted to this story.Ride on Mr Op

Gracias

Heartstrings:
Let it not end pls

Thanks for the updates. So interesting

Lol... You don't want it to end?

daddio:
Breathtaking and worth reading.

Thank you.

Expecting an update today

frankwriter:


Lol... You don't want it to end?

Yes,I am enjoying every bit of it

This is captivating
I pray Zee doesn't miss road
It does not pay to be too wayward
Following bumper to bumper
Sweet popcorn for you

love story, i am stuck

Heartstrings:
Yes,I am enjoying every bit of it

Adesina12:
This is captivating
I pray Zee doesn't miss road
It does not pay to be too wayward
Following bumper to bumper
Sweet popcorn for you

Still waiting for this your popcorn

iamdynamite:
love story, I am stuck

Thank you

frankwriter:

Fire us update na

Heartstrings:
Fire us update na

Soon.

Later today

frankwriter:


Soon.

Later today

Hello frankwriter!
We are waiting ooo
It's almost 6pm and about to go to bed ooo
Give us this day our daily bread
Sweet popcorn for you dear

Adesina12:


Hello frankwriter!
We are waiting ooo
It's almost 6pm and about to go to bed ooo
Give us this day our daily bread
Sweet popcorn for you dear

Lol... Oya take it!!!

Posted now.

Living With My Grandma

Episode 17 �

My first week on the university campus wasn’t as planned. I got stressed and felt depressed in my solitary confinement. The strenuous registration process almost drained me. Departmental clearance, Faculty clearance, and other things fresher’s were required to do.
On average, I’d say a typical unizik student, (‘Zikite') is a bookworm. Students here were majorly bibliophiles. Everyone wanted to graduate with first-class and the hustle was real.

My biggest hurdle was getting up quite early to prepare breakfast and get to class early to occupy the front seat but I’d always end up at the back seat. The seats at the front were always filled with more students than they could handle; leg space was a luxury. I attended general classes with hundreds of other students, and that was horrible. And that made me detest morning lectures. I preferred afternoon classes because I’d have enough time to prepare very well.

I also found out that the workload in the University was a lot more intense than in secondary school, especially a particular Physics course I offered in the first semester. I didn’t like Physics right from time because it involved numerous and complex formulas and units. I had always preferred Chemistry while I was in secondary school.

Meeting up with the assignments wasn’t much of a stress to me even though it could be much sometimes. I am quite an organized kind of person, I love a list and I worked to deadlines. If I had an assignment three weeks away, I’d do it the last three days before. I was very efficient in that aspect. Sometimes I paid hugely to get them done.

I never got fresher’s flu—I had morning sickness instead. While other freshers were busy doing some kinds of stuffs new men on campus did, I sat in my room, wondering about the embryo inside me. I was worried about what the journey of nine months would look like.

Did I forget to tell you about my accommodation? Oh! Forgive me. My bad! I lived off-campuses and considering my condition, it was better off than sharing a room with students in the female hostel. I needed my privacy, so I lived alone at Ifite. I had no roommate too. It was just me and I alone. Sometimes I’d be hungry yet nauseous, unable to face my kitchen with its clutch of dirty pans and smells that irritated me. I’d lazy around, feeding on junk food steadily.

I’d hold back the morning sickness in classes by taking bitter kola which Kate recommended to me. Kate was one of my lodge mates. Her room was directly opposite and that made us get close to each other. She was God-sent. Every morning, she would check up on me and ask how I was feeling. She was older than I.
Kate was 24 and equally a fresher. She said she rewrote Jamb thrice before finally settling for a course she didn’t want. And that made me realize how privileged I was to have gotten admitted in my first attempt. I remember during the orientation and fresher’s week, we were told how privileged we were to be at Unizik.

Kate was homely and knew so much about pregnancy tips. Her elder sister was once in my shoes and she was close to her during that period, so she knew a lot about my experience. She was one person that I shared my story with, not like I trusted her, but because she deserved to know about me with the way and manner she treated me like a sister, although we weren’t from the same State.

If I had no classes in the morning, I’d look for a nearby cafeteria to get myself breakfast. Cooking was one of the things I couldn’t deal with during this period of my life. Kate had always been the one forcing me to cook and oftentimes she made the food herself. She was good at preparing local delicacies.

The only funny thing about Kate was her accent. She was a typical Igbo girl. You would easily detect that from her use of English and the way she talked. She was always interchanging ‘R’ for ‘L’. She pronounced Rice (food) as Lice, Road (paths) as Load, and just like that. But I couldn’t correct her because I didn’t know how she would feel and I was afraid of losing her. So, it had always been other people who made jest of her.

Being an introvert made me have fewer friends. Just a few coursemates with whom I barely share much about myself. I didn’t want any of them to know much about me, just to avoid unnecessary drama and gossip about my pregnancy. I barely chatted in our departmental group chat. All I did was read every single message, so I don’t miss out on any important info.
I missed out on most social gatherings too, because I dreaded what people would say about me. I missed freshers nights and other uni nights. There was always a buzzing nightlife in Ifite and Temp–site.

****

Those first few weeks after I started showing up were awful. I was sure everyone on campus was looking at me anytime I passed. I felt like they were all whispering about me behind my back. The stigmas and stereotypes too were depressing. A strain of people looking at me as though it was the biggest mistake of my life.
Even when I didn’t know many people on campus, I faced a lot of judgment. I did my best to cover it up, wearing oversized sweatshirts for weeks, but like the Igbo people would say and if interpreted, they would say that one cannot cover pregnancy with hand. With the increase in the size of my belly, the judgment became more apparent and isolating. It was difficult to be outside. As the pregnancy progressed, I felt enormous walking to and fro campus to my apartment.

I realized pregnancy quickly forces a young person to become a mature adult, it was emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausting to balance it with school stress. Mentally, I was exhausted from having to split my attention between school and taking care of myself. Emotionally, it was exhausting because people either judged me for being young, single, and pregnant or they simply give me looks of pity for those same reasons. I have overheard people say silly things about my plight. It was one of the hardest situations I had to face in my life.

Darlington called me on phone and we chatted too. We made plans when it would be convenient for me to go for an antenatal checkup. He was caring about my well-being and I felt it during those periods with his steady calls. It even seemed like he was my boyfriend. We talked almost every day and grandma would sometimes talk with me through his phone. I missed them, that sometimes, I felt like going back home.

My mom still called me too. I remember the first call I had with her in school and how we both cried – a lot. But getting it off my chest helped me feel better. I turned to her frequently on the tough days that followed. And I’m grateful for her support. She continually encouraged me to stay positive when I was full of negativity. My father hardly called and I wasn’t surprised.

I didn’t go broke in my early days at the University. I guess because of my pregnancy, mom credited my account with a reasonable amount of money every two weeks. She knew I needed it for my upkeep and antenatal. I felt dad probably gave her money to send too because I didn’t get a credit alert from him.
My uncle, Clinton equally kept to his words. He also sent me money too, and he would call to check up on me. So, money wasn’t a challenge, just the stress of going about with the baby inside of me.

Gradually, I got more inclined toward campus life. Well, maybe the best life for some people, because it was a world on its own. Everyone had the freedom to do what they like. There were different characters and individuals you’d meet on campus, the ‘Ajebos’ those rich folks from a wealthy homes, always showing off with flashy cars, expensive wear, living a luxurious lifestyle. There were also church people; the prayer warriors, always going for one fellowship or the other and turning every building into a fellowship center.

How about the wannabe politicians? The comrades. They are always on cooperate wears and suits even when the sun is scorching. Then the student celebrities? The lone wolf? The ones that go in a clique? The non-academic students? The city guys, and the ‘I–Know–Book' folks but a few to mention.
So many kinds of people you’d meet here.

One hot afternoon, I was at the cybercafe inside the campus to photocopy some documents. I had a cold Pepsi in my left hand to cool off the heat. The sun was extremely scorching. I stood there waiting for my turn. There were other students too, who wanted to photocopy some materials.
Then I overhead a voice from behind. Something was familiar about this particular voice, it sends some sensation down my spines. When I turned to see who's voice was that, well, your guess is as good as mine, Meska was the one. Our eyes met in seconds. I was startled. My heart suddenly began to beat faster and I couldn't tell why. I watched his eyes as they went below, gazing at my belly. He was shocked.

There were two other girls by his side, his coursemates or perhaps his friends. I quickly averted my eyes and faced front. Damn! Meska was looking fresh and cute. This time, the center of his head was braided. No longer the usual 'Gallas' style he was known with. I was having random thoughts, something in me felt I should look back and be sure it was him, Meska was coming in my direction when finally I turned.

Jeez, my whole body was shuddering.

To be continued...
© Frank The Writer

____________

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Don't be a ghost reader. �♥

---------------------

Gradually getting to the end of this story.
Maybe one or two more episodes to go. ���‍♂️


Please, do well to follow my page.
@ Frank The Writer


https://www.facebook.com/FrankWriter1

Thanks for the update,am following bumper to bumper.

Well done OP

frankwriter:



Lol... Oya take it!!!

Posted now.

Bravo!!!
Sweet popcorn for you sir

Thanks for the update.

Bring it on I'm ready