₦airaland Forum

Hello!

I'm finally back on NL after a very long time... I hope I'm back to stay cuz life be doing the most, lol.

So, I'm using this medium to continue to sharpen my writing skill. i actually got this idea from @illicit i stumbled upon one of his post and contributed so, yeah.

i like Paranormal, horror and anything besides happy ever after. we all know that there's nothing like happy ever afters. it only exists in cartoons anyway. (abi na why my life they swing like paper carried by the wind like this)

i saw a post on FB about this lady who doesn't like watching horror films or anything scary because according to her, life is already messed up and we experience and encounter scary things everyday so why spend your time watching things that'll probably make it difficult to sleep at night.

To me, I'd say, to each her own. I think paranormal writings or movies broaden our mindset and way of reasoning. You tend to learn a lot from it. its like being served Oha soup after eating Egusi for two months straight (I don't know). Or what do you think?

One thing I do while watching horror films is that when it becomes too gruesome, I tend to make my brain believe that it doesn't exist anyways. I mean, its all staged and these actors aren't really experiencing those things, so it makes it easier to watch. I went on a date with one guy some months ago and where we decided to chill and relax, there was a tv stationed up at the left hand side of the room. This Batista horror movie was showing and we decided to join the people who were watching. I was interested in the movie because maybe, I'm a writer or so I pride myself. So i wanted to see and be able to define all the horrific things that happened (like slitting of throats with knives as blood pumps out without control) i'm not a witch, i promise.

There was nothing to the date, though. The chicken was already devoured and only the bones remained on the plate. i don't drink alcohol so only a bottle of corked malt was fizzling on the table. This guy was fine, sha, has all the perks and whatnots but he was moving too fast and the music was too loud to hear what he had to say about his life or how his ex girl left him (just like that).

So yeah, we didn't talk much and only focused on the movie and occasionally looking into each other's eyes (i honestly didn't know why). Few other people who were present was too engrossed in the movie so we joined in and laid out our contributions (of why Batista had to kill this pretty girl like that cuz wtf) So, to cut the long story short (the date lasted for two hours) the men in the room were sort of cowering and covering their eyes whenever a throat was slit and blood pumps out like a tap that's being let loose.

Me, in all my glory didn't cower or cover my eyes, no. I literarily popped my eyes open and watched every thing that was acted and this people were actually looking at me like i was ekwensu in angel's clothing (i was actually wearing a white gown) I can remember my sister teasing me if it was a burial ceremony i was going to and not a date because i simply decided to wear white. I watched all the Batista stunts and cinematography with eyes wide open and this people (only men) were flabagasted by the little woman in the room ( cuz God, i am short for my liking) I'm sure they all fell in love, cuz who wouldn't?

Anyways........ all these just to explain why i prefer horror, sci-fi and paranormal movies and writing over your random LOL movies.

But all these things sha depends on the mood i'm in cuz Lord, i wouldn't be watching horror movies when I'm heart broken, unable to eat and crying my heart out. Ha!

Devilish Activity

For most of us, our charity began in the church, under the watchful eyes of sister Agnes. She'd sometimes show us how to do it by herself, with her hands.
I can recall how she'd encourage Bolaji to continue no matter how bad he was or how terrible he appeared to be for Bolaji was a slow learner. Practice makes perfect after all.

Now Bolaji is the master of our devious little games even after sister Agnes is long dead and buried. I on the other hand is crippled by depression, fear, ignominy of the things committed and afraid that I might never stop. Because if Bolaji is the king, then I'm the queen and this devilish activity isn't supposed to be happening in the house of God.

sochey:
Hello!

I'm finally back on NL after a very long time... I hope I'm back to stay cuz life be doing the most, lol.

So, I'm using this medium to continue to sharpen my writing skill. i actually got this idea from @illicit i stumbled upon one of his post and contributed so, yeah.

i like Paranormal, horror and anything besides happy ever after. we all know that there's nothing like happy ever afters. it only exists in cartoons anyway. (abi na why my life they swing like paper carried by the wind like this)

i saw a post on FB about this lady who doesn't like watching horror films or anything scary because according to her, life is already messed up and we experience and encounter scary things everyday so why spend your time watching things that'll probably make it difficult to sleep at night.

To me, I'd say, to each her own. I think paranormal writings or movies broaden our mindset and way of reasoning. You tend to learn a lot from it. its like being served Oha soup after eating Egusi for two months straight (I don't know). Or what do you think?

One thing I do while watching horror films is that when it becomes too gruesome, I tend to make my brain believe that it doesn't exist anyways. I mean, its all staged and these actors aren't really experiencing those things, so it makes it easier to watch. I went on a date with one guy some months ago and where we decided to chill and relax, there was a tv stationed up at the left hand side of the room. This Batista horror movie was showing and we decided to join the people who were watching. I was interested in the movie because maybe, I'm a writer or so I pride myself. So i wanted to see and be able to define all the horrific things that happened (like slitting of throats with knives as blood pumps out without control) i'm not a witch, i promise.

There was nothing to the date, though. The chicken was already devoured and only the bones remained on the plate. i don't drink alcohol so only a bottle of corked malt was fizzling on the table. This guy was fine, sha, has all the perks and whatnots but he was moving too fast and the music was too loud to hear what he had to say about his life or how his ex girl left him (just like that).

So yeah, we didn't talk much and only focused on the movie and occasionally looking into each other's eyes (i honestly didn't know why). Few other people who were present was too engrossed in the movie so we joined in and laid out our contributions (of why Batista had to kill this pretty girl like that cuz wtf) So, to cut the long story short (the date lasted for two hours) the men in the room were sort of cowering and covering their eyes whenever a throat was slit and blood pumps out like a tap that's being let loose.

Me, in all my glory didn't cower or cover my eyes, no. I literarily popped my eyes open and watched every thing that was acted and this people were actually looking at me like i was ekwensu in angel's clothing (i was actually wearing a white gown) I can remember my sister teasing me if it was a burial ceremony i was going to and not a date because i simply decided to wear white. I watched all the Batista stunts and cinematography with eyes wide open and this people (only men) were flabagasted by the little woman in the room ( cuz God, i am short for my liking) I'm sure they all fell in love, cuz who wouldn't?

Anyways........ all these just to explain why i prefer horror, sci-fi and paranormal movies and writing over your random LOL movies.

But all these things sha depends on the mood i'm in cuz Lord, i wouldn't be watching horror movies when I'm heart broken, unable to eat and crying my heart out. Ha!

I feel u

I don't like or write happily ever after stories too. I feel they are too cheap and random. I like paranormal. I like Dean Koontz...

You will make a great writer.

Where are you chatting from?

sochey:
Devilish Activity

For most of us, our charity began in the church, under the watchful eyes of sister Agnes. She'd sometimes show us how to do it by herself, with her hands.
I can recall how she'd encourage Bolaji to continue no matter how bad he was or how terrible he appeared to be for Bolaji was a slow learner. Practice makes perfect after all.

Now Bolaji is the master of our devious little games even after sister Agnes is long dead and buried. I on the other hand is crippled by depression, fear, ignominy of the things committed and afraid that I might never stop. Because if Bolaji is the king, then I'm the queen and this devilish activity isn't supposed to be happening in the house of God.

This is what we are talking about...

🤩

STARBOY

The night he returned from his 2nd European tour. DJ Exclusive and Flex picked him from the airport...
They went to Shitta, ate Amala. From there they went to National stadium to play if you know what I mean.
Not even the P.A, the personal bodyguard or the attached Mopols in his convoy noticed the Toyota Tundra that has been tailing them from Ikeja.

He will like to see his mum, she must be back from church at this moment. She prays a lot. He was going to buy her a Venza. He bought her a Rav 4 in 2011.
From national stadium back to Shitta to Masha Kilo doesn't take more than a half hour.
They were under the Ojuelegba bridge in the new Bentley when the Tundra caught up at the traffic light and sign at Shitta...


Someone from the back seat of the Tundra wound down the window and presented 2 Glocks towards the Bentley. The trigger was pulled... Kpa kpa kpa kpa...

As soon as the shots rang out. He woke up on his bed in his hotel room in Ibiza.
It was a nightmare. He picked up his phone and called his mum, Iya Ayo...

illicit:
I feel u

I don't like or write happily ever after stories too. I feel they are too cheap and random. I like paranormal. I like Dean Koontz...

You will make a great writer.

Where are you chatting from?

Hiii, happy sunday!
Thank you for the acknowledgement.

I'm in Lagos, you?

illicit:
This is what we are talking about...

🤩

Thank you

illicit:
STARBOY

The night be returned from his 2nd European tour. DJ Exclusive and Flex picked him from the airport...
They went to Shitta, ate Amala. From there they went to National stadium to play if you know what I mean.
Not even the P.A, the personal bodyguard or the attached Mopols in his convoy noticed the Toyota Tundra that has been tailing them from Ikeja.

He will like to see his mum, she must be back from church at this moment. She prays a lot. He was going to buy her a Venza. He bought her a Rav 4 in 2011.
From national stadium back to Shitta to Masha Kilo doesn't take more than a half hour.
They were under the Ojuelegba bridge in the new Bentley when the Tundra caught up at the traffic light and sign at Shitta
Someone from the back seat of the Tundra wound down and presented 2 Glocks towards the Bentley and pulled the triggers... Kpa kpa kpa kpa...

As soon as the shots rang out. He woke up on his bed in the hotel room in Ibiza.
It was a nightmare. He picked up his phone and called his mum, Iya Ayo.

Nice

sochey:
Hiii, happy sunday!
Thank you for the acknowledgement.

I'm in Lagos, you?

My pleasure


Abj

illicit:
My pleasure


Abj

Okay, nice knowing you..

Smell of iron

Depression has a presence...

They're finally here, you'll know it when it comes, feel it in the core of your being. The nagging sensation of hopelessness, guilt, shame and fear. You'd be surprised how they work together to achieve a common goal, slowly sipping into one's soul, eating up everything in its wake.

Today, they're staying longer than expected. Are they being patient, familiarising themselves with their environment? Demanding little and yet giving so much. So she watch them like a scientist would watch his lab rat to come to a deeper understanding about it's behavior.

The razor comes in contact with her arm, passionately kissing, caressing and splitting layers upon layers and just when it's getting too sweet to let go, there's a knock on the bathroom door followed by a loud scream, loud enough to register the pain and admit to a wrong done.

Oops, she'd forgotten to lock the door.

Cool

Lordroman1346:
Cool

Thank you..

PSYCHOPATH

”How're you doing?" He asked.

“Not good" she chuckles. Eyes everywhere but him.

“Tell me about it?"

“I just pulled the trigger on that innocent boy, a young life cut short"

“Why did you do it?”

“He pissed me off"

He stares at her, if he could admit to himself, he's scared, afraid of the devil in front of him.

“So you just killed him because he pissed you off?"

“Yes. I just don't take lightly to people pissing me off"

“Okay, have you been reading the books I sent you?"

“Those self help, anger management books?”

“Yes, it'd help. It helps more than you think"

She laughs, her eyes finally meeting his. The way she looks at him terrifies him, makes him shudder. He knows he's gone soft, no longer tough for this kind of job.

“I'd never read those damned books"

He sighs, the atmosphere in the room intensifies.

“Look, Angel. You're not helping matters. If you want me to help you, you've got to help yourself. You're yet behind bars because of the cards your father's pulling to get you walk free after committing those heinous crimes"

“I'm tired of this, Mr. Clinton. You're beginning to piss me off"
Just then, she pulls out the small pistol from behind her, points it at him and pulls the trigger.

Well, he'd always known it'll eventually come to this.

Human

The day his father died, he just knew...

He knew what it meant and what was in it for him. So he prepared; body and mind for the things which are to come. Little did he know that what lies ahead weren't meant to shape his life or make him like his father.

What lay ahead is meant to kick him so hard that he'd give up, on the title, the name, the fame, the power.

So Alabi the kings son, wise in his own ways prepared for his coronation. Happily, steadily, pompous, proud. No one will be above him now, none will talk down on him or look at him with pitiful eyes like they usually do. They'd look at him as their king, the one that has the final say.

Just when the crown is about to sit on his head, he chokes, coughs out blood, slumps and dies.

‘He's poisoned!' The chief priest declares.

Alabi, the kings son, dies of poisoning. Just like his father.

He was human, after all...

Dyeing words

11pm he called. As the cheering ring tune echoes through the dim lighted room, blaring, commanding, and demanding all at once. She sighs, visibly disturbed. Rolling unto her left side, she props her body weight up, weak hands for support and sleep deprived eyes still yearning for sleep. She knew she was supposed to sign up for that gym class but her weight isn't the problem now.

What seems to be the problem? She wonders and just when she's about to lay back down, the phone starts ringing again. Oh, she sighs. Who could it be at this hour? Extending her heavy arm to where the phone rests; ringing furiously and dancing to it's vibration, she picks it up. Too sleep deprived to look at the caller ID, swiping receive and placing it on her right ear.

“Hello?" She asks gruffly.

“Tell my mother, I love her" the voice says.

Now she's wide awake, her eyes which were threatening to close from the assault of waking up immediately springs open. Heart beating, achy body shaking, she dared asked,

“Nonso? What is wrong?”

“I'll miss you too, Vero” the call ends.

She could swear that before the call ended, she heard the phone clattering to the ground and a heavy breadth from Nonso as he sighs for the last time.

One thing she knows for sure is that his mother wouldn't care less about his last words.

What's the point?

I didn't go to church last Sunday, because I went home. I always love it when I go home. Family is everything after all but it is just too expensive to go home even though home is just a few kilometres away. Well, now I am back and I get to see my latest crush in church.

I have missed her so much but I didn't reach out. I didn't want to appear too interested. Now she is no longer replying my messages. I am not quite sure if it is on purpose or not. The more reason I needed to get to church as soon as possible.

I have had so many crushes before but this one felt different. In my heart, I am almost convinced that she is the one. The perfect one for me. I asked her for her number three Sundays ago and she gave me two. If that is not greenlight, then I don't know what is.

While I hurried to catch a bus to church, I entered the back row with my music playing way too loud in my ears. I would have reduced it but I loved the song playing. I tried to look for my money to pay the driver and I noticed the guy beside me mouthing something. I wasn't quite sure what he was saying but I didn't care.

Then I felt the presence of the girl to my left also trying to get my attention. I raised my head and there she was, a perfect being. I paused my music to hear what she was saying and then collect her number. But then I thought, "what's the point?"

Jack273:
What's the point?

I didn't go to church last Sunday, because I went home. I always love it when I go home. Family is everything after all but it is just too expensive to go home even though home is just a few kilometres away. Well, now I am back and I get to see my latest crush in church.

I have missed her so much but I didn't reach out. I didn't want to appear too interested. Now she is no longer replying my messages. I am not quite sure if it is on purpose or not. The more reason I needed to get to church as soon as possible.

I have had so many crushes before but this one felt different. In my heart, I am almost convinced that she is the one. The perfect one for me. I asked her for her number three Sundays ago and she gave me two. If that is not greenlight, then I don't know what is.

While I hurried to catch a bus to church, I entered the back row with my music playing way too loud in my ears. I would have reduced it but I loved the song playing. I tried to look for my money to pay the driver and I noticed the guy beside me mouthing something. I wasn't quite sure what he was saying but I didn't care.

Then I felt the presence of the girl to my left also trying to get my attention. I raised my head and there she was, a perfect being. I paused my music to hear what she was saying and then collect her number. But then I thought, "what's the point?"

Alright, thanks for your contribution...

Harlotry

Two weeks after Bisola came back to Lagos; she developed an illness. At first, it were minor symptoms which were overlooked and tagged as ‘it will get better' but being in the medical field for over eight years, I took a close look at her, ran series of tests - without her knowledge, of course and the results always said the same thing.

Bisola has HIV!

You know, for someone who has loved and cherished this beautiful woman and trusted her with everything in me, it was heartbreaking and unbelievable. How on earth, could a woman I've been with for the past three years develop such life threatening disease. When we first met, I made sure to run some tests on her without her consent just to confirm if I'm on the safe side before having anything to do with her. I've always been one to look before I leap. She didn't have any illness that might jeopardize my love for her or terminate our contact so we continued with our lovey dovey escapades until I eventually asked her to be my woman.

Apparently, she was head over heals with this young doctor - me - that she agreed immediately. Our love knew no bounds, we explored each other like a scientist will explore his lab rat. Two weeks ago, Bisola woke up one morning to tell me while I was in the shower; that she'll be traveling to Abuja that morning for an urgent matter and will return the next day.

I mean, it was somewhat traumatizing to hear, what was more traumatizing was the realization of her absence from my home for just a day. But i wasn't going to let her know that I couldn't live without her, so I agreed to her ridiculous impromptu excuse and wished her all the best.

The next day, Bisola didn't return. Her number wasn't going through, my heart was threatening to burst open from the anxiety and fear I was feeling all at once. You can't imagine the number of ridiculous taunting thoughts that ran through my mind. But Bisola was an adult and she could take care of herself.

Now, she returned looking like the nightmare version of herself that tormented me these past week of her disappearance. She lamented a very touching story but being a man of foresight, I knew immediately that she wasn't entirely telling the truth. A sedative in her meal to calm her down, I had proceeded to draw out her blood for the test and immediately sent it to the lab and a few hours later, I'm informed that my dearest Bisola is HIV positive with other anomalies that are existing in her system.

Well, I honestly didn't expect anything different from a woman that once sold her body for money.

This turned out longer than I anticipated, sorry

To Forget

Any day I walk into Abike's salon, I'm being reminded of the very act that tore our friendship apart. I mean, it's being years since that ugly incident happened but each day always seemed like yesterday. Even after our friendship is restored, our lives going amazingly according to plan and purpose, and Abike marrying the most eligible bachelor in town. I could always tell the slight change in atmosphere whenever I stepped into the same room with Abike. Her face contouring into a slight frown even when it's obvious she was smiling a moment ago, her defensive body language and a somewhat unreadable expression on her face. Is it disgust, I can't tell.

It's been twelve years since her boyfriend left her for me. We were young then, in secondary school; young, dumb and broke. But even after graduating from secondary school and university, serving in the same state and being by each other side. I can't help but feel that Abike might have said she had forgiven me and there's no way she'd hold grudges over some dumb choices we made in secondary school, she has somehow not forgotten that very act.

After all, the name 'boyfriend snatcher' became so popular that I might have believed somehow; that I truly did steal Abike's boyfriend back then in secondary school.

Well, he came to me first...

Our (teacher) just died.


Today, half of the girls in Maryhill Girls Secondary school will die. On the inside, that is.

We were all seated in our classrooms, few minutes before lunch break was over, our foods eaten and lunch bags discarded. I'm sitting with Adufe as I watch her rave and rant about the promiscuous behaviours of Shola. I'd always known that Adufe was a self righteous daughter of a gun who only saw the bad in others. She's only my friend for the benefits and only thing I needed to do was nod, look pitiful and watch her speak.

Just when she was about to describe how Shola had had unprotected sex with this new guy around the block, there's a heavy loud thud from outside, like the sound of a heavy bag of rice being dropped without caution.

Intrigued, we all rushed to the window to see what's going on. And there it was, the lifeless body of Mr. Samuel.

Mr. Samuel; the only man that made us feel special in many ways and also the only man in this girls secondary school that every girl was willing to sacrifice her virginity for.

I rub my belle, maybe I won't keep this one after all. I wouldn't want to bring a fatherless child into this world...

The dead tell no tales.

Fatima died at age fifty six, in her bed at exactly 3am when the spirits were wandering. We were told that she bade everyone a goodnight, went to her room, locked herself up as usual and went to bed.

Nsikak managed to tell the story of how she had heard some struggles at around 2:30am and thought it would was just Fatima's usual bathroom breaks where she'd struggle to open the faulty bathroom door.

After some time past, I realized a lot of people had so many opinions about Fatima's life. Some hated her, called her cheap, talked about how she messed up her youthful years only to get married to Victor who made sure he let her know he was the man of the house.

Some said she could have done better, could have kept herself, could have built a career, could have bought a house. Some said her personality was absolutely horrifying, the disgust they felt each time she walked into a room, the absolute shame they felt on her behalf. Others called her a gentle soul, reminisced on her sense of humour and charitable nature. One went on to talk about how Fatima had owed her for years and had refused to pay, shaming her even when she was dead.

I felt Fatima was just there, was just living, was just a beautiful woman who didn't make good use of her youthful years. Some days I pitied her, envied her and other days I was just so distraught on how she could nag about the littlest things, quick to anger and slow to forgive.

But all these didn't matter when I saw her diary. I was cleaning up her room because no one else could do. So I stumbled upon her diary and read through them and that's when I realized the trauma, depression, self hate, self condemnation, anxieties that Fatima was going through even at that age.

Lord, did I break down and weep until my eyes were sore; yes! I broke down, cried till I could no longer hear my voice. But Fatima is no longer here to tell people the battles she waged against herself and the countless wars she fought and eventually when she couldn't take it anymore she took her own life.

She wrote at the very last page of the diary.

24th June 2029.

Time 2:30am

Dear diary,
Today, I'm going to take my own life, for I've had enough!

To Love and to cherish.

She walks into the room smiling seductively. Flowery scented soap fills the air from the shower she just had. He loves the scent of her soap; he'd always loved everything about her.

She giggles, thoughts of the nasty things they were going to do together floating through her mind.

She walks towards him, each step calculated, her hands going over her body and stopping at the knot that held her white towel in place. She smiles, he watches.

She pulls the white towel away as it lands on the floor in a heap. She walks away from it, eyes on her target. This time he smiles, almost laughing from the tension that clouds the atmosphere.

This wasn't their first time, no. In fact, he'd always had her all to himself until the day she served him an invitation card to her wedding. But that's a story for another day.

As she walks towards him, he realised a lot of things; how shallow minded, naive and delusional she can be. He knew she was expecting him to roar, to demand, to command like he'd always done but those days were past and all he wanted was revenge. It was evident in his eyes, but she couldn't see it.

Immediately she got to the bed, he roars just to excite her. He gives her a flowery kiss, proceeds to touching, caressing and handling everything his hands could touch. She moans.

Yes, that's right, just how he wanted it. He spreads her legs apart, gently touching and caressing the flesh, he slides in; one finger, two finger. He stops, she quakes, lost of breath, her body pleading to continue. He continues, each thrust rising in tempo and just when she was about to wet the floor, he stops.

She sighs, looks up at him like he was a god and she could worship him if it meant for him to continue.

“Today, I'm going to take your life" he whispers.

“Yes, take me baby and please don't stop" she says, excited, eyes glinting. He kisses her again, pulls down his trousers and stretches his hand to the table beside the bed.

His hand touches the metal, he smiles. He pulls it to himself, and just before her mind could register what was going on. He digs the knife into her neck, blood rushes out. She chokes, eyes searching for answers.

She holds unto her neck, lips moving but not uttering a word. He smiles. “A taste of your own medicine, huh?" He says. He drives the knife deeper, making sure to finish what he had started. Just then, her hands drops, her body goes limb, her face motionless, her eyes void of life.

He stands up, cleans the knife on the sheets and sighs.

“Such a waste. You wanted to leave me and marry someone else? If I can't have you then no one else can"

I parked outside and walked through the gate into the compound. Toyosi’s car was still in its usual spot. Quite unusual – she should be at work by this time. Maybe she came back to help that fraud pack.

Her handbag and car keys were on the dining table. I opened the guestroom and noticed the man was still around. His stuff was scattered on the bed. I moved up the stairs and halfway up, I heard the sounds – sounds of relentless prayer. I approached the bedroom door, ready to unleash my anger when I paused. Underneath the “kalabayes” and “mandahabalaaalaba hallelujahs”, I could detect other noises - the erotic moans and rhythmic sounds of two bodies slapping against each other. I kicked the door open and barged in, stopping dead in my tracks as I gaped in disbelief.

Toyosi’s protruding breasts shook and bounced all over the place from the force of his energetic thrusts. He held her waist tightly from behind, his hips slamming “miracles” into her. She screamed when she saw me and tried to disengage, but at that moment the “man of God” reached his point of no return – the stupid look on his face as his body froze and convulsed like he was having an epileptic fit, coupled with the weird sounds that came out of his mouth told me he had just nutted in my wife. He finally noticed my presence and let go of her.

Toyosi tumbled off the bed to the far corner. The man knelt there more in surprise than shock, but the look on his face slowly turned into craft and confidence.

“Brother Joshua,” he said, tugging at his goatee as he stepped off the bed.

A sudden calmness washed over me. Any other person would have gone mental on the man. They watched me closely as I walked quietly to the closet and opened a secret panel. Inside lying beside several stacks of mint cash was a black case. I pulled out a mean-looking Magnum Desert Eagle 50 action express.

“Jesus!! Joshua!!! W-w-w-what are you doing with a gun?” my wife screamed. I slammed the loaded clip in and pointed it at the fake fukq who, raising his hands in defense, now had a scared look on his face. It wasn’t there for long.

“Brother Joshua,” he said in that grating, annoying voice I’ve had to endure for several weeks, “when the Lord decrees, man has to obey. We are all but mortal flesh in his eyes.”

He moved confidently to the foot of the bed before turning back to me. “The lord told me…no, he demanded…COMMANDED – that I cleanse your wife’s womb with the holy water of my seed. Who are you to dare question his word?" he roared. "It is his will that I, his esteemed servant, use my staff to purify the vessel that will bear the fruit you seek, just as Moses used his staff to part the Red Sea to lead the Israelites acro-”

The bang of the gun was deafening – his face exploded and brains, blood, and other gory stuff painted the air behind him. He landed on his back on the bed, what was left of his head turning the white sheets and pillows a dark, angry crimson. I put two more into the left side of his chest just to be sure. I turned to my wife, who was already screaming in horror. She sank to the floor in despair.

“Ayanfe mi…please…don’t kill me.” she whimpered. A large puddle began to form under her.

“Why?” was all I could muster.

She began to babble. I found it hard to follow what she was saying. I walked up to her and pulled her naked body to her feet.

"It's okay baby," I consoled her. I hugged her fiercely, kissing her lips with all the passion I could muster.

“I love you,” I whispered before another equally loud bang shook the room.

She gasped and a look of horror etched across her face. A wet gurgling sound escaped her lips, and a gush of crimson sprayed on my face as she tried to speak. She struggled feebly in my arms but I held her tightly. She finally went limp and I saw the light in her eyes fade to nothingness. The bullet had torn through her heart.

I lay her beside the carnage that was left of the now departed man-of-God and caressed her beautiful face, shutting her eyes for the last time. I wiped the blood that had trickled out her mouth and nose, and whimpered a prayer as I wept over her. Looking at the cold steel in my hands, I pushed the barrel into my mouth as far as it could go.

I shut my eyes, and the good times we had in our short time as husband and wife flashed through my darkened vision. My finger tightened. The last thing I heard before my world plunged to black was a final loud bang.

metalgear11:
.

Talk your mind joor

sochey:
Talk your mind joor

I don change am. @OP, apologies for making this longer than it should be. It's the writer in me.

metalgear11:
I don change am. @OP, apologies for making this longer than it should be. It's the writer in me.

I love it, thank you so much

I'm still learning how to write expressively like that.

sochey:
I love it, thank you so much

I'm still learning how to write expressively like that.

It just takes a creative mind, passion, and a lot of edits and structure. I usually give my characters life and personalities in my head before writing.

metalgear11:
It just takes a creative mind, passion, and a lot of edits and structure. I usually give my characters life and personalities in my head before writing.

Alright, thank you

sochey:
Alright, thank you

I tried uploading another one but the Spambot deleted the post and banned me for 24hrs.

metalgear11:
I tried uploading another one but the Spambot deleted the post and banned me for 24hrs.

Chai. Why na? Is there anyway it can be remedied?