plainmirror:


Bravery, perseverance, courage, determination are all elements of greatness.

True.. when channelled to wonderful things..not theft. nobody remembers all these when a thief is being mobbed...
Larry,beautiful work as always

LarrySun:
Quite far-fetched, isn't it?

Big time.

hmmmmmmmm

zinylizzy:

True.. when channelled to wonderful things..not theft. nobody remembers all these when a thief is being mobbed...
Larry,beautiful work as always

You are correct buh life screw some pipo harder than it does to others

Chapter One - VII

After two days of witnessing the horrible live cremation, Black, cowered with fear, took a stroll back to the square of the incident. The charred remains of the thief had been shovelled away, but the dark ground still revealed the evidence of the barbarious act that occurred two days earlier. That particular section of the floor was black, there were even the metallic rings that made up the tyre after the rubber had burned off. Fire had transformed the initial colour of the metallic element into orange, some parts of the rings were coated with grey sulphuric substances. Black stared at the dar floor for a long time, remembering the horrible cry of the thief that burned.

The usual activities of the square had continued, as if nothing spectacular had occurred two days ago. Black surmised that what had happened the two previous days was not the first of its kind; some other thieves, or criminals, must have been set ablaze prior the one Black witnessed. The suspicion of that fact momentarily set the boy's heart racing, and that moment he wanted to leave the location, he wanted to stay away from here as far as possible, but he could not do that now, he had just discovered another uncompleted building that provided him shelter; the house was securely roofed and the windows were fixed, what was left to finish the building was the fixing of the doors and the plastering of the walls. Even the ceilings were already fixed. The house owner might return anytime to complete the house, but Black was sure that the building would shelter him for a few days, or months, before the owner would evict him. Besides the fact that he had found a shelter, he couldn't leave the city because leaving would mean abandoning his mother. Even though his mother now had no grave, Black still consoled himself with the belief that he resided in an area where the soul of his mother roamed. Black thought his mother was with him now, watching him, following him around, But he couldn't know if she was smiling or crying. All he could conjure in his tiny head was the image of his mother's bloated corpse when he pushed her into the hole. He guessed she would be weeping, as he had once found her in one of his dreams. She would definitely be weeping at who he had become. But little Black consoled himself with the thought that all he was doing was only the bid to honour his mother's request. She had asked him to take back their things from Chief Salami, Black knew no other way of achieving that other than first becoming who he had just become, a common thief. He didn't feel guilty for being a thief, or for taking a property belonging to someone else; he had make sure to always take from only people who would not suffer much at the loss of their things. Black would never rob an old woman or a beggar; even thieves live by codes of honour.

However, his presence here now was far from larcenous intents; as a matter of fact, he. Had decided not to make any robbery in this neighbourhood; the inhabitants of this area had never boasted of treating thieves with kindness. And Black had no desire of hanging on their bad sides; there were still more than enough litres of petrol in the nearest filling station, the petty traders had never for once declined to sell matches to potential customers, and more vehicles would always shed their bad tyres. Black's presence here was not to watch the part where the thief had burned alive two days earlier. He wondered where the soul of the thief would go. Would it stay in the realm of his mother's? Black was sure his mother would not like the thief if they met in wherever dead people always went. Before her demise, Black's mother had always had a strong disapproval of larceny; and she had hated Salami with passion for claiming the things that did not belong to him. She would not like to see her son joining the class of people she abhor. But Peter Black had no choice.

As Peter Black cast his face up, he saw something strange.


********************************************************


Larry Sun can ghostwrite for you (novels, short stories, biographies, autobiographies, etc) at an affordable price. Contact him via email (larrysundynasty@gmail.com) or through +2349061754872. God bless you.

Jumizie13:
hmmmmmmmm

Hello younger sister. Howdy?

~ Following

Weldone bro.......

*Chapter One - VII (Continued)*

Life in the area had continued as usual; no one paid any interest to the small twelve-year-old black boy. Buyers and sellers negotiated over wares, skinny porters transported heavy goods on wheelbarrows, fat porters moved light loads with their heads, conductors hailed travellers to board their vehicles. The noise went on and on until a conductor and a driver began to argue over the money realised, and the argument soon escalated into a brawl that required the brandishment of jagged-edged bottle to threaten each other. No one attempted to stop the pugilists from displaying their boxing prowess; a small crowd gathered around them with the expectation of catching the sight of spilled blood, or at least the dispacement of a tooth from its gum by the brutal effort behind an inflicted punch. But none of these sufficed and the spectators were gradually getting bored with the chicken fights, the fighters refused to use the weapons they held, all they were doing now was gracing each other's personalities with series of abuses and curses, not much unlike what two quarrelling ladies would do. But because there was nothing else more exciting, and with the hope that something more interesting could be displayed, the crowd still feasted their eyes and ears with the foibles of the two obviously slow-witted transporters.

But it wasn't this scenario that appeared strange to Black, although strangely ridiculous in its own way. What the boy saw hereafter was something as dangerous as it was cruel. At a far corner of the square was a blind old man standing bent; he was holding a long walking stick in his left hand, a small bowl in the right and saying prayers with his mouth. It was evident that the man was begging for alms; occasionally, he would say a prayer he had already said and back it up with a familiar dirge. He wasn't prayer for himself, his prayers were meant for the kind people who would bestow a coin or something edible. Some few people would walk past and deposit some money into the bowl. Black recalled his father giving alms to beggars a number of times before his imprisonment.

Then as the beggar continued to pray, Black saw a boy creep towards the old man, the boy reached the bowl and deftly picked some coins from it. Black could not believe his eyes; he nursed an open-mouthed astonishment. Why would anyone stoop so low to rob a helpless beggar? He could not even imagine engaging in something as aweful, and dangerous. He was afraid for the boy, this was not a neighbourhood where you could steal and get away with it; the boy would be killed if he was caught. And because Black could not want to witness again what he had two days earlier, he ran towards the boy to stop him.

"Return it immediately!" He whispered nervously into the boy's ear as he reached him from behind.

The startled thief sharply turned around with fright. He was scared that he had been caught. He wanted to take to his heels but stopped on discovering that it was only a young boy talking to him. "Who are you?" The thief asked Black.

Black looked at the thief carefully; the boy was visibly older than him for he was taller and broader, Black judged that he would be about seventeen or eighteen years old, just about barely younger than the unfortunate thief of two days before. It was not only his body structure that seemed remarkable about the thief, he also had an alert, dangerous look, like a black cat that could smell a nest of newly-born mice. Something about the thief told Black that he should stay away from him. Unlike Black who was small and dark-skinned, the thief was big and light-skinned, and he possessed an equal pair of big strong hands.

"I said you should return the money you picked from that bowl, or would you rather I screamed?"

At the utterance of the threat, the thief poured the coins back into the blind man's bowl. And the beggar, because he had lost his sights and was unaware of the activities before him, bowed in gratitude at hearing the sounds of coins dropping into his bowl, and he rained prayers on the thief who had just robbed him moments earlier.

As soon as the big boy dropped his booty, Black dragged him to a safe corner and nagged at him.

"Do you want to get killed?" Black asked. He wasn't shouting but his words carried a loud weight.

"No, but I am so hungry." The thief replied grimly. His eyes were darting this way and that way. He seemd to be ready to cart off with even Black if he were edible. The boy looked more haggard than Black even though he appeared stronger and bigger, but Black still looked healthier without a doubt. Black himself recalled the time he had been more than as hunger-stricken as this strange fellow before him.

"How could hunger drive you to engage in something so suicidal?"

The boy looked sharply at Black and asked, "What do you mean by 'suicidal'?"

"Weren't you aware that a thief was burned to death here two days ago?"

"Of course, I was."

Black stared at him with disbelief. He guess the boy to be physically big but psychologically small. "And you still went ahead to steal from a beggar when the temperature of the cremated thief had barely dropped? That is a very rash thing to do. I'm sure you need a doctor who treats lunatics, food is only a minor variable."

The boy stared at Black and replied, "I don't understand what you are talking about. I'm hungry. Can I get some food?"

"I will have to take you to where I live, I have some snacks there. Where do you live?"

The thief spread his hands, "I live everywhere, I live nowhere, I don't have a home."

Black was not surprised to hear that, the thief must have been living in the streets, too. As he led the boy to where he lived, Black continued to ask the older thief some questions.

"Where are your parents?"

Black was expecting him to tell him that he had lost his parents too, but he was not prepared for the reply he got.

"My parents live in the neighbouring state. I ran away from home."

Black was so shocked with the reply that he paused in his track for a moment. He decided that the boy could really be insane. Which sane kid would live his parents to live a life of solitude? Black would give anything to have his parents back alive.

He didn't understand that his new friend was the child of an alcoholic slattern and a dipsomaniac father who was a frequently unemployed mechanic. The boy, on growing up, had recalled in various occasions his mean-spirited inebriated father always arguing with his equally intoxicated mother. The bone of contention was always money, but the quarrels easily changed to the incredibly terrible dinner she had prepared, she throwing back accusations on his eyes for other women and his sloppy manners, the huge losses he had incurred in gambling his thin income away, and lastly the lack of food in the house. Most times, only water would be placed on fire to convince the neighbours that they always cooked. But above all, the thin walls of the decrepit house they lived in did little to muffle the voices of the parents each time they argued. The child got tired one morning and left the house without the intention of returning. But his drunken parents did not notice his absence. They cared more about their bottles of rum than about their child.


********************************************************


Larry Sun can ghostwrite for you (novels, short stories, biographies, autobiographies, etc) at an affordable price. Contact him via email (larrysundynasty@gmail.com) or through +2349061754872. God bless you.

Aww the guy was massacred in the fire. Very saddening, Black has learnt a thing or two, he should know better now. LarrySun Thumbs up, you are really capturing the scenes very vividly. More wisdom to you.

Missmossy:
Aww the guy was massacred in the fire. Very saddening, Black has learnt a thing or two, he should know better now. LarrySun Thumbs up, you are really capturing the scenes very vividly. More wisdom to you.

Thank you so much, ma'am.

Interesting.


LarrySun, if I may ask. How many chapters does this story have?

LogoDWhiz:
Interesting.


LarrySun, if I may ask. How many chapters does this story have?

Just thirty-five chapters.

LarrySun:
Just thirty-five chapters.

Wow! That's much.

This is going to be long!

LogoDWhiz:


Wow! That's much.

This is going to be long!

Lol! Not too much.

LarrySun:
Lol! Not too much.

Lol. Okay o

this one wey we neva finish chapter 1

Most times, only water would be placed on fire to convince the neighbours that they always cooked.

this part got me laughing but like seriously that isn't meant to be and the thing is that these things still happen in many homes today

Larrysun God bless ur brain n keep u strong

u no call me bt i call my self.....good job fire on

ezeigbo194:
u no call me bt i call my self.....good job fire on

Eze!!! My great brother! You're welcome, sir. I didn't see your sweetheart from the Paradox of Abel, where is she?

LOL@ Only water would be placed on the fire.

Ride on, Larry. Nice work!

LArrysun, well done.

Na you try pass.

LarrySun the king of adventure genre in literature.

KingLarry #respect

LarrySun the king of adventure genre in literature.
The story line is about to take a new twist; a formidable alliance has been formed.

KingLarry #respect

LarrySun:
Eze!!! My great brother! You're welcome, sir. I didn't see your sweetheart from the Paradox of Abel, where is she?

lemme look for her

*Chapter One - VII (Continued)*

When they reached Black's abode, both boys dined on the sausage that Peter had kept. As they dined, they also continued chatting; each boy seemed interested in knowing about the other. They were trying to develop a mutual likeness, hoping to form a friendship bond. Both boys had lived so lonely that they yearned for someone to call a friend, someone to talk to. They were now trying to determine between each other if they could be friends. Besides, they both had one thing in common already; they were both pickpockets. They needed to know If they had something else in common.

"What is your name?" Black asked.

"People call me Basket."

"Basket?" What a strange name. "Why do people call you that?"

"They say I'm clumsy; I can't hold anything steady. The name stuck on me when we were playing football and I was the goalkeeper, we conceded twelve goals in that match. My team mates were so angry at me that they tried to find me a befitting nickname. Someone suggested they call me Watering Can but the others said it was too mouthful, another person suggested the name Basket because a basket is never known to hold water, and so Basket became my nomenclature."

"And you answer to such name?"

"Of course, I do. I like it; as a matter of fact, I like the sharp intonations behind the pronouncement of the two syllables. I'm a proud Basket." He ended his explanation with a smile. Then he looked at Black and asked, "What is your own name?"

"My name is Peter Black, but I'd prefer you called me Black."

"Where are your parents?"

"My parents are dead."

"That's terrible. How do you survive?"

Black looked at Basket and hesitated; he was reluctant to tell the boy that he was also a thief. But Black didn't know how to lie, so he blurted out the truth, "I steal from people; just like you do, but in a more careful way."

Basket smiled broadly and said, "We're partners in crime. I'll love to learn some stealing tricks from you. No wonder you were able to see me take from that blind man. It takes only a thief to catch a thief. Anyways, we shouldn't consider ourselves thieves, we should see ourselves as keep-to-maniacs."

Black frowned and asked, "What's a keep-to-maniac?"

Basket looked serious, trying to remember the meaning of this word he had recently heard from somewhere. "It means someone who enjoys keeping other people's things to himself."

"Then what is 'maniac' doing in the word?"

"I don't know. I don't even know what 'maniac' means."

"Maniac means a madman. Does that mean that thieves are mad people?"

Basket shrugged, "I don't know."

"If thieves are mad people, does that mean we are mad?"

"You ask too many questions. How old are you?"

"I am twelve years old."

"I'm fifteen years old," Basket beamed, "That means I'm older than you."

"Didn't you know that already?"

"How would I know that? I didn't know your age."

Black wondered why his first friend would be such a mental sap. He changed the subject and asked, "Where would you sleep tonight?" He was hoping to offer Black a shelter.

"I'm going to pass the night here."

Black was glad. He was tired of sleeping alone since his mother's demise. Sometimes, the nights scared him, as if one wild animal could suddenly sneek up on him and eat him up. Having a companion to keep him company in the night was a good development.

"What about tomorrow night?" He found himself asking Basket.

"I don't know, but I will know if tomorrow comes."

"Why don't you live here with me?"

Hearing the request, Basket carefully looked at the room and shook his head. Black thought he was going to decline the offer but Basket replied by saying, "We will have to rent a normal room as soon as we have enough money."

Black liked the idea and answered, "Yes, we will."

Basket asked, "So, what is our plan for tomorrow?"

"As you already said, we shall know if tomorrow comes."

"I suggest we steal a dictionary tomorrow." Peter Black smiled at the one who could not hold anything steady. As Basket smiled back at him, Black knew that he had found a friend.

The friendship of these two boys would cause a powerful ripple on the destiny of each one of them, and on the fates of some other people.

But they didn't know that.


********************************************************


Larry Sun can ghostwrite for you (novels, short stories, biographies, autobiographies, etc) at an affordable price. Contact him via email (larrysundynasty@gmail.com) or through +2349061754872. God bless you.

LogoDWhiz:

Lol. Okay o

this one wey we neva finish chapter 1

We're gradually reaching the end of the first chapter. Thanks for following, sir.

kingphilip:
Most times, only water would be placed on fire to convince the neighbours that they always cooked.

this part got me laughing but like seriously that isn't meant to be and the thing is that these things still happen in many homes today

Larrysun God bless ur brain n keep u strong

Thank you so much, sir. Am I permitted to call that number on your signature? I just want to hear the voice of the legendary King.

Iaz93:
LOL@ Only water would be placed on the fire.

Ride on, Larry. Nice work!

Oh! Iaz is here! This is awesome!

Dyoungstar:
LArrysun, well done.

Na you try pass.

My brother from another mister. I hail you, bro. I've not forgotten my book cover design.

plainmirror:
LarrySun the king of adventure genre in literature.
The story line is about to take a new twist; a formidable alliance has been formed.

KingLarry #respect

Yes. Our friends make or mar us. God bless you, sir.

ezeigbo194:

lemme look for her

I trust you.

It's been a long while I read something so professional and detailed on NL since Prettyspicey stopped posting on NL..... thanks LArrysun for this beautiful piece, following to the end.