Flash 8: The Last Messenger

He stepped out of the shadow and quietly followed the mark; his right hand held his pistol - the same gun he had used to kill countless of other unfortunate people.

The man being followed saw a shadow behind him and turned around. He was staring at the dark hole of a pistol. That was the last thing he saw before the killer pulled the trigger.

Dorian was a hitman. He specialised on a single job - killing messengers. After these messengers had delivered, Dorian would step in and take them out, just like he had done this night. But this was his last job, his employer knew. He was retiring.

His phone rang and he picked up. "Hello."

"You have a new job. The details will be sent to you."

"I am retired."

"Just this last one."

"Okay."

"You will receive the message shortly."

Five minutes later, the next instruction appeared on his phone. The mark was a certain person named Dan.

The following night, Dorian sought out Dan. He wasn't interested in what the person might have done. Dan was obviously one of the messengers, but he would be the last messenger. After this final job, he would leave the country - he would never return.

It was almost midnight. Dorian picked the lock of the house and stepped into the dark room. Suddenly, the light came on. There was a woman sitting in a chair facing him. She was holding a pistol and smiling at him.

"Hello Dorian," she greeted.

Dorian was confused. This could not possibly be the mark. "Who are you?"

"People call me Dan."

"Dan?"

"Daniella," she replied. "You've forgotten that you're also a messenger. Well, I have a message for you - happy retirement."

Dorian felt something hit his chest. He looked down and saw blood. He collapse to the floor.

©Larry Sun, July 2020

Dorian was stupid to have believed they were going to allow him live freely after everything, that's not how it works, he knows too much, leaving him alive was tantamount to destruction..


BRAVO LARRYSUN...

I just want to know how you do it Larrysun. The Way you introduce your characters and the plot to bring them alive without making it dull for your audience. Good one bro.

Khriztarl comman see oh.

enirock:
I just want to know how you do it Larrysun. The Way you introduce your characters and the plot to bring them alive without making it dull for your audience. Good one bro.

Khriztarl comman see oh.

i have come o..
thanks for the seat.

Time traveller got me scared to an extent. Going back to meet his mother oops.
oga frank, its not me and you thats dead ni, you're dead alone.
i would really like to know what was in that flash drive.. Larrysun tell na.. Ejoor
enirock thankie so much.

Thumbs up LarrySun, you too much

Flash 9: Taken

Joe and Amanda had been married for two years. Their love was the purest, the truest. They could lay down their lives for each other. Neither of them had ever been with any other person. They were each other's first love. They shared the rarest kind of love. In this world of deception and betrayal, Joe and Amanda managed to find each other - they were the perfect couple. This love was sweet. They found paradise in each other's eyes. They thought this was never going to end.

But tragedy struck after their second year of marriage.

Amanda had cancer. It had been eating her up for a while; and by the time she was diagnosed, recovery was out of the question. Amanda was going to die.

After six months of the diagnosis, Amanda was bedridden. She had become a shadow of herself. The beautiful woman had been reduced to a fleshless wraight. But Joe never stopped loving her. He never stopped caring for her.

He took leave from work to take care of his dying wife. He would bathe her and clean her up. Each night she slept, Joe prayed she woke up the next morning. He would cry helplessly by her deathbed.

"God, please spare my wife," he would beg.

"Take me instead."

"She doesn't deserve to suffer this way. Amanda has the purest heart. Why are you punishing her this way?"

He would cry until he fell asleep beside her.

One night, he suddenly bolted awake to find a stranger by their bed. Fear gripped Joe's heart immediately.

"Who are you? What do you want? How did you get in?" He tried to see the intruder's face but it was shielded in a dark hood.

"Her time has come," the stranger spoke calmly.

"What are you talking about?" Joe was confused. "Whose time has come? Please leave my house right now before I call the police."

"I am the messenger of God. I have come to claim your wife's soul. Her time is nigh."

Fear immediately gripped Joe's heart. Something about the man sent coldness through his spine. He tried to wake up his wife but Amanda was not responding. He started crying again.

"Please don't take her from me!" He begged. "She's all I've got. Please spare my wife! I'm begging you! Don't let her die."

"It's her destiny. You're not meant to be together for long. You have to let her go. You will find another woman. Although your love would not be as perfect as this, you would be together till old age."

"I don't want another woman. I want only my Amanda. Please spare her."

The intruder shook his head and said. "You can't be together again. It's simply impossible. It's beyond my power. Her destiny is the design of the Almighty."

"Then take me instead!" Joe pleaded.

"It's not your time to die, Joe."

"Then do something. Spare her life, please!"

"There is only one thing I can do. I can reverse her destiny without altering God's design."

"Will she live?"

"Yes, she will live. Her sickness will disappear. You will both live for a long time."

Joe jumped up in happiness. "Thank you! Thank you so much."

"But you will never be together again."

"What!"

"The love you both share will evaporate. Every indication that you ever loved each other will disappear."

"But we got married. Everyone knows she's my wife."

"Nobody will know anything. The memory of both of you ever being together will not only evaporate from your wife's memory but also in the memories of everyone who knew both of you. All your wedding pictures, videos, love messages, romantic dates - everything will evaporate. You will become a total stranger to her."

"That's not fair!"

"Life is not fair. You want her life back, don't expect fairness. Now tell me, do you still want her to live knowing that she will not only stop loving you, she will also hate your guts?"

Joe was silent for a long time.

"Think deeply about it," the messenger urged. "Take your time."

"What about my memories of us?" Joe asked, "Would they also evaporate?"

The figure shrugged. "Yes. You will also hate her."

Tears ran down Joe's cheeks. "She's the love of my life."

"If you want, I can leave you with the memory. But I'd advise you to allow me wipe every trace of her from your mind. The memories will only bring you sadness."

"I love her. I wish you knew how much I love her. If the memories are the only things I would have left of her, please let me keep them. I am not ready to let her go."

"Then so be it."

Joe fell back to the bed and slept off.

The next morning, Amanda was not beside him. He searched everywhere for her but couldn't find her in the house. Everything about her had disappeared. It was as if she never existed. He ran out of the house. There was no sign of her. He checked his phone for her number, but couldn't find it.

He called his friend Andrew.

"Please have you seen my wife today?" Joe asked.

"Wife? Are you drunk?"

"Please answer my question," Joe said urgently.

"What's wrong with you, man? You've never been married. You don't even have a girlfriend."

Joe cancelled the call immediately. It was true after all. Amanda had disappeared.

Then he remembered. He had every memory of her. He knew her phone number off hand. He quickly dialled the number.

"Hello, who is this?"

"Amanda. It's me Joe."

"Joe? Who is Joe?"

"The same Joe. Your husband."

"Is this a joke?"

"No, I'm really your husband, Amanda!"

"You must be crazy."

She cancelled the call.

But Joe never gave up. He continued trying to locate her. She was his wife. He wasn't going to back down suddenly. He would make her remember. He found her on Facebook. She was using her maiden name, not her married name. He sought her out in her home.

But just as the messenger of God had said, Amanda hated him. She never wanted to see him.

A few weeks later, Joe attended Amanda's wedding. Tears fell down his face as he watched her kiss another man. She had looked at the man the same special way she had looked at him on their wedding day.

Today, Joe is in a mental facility. Everyone believes he has gone mad.


©Larry Sun, July 2020

Wow wow wow
Splendid, magnifico, beautiful and all together captivating
I doff my hat sir......

RESPECT.

Poor joe.

Joe, life has never been fair.. You should have allowed the memories of her to be erased, so the pains it's causing you...

BRAVO LARRYSUN..

Somehow I think Joe got the best and worst gift entwined in one.

Khriztarl:
i have come o.. thanks for the seat.

You welcome dear.

EkopSparoAyara:
Joe, life has never been fair.. You should have allowed the memories of her to be erased, so the pains it's causing you...

BRAVO LARRYSUN..

Oga Larrysun at it again, the last update really got me thinking that how can nature collect what really is dear and precious to someone. But I kinda view it from another angle that Que sera sera what will be will surely be.

God has destined some thing's to happen, but might be too painful to accept it. Though I fell deeply for Joe the way he lost Amanda, but that's not the end of the world he just have to let go and focus on the future and the plan of God for him.

He should remember, he can't eat his cake and have it. But he did the best thing by saving Amanda despite knowing that she will still hate him, that's the highest extent you can go for love.

Anyway Mr Larry you are too... Errrm, I don't know the adjective to qualify you baami. Just keep the good work coming.

Good morning friends..

Flash 10: The Believer

I was about twelve years old when the missionary came to our village. They had already built a school in a neighbouring village before they came to ours. And I attended this school; I had been attending it for many years. My father was the village's chief priest but he was wise enough to understand the value of western education. Perhaps the oracles had revealed to him that western education was the future of humanity.

When the missionary finally came to our village, they were about to convince a lot of the villagers to denounce their religious beliefs. They were doing it remarkably. With words, and words alone, they were able to make people destroy their shrines and believe in a Supreme Being that lives in the sky.

I remember them stepping into our compound. Apparently, they had succeeded in convincing the majority of the villagers, and my father, being the chief priest, needed to be convinced too. If they could turn the chief priest, the remaining few stubborn ones who still held on to their beliefs would fall in line.

As soon as the whitemen stepped into our compound, my father rushed into the hut and returned with a cutlass. Indeed, it was a sight to behold as the preachers ran for their dear lives, tripping on each other, falling and rising with renewed strength. Even as young as I was, I already understood that the men were weak. No one would threaten my father with a cutlass and he would run like that, yet these foreigners who claimed to be protected by an all-powerful God bolted at the sight of a mere cutlass.

I thought that was the last I would see of the foreigners, but I was wrong. I was on my way to the stream to fetch some water one afternoon when I was approached by one of the men who had come to convert my father. I recognised him as the leader of the group.

"Hello boy," he greeted pleasantly. "What is your name?"

"Tochukwu," I answered. I was fascinated by how long his nose was. It reminded me of the story of Pinocchio we were taught in school.

"Oh! You understand English."

"I attend Mayflower Primary School."

"Good. I guess I don't need a translator." He paused and stared at me. "Tochukwu. What does that name mean?"

"Praise God." I replied.

He chuckled and said, "You're the child of the chief priest, aren't you?"

"I am," I replied. "And you were one of those who came to our compound the other day."

He seemed embarrassed by my statement. He looked away briefly and stared back at me. "I want you to talk to your father."

I frowned. "Talk about what?"

"You need to convince him to accept Jesus into his life."

I knew who Jesus was; at least I thought I did. We were taught religious studies in school. It was a very important subject that we must not fail.

"Who is Jesus?" I asked, feigning ignorance.

"Jesus Christ of Nazareth. He is the Son of God. The creator of heaven and earth."

"So why should my father accept this Jesus?"

"Because without Jesus, nobody can see the kingdom of God."

"What kingdom is that? Where is this kingdom?"

"It's in heaven. It's paradise. It's where the righteous go when they die. Anyone who does not have Jesus in his life will end up in hell where he will burn till eternity."

I stared back at the man and boldly asked: "What makes you think that your religion is superior to ours?"

"Christianity is the only true religion."

"I don't agree with you," I replied. "There is nothing about your religion that's better than our. To you, Jesus is the only link to God. The deities of our religion also convey our messages and requests to God. We have Amadioha, Agwu, Chi and other deities that convey our prayers to God. So, why should we denounce our religion and take yours?"

He was beginning to get uneasy. As he spoke, his nose seemed to grow longer. "You worship in shrines and carry various lifeless effigies of the small gods you worship."

"The same way you worship in churches and bow before the image of your Jesus and Mary. How is your religion different from ours? From your explanation, it's clear we worship the same God. We only believe in different prophets of God. You have your Jesus and we have our Amadioha. You have other prophets of God and we do too. In your stories, Jesus once lived in this world, same with our deities."

"The LORD said you should not worship any other god beside him. You lot worship your deities. You are going to hell if you don't repent."

"We worship God. We believe in Him. The deities are only messengers. We ask things through them just like you ask in the name of your Jesus."

The man shook his head. "It seems like you're a fanatic. Like your father, there's no changing your belief."

"I will adopt your religion and convince my father to do the same if you can give me a good reason why yours is superior. I have not been convinced so far, preacher."

"I hope you know the truth before it's too late for you, boy."

"I am not gullible. I will not accept your religion simply because you told me so. The fact that your skin is whiter than mine does not mean you are wiser. I feel sorry for the other villagers who chose to accept this foreign religion blindly. They are the ones who have lost their ways."

I picked up my waterpot and continued my journey to the stream, leaving the foreigner in the middle of road. I looked back at him, he was scratching his head.

After my father passed away. I became the chief priest. Even now that I am ninety years old, I have not strayed from my path. I know where I am going when I die. My creator and I already had that part figured out, I don't need you to preach to me. Worry about your own salvation.

I was born a traditionalist and I am going to die as one.

©Larry Sun, July 2020

Tochukwu, odikwa risky o. you are even bearing my name and serving diety. SMH. Make God epp you.

And after a hectic day at work, trying to come up with the best designs to give the hall a befitting wedding decoration, Larrysun's update helped to soothe my nerves..

The believer, when it comes to religion, there has and always will be disagreement and even sentiments but in the end, salvation is personal..

BRAVO LARRYSUN..

Khriztarl:
Tochukwu, odikwa risky o. you are even bearing my name and serving diety. SMH. Make God epp you.

You are from the east?

Flash 11: The Doppelganger

Akin was a popular figure in Irapada Village. He wasn't rich, or was he a chief, but he was well-known all around Irapada because he was a cheerful and polite young man.

And so when Akin was felled by a strange sickness, the entire villagers mourned his death. He had only seen thirty rainy seasons, and he had just married his childhood sweetheart - Olubunmi. The entire villagers had gathered in his compound the day he was being interred. There was no dry eye that day. His new wife had thrown herself over his corpse and had begged to be buried with him.

By dusk, Akin was buried and all who came to pay their last respects returned to their huts. Indeed a good man had gone, but life must continue.

However, a heavy rain fell the following day. It was the heaviest the villagers had ever witnessed. The rain fell for fourteen days. Crops were washed away by erosion, giant trees collapsed, many livestock drowned in the flood - but fortunately, there was no human casualty.

When the rain stopped on the fifteenth day, the sun shone brightly as if the entire village had not just suffered from a deluge, and it wasn't even the season of rain yet. When the oracles were consulted by the village's topmost occultist, it was revealed that the passing of Akin had really upset the gods.

The villagers tried to salvage what they had left and daily activities resumed as usual. The market opened and trade continued. But Olubunmi, Akin's widow, remained locked in her hut, grieving her loss. She would cry herself to sleep and wake up to resume the cries. Everyone believed that she would get over the death of her husband and move on with her life. It was only a matter of time. She was not the only young widow in Irapada Village, and she would not be the last.

A month later. The impossible happened. A stranger walked aimlessly into the village. He appeared at the village main market. On sighting him, the entire market became a bedlam. Everyone ran here and there. And in a few minutes, the entire market was deserted; only the stranger and the goods remained.

The stranger wondered why everyone had been running from him. While he continued wandering and approaching the village square, the king's palace was filled with villagers who had beheld the stranger.

"Kabiesi, the impossible has happened!" wailed an old trader who sold timber in the market.

"What do you mean?"

"We saw Akin!"

The king frowned. "Akin? Which Akin are you talking about?"

"The same Akin. The son of Agba-Akin who died many years ago."

"Are you talking about his son that died about thirty days ago?"

"Exactly, Kabiesi! We all saw him with our eyes!"

"The same Akin who left a beautiful widow behind?"

"He's the same one. We all saw him at the market."

The king shook his head. "But that's impossible. He's dead and buried. How could he be alive?"

"But he's alive!" insisted the man. "We all saw him!" He turned to the others. "Am I lying?"

The rest confirmed his statement.

"You must have seen someone else. It can't be Akin. Akin is dead. Did you not see his corpse when he died?"

"I was one of the people who placed him in the grave," the man admitted, "but I saw him."

"Maybe you saw his apparition. It happens, you know. The spirit of the dead are known to be frequently roaming."

"He's alive, Kabiesi."

"Okay. I will send some of my guards to the market. If they find him, they will bring him here. I won't believe anything you say until I see him for myself."

And so the king of Irapada Village sent some of his guards out in search of the ghost.

The stranger had just stepped into the village square when the guards found him and grabbed him. He couldn't fight free. He wondered why the men were holding him, and where they might be taking him.

When he was brought to the palace, the king almost ran away on sighting him. Every other person maintained a clear distance between themselves and him.

"Akin," the king called. "Is that you?"

But the stranger was staring at the king without giving any response.

"Can you understand what I'm saying?"

He still remained quiet.

The king continued to question him but he gave no reply. The others were staring at him with eyes filled with disbelief.

Finally, the stranger spoke. "I don't know who I am." He looked around and added, "Where is this place? Why am I here? Who am I?"

"Your name is Akin. You are the son of Agba-Akin, a successful trader. But you died in the last full moon. How come you are still alive?"

Akin looked up at the king. "I died?"

"Yes, you died. You even left behind a young wife. Look at these people here. They were all present at your funeral. They all saw your corpse. They watched you buried."

The stranger smiled briefly. "I have a wife?"

"Yes. She always cries in your hut and calls out your name with grief every night. Her name is Olubunmi. Do you remember her?"

The stranger shook his head. "I don't remember anything." He paused and said, "I want to see my wife."

While the stranger was detained in the palace, the king sent his guards to fetch Olubunmi from her hut. It was the last day of her widow confinement. The guards refused to tell her anything. The instruction they were given was only to bring her to the palace. As soon as the arrived at the palace, Olubunmi saw her dead husband and fainted.

The occultist, after consulting the oracles again, declared that the gods had decided to bring Akin back because he was a good man. It was what the gods did every one thousand years.

Akin was shown the grave where he was buried. The villagers told him how he died. They also reminded him about the person he used to be before his death. Gradually, Akin became his old self, and the villagers were grateful to the gods for returning the cheerful Akin to them.

Akin had five children with Olubunmi and they lived happily for another thirty years.

But he wasn't Akin. The villagers didn't know; neither did the king nor the occultist knew. He was simply a doppelganger. His name was Akanni. He lived in the city. He was travelling across town when he had an accident that caused him permanent amnesia. He got lost and wandered into Irapada Village.

Akanni never remembered that he had a pregnant wife in the city after his accident. Akanni and Adeola, his first wife, never saw each other again.

But thirty years later, after his death, Adisa, the first son of Akanni and Olubunmi, would also wander into the city and would be mistaken as Adigun, the grown-up child of Adeola, because Adigun had recently died too.

©Larry Sun, July 2020

All these cases of mistaken identity... How often we tend to pray that good things last but for some reason, they tend not to.

Thanks LarrySun

Series of twists in this story, interesting though

Thanks for the update

enirock:
All these cases of mistaken identity... How often we tend to pray that good things last but for some reason, they tend not to.

Thanks LarrySun

The boss Larry at it again, doing what he knows how to do best!

Larry concerning this your last update, there are still some part of Yoruba land that beliefs that there is life after death (Akudaya) meaning some people that have died can still come back to life and have children.

As the case may be in this your story, but do you think it's possible for some that is dead in another town to start living afresh in another town.. SMH

enirock:

You are from the east?

proudly igbo.

Ann2012:
Series of twists in this story, interesting though

Thanks for the update

wait, are they all in one plot?
i was thinking they were seperated. Asin shortstories.

Khriztarl:

proudly igbo.

Ezegbo madu kedu ki mere?

enirock:


Ezegbo madu kedu ki mere?

am i sure i can spell in igbo? The last one i did damselposh said it needed reconstruction. All the same ofure. *e shock you? *

LarrySun:
Flash 11: The Doppelganger

Akin was a popular figure in Irapada Village. He wasn't rich, or was he a chief, but he was well-known all around Irapada because he was a cheerful and polite young man.

And so when Akin was felled by a strange sickness, the entire villagers mourned his death. He had only seen thirty rainy seasons, and he had just married his childhood sweetheart - Olubunmi. The entire villagers had gathered in his compound the day he was being interred. There was no dry eye that day. His new wife had thrown herself over his corpse and had begged to be buried with him.

By dusk, Akin was buried and all who came to pay their last respects returned to their huts. Indeed a good man had gone, but life must continue.

However, a heavy rain fell the following day. It was the heaviest the villagers had ever witnessed. The rain fell for fourteen days. Crops were washed away by erosion, giant trees collapsed, many livestock drowned in the flood - but fortunately, there was no human casualty.

When the rain stopped on the fifteenth day, the sun shone brightly as if the entire village had not just suffered from a deluge, and it wasn't even the season of rain yet. When the oracles were consulted by the village's topmost occultist, it was revealed that the passing of Akin had really upset the gods.

The villagers tried to salvage what they had left and daily activities resumed as usual. The market opened and trade continued. But Olubunmi, Akin's widow, remained locked in her hut, grieving her loss. She would cry herself to sleep and wake up to resume the cries. Everyone believed that she would get over the death of her husband and move on with her life. It was only a matter of time. She was not the only young widow in Irapada Village, and she would not be the last.

A month later. The impossible happened. A stranger walked aimlessly into the village. He appeared at the village main market. On sighting him, the entire market became a bedlam. Everyone ran here and there. And in a few minutes, the entire market was deserted; only the stranger and the goods remained.

The stranger wondered why everyone had been running from him. While he continued wandering and approaching the village square, the king's palace was filled with villagers who had beheld the stranger.

"Kabiesi, the impossible has happened!" wailed an old trader who sold timber in the market.

"What do you mean?"

"We saw Akin!"

The king frowned. "Akin? Which Akin are you talking about?"

"The same Akin. The son of Agba-Akin who died many years ago."

"Are you talking about his son that died about thirty days ago?"

"Exactly, Kabiesi! We all saw him with our eyes!"

"The same Akin who left a beautiful widow behind?"

"He's the same one. We all saw him at the market."

The king shook his head. "But that's impossible. He's dead and buried. How could he be alive?"

"But he's alive!" insisted the man. "We all saw him!" He turned to the others. "Am I lying?"

The rest confirmed his statement.

"You must have seen someone else. It can't be Akin. Akin is dead. Did you not see his corpse when he died?"

"I was one of the people who placed him in the grave," the man admitted, "but I saw him."

"Maybe you saw his apparition. It happens, you know. The spirit of the dead are known to be frequently roaming."

"He's alive, Kabiesi."

"Okay. I will send some of my guards to the market. If they find him, they will bring him here. I won't believe anything you say until I see him for myself."

And so the king of Irapada Village sent some of his guards out in search of the ghost.

The stranger had just stepped into the village square when the guards found him and grabbed him. He couldn't fight free. He wondered why the men were holding him, and where they might be taking him.

When he was brought to the palace, the king almost ran away on sighting him. Every other person maintained a clear distance between themselves and him.

"Akin," the king called. "Is that you?"

But the stranger was staring at the king without giving any response.

"Can you understand what I'm saying?"

He still remained quiet.

The king continued to question him but he gave no reply. The others were staring at him with eyes filled with disbelief.

Finally, the stranger spoke. "I don't know who I am." He looked around and added, "Where is this place? Why am I here? Who am I?"

"Your name is Akin. You are the son of Agba-Akin, a successful trader. But you died in the last full moon. How come you are still alive?"

Akin looked up at the king. "I died?"

"Yes, you died. You even left behind a young wife. Look at these people here. They were all present at your funeral. They all saw your corpse. They watched you buried."

The stranger smiled briefly. "I have a wife?"

"Yes. She always cries in your hut and calls out your name with grief every night. Her name is Olubunmi. Do you remember her?"

The stranger shook his head. "I don't remember anything." He paused and said, "I want to see my wife."

While the stranger was detained in the palace, the king sent his guards to fetch Olubunmi from her hut. It was the last day of her widow confinement. The guards refused to tell her anything. The instruction they were given was only to bring her to the palace. As soon as the arrived at the palace, Olubunmi saw her dead husband and fainted.

The occultist, after consulting the oracles again, declared that the gods had decided to bring Akin back because he was a good man. It was what the gods did every one thousand years.

Akin was shown the grave where he was buried. The villagers told him how he died. They also reminded him about the person he used to be before his death. Gradually, Akin became his old self, and the villagers were grateful to the gods for returning the cheerful Akin to them.

Akin had five children with Olubunmi and they lived happily for another thirty years.

But he wasn't Akin. The villagers didn't know; neither did the king nor the occultist knew. He was simply a doppelganger. His name was Akanni. He lived in the city. He was travelling across town when he had an accident that caused him permanent amnesia. He got lost and wandered into Irapada Village.

Akanni never remembered that he had a pregnant wife in the city after his accident. Akanni and Adeola, his first wife, never saw each other again.

But thirty years later, after his death, Adisa, the first son of Akanni and Olubunmi, would also wander into the city and would be mistaken as Adigun, the grown-up child of Adeola, because Adigun had recently died too.

©Larry Sun, July 2020

Larry Sun you can twist sha so it's going round in a circle,nice turn of events,

Walahi you are damn good,
1000 we go

Khriztarl:

wait, are they all in one plot?
i was thinking they were seperated. Asin shortstories.

Confusion hold me oooo

Ann2012:

Confusion hold me oooo

lol. Larrysun comman give us answers ni..

Flash 12: The Perfect Plan

"I have specially selected the three of you for this mission because of your personalities," the leader of gang spoke.

"Our personalities?" one of the selected three asked in befuddlement.

"Yes. Apart from the fact that you are all unemployed, you also have no social account."

"Social account?"

"Yes, social media accounts. You know, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, you name it."

"How did you find out about that?" another man asked in surprise.

"Well, I did my homework thoroughly. I had been digging into each of you for the past couple of months. While I know each of your names, I would ask that you give yourselves nicknames."

"Why nicknames?"

"To protect your identities. Isn't that obvious already? And I'd advise you to pick a nickname you have never used before. If you would take my advice, I'd say you should bear the month of your birth. I already checked, and I know that you were all birthed in different months."

And so the first recruit was called September, the second February, and the third August.

"What month are you?" August asked.

The leader chuckled and said, "Just call me The Calendar."

"So why have you called us here?" asked September.

"We have a single job to carry out. I chose the three of you because you're capable of carrying it out. None of you is afraid of getting a little dirt under your fingernails, and I admire that." He paused, breathed in and out, then continued, "If this mission is successful, each one of you will walk away with ten million naira. With that kind of money, you can start a little life for yourselves."

"Ten million?" February could almost not believe his ears. He was already picturing how he would spend the money.

"Yes, ten million naira," replied Calendar.

"What's the job?" September asked; he refused to be fazed by the officer. He wanted to know what he was getting himself into before fantasising about the money.

"In a month's time, the wife of the foreign affairs minister will be returning from Germany. You are going to grab her on her way from the airport and take her to a secure location."

"Will there be police involved?"

Calendar shook his head. "The details about her return has been kept under the radar. Only a very few people know about her return. So, no police escorts. Only the driver would be with her in the car."

"And why must be be the ones to do the heavy-lifting? You're asking us to risk our lives while you remain hidden? What if the plan fails? You will walk free while we go to jail? Is that it?" September was already feeling cheated.

Calendar shook his head. "You're getting it wrong. My job kicks in as soon as yours is done. I will be the one to negotiate the ransom with the minister. You see, it's my voice that would be heard when I call him. I would be putting myself more at risk by talking to the man. The police might track me down from there."

"If that's the case, then why do you want us to risk our freedom for something that may fail?"

"With proper planning, it's not going to fail. That is why we have a whole month to do proper planning. Now listen to me carefully. This instructions are very important. The first thing you need to do is get a phone that is not Internet-enabled. Just a simple phone that has no GPRS. A phone without that would not have GPS, for that is what the police would use to track you down. Secondly, you must not for any reason use your SIM cards in these phones. A different SIM card that is not registered in your name must be used. In fact, use a card that is registered under the name of someone you do not know at all."

"How do we get those?" August asked.

"It's very easy to steal someone else's SIM cards. It takes hours before most people realise their SIM is gone from their phones. What they protect judiciously is their phones, not their cards - which are even more important than their phones. I'll advise you to go to a faraway place, preferably another state, where nobody knows you. Ask a random stranger to lend you their phone. You could say you want to make call or check your Facebook page. When the person isn't looking, remove the SIM. They usually have more than one SIM card in their phones. Pick one and return the phone. Then disappear from the scene as soon as possible.

"Alternatively, you can go into the streets and meet those guys who steal people's phones. They always have an abundance of SIM cards with them. And with just a little payment, you will get as many as you want, but you only need one. Don't be greedy. Greed is dangerous. Besides, you only need to incriminate only one careless person, if you get what I mean. You have between this month and the next to get the SIM card.

"On the day of the operation, you are each going to hand over your SIM cards to me. Your phones will have to be off on this day. You mustn't receive any call from anybody whatsoever. So I will keep your phones SIM cards with me until the operation is entirely successful. At the end of everything, you are going to burn the new SIM cards and the phones. Are you all up to the task?"

The three men were silent for a long time. Finally, they nodded their heads.

And so the plan to kidnap the wife of the minister was hatched. Within one month, the three men did exactly as they were instructed, except September who didn't bother to travel to a different state to get a SIM card. He approached an unsuspecting woman in the street and stole her SIM card.

On the day of operation, the three men waited in their car for the vehicle conveying the target to pass. At a secure location, they ambushed the car, overpowered the driver and transferred the woman into their car. She was blindfolded and driven to a secure location given in the instruction.

That same day, Calendar, using another person's SIM card, and a plain phone, placed a call to the minister. He claimed responsility for the disappearance of the minister's wife and demanded a ransom of fifty million naira.

"Call the police and your wife's head shall be sent to you in a box. I will call you tomorrow morning with further instructions. Make sure the cash is ready by the time I call." He cancelled the call.

"Why didn't you simply tell him to transfer the money to your account?" February asked.

"That would be a very foolish thing to do. The police would easily find me as soon as they have my banking details. And if they find me, they will find you too."

"But isn't collecting cash dangerous?" asked August, "The police might be hiding at the rendezvous point, waiting to grab you as soon as you appear."

Calendar smiled again. "I have considered every angle. There won't be any rendezvous point."

"Then how do you hope to collect the money?" asked September.

"By 10:AM tomorrow morning, I will call the man. I will tell him to drive out of his compound with the money. From there, I would give him instructions on where to go. Each one of you will stay at strategic bus stops. When he drives past you, your job is to call me. Then while he's still driving, I'll ask him to toss the bag out of the car without stopping. He will do that and continue driving. Even if the police are with him, they won't know anything. When he tosses the bag out and the car stops, that means that the police are with him. If he doesn't, then they're not. I'll give another few minutes before coming out to pick the bag. I'll wait the few minutes just to be sure that the police are not following behind him. Either way, we will be perfectly safe."

That was exactly how the plan was carried out. Calendar got the money and the four men met at their secluded locations. It was a clean job. The woman was released to her husband and the kidnapped shared the ransom. While February, August and September collected ten million naira each as agreed, Calendar kept the remaining twenty million naira for himself.

The SIM cards and the phones were burnt. The four men shook hands and they parted ways. They agreed never to meet again.

Three days after the job, February, August and September were arrested in connection to the kidnap of the wife of the minister. While they wondered how the police were able to catch them, it was revealed that their leader - The Calendar - was the traitor.

When he kept their phones, he had been using their SIM cards to call the minister. The police had traced the phone numbers to the three men.

While the men were awaiting trials, Calendar was having a good time with his wife in an expensive hotel suite. He was proud of himself for carrying out a perfect plan. The three men, and other innocent people, would rot in jail. Nobody knew his name or where he lived. In another six months, he would recruit three other men for another kidnap job. Nobody would say no to an offer of ten million naira. He would never go broke again.

He had told his wife that he had gotten a job in an oil company. She didn't need to know anything about what his actual occupation was.

That afternoon, the police broke into their suite and arrested his wife. Apparently, her phone number had been flagged in connection to the kidnap. Calendar could not believe what was happening.

It turned out that it was her SIM card that September had stolen in the street. She did not inform her husband about it because she didn't even realise it was gone. It was not her major SIM card anyway. With further investigations by the police, it was eventually revealed Mr Anthony Brown, the recently sacked gardener of the minister, was the leader of the gang.

©Larry Sun, July 2020

Just when I thought I had seen it all with “The Last Messenger” then came “The Doppelganger”..
Such an interesting piece with the twist..


The Perfect Plan is a clear indication that karma is a bitch..


BRAVO LARRYSUN..

EkopSparoAyara:
Just when I thought I had seen it all with “The Last Messenger” then came “The Doppelganger”..
Such and interesting piece with the twist..


The Perfect Plan is a clear indication that karma is a bitch..


BRAVO LARRYSUN..

And Anthony Brown is the bastard son of that bitch. Too bad to be called bad.

@Larrysun, while your flashes might not be related, I find they do share some themes.

Kudos.