Khriztarl:

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

You can say that again, I tell you some people makes the devil look a saint

Khriztarl:

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

Indeed,calling it bad is an understatement..

Khriztarl:

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? *

So you have Esan friends teaching you the language

E shock me. Meaning you didn't grow up in the east

enirock:

So you have Esan friends teaching you the language
E shock me. Meaning you didn't grow up in the east

oh yes, my jerk of a friend. i grew up in the southern part of nigeria.

Do You Know How Much You Are Going To Win?
https://www.operanewsapp.com/ng/en/share/detail?news_id=5be2757640bc326189e4f8c46cd49a16&news_entry_id=s515eb9fb200718en_ng&open_type=tanscoded&request_id=62efe4a90bbf1c58ad7ff95687e11d9c90bbe8b9&from=publisher

Flash 13: The Voice

I must be going crazy. In fact, I am convinced that I am crazy.

My name is Akpan, and for the past five years, I have been hearing a voice in my head. This voice has been controlling my actions. I can't tell anyone about it because the voice is going to know, and it's going to punish me severely for it. The last time I told someone, I suffered terribly for it. Not only did the person I told not believe me, I ended up with a black eye.

I decided to write about it. Maybe the voice can only hear me. Maybe it can't read. But if it can, then I'm done for. Apart from the fact that even you the reader won't believe me, I would also suffer. Maybe I would gain my freedom from this voice only when someone believes this story - but, of course, that's highly unlikely. My story will end up as mere fiction. But I'm going to tell it anyway.

Like I already mentioned, it started five years ago. I woke up one morning and heard the voice.

GOOD MORNING, AKPAN.

The voice was like thunder - like a giant calling on someone far away. I looked around me but there was no one in sight. I lived alone, so I didn't expect anyone anyway.

"Who just spoke now?" I asked aloud.

STOP LOOKING AROUND. IT'S ME.

"Who are you? Where are you?" I began to panic.

I'M IN YOUR HEAD, SILLY.

"In my head? What are you doing there?"

I WANT TO BE YOUR FRIEND, AKPAN.

"I don't want to be your friend!" I screamed. "Get out of my head right now."

YOU'RE SCREAMING. SOMEONE MIGHT HEAR YOU. THEY WILL THINK YOU ARE CRAZY.

"Get out of my head!"

The voice was silent for a few moments, then it said: MAKE ME.

"Why are you in my head? Where did you come from?"

I TOLD YOU I WANT TO BE YOUR FRIEND.

"I don't want to be your friend."

YOU HAVE NO CHOICE. THE ONLY WAY YOU CAN GET RID OF ME IS IF YOU CUT OFF THIS HEAD.

I can't possibly do that!

"What do you want from me?"

WE CAN HELP EACH OTHER, AKPAN. I CAN PROVIDE YOU WHATEVER YOU WANT. I AM AT YOUR SERVICE.

This voice must be on something strong. Anything I want?

"I want a million naira. Can you give me that?"

The voice actually laughed. It was like someone was blowing a horn in my head. I couldn't tell if it was laughing at me.

OKAY. YOU WILL HAVE THE MONEY TOMORROW. BUT YOU WILL HAVE TO DO SOMETHING FOR ME IN RETURN.

I thought the voice must be crazy. It couldn't just provide a million naira out of thin air. For the rest of that day, the voice kept talking to me. I couldn't leave my room for fear of being thought crazy. The voice seemed to know my deepest, darkest secrets, and it chose them to haunt me.

WHY DID YOU SLEEP WITH YOUR LANDLORD'S WIFE?

"That's non of your business!" I shot back.

DOES YOUR BOSS KNOW THAT YOU FORGED YOUR CERTIFICATES?

It kept drilling me throughout the day with details I didn't want anyone to know. I kept shouting and screaming in my room until I fell asleep.

The next morning, it was the voice that woke me up.

AKPAN.

AKPAN.

AKPAN.

It kept calling me until I replied.

GO OUTSIDE.

"Why?"

JUST GO.

I rose up from bed groggily. The time was 12:45 PM. I couldn't believe I slept for so long. I opened my door and found two fat envelopes lying just outside the threshold.

PICK THEM UP.

I did. I checked the content of the envelopes. I was shocked to find money in them.

THAT'S YOUR ONE MILLION NAIRA.

I couldn't believe what was happening. Did the voice just provide me with a million naira? How did that happen? How in the world could that be possible? But it was. I was holding a million naira in my hands. Incredible!

"How did you do that?"

It laughed again.

A MAGICIAN DOES NOT REVEAL HIS SECRETS.

But I wasn't really listening anymore. My greed had immediately kicked in. I wished I had requested for more money. At least ten million naira. A million naira would not be enough to solve my financial problems. If I had known that the voice was going to provide the money, I would have requested for a lot more - maybe fifty million naira, or even a hundred million naira.

"Can I ask for more?" I found myself asking.

OF COURSE YOU CAN. BUT YOU HAVE TO DO SOMETHING FOR ME FIRST.

"What do I have to do?"

I WILL TELL YOU TOMORROW.

I was overjoyed. Maybe the voice was not so bad after all. If it could always provide whatever I need, I would mind having it around.

But by 4:00 PM that same day. I heard a hard knock on my door. When I opened it, I found policemen standing at the entrance.

"Mr Akpan Akpabio, you are under arrest for stealing a million naira."

I couldn't believe what was happening. I was put in handcuffs and taken away in their car. The voice in my head did not say anything. It just kept laughing.

I was put in a cell where I spent the rest of the day. Apparently, the police had every reason to believe that I had robbed someone of a million naira, and they had found the money in my house. But I never left my room the day. How could I be the robber?

The following day, I was called to the DPO's office. "We're so sorry, Mr Akpabio. It turns out that you're not the thief. The culprit has been caught. He stole the money and dropped at at your door step."

I was released. But I demanded to see the culprit. I had never seen the man before in my life. He kept saying the same thing over and over: "A voice in my head asked me to do it!"

Everyone thought he was crazy. That was when it dawned on me that I'm crazy too - and also at the mercy of the voice.

On my way home, the voice finally spoke.

IT'S YOUR TURN TO HONOUR MY REQUEST

And since that moment, I've been doing some horrible things under its request. I have been seeking help but no one believes me. The voice had made someone beat me to a pulp for telling a psychiatrist that a voice was in my head.

It had threatened to have me killed by someone else if I refuse to carry out its order. I believe him. The police have never caught me for all the crimes I have committed so far.

Yesterday, I killed my brother. I had no choice. The voice made me do it.

Now that I have written about it, I don't know what my punishment would be.

©Larry Sun, July 2020

Akpan is under a spell, or maybe he has been hypnotized.. The question is by who, but why..
I guess we might never find the answer since Akpan couldn't..


BRAVO LARRYSUN.

Lol. Who the Bleep would believe you akpan? chai, sorry sha.

applauds...

Nobody will believe you Akpan, but his scenario reminds me of an indian movie I watched where the killer was manipulating a young guy through his hearing aid device and the guy thought he was hearing from the devil

Well done OP

Ann2012:
Nobody will believe you Akpan, but his scenario reminds me of an indian movie I watched where the killer was manipulating a young guy through his hearing aid device and the guy thought he was hearing from the devil

Well done OP

This is very funny but am not surprised, typical of Bollywood movies, they have zero acting, no offense to their fans..

Sorry for detailing this thread but I'm looking for the this book ,"The blood diamond of boko haram".. Anyone with a link, please?

Flash 14: Vanished

Twenty years ago, I was only fifteen years old. I was living with my parents. I was their only child. I was not really close to my dad; as a matter of fact, I wasn't fond of him. He drank excessively and smoked like a chimney. There was never a time I didn't see smoke coming out of his nostrils and mouth. My mates in school always mocked because of this. They would call my father a dragon.

Mother was worried that his drinking and smoking would one day be his end. However, my father was not a violent man. He never struck me or my mother in a drunken stupor. Even when my mother and I nagged about his habits, he would only ignore us. Sometimes, he would simply leave the house and stay outside to have his time. When he was done, he would return to the house and go to bed. Life for him was simple, but he was killing himself with his dipsomania, especially the smoking. His pockets always contained packs of cigarettes and empty little bottles of booze.

He drank more than he ate. I always suspected that something must have pushed him to become such a heavy drinker. I once asked my mother and she told me that she had always known him to be a drinker. He started smoking shortly after my birth, and she had no answer for the reason.

One weekend, my father put on his Lacoste T-shirt and stepped out of the house. I was in the sitting room solving my school assignments.

"Where are you going?" My mom asked him suspiciously, of course she knew where he was going.

"I'm going to the next street to get a pack of cigarette," he replied honestly. "I've exhausted the one I had." He always told the truth, no matter what. He did not care whether his words would hurt your feelings. He would simply say things as they were. My father was one of the most honest people in the world. I had never caught him in a lie. He always bared out his mind, mostly during his inebriated state.

"That cigarette is going to kill you," she replied as he stepped outside. She always said this everytime he went out to get cigarettes.

"That gin will be your end," she would say if he was going out for alcohol.

Ordinarily, my father would return to the house in about thirty minutes to enjoy his smokes; but on that particular day, that was the last we heard of my father. Well, until after twenty years.

"Has your father returned?" my mother asked me after an hour.

I shook my head.

"But he doesn't always take this long," she said worriedly. She was the first to suspect that something was wrong.

After another hour, my mother told me to go and look for him at the kiosk of Mallam Yaro, the Hausa man he always patronised. But the man told me he had bought the cigarettes over two hours ago and had left.

But my father never reached home.

Mother became seriously worried. Something had happened to my father. He had gone to the next street to get a pack of cigarettes and had not returned. There was only one explanation - my father had been kidnapped.

But who would kidnap father? We were not a rich family. Father only worked enough to put food on our table, and mother was a petty trader. If he had been kidnapped for money, then the kidnappers had made a grave error.

However, I did not want to allow my mind to dwell on a more terrible possibility - the possibility that he had been abducted for rituals.

The following morning when there was still no trace of father, mother ran crying in the street. By noon, all the men of the street - everyone who knew my father - formed a search party. They searched everywhere for him but found no trace of my father. It was as if he had vanished from the face of earth. After a couple of weeks, they searched mortuaries hoping to find his corpse, but still nothing whatsoever.

The police were involved in the search but nothing yielded anything positive. Eventually, after a few months, the search for my father went cold. He had disappeared without a trace. Everyone continued living their lives but my mother remained sorrowful.

My father was a drunkard and a heavy smoker, but he was her husband. He was the man she fell in love with. When he disappeared, it left a hole in her heart. I tried my best to fill up the void but it was impossible. She was slowly becoming the shadow of herself. She would suddenly become quiet and stare blankly at nothing in particular.

Mother died of loneliness after ten years. She couldn't cope with the thought of never seeing her husband again. I had just gotten married and my wife was pregnant with our first child when mother passed away.

It was a sad loss. I buried her in the backyard. We continued to live in the house. That was where I had my three children.

Ten years after mother passed away, I was reading the newspaper in sitting room when I heard a knock on the door. I rose up and opened the door.

There he was - my father was standing on the threshold. He was still wearing the Lacoste T-shirt he had won twenty years ago, and in his right hand was a pack of cigarettes. And he had not aged a day!

"Who are you?" he asked me in confusion.

I was dumbstruck for a moment. I couldn't believe my eyes. I thought I must be dreaming. I remember that my mouth were open in aghastness.

"Young man, who are you and what are you doing in my house?" he asked again.

"Papa - it's-it's me," I said, my lips quivering.

He stared at me. "Ebuka?"

"Yes, Papa."

"What's going on. How did you become suddenly grown-up? Where's your mother?"

"Papa, where have you been?"

"What nonsense are you saying? I said I was going to get this pack of cigarettes."

He flourished the cigarette.

Father stopped drinking or smoking. He spent most of his time in the backyard with mother.

©Larry Sun, July 2020

I don't understand the end of the story o..
Larrysun, what's "father flourished the cigarates, he spent most of the time with mother.' Which mother? The dead one?
thanks for this piece sha. Thankie.

Khriztarl:
I don't understand the end of the story o..
Larrysun, what's "father flourished the cigarates, he spent most of the time with mother.' Which mother? The dead one?
thanks for this piece sha. Thankie.

LOL! He spent most his time at her grave.

Flash 15: After

Sandra's journey through life was the sweetest. While others experienced sadness, heartbreak, pain and rejection, Sandra had a fulfilled life. She met the love of her life at twenty-one. Max was her classmate in the university.

The journey started in class. She had been sleeping when a hand tapped her. When she woke up, the class was empty except for her and Max.

There was Max kneeling before her. There was a ring in his hand. Sandra was speechless. Someone was watching from the window.

"Oh Max!" she gasped.

"Will you marry me, Sandra?" he asked sincerely.

"Yes, Max! Yes!" she was so happy that she had tears in her eyes.

Max wore the ring on her finger and kissed her. They graduated six months later and got married. The marriage was blissful. Max and Sandra had three children. They were married for seventy years. They had grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Their family was a big and happy one.

Six months after Max passed away, Sandra lay in her deathbed surrounded by all her family members.

"I can't wait to see Max again," she told them. "I know he's waiting for me."

And with those words, she died pleasantly.

***
Angela felt a hand tap her and she came awake. She was in a classroom. The class was empty except for her and Max. She stood up in excitement.

"Max! I saw it! I saw everything! We grew old together and had a large family. We were very happy."

Max remained quiet.

"Why aren't you saying anything, Max?"

Max said calmly, "I'm breaking up with you. Can I have my ring back? I want to give Sandra - she's the love of my life."


©Larry Sun, July 2020

Damn.. Larrysun, Bro, this your “After” series is really really deep and confusing..

EkopSparoAyara:
Damn.. Larrysun, Bro, this your “After” series is really really deep and confusing..

But come to look at it, I'm really in doubt whether Sandra is still the same as Angela.

The After really get me wondering and in, not really confusing but not sure lemme just conclude with thrilled.

Larrysun at it again making you wonder about the marvelous work of creativity in art... A mastermind thriller!!!

Flash 16: The Diner

I was in the right place at the right time. I had just taken a lunch break from the office to eat at the restaurant just opposite my place of employment. It was in this same restaurant I had always had my lunch for the past six months, and the waitress - a pretty petite young lady named Hana - knew me well, for I always left her a generous tip whenever I ate.

I sat at my usual corner and Hana came to attend to me. She was clutching a wet towel she had been using to clean the tables. I made my usual order and waited for my lunch.

While I waited, a stout, middle-aged man came into the restaurant and sat not very far away from me. He was making some calls and I couldn't help overhearing what he was saying.

"What about their child? I should kill her too, right? Of course I have no problem with that. Just wire the payment into my account and the job will be done by tomorrow."

I couldn't believe what I had just heard. This man was obviously an assassin. He was going to wipe out an entire family. I knew that was not supposed to concern me, but I couldn't just look away knowing that an innocent child would be killed too. The parents might deserve to be killed but that child was innocent.

I stared at the man from my corner. He terminated the call and made his order. When my food was brought along, I only stabbed it with my fork - I had lost my appetite. This was a man who had been tasked with taking out an entire family. He must be stopped.

But how would I stop him? Would I simply approach him and force him to confess? How in the world was I going to do that? But I knew I had to do something. Fate had brought me there for a reason. Even though I didn't know the targets, I must save them from this monster.

I am not a man of violence. I know nothing about physical combats either. If I confronted the man, he would simply snap me in two without breaking a sweat. Yet, I knew I had to stop this man.

I couldn't go to the police because it would be too late. Besides, I had nothing tangible to present the police anyway; it would only be my words against his - and I would be putting myself in trouble. The man might end up capping me before taking out the family. In this situation, I had to use the only weapon I had - my wits.

There are very strange moments in a man's life when he would be blessed with a sense of sheer ingenuity. It is usually like a divine inspiration. The perfect solution to a problem will be staring at you in the face, and it is only you who can see this solution. It is never preconceived or remotely planned - it just happens. That was the situation in my case.

I had considered every angle, and I knew the only solution for stopping this killer was my intuition, which invariably boiled down to my action in the next two minutes. I looked around the restaurant and took note of every diner. I looked at the waitress, she was still clutching the towel. The diner close to the exit - a fair and robust woman - was almost done with her meal.

I nodded my head. Everything was perfect. The time to act was now.

I called the waitress over and paid for my meal - without giving her a tip. I intentionally did that, it was part of the plan. Having studied Psychology in school, I know a little bit about how the human mind works.

The waitress's face was clouded with anger for my refusal to tip her. She walked away from me hissing. "Stingy man," she muttered under her breath but I could hear her clearly.

She returned to her job of cleaning the tables. In her angry state, she left the wet towel on the table of the fat woman. I remained in my seat and watched everything unfold.

The towel fell to the floor as the diner rose up to leave. Nobody took notice of the fallen piece of cloth except me. A moment later, the killer paid for his meal, left a generous tip for the waitress and walked towards the exit. I watched his every step.

The man, not noticing the towel on the floor, stepped on it and slipped. He fell and hit his head hard against an iron stand.

Everyone rushed to his aid but there was no use - he was dead.

I walked out of the restaurant back to my office, whistling a merry tune.

©Larry Sun, July 2020

the diner..
a perfect act of ingenuity i must say. for the waiter to call you stingy and angered, is definitely divinely inspired

Interesting one. More please. Akpan!!!! Akpan!!! Akpan!!! Okay o

please mesmerize me the more
live and let live.

FlowerGirl040:
Interesting one. More please. Akpan!!!! Akpan!!! Akpan!!! Okay o

if you know you know

You don't mean it...

There really comes a time when the solution to problem stares you in the face as though begging to be applied.

Thanks Larrysun

Flash 17: A Little Wish

A villain was out in the streets robbing defenseless people. He would stop his car, use his gun to threaten shop owner, cart off their money and goods, return to his car and drive off. My mother was his latest victim. The only piece of information my mother could give about this thief was that he was very dark skinned, plaited his hair and the licence plate of his car read UVW-642-XYZ.

The police did a little investigation and stopped. Apparently, they weren't impressed enough to pursue the matter judiciously. I decided to investigate the case myself, out of sheer boredom. If I caught the thief, I would not only make sure he returned everything he stole from my mother, he would also spend a long time in jail. People like him should be taken off the streets. He was a scum.

In my quest to find the thief, I came across a little girl. Her name was Lara. She was about eight years old. Her mother had begged me to watch her while she bought some goods at the supermarket opposite us. I wondered why she would leave her child with a total stranger. What if I was a kidnapper? I had no doubt in my mind that the woman was a careless mother.

I sat with the girl. She was eating from her flask. I noticed that she was looking sad as she ate.

"What's wrong, Lara?" I asked her.

"It's my uncle," she said dejectedly.

"What happened to your uncle?"

"He's a bad man. He does bad things to me," she said. Lara remained silent for a while, then she said, "I wish he disappeared."

I was shocked. The little girl was a victim of sexual abuse by an elderly family member. I felt rage within me. The world has been polluted by evil people. First it was a thief robbing people, now it was an uncle molesting his niece. All these scumbags should not mix with people in the society.

"Why don't you tell your mother?"

"I told her but she didn't believe me."

"Where does this uncle live?"

"He lives with us. He's my mom's older brother."

"What's his name?"

"Uncle Ken Ramon."

I did a quick Google search, linked the name to a particular Facebook account and found him. It turned out Uncle Ken was a pharmacist, and his office was close-by. I suspected that they were paying the man a visit. I wish I could help the girl right now but I had my own kettle of fish to think about.

The little girl scooped up a spoonful of beans and offered it to me. I shook my head. "No, I'm fine."

But she didn't want to hear of it. The hand was still outstretched towards me, waiting for me to accept the meal.

"I don't like beans," I confessed. "It messes up my stomach."

When it was clear that the girl would not take no for an answer, I accepted the morsel. Her mother came, thanked me and took her away.

I continued my journey down the street, trying my best to focus on my own task. But the thought of the girl would not leaving.

Then I suddenly heard a rumble in my stomach. Oh no! This was not good at all. I knew it was the beans. I shouldn't have accepted the offer - but I couldn't say no to a little girl. I urgently needed a toilet; the beans was already upsetting the food I already had. My stomach felt squeezed like a lime.

There was a waste management worker clearing the gutter at the side of road. He was working with his shovel. The stench from the gutter was overwhelming.

Then came the familiar sound POOOOOOOOOOOOOOOFFFFFFFFFFF!

A stream of gas let itself out of my body, giving me temporary relief. As soon as the fart came out, I knew it was going to smell terribly, but there was nothing I could do about the situation at this point.

I walked paste the worker as if nothing had happened.

"What kind of smell is this?" I heard him yell behind me, "Did you swallow a rotten corpse?" Even with the gutter stink, my fart stood out. I had no reply to give the man. I couldn't deny it either for I could smell the fart myself - with that kind of fart, I wouldn't be allowed to go near sick people.

The man dropped his shovel on the side of the road and covered his nose with his hand. He was gasping for air, and I prayed my terribly release of gas would not suffocate him.

"Oh my -" a boy on bicycle was taken by surprise. I couldn't tell if it was by the sudden appearance of the shovel or my the stink of my fart. His bicycle tripped over the shovel and he lost his balance, falling on a pile of traffic cones, and in the process sent one flying into the busy traffic. The cone hit the windshield of a speeding car.

The driver lost control of the car and swerved off the road to knock down a man who had just come out of a pharmacy at the other side of the road. The man had been trying to cross the road to meet some people. The car crushed his head in.

The victim of the 'accident' turned out to be paedophiliac Uncle Ken Ramon. But that was not the peak of my shock. The car had the licence UVW-642-XYZ. The driver was the thief I had been searching for.

While everyone around rushed to the scene of the incident, little Lara kept staring at me. She carried a knowing expression on her face.

©Larry Sun, July 2020

Odoogu:

if you know you know

Lol

FlowerGirl040:
Lol

in this life you just need to be careful even though Na YOLO

Wow.. This one na big wish. That farting lento a series of events that fulfilled the prayers his mind held.

The power of I wish...

FlowerGirl040:
Interesting one. More please. Akpan!!!! Akpan!!! Akpan!!! Okay o

I noticed your moniker is new. Welcome to Nairaland most importantly, welcome to Literatureland,where you will be thrilled..

And so within a twinkle of an eye, without the use of any form of violence, the assassin was eliminated, saving an entire family in the process.. I am wowed, to say the least..

Lara's wish came through for her, her villain has been victimized, not just victimized, he has been exterminated, never to bother Lara anymore and in the process, the street thug was discovered.. Be careful what you wish for..


BRAVO LARRYSUN..

Odoogu:

in this life you just need to be careful even though Na YOLO

Yeah,sure. What is YOLO?