Divepen1:
Princesa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Divvy, how are you bro?

MzChistar:
this thread has been dead for a year,is it not high time its woken up? cc princesa,d9ty7,jezuzboi,divepen1,larrysun etc.

start making the announcement, something is in the pipeline

Watch this space relentlessly, a much craved for event is about to begin for Literature lovers and writers...

The wait should be over, amen. I'm taking the time out at home to work on completing it, thanks all for being patient. I don't deserve it


So help me God.

Thanks ajumaxbabe and mhizklefpixie

sigmundfreud:

Fine thank you...
What happened to u? You sound subdued...

funny you should say that. Lets just say I grew up or rather cant keep up with all that fierceness again.

Sigmund Tweety, missed you gboku gboku. How's you?

Tovot, Mynd , Ujsizzle, humbledbygrace, Obinnua, firestar... I greet ya all.

#4

One of the soldiers held me down while the other kept up with his assault. He was hitting at me with his fist, his boot, and now his baton while he continually screamed:

“Come and see our captain!”

I tried dodging the blows with my hands but it was pointless because the other soldier pinned it effortlessly to my back. He was fair in complexion with a scar that ran from his temple to his cheek. I remembered him as the calm solider from the other day while my assailant was the hostile one, Musa.

I didn’t know how or why I was being beaten up, especially since I had already seen their captain. But the blows kept coming more and more while I wriggled this way and that from the sheer pain and my inability to protect myself. I tried to scream, tried to say a word but found out that I couldn’t, even my eyes couldn’t open because they felt heavy and bloodshot.

“What’s going on there?” A deep voice thundered from afar, immediately the kicks and blow stopped while the hand restraining me seemed to loosen and I heard my assailant say:

“The Captain is here”

I tried opening my eyes which proved herculean but I tried nonetheless to see the Captain who had finally stopped the assault. From the little slit my eyes could manage, I saw his powerful form tower high above me but it was silhouetted by a shadow that suddenly appeared from nowhere.

Just then, a loud and piercing bell rang diverting all our attention sideways where it seemed to originate from. And it kept getting louder, and louder and louder… till I sprang up from my bed, beads of sweat pouring down my face and body; I sat there momentarily, trying to recollect where I was and what had happened when the piercing sound of the bell sound started again.

Immediately, I turned sideways to see that it was my phone ringing. I had adopted the old bell ringtone for my phone, much to the disapproval of my colleagues. It always managed to startle the peace of the atmosphere whenever it rang.

Finally recollecting myself, I stretched out to pick it up and at the same time glance at the bedside clock; it was 8:00am.

“8am!” I screamed and sprang up from bed; I was so late for work.

“Hello” I said to the caller on the phone while I tried to UnCloth for shower. It was my editor.

“Good morning… What?! Oh my God, I’ll be there soon” I replied while making my way to the adjoining bathroom.

“Sorry I overslept. Will explain better when I see you…I will be there in the next 30 minutes” I finally said, cut the call and then dashed into the bathroom.

There had been an explosion at a branch of Cash Estate Bank in Ikeja earlier that morning and the editor had called because he hadn’t seen me at the office or at the scene of the explosion. I felt the thrill of a news-lead settle over me and my head was already running underground calculations as to the cause of the explosion, every thought or feelings about my dreams momentarily forgotten.

***

“So, what are the sources saying?” I ask my editor soon as I enter the now-shattered banking hall of Cash Estate Bank; he was on the phone however and only acknowledged my presence. I diverted my attention then to take in the scene of the explosion.

The explosion had, fortunately, rocked half of the building that housed the bank, but had devastated the banking hall beyond repairs. It now stood in shatters, computers had exploded, wires spilled their guts on the floor and the furniture that hadn’t burnt to the ground were blackened from all that smoke.

I noticed a red tape wire tied around some areas to restrict movement even though that did not seem to deter the onlookers which comprise journalists from other media outfits, bankers that had resumed work for the day, their face still holding shock and fear, especially since they knew that they would have breathed their last here if the explosion had rocked a little later.

The little investigation I had made from the entrance of the premises before joining my editor revealed that they had been no human casualty, thankfully, due to the fact that the explosion had erupted in the early hours of the morning.

I noticed some journalist crowding over one of the night security guards. He still looked shaken and could not coherently give out information at that state but they would obviously not let him be. Amateur journalist who didn’t know when to pry sources for answers, I thought irritated.

“Ese” I hear my name and turn around to see my editor staring rather disapprovingly at me.

“Morning sir” I reply with an expressionless look of my own. He looked then like he wanted to say more but instead turned around again as if examining the debris and asked: “Do you have anything on the story yet?”

“Not much. I gather they were no casualties and got the assumed time of the explosion from an Officer outside. The witnesses so far are the security men but they seem quite shaken to grant an interview now” I reply.

“Then you have to find a way to make them talk and get a story out of this. This story should be gracing our website today and feature on tomorrow’s tabloid edition. I need you and the team to make a good story out of this. I believe there’s a political undertone to it, but that would be discussed in earnest when we meet at the office”

“Okay” I reply. My Editor always saw an undertone to anything that happened.

“So get your team on this and give me a good report” he said with finality and walked away

“Yes sir” I called after him.

Mr. Badru, my editor, is one of the few men I respect, one of the best bosses to work under, I dare say. I love that he doesn’t treat me as a female reporter working under his beat but same as the other political beat guys. He even gives me tougher assignment and trusts me to effectively carry them out, and for the past four years I have worked with Sunset Media, I can confidently say that I have never failed him once.

Dare I say that it was even one of the reasons why I was presently the assistant editor even though when it came to the time-duration I had spent working with Sunset Media, I didn’t qualify. That should further prove that everything I got was due to my own efforts as a person, not because I am female.

After two grueling hours I had spent working the explosion scene, gathering facts and taking interview, I had gathered all the details I needed to make a story and was presently standing by my car waiting for Caleb, the Photojournalist to join me so we could head back to the office when Ade Coker waltz up to me. (And yeah, Ade technically waltzes in place of walking).

He was your regular 21st century chauvinist guy; was as insufferable as he came and totally believed that the men race was meant to entirely dominate every area of the world while the women looked on in docility, awe and total submission. He and Lola would make a good couple; they shared so much in common especially their determined decision to make me more “feminine” as Ade would put it.

And off course, I never tire of putting them in their places, never tire to tell Ade how happy and contented I am working in a male dominated beat and the pure pleasure it gives me to floor them every now and then even in their supposed comfort zone; and to tell Lola and her crew how satisfied I am as a 28 year old single working class girl who has ambitions beyond being a good mother and wife.

“Efe, howdy?” Ade says to me with a cocky grin.

“Hi Ade” I reply.

“Fancy meeting you here, I thought La Roche house is putting up a fashion show by 9 this morning? Why aren’t you there instead?” he says still grinning animatedly.

I didn’t reply, I just shook my head and looked away, I knew he only wanted to get to me. I don’t cover fashion, and he knows that.

Yet even with his seeming archaic beliefs, you couldn’t just fight the man. He oozed so much self confidence that it sometimes becomes nauseating. You couldn’t actually blame him though; he is the best in his field that even I don’t fail to acknowledge that and the need to keep a good face with him no matter what.

He was so good that the public trusted his perspective, interpretation and analysis on major political events; he had credible sources in most top ministries who had scoop and inside story readily available for him. It was the peak I desired to attain, one which I had much confidence that I would attain.

“It’s a Monday morning Efe and too early for a fight, don’t you think?” Ade says to me waving a hand across my face.

“oh…sure, my mind was somewhere else” I reply and smile. In all that ruminating, I forgot that he had been talking to me. We could disagree on some front but we weren’t exactly enemies.

“Yeah… I know. I look too dashing for work right?” he teased.

“you wish” I reply in mock indignation.

“So who do you think are behind these attacks?” he asks matter of factly in a minute later.

I look at him a moment to see if he was patronizing me again, but he looked honest enough and so I shrug and reply: “who else but the normal suspects, they’ve obviously moved their campaign to Lagos”

“well I do not think the Militants take the credit for this one, the management of Cash Estate Bank, to me, have had this coming for a while” he says with that same confidence and.at that moment, i felt my nerves charge with curiosity and the thrill of the possibility of a background story to the explosion. If it was coming from Ade, then it promises to be explosive and genuine.

“Are you saying there’s a conspiracy theory somehow?” I ask, my attention now fully directed at him.

“well technically…yes.” he simply says.

But after some seconds had passed with no other word from him I say in subdued desperation: “well…” expecting him to elaborate and not just stand there smiling like I had agreed to kiss his arse.

“You don’t actually expect me to spill my scoop for you, do you?” He replies in false surprise before breaking out in one of his mocking laughs.

I mentally kick myself for falling easily into that ditch, and for the next few seconds he kept on laughing, probably at my stoned expression as I stared at him in total irritation.

“Grow up Ade” I finally say stonily and turn away from him. Caleb was already making his way towards the car. “Finally” I say quietly in relief.

“I can’t believe you fell for that” Ade repeats still laughing.

“go on and knock yourself out” I say and start walking to the other side of the car.

“Oga Ade” Caleb greeted soon as he reached the car and they immediately fell into a hushed conversation. From the other side i stood, I tried to make out what they were saying but couldn’t and so finally gave up and entered the car, determined to leave Caleb if he delayed some more.

Soon, Caleb joined me in the car and I started the ignition. “Got enough pictures to kill it?”I ask casually as I rev up the engine for take off.

“Sure” he says.

“Okay” I reply and speed off. I couldn’t be bothered more by what they had said behind my back, not when I had so much more coming up for me at the office. Monday’s came with its own headaches afterall.

***

Paradigm shift (3)

But alas, I thought wrong. What else had I expected the captain of a bunch of bullies to be? A bigger bully, that’s what.

After one of the soldiers had narrated to their Captain on what my crimes were, he who had seem compassionate and somewhat condemning of ‘his boys’ actions when he had first met the scene, suddenly thought the situation amusing and had gone on to sit at the bench that directly faced me, to join in the fun of my humiliation.

I felt anger boil inside me the more.

“So miss, you didn’t know that only soldiers are allowed to wear the army uniform?” he asked now, a sarcastic grin on his face.

I said nothing in response. What more was there to say? It’s not as if they would give it a second thought.

“if you no open your mouth enh, I swear I go hit this gun for your head ” It was the Aggressive soldier coming for the kill yet again.

“Musa, take am easy, no need to go violent” The captain said, putting out a restraining hand. But he still looked amused by everything that was going on though.

No one said anything more and none made another attempt to hit me; they all just kept staring at me. The heat was becoming unbearable and my kneels were beginning to hurt. I came to the conclusion then that I was obviously a play thing meant to ease the heat of the sun for these confused soldiers.

I mean, if they were not going to punish me, then why are they not letting me go? I wasn’t the Militant up South who they should be tackling, neither did I murder anyone; I just simply chose the wrong outfit to wear today.

Well, the last thing I would continue to do was to give them any more pleasure out of my embarrassing situation. This was Efe, the daring journalist, I was too valiant to look like a wimp before these men, I didn’t come this far to bow to some groups of drunken soldiers, plus I had better things to do at the office… so I’ve had enough!

With this renewed fervor, my countenance changed into that of determination, I knelt there staring coldly at them and was thinking of rising up when the Captain spoke.

“we are still waiting for your reply miss” he taunted again, his eyes glinting in mock challenge

And that was the last straw, I slowly rose to my feet and dusted off the sand that clung to my shorts, all the while speaking: “I’m sorry captain but I have nothing else to say to you or your men. I’ve told them already that I had no idea that there was a law against putting on army patterned clothing, if I did, I wouldn’t have dared…” as I spoke, some of the men stared at me in total surprise. I didn’t know if it was from the fact that I had risen up to my feet or from the fact that I was talking back at their Captain, either ways, I didn’t care.

“…so I believe kneeling down here for up tp an hour now is a enough punishment for me and I would like to take my leave if there is nothing else I can do for you gentlemen” I finished defiantly, my pose and expression backing up every word.

The expression on Musa, the aggressive soldier, was priceless. He seemed the worst of the shocked men, his gaping mouth and contorted face spoke volumes. Still, I still didn’t care. If push came to shove, I could easily pull out my journalist stunt; they have got to be afraid of the media somehow, wouldn’t they?

The captain was staring at me now, but instead of the earlier amused and scornful look on his face, his face revealed nothing, not even anger.

After the few seconds our eyes had been locked in a gaze, neither one of us flinching nor backing down, he said finally: “Very well then, you can go. I apologize on behalf of my boys”

He had said it so abruptly and unexpectedly that I thought I heard wrong.

“oga you mean am?” one of the soldiers asked him in surprise but he just waved at me dismissively in reply.

Yes! I had heard right and didn’t wait to be told again. I quickly picked up my bag and started off in a hurried pace, even though I kept looking back to see if anyone was having a second doubt and was hot on my chase. I noticed that the soldiers had re-convened and were discussing while their eyes trailed my every move.

What if they shot me from a distance? I thought alarmed and walked even faster.

Not long, I saw Musa (again!) hurrying towards me, immediately, without a second thought, I started running. He also increased his pace. My heart was beating uncontrollably against my chest, before I made the turn that would take me out of their ‘den’ and into the main street, I turned back to see all the soldiers doubling over in laughter whilst pointing at us (Musa and I).

I kept running all the way to the bus-stop and jumped into the first bus that I saw, it was only then that it dawned on me that Musa must have pulled out earlier in the chase and I had been the only one running.

I had indeed been a sort of comic relief to them.

Better that than my life, I thought mortified as I tried to catch my breath whilst ignoring the looks from other passengers. They probably wouldn’t understand.

***

After my ordeal with the soldiers earlier; I didn’t think I could handle anymore confrontation today. I had even felt like heading back home at some point inside the bus but later decided otherwise, thanking the stars once again that it had happened on a Saturday when I wouldn’t have to share my tale of embarrassment with my colleagues at work.

So far, the stars were on my side, I had only bumped into the security guard while on my way up and he hadn’t seemed to notice my flustered look or disheveled state nor paid me any attention soon after we greeted.

What an answered prayer that was.

But as soon as I stepped into the hall-like premises of ‘Sunset Media’ expecting to bask in the solace of the unusual calmness it would provide, I sight Lola Akanbi far away at her cubicle typing away on her computer.

Immediately, I felt the wind knock off my sail.

You see, Lola is the most notorious of the entertainment chicks, and for some reason best known to her, she seem the one among them more determined to set me straight on my feminist-like views. And the last thing I needed now was a confrontation from her!

Slowly, hardy making a sound, I tip-toed to my own compartment/office which was five seats away from hers, (of course I felt ridiculous but I was that desperate). I successfully made the journey and was about to sit down when she raised her head at that moment and saw me. Immediately a mischievous grin crept up her pretty face.

So much for luck, I muttered and sat down, exhaled sharply and silently prayed that she doesn’t feel like coming down to say ‘Hello’. Lola’s kind of ‘hello’ was one that would surely resort into a battle of wits – one that I wasn’t ready to partake in considering how flustered I still felt.

Better to get some job done before Lola definitely made her way here I thought, switched on the computer, then start organizing the piles of paper on my desk.

Yesterday had been the deadline for ‘Saturday Sunset’ and as expected, it had been a mad day for me. My desk ended up the worst of it with strewned papers from cut-outs, memo, jottings, scribbles, earlier edition of newspaper and so on. The Saturday edition contained more of political and entertainment stories, so you can rightly say that I had been busier than a bee yesterday.

I was now taking out the contents of my back pack when I hear Lola’s voice carry in: “Pray tell me, I guess this is expected?” I turned to see her already standing by my cubicle, hands crossed and a malicious grin plastered on her face.

Please not now, I groan in exasperation in my mind, but smile cheerily and say instead ”Goodmorning Lola”

‘I never thought I’d see you here today’ she continued, ignoring my smile or my greeting.

‘‘Well, I got work to do” I replied while I busied still with arranging my desk, hoping she’d catch the cue and leave. But with Lola, that would only be when hell freezes over.

”All that work you’ve done throughout this week, even yesterday and you’re still not satisfied?” she said

”Obviously” I reply curtly.

”And obviously the sign of no social life” she countered.

‘‘Well some of us can’t stand frivolity and vanity” I say with finality and offered a tight lipped smile, another sign for Lola to scram, she still didn’t seem to get it.

“Well that depends on your perception of ‘frivolity’ and ‘vanity’” she said the two words with mock emphasis.

“Oh my God Lola! Was there something you said you wanted?” I said loudly and banged my fist, then turned my attention fully to her.

“Finally an attitude” she replied with a contended grin, her gap tooth flashing to reveal yet another side to her physical beauty.

Lola was one of the prettiest reporters around; you had to give her that credit. She seemed to reflect an aura of womanly contentment, what with being quite young, 32 precisely, and can boast of three lovely grown up children to her credit, also a wealthy and satisfied husband, a dedicated and picture-perfect family, a subtle popularity due to her fashion column in the newspaper and a very promising career in the media industry.

She was the kind of woman people often referred to as successful.

Yet on the flipside, she represented everything I hated. Everything I never wanted to become, the very thing I tirelessly fought against. I never ever envied her, nor wanted to be like her, she reminded me so much of my mother and a life I had sworn never to live.

And I was not one of her crony, I didn’t look up to her, or felt threatened by her picture perfect achievements, nor wanted to play the role the world expected of her which she had perfectly acted out and I finally didn’t feel that I could keep taking her interference in my private time if I didn’t want to. Not today at least.

With that renewed zeal, I stood up sharply, determined to get her off my back at all cost.

“Yes! An attitude that could get all sour if you didn’t take yourself back to your seat this moment”

“No need to get pesky. I only came over to say hello”

“Your hello has gone stale already, so please get yourself back to where you came from. I am not in the mood today, okay?”

“Okay.”

Thank God. I breathed finally. It wasn’t a usual thing to see Lola back out of a brawl this easily, but I was glad she did. I should add that in addition to her other ‘sterling’ qualities is her ability to decipher when it was time to give up on a brewing confrontation and play mature.

She however gave me a once-over stare before she finally smiled shrewdly and said: “Nice fashion statement you’ve made with your chosen outfit, I could write a thing or two about it sometime soon” then started walking away, her hips deliberately rolling to probably anger me.

But It didn’t.

Even after three children Lola still had a great body, there was no denying that. She was a dark complexioned lady that stood on about 5.7feet, same as me but her bigger, well proportioned body build contrasted with my rather slim frame and even though she was four years older than me, you could easily think us to be age mates, except of course for the maternal aura surrounding her.

But I didn’t care for any of that. I cared only that I had so much work to do but she and the soldiers had somehow managed to slice into my time.

“Please do, then walk past an army barricade to get your pretty face whipped” I said quietly as I sat back, used a moment to cool off the anger heat that still lingered in me then settled finally to work.
***

nicholausian:
Definitely following
Please don't balk on this story, great suspense. Have got me wondering what's next.
A little expression ish though, nothing you can't take care of sha.
NEXT UPDATE!

yes Indeed, its nothing I cant take care of.
This is my first attempt on the First person narrative style so I know I'm flopping in the tenses.
I guess i"d get used to it and perfect it the more I write.
Thanks for follwing and dont fail to correct me wherever.

@Larrysun
Thanks and I definitely will keep them coming.

ITbomb:

The only one that brings me to Literature section.

Checking the blog (again)

Thanks E-Hubby
and you're welcome

Timpaker, Lol. No suspense then.
Stuff46, I've not encountered them. Welcome and keep it locked here