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This story is captivating.

nawtielizzie:
I'm in love with this piece, keep it coming, I want more.
#Olivertwist

That's great dearie, I'll continue to bring up more episodes regularly.

Updated, but don't think this is the end. There are still a few surprises ahead, the victor in the story is not clear yet.

Dapo97:
wow..captivating.

Thanks Dapo97, I'm glad you're enjoying the story.

CLIMAX





Back to the busy city of Lagos, within a minute . Not the slums this time but the beautiful, well paved streets of a wealthy area. An area where a young mother and child have recently only arrived, luxurious and plentiful luggage already packed into their house in the early hours of the morning. But trouble and death approaches in the most unlikely form . The shadows of four young people drag before them, boldly stamped on the hot smooth road by the merciless sun far above them. The afternoon is quite hot, and Michael crumples a paper in his sweaty hand more tightly. He had checked it in the cab, and it read, ' No. 37. ' Cathy , her small hand in Belemas' slightly bigger one , only opens her little eyes in awe, silently taking everything in. Emmy and Michael try to appear as normal as a pair of teenagers from another side of town, but the effort is clearly not needed. The neighbourhood of the rich is a 'mind your business ' type, and apart from some fancy curtains being drawn slightly and disgusted expressions from the 'five minute peekers ' , who shut their windows hurriedly in distaste, nobody has really noticed them.



Belema is looking rather faint in her condition and Emmy looks her over with concern. She hopes the unpleasant job will be over soon. She never knew this would be the request but it is too late, and the master who sent them is too dangerous to turn down. " Thirty seven " says Emmy, looking to her right. The rest turn in her direction. The house towers before them. They walk towards the large pink gate, pink walls side by side designed with wrought iron at the top, stylishly made sharp for protection. There are small circles of gardens with luxurious flowers and two fountains within them, surrounded still by an attractive brick floor still a little distance from a large, mostly white house with little touches of pink and pillars made from small shiny bricks. Emmy looks at Michael with some uncertainty , all temporarily cowered by the sudden exposure to the other side of life. He presses the small switch on the right side of the wall by the gate. Beyond the gate which partly consists of bars and wrought iron designs, he can see the '37' in bold black numbers on a white small block by the main door. They wait, all feeling dirty inside..........except for Cathy, who cannot really understand the gravity of what is happening.



The woman opens her door to see who is at the gate. As she newly moved in just that morning, she has not yet employed a gateman and so has to see her visitors from the gate. She steps out fully and the four are entranced by her graceful, pretty appearance. She sees the four strange creatures at her gate and stops at her door, suddenly apprehensive. Her long ,light, white robe and hair drift out within a gentle breeze and the gentle face and green eyes settle on them, calculating. A similarly beautiful, but light brown child , as opposed to her mothers pale skin , steps out from behind her, still tugging her gown for support, and a small cat in the other hand, which glares at them.



The silence is broken by a cry, and both parties focus on Cathy, who has burst into tears loudly, demanding to be let in, pointing to one of the fountains , which she is obviously attracted to. "Sssshh...." Emmy and Belema, try to curb the crying by soothing her. It is not working. Too late. The woman , child curiously staring at her age mate, has strode forward, taken in by the cries of the small, ragged little child outside her gate, compassion covering her face. She stops and hesitates at the gate , asks who they are in a gentle, calm, mature voice. The four are stubbornly silent, and rather shy, but Belema raises her head and asks if she could spare them some food. The woman has taken note of their ragged condition, and suddenly she smiles. It is a very nice, sweet smile, and she seems to be an unusually nice person. They do not know that they remind her of herself in the days when she herself was a nobody, and that makes her kindness suggest that she let's them in. What they do know, minds corrupted by the crimes of the streets, is that the small Cathy and the abnormal pregnancy of a thirteen year old Belema, plus their ragged condition, is meant to pierce her soft heart and make her let them in. They already like her, but they must do as they are told or be haunted by the Snakemaster until they are all gone.



She smiles again. Opens the gate. Pats them each not caring about staining herself with the filth. Her little girl immediately ambles up to her mate, Cathy and holds her hand, the two start running around each other and laughing in pitches of high childish voices. Michael squeezes the tiny bottle in his hands and he feels more guilty than anything in the world for what he is about to do.



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


The inside part of the house is more beautiful than the outside. Laura has taken them to the kitchen and made tea, toasted bread, and eggs for them all, not saying anything yet, simply letting them get comfortable while she monitors them as they eat, sitting at her side of the dining table in the wide kitchen. Damilola and Cathy , the two little ones are engaged with Damilolas' many toys which the friendly little girl generously brought out to share with her playmate. Laura wants to know about the four, a little bit so she can figure out what little good she can do for these poor orphans. Belema eats voraciously.


She excuses herself for a minute. She wants to get clothes for the little girl and money for the others. Immediately she leaves, Emmy's sharp eyes dart towards the glasses of milk Laura left on the side table for her and her daughter. Emmy is devastated and confused, uncomfortable. Belema has stopped eating. Her face is flushed. They have to do it now. With the two children making cute sounds behind them and attempting to talk to each other, taking no notice, Michael gets up reluctantly. With slightly shaking hands , he opens the tiny bottle and pours the content into the two glasses. Hurriedly, he puts the bottle back into his pocket and goes back to his place. Laura strides into the kitchen again.

She attempts to assure them that there is no need for them to be uncomfortable, and brings out the beautiful expensive clothes she wants them to give Cathy. Belemas' eyes moisten with tears that she refuses to let fall. The money and apples she hands to Michael to share for them are rejected. "No" .....he steps back as if afraid of the gifts. Laura is intrigued by these strange children. She hands Damilola her little cup of milk gently, and proceeds to sip her milk, staring at Cathy , full of empathy for a second. It takes a few sips for her to notice the way they are all looking pointedly at her. She tries to understand what's going on for a minute and then terror, raw and terrible, hits her and she gasps, everything suddenly blurry to her sight. Reaching out for Damilola , she fails and falls to the floor, and a small wound opens at the side of her head. There is the cry of a child, but it is not hers. The cry is coming from a traumatized Cathy, wailing loudly, toys around her forgotten. Damilola, Laura's own child, is laid back in a suspicious, limp manner. She seems to be only sleeping. Her cup of milk has spilled in a puddle beside her, on the floor.



As if in slow motion, as if they are trapped in the hell of their own consciences , the three flee the house , leaving an unconscious mother and child, they themselves horrified by the extent of what they seem to have done. Someone clamps a hand over Cathy's mouth, and as soon as the sunlight outside hits them, they try to keep their emotions under control. Emmy holds Cathy too tightly, fiercely whispering calming words to her while they walk down the wide, clean and empty street.

THE SCORNED......



As the plot thickens , and the doomsday subjects itself to midday , she sits, still naked, in a comfortable chair in the room, facing him like a lioness focused on its prey. It has clocked twelve in the afternoon, and he, covered in sweat, is just about to recover. Dare is strapped to his own chair, arms, body and feet, his limp body weakly beginning to come to. "Erika....." His red eyes lock their focus on her. Her face is too rigid, lacking compassion , emotion. " Hello, Dare. " she addresses him in a cool tone. " So you missed your flight.....it's not so bad. Now we can be together forever. You'll never see them again ." Her eyes flash for a moment with a look that only the insane could possess. Still groggy with the drug she forcefully injected into him some hours ago, the well built, tall man begins to cry, with a look of helplessness that even she cannot fail to be affected by. " I didn't want to do it, but you hurt me . You hurt me so badly, Dare. " She bends and holds her head in both hands, long hair flowing through them, her eyes focused on the ground in what appears to be a gesture of resignation, as though she's torn between one side of her and the other.


Hell hath no fury like a scorned woman.


The man strapped to his seat in the spacy, airy room, filled with bright sunlight now, covered in his own snot and tears, a forbidden sight, begins to beg her in a shaky, broken voice, trying to put himself together.



"Please..........please........."

pu7pl3:
Purple u talented

Thanks

Nice , how you put a real person here into the story. I think that's great, really creative work, keep it up.

I'm open to corrections. Last episode updated.

THE MEETING




They have been walking down the filthy, well known alleys in their neighbourhood. The alleys close up from the light , defying the presence of the day . Each one of them knows the trails to follow in these sinister paths, it is sad that a bunch of children should know so much . They get closer to a rugged little house that has had the life patched out of it . This little dump looks like a strong wind could knock it down anytime. The door hangs down a bit from the hinges. This is the snakemans hideout, or one of his numerous hideouts. But he comes here often enough, most times helping Michael out with some cash to take care of his friends before disappearing into the dark for another job again.


Michael opens the door cautiously. It is experience that has taught him to do so. In the past he has opened that door too quickly and seen things he would rather unsee. The man is already in . His scarred blank face assumes a level of charm that has been practiced over many years, to socialize when necessary. He's in a black long leather coat that tops a blue shirt and black trouser. He attempts a broad smile at the four. Michael can smell blood, the smell is familiar to him now, but he knows he will not find any trace of it on his master's shirt. The man is a professional. He calls him by the only name he only knows which in itself is just an alias , a nickname. "Snakemaster. Respect to the boss. We are here." He smiles back. The rest cower back behind him. Cathy hides behind Emmy. Belema, trying to look indifferent and courageous, stupidly sticks out her bulging stomach and chews her gum more noisily than ever, standing close to the man, who has more pressing matters on his plate than to pay any mind to the juvenile.The man eyes this funny little group........sighs. Well the plan is much worth it.



He beckons to Michael. They both sit at one corner of the small shack while Snakemaster prepares to dole out the details to him. Michael signals to the others to wait. Belema and Emmy fold their arms and lean on an old table at the other far end while Cathy restless , reaches for two identical tiny bottles on the table. Nobody notices her. Snakemaster and Michael discuss in hushed tones for a short time and Michael looks as though he is growing increasingly uncomfortable by the second. "Her......but why?" The whisper is audible and the others suddenly eye him suspiciously, quite wary. He looks at Cathy with a worried expression, and Belema frowns , seemingly protective . Snakemaster growls at Michael and slaps his back suddenly " Don't be a sissy this time and you'll be duly rewarded. All of you " He focuses on the rest with his big reddened eyes and they shrink back.



" Stupid child ! What are you doing there?! How dare you touch those ? " Everyone is startled as Snakemaster strides towards Cathy , who lets out a squeak in fright and hides behind Emmy for protection. He comes even closer and grabs the two tiny bottles in on the table . He raises his hand in a violent gesture with the intention of hitting the girl but controls himself when Emmy protectively covers the girl. He regains his composure and turns to Michael, handing him one of the little bottles after a seconds' scrutiny.



" This is all you'll put in her drink or meal. The rest of you are just distractions. You'll take different cabs to the location and no deviating from the plan, else I promise you I'll leave you all more wretched than your ugly lives ever did. No long talks, you're all just destitutes from a slum to her. That little pain in the neck there should get her good. " He glares at Cathy , who buries her face in Belema's dirty ragged uniform.



"Michael, explain to the rest. So you thought it was an adoption thing. My boy, you are hilarious. Did I ever look like such a person to you ? Ever heard that bullshit ? I get the jobs done and that's that. No stupid qualms. . By the way, any of you squeal or mess up and I promise to get you right in your rotten lice infested little beds. Now that's a promise ." He grins unpleasantly and lets them out.

The killer's part of this story has been updated. Onto the next.

I wonder what Kate's mom told Nectar.

GRACEGLORY:
La beauté de la créativité


Creativity is not limited to craft, nor drawing or painting, it also extends to writing,
Painting with words to express oneself, either in letters or orally.


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Cheers.

Thanks GRACEGRACE. I'll join up as soon as possible.

THE KILLER



"Hey beauty. Hey sweetheart. What do you say to a date at Candy's Ice Cream place ? Or how about we make it a little more fun, stop at the cinema instead ?" The lady doesn't answer. He chuckles horribly . She is stone cold, dead, in a cute pink bunny costume complete with furry pink bunny ears and a little pink fuzz ball sewn on to the backside of it. Nails pink, large boobs popping beneath the tight pink costume. There's dark, freshly spilled blood running all down from the gory looking gash on her neck, made by his sharp, every ready blade.

" Oh well, we still had a lot of fun didn't we ? Little bitch, you'd have sucked the living dough out of me if you'd been able to answer , right ? But you can't now because you be pole dancing for the devil now, ho " He grins again. Best to leave here now. He's had a good night, lots of glorious sex from this stupi.d bimbo and a good murder by 5 in the morning . Killing is the real thing that makes him go off. The thrill gives him more sexual pleasure than sex itself. He'd always succeeded before, a child here, a teenager there, add an abandoned baby stacked off in a trash bin to spice things up. He'd put its eyes out and strangled the little wretch. This time, this bunny girl, all perky jumping up and down on her pole in her trash pink room and joyfully , he's punished this bad bitch. Now before the simpletons even get a whiff of the murder he has to get away. He is a man of the streets, one more piece of grime that is beyond redemption.

But why not stay for breakfast ? They're so dumb they won't realise until late afternoon, and even then, right before their eyes, he would be able to escape so easily. He's a professional at this bloody job and no one would know better than him. Years on the job have left him thirsty for blood so that, after the latest kill, barely a week after he has this hunger to spill more. He thinks of Michael, a foolish blundering youth, an ' apprentice ' under him, so to say. The fool still thinks he is a good man forced to do evil due to his financial status. Too trusting of his evil master, a master who doesn't need him as anything other than an alibi. He would learn why the masters of darkness walk alone. The lily livered sissy couldn't even kill a baby in the slums when sent to do the job but had helped the mother run. That bastard. He'd puked when his Master repeatedly stabbed a puppy for practice and made him finish the job. He will do this next job though. He'll do it right ,he'll do it well, and he'll be paid grandly. " I'll see to it that he gets paid in the best way possible . " The man grins wickedly, and when he grins like that, it is never a good sign.

That girlfriend of his though. That Emmy . Pretty little cun.t . It would be fun exploring that lush young body of hers. To hear her scream, to feel the panic rush through her blood, and the blood gush out of that flat tummy of hers once plunged through with his blade. All while getting his thrusts out within her rather tight puss.y. Oh, he's a pervert all right. But that pleasure would be settled after he deals with Michael, the naive brat. Should he feel sorry for him? The boy must trust him of course, he'd been caring for the rat since he turned twelve. But still, to trust anyone is folly, and the boy must pay the price for trusting him. No worries, the experience would only make him into a man. A stronger man.

Erika Daniels though. He is itching to execute the plan. All he needs is a signal from this woman and he would be through with it before evening. He has already told Michael to bring the other street rats. They're needed to execute the plan. It will be a blood galore. He carries the corpse before him from the pink chair to the fluffy pink rug and opens her legs. There's still time for some fun yet. At least she won't be able to open her disgusting maw and make all those funny, stupid sounds. A dead bitch is the best one.


An hour is almost gone and it is six o'clock in the morning when Erika Daniel's secret number flashes the lights up on his phone. He picks up the call. She gives the order. He chuckles.

The Snakemaster is a happy man as he steps out of the hotel past the unsuspecting staff and hails a cab to the remote area of Lagos , the dark forgotten ghetto, leaving in his wake a dead stripper nauseatingly covered in blood and stab wounds but surprisingly no fingerprints or semen traces to reveal the killer.

nawtielizzie:
Please protect Damilola and her mother.
More ink to ur pen

Thanks, I'll try

When Kate gets angry, everyone hides.

THE LOVER ......



He gazes at her the picture of his beloved and their child, a child he had only seen when she was a few months old , her hands so tiny yet strong enough to hold his finger in a loving clutch. He whispers the name of his beloved in his mind....... Laura . He remembers her and his lips stretch into a wider smile without him even knowing. Laura , his supple bodied, cheerful , intelligent, beautiful Laura . The love of his life and the love of his dreams as well. Childhood love. An aura of nostalgia surrounds him. Tears fill his eyes. She's back. Everything feels brighter......... his heart lighter. There is a sudden movement behind him and being startled suddenly, he rips the photo halfway across. He glares as he turns back to face the woman , lying and cowering behind him on the bed, eyes glittering. She had obviously woken up some minutes ago and spied on him a bit before he realized she was peeking over his shoulder.

" She's back , your angel from the skies. Now you'll daydream even more . I hope her angelic thoughts won't make you lose your job ". She glares back at him, trembling, there's a colour surrounding her that reminds him of his Laura but not in a good way. Green......but this time the green of jealousy. The fallen woman. The scorned woman. The jilted , neglected lover that had refused to let go despite a clean , clear break up , despite the fact that he'd told her from the beginning where his heart would always belong . She wouldn't stop trying. Last night she'd blackmailed him again with another false attempt at her life and he'd had to pick her up from her posh apartment in her lonely neighborhood. He'd carried her in his arms and the scent of strawberries had assailed his senses. She'd whispered , love drunk, how she couldn't, would never let him go, for anything in the world. And they'd ended up with break up sex again, like the other times, at his apartment. The last three years had been a cycle. But he knew where his heart was and always reminded her, though she kept fighting it, hoping, coming back.

" Why the hell would you creep up on me like that ?" He frowns, a little concerned for her sanity, and a little worried about what she would do, Erika is crazy. He is even a little afraid of her. " I know the name of your precious daughter" she sneers. " Damilola, right? So funny that your angel would name her that . Oh I know. We'll call her Aimie when we adopt. I can't wait, she's such a cutie ! " Her eyes are glazed over, she is working herself into another of her deliberate, delirious delusions. He holds her and shakes her hard to get her back to her senses. There are tears of desperation in her eyes and her head hangs down while he shakes her , her hair is all messy, partly covering her erect, naked breasts, the same lovely tone as her flawless , shiny, dark brown skin. Her athletic , slim , long body is covered in sweat. The blanket pools in tired clumps around her body, on the untidy, large bed.

" You can't do this to yourself. You have to understand, Erika. It can't be the way you'd like it to be. I told you since day one but you wouldn't listen, I have tried to get you help, a psychologist, anything to get you together but you insist ........my God. " He looks into her desperate, light brown eyes. "Dam.n..........what am I going to do?" He lets go of her shoulders and turns away again, his head bend into his cupped palms. "Dare,stay with me .." Her voice is soft, mesmerizing, but it does not take his heart from where it has always, and will always be.

He rises up from the bed. She has started sweating more despite the coolness provided by the air conditioner. It is a sign of nerves gone awry because she is so anxious not to let him go and knows this would be the last time, but he isn't sweaty. Hell, he isn't nervous, because this time he's letting her go and not turning back. He makes a mental note to never mix business with pleasure again. Erika is a bombshell mixed with a secretary, only turning twenty two and he'd fallen for the bait , he'd fallen for her sweet youth and sincerity and taken her innocence, but he hadn't thought out what a vulnerable, inexperienced young woman could do when she was faced with the failure of her first relationship. He would never make this mistake again.

" There's nothing we can do about this " He says, his back to her. "Now get your things. I'm going to be late for my flight to Lagos. Look, just for the record, I never meant to hurt you ." He goes about the spacious room , trying to fit a few things into place, looking for his bath robe. Behind him, the pained eyes turn vengeful, the mouth twists into an ugly scowl. " You won't see her. " She utters the words so hatefully, yet so calmly. The fury he's been trying to hold back fills him up and he turns on her, all fire and wrath. "Leave. Now ." His voice is also one of deadly, poisonous calm, like hers. He strides to the door and holds it open for her. She strolls up, hands clasped behind her, like a little girl, still naked. " What are you...." He splutters, surprised, imagining that in another one of her rages she will rush out naked and cause a scene. She, already close to him, raises a finger to his lips.

" Ssssshhh. Remember me." The syringe she has been hiding in her palms surfaces and she stabs him in the chest with it. His thoughts flutter around him as he drifts into unconsciousness. She had planned this all along, the snake, and he had been blind to it. He had been blind to the fact that she is a crazy bitch and would go to any length to avenge herself and her wounded heart and pride. He thinks of his Laura, his daughter Damilola. He wants to beg Erika not to hurt them, but his lips are sealed in a numb lock, his body shut down, going to sleep even before he touches the ground.



Erika Daniels looks down at her fallen lover. Her heart is broken, she has nothing to lose any more, or so she thinks. With graceful steps, she silently tiptoes to the bed, where her mobile phone is. She dials a number and a deep, forbidding , harsh voice disrupts the sound waves .

" Yes ?"

" My final decision is this. End the child. End her. Leave no trace and no survivor ."

A chuckle at the other end of the line. The call is cut abruptly.