₦airaland Forum

Appreciate your efforts , thanks.

This story is good enough for a series or movie. A good producer would make it great

Had to edit that last bit A LOT, lots of mistakes now but its been thoroughly edited, successful update right there . I really had to go back and recheck everything.

THE NEEDY


"Michael, hurry up ! " A small , dirty girl wails and tugs the hand of her cheery thirteen year old sister while looking in the direction of the teenager she is calling. She is small, only five but her eyes already tell a story of what she must have seen. A life of struggle, misery, and crime where even a child remains unsafe has forced her to grow up too soon and her demeanor as a little girl is unnaturally canny and sly . They make a not so strange but all the same, appalling sight, in the ghetto, these four children, a mass of gutter and road dirt, covered in rags, skin barely covering bone. All the same they stride in the dirt, having fun, kicking dust up in glee. No parents for these, the streets swallowed them up through disease , poverty, crime, and the world had calmly moved on since nobody really cared.

Michael, the oldest, is the premature father/ don of the group, often sharing the money made from petty break ins and the few robberies he secretly goes on with the elder thugs , with the others to quench hunger. Seventeen, yet years more advanced than his age, he strides towards them with a handsome grin on his rather grimy but attractive face. Belema, the thirteen year old who the little girl holds on to, has a suspiciously , slightly large stomach. Grand Father, one of the old but powerful thugs in the area, had deemed it fit to wield his power over yet another helpless little street urchin who would later turn to prostitution anyway, and business had gone on as usual. Raped severally by Grand Father and his gang, Belema hadn't enjoyed the ordeal but took it as a mark of pride that she had been chosen by one of the top gangs in the area. Gruesomely innocent looking yet a perverse figure for a thirteen year old, she carries her stomach and chin up high, as, to her and her mates in the area, this is the normal, and 'progressive' way of life. She often boasts to the others that she is going to have it and it belongs to Royal Father himself. All while skipping about with her old, old school uniform , ragged satchel and some tattered dirty books. She has a smile on her face all the time.

" I thought I was going to school today na ..." Belema frowns at Michael while swinging her little sisters hand in hers , and then promptly returns to chewing her gum with a cheeky grin. Michael places an arm on her shoulder . " There's a job now. Snakeman get work for us , he said all of us should come " . Belema chews her gum harder. Frowns again. " Us? Wetin I wan do or you no see my condition? " She looks at Michael with some worry. " I trust him na, this one nice, e be like say one rich person go soon carry Cathy o..." He smiles hopefully at the little girl skipping impatiently by Belema's side. Belema looks indifferent. " Abeg may I see wetin dey happen, maka, my own be say make we collect money, nobody dey carry my sister go any fyn house" Emphasizes the last two words with scoffing scorn in her voice.

Emmy, a call girl in the neighborhood, but around Michael's age , strolls up. They had fights, she and Michael. She could remember the last , when he'd smashed her bottle of alcohol on the wall in her dingy small room where she brought men for the night. "Are you crazy ?! " She'd yelled at him and he'd gone crazier, stomping out to the pit toilet in the compound and dumping her cigarettes and marijuana down there. She'd tried to lock him out and he'd burst in . She slapped him hard and he hit her. She touches the tiny red gash that is all that remains of the bruise he'd given her that last week. After that they'd fallen to the ground and had a sort of wrestle before he looked into her eyes. Large pretty eyes but no one cared in the slum. Beauty was only a ticket to get customers around here. Looking down at her he'd stopped fighting and remembered sadly what it was like when her father was alive. Picture of a young girl beaming, innocent in an old long white dress held by an elderly man with wrinkled tattoos . He'd do anything for his Little rose, as he'd nicknamed her. The father wouldn't let Michael a mile near her. He was poor but he was going to make sure his daughter lived different. That's what the father had said. Then he'd been shot by a rival gang while going to his tiny house to meet his daughter, one evening. Michael looked down at Emmy, heaving, defiant, beneath him and begged. Begged her to stop and get out of this life. He loved her, he would find a way for both of them to be free. One more job and he'd start paying for her university fees. He'd make sure it'd be a big one and she could move out of this dump , settle her admission before it expired. She'd agreed. Colours, smudges of lipstick and feverish kisses and pleasures take up the memory in smoke.

Her long hot legs and young popping body takes its place by Michael's side as Belema eyes her with some grudging admiration , partly envious of her older role model. Emmy is the only comfortable looking one of the four, but at the price of looking like a slut. Her long legs are only covered by a skimpy pink leather skirt and her ample bosom and stomach, only mildly covered with a tight long sleeved half top, while she holds on to a tiny cute furry bagpack obviously meant to convey a girly posh look. Her pink long boots fit her long fair legs. Her long natural hair is packed up in a ponytail. The little girl, Cathy, skips from her sisters side to Emmy's. She smiles down at her and holds her hand.

" Sorry I'm late " she mutters in her girly voice. Belema eyes her again and hisses. Michael looks her up and down with glassy eyes but steps out of his reverie immediately. " Let's go" he growls, and they walk out of the open, traffic busy , garbage filled street, towards a dark opening between two walls into a string of alleys.

The day is still very young. The plan is in progress.

DonAustyne:
Nice write up

Thanks I'll continue to update it.

cbella:
I woke up this morning and mischief is already breeding in my mind, like bugs in my bed


Then I heard a small voice "Don't Do It" . You don't want to give Pinkfeet, Pearl05, purples25 and her crew another heart break.

I better listen to that voice rather than KATE'S rantings

Eh.........I can't deal o........no rough play abeg.

nawtielizzie:
Thanks for the mention
Following

Thumbs up

cbella:
I had no idea I followed but next.... I will come and check in the afternoon

Would be pleased if you do that , you are appreciated

THE MEEK ...






She looks out of the window as the car glides smoothly down the well paved street . There are well trimmed gardens in front of each home. Affluence booms out in volumes from this environment , the kind of neighbourhood that average Nigerians would not be able to dream of. The houses are large , elegant giants, somehow the same based on the size and beauty but still made with different sorts of tiny expensive coloured bricks and structures. Quiet and orderly , some with little fountains or tropical garden imitations. It is quiet and cold to her.

The warm bundle curled up on her body moves a bit stiffly, and a pair of pale green, large eyes look up at her from an adorable , small face. The chubby little girl , about three years of age, shifts her long curly hair away from her face and stares anxiously at her mother. " Are we there yet mommy ? " Her mother calms her by rocking her to and fro gently and smiles at her little bundle of joy . what would I do without you ? " No, my sweet bunny, but we are very very close . Look at Cuddles, he's being so good and patient. " A black cat with intense green eyes stares at them from a small white cage close to them. Her daughter's toys fill in the rest of the space. She had refused to leave any behind.

The small girl looks at the cat doubtfully then huddles up to her mother a little bit more. " Well you said I'll see my daddy soon right ? He'll be with us tomorrow right mommy ? " . " Ssssshhh......." Her pale face goes red with embarrassment and she glances at the driver but he only smiles and keeps his eyes on the road. The child looks at her , a bit concerned, and she sighs. " Our little secret , Damilola, our special magic secret " . She smiles and the child, though not understanding but choosing to be compliant, smiles back and lays her head on her mother's bosom, promptly falling back to sleep. The woman is calm with relief. She strokes the child's long red hair.

Damilola , his daughter. She didn't turn out to look like him.Not a sign of his genes except that her skin is a very light shade of brown and not white like hers. No matter. At least she would live a better life than hers. She remembers her own childhood, growing up. A freak celebrity in the slums of Were, she had grown up with several fans and haters, all filled with either envy or adoration for her mixed race. Her mother, a beautiful tall black woman had been one of the sex workers in the area and so she had grown up living a harsh life, seeing things that would singe the skin off the eyeballs of the average Nigerian child from a secure home. Her mother often told her stories about how it had been different with her own father, how he'd wanted to stay and marry her but his family wouldn't accept that because of her race , and he had finally left after a bitter detachment between the both of them and never came back. He hadn't known that she was pregnant.

Her child's life would be different. In a clean neighbourhood, a clean new life. Dare would come and see them and they could start arrangements for the wedding. He had been the only rough , hungry and ragged little orphan that had never been with her for her beauty or popularity as they grew up from the ashes of lewd , hateful Lere town. He hadn't been moved by her own red hair, white skin and green eyes, darker than her daughter's. They had gone to school together, he had shielded her from many males who thought she'd make a good interracial community LovePeddler for their satisfaction. As teenagers, he'd convinced her to run away with him to the better parts of the city, leaving her mother who sometimes displayed desires to usher her child into the sex business. They'd done odd jobs, scrimped and scraped for their fees until they both graduated with degrees. Sure the temptations had been there but she, determined not to run her mothers course, had rejected advances of any sort. Besides, she'd been in love with Dare.

So she'd finally made it and he did also, but the nature of her job had required that she needed to travel out of Nigeria, to Germany , where the company was ready to train her further and have her work for them for a small period before returning to use her skills in the Nigerian sector. Before leaving she had Damilola, but the child was only a few months and she could not separate from her. They had promised to reunite once she got back to Nigeria and get married properly.

A look at her would be deceptive. Nobody would guess she was born and bred here.

Back to the present.

The driver glances at her and the sleeping child with a slightly amused expression . " Damilola ? " She smiles and looks away, choosing to block his question that way. His expression becomes blank once again and he concentrates on the road. She looks out of the window again.

@ nawtielizzie and lindytania, I hope this story will captivate you too

A new day has begun.

Streaks of light, peach , blazing orange, pink, blue, stream across the sky. The sun rises over the horizon like a child blooming into a beauty. Passions for the heart as the birds take flight with life flowing energetically through their small free bodies. It is one of the greatest gifts to mankind, it is the start of a new show, for all humanity, for some the show will end in tears, for others it will be joy. Nevertheless do not mock the existence of the night as that in particular has had its own share of shows, secretively shrouded by the darkness that jealously covers it. And yes, some screamed as the darkness swallowed them and were ignored by those shivering under their beds, some screamed silently and their cries were not heard. For those too the show began and ended, for the ones destined to participate in the shows of the night. So do not mock the night because the day shines its bright rays. Time controls the light and darkness and when the time for light has come to an end, it will take its bow and give the stage to the darkness. Then who will dare to ridicule the night ? So, beware.

Since time began there have always been talks of opposites. Good and bad. Strong and weak. Light and Dark. Love and Hate. And talk of Karma . Punishments for those who go to the wrong path. But can it be helped that there is always an opposite? That beneath everything, a shadow lurks ? Why is there good luck and bad luck? Life is diverse in its ways but there is only a set of intertwined lives, associated by fate , that catches our eyes here.

A woman and child from a foreign land set foot on proud African soil. A set of hungry young street urchins roam the streets aimlessly searching for only a morsel of bread for the youngest among them . Two young women in the same city yet, thousands of miles away from each other, cry simultaneously in their sleep, strangely. A young man smiles, in another part a that same Nigerian city, caressing a picture of a woman and child , affection and longing shimmering within the lights of his large black pupils focused on the image before him. A dirty, angry looking man in a tattered shirt lights his first cigar for the day and as he smiles , the dark long things in the bushes far , far away quiver in response. He mutters to himself.

The day has begun. The fate is sealed. The deed is done.

And the story starts this day and ends in the night, in a city called Lagos.

cbella:
We have a Deal, will update soon, i mean 7:30pm, stuck at work ATM.

Hmmm, more grease to your elbows.

cbella:
We have a Deal, will update soon, i mean 7:30pm, stuck at work ATM.

Thumbs up.

cbella:
, i was wondering why you didnt get the joke i made after, tot you would catch me oooo.

But Kate wants you to take your insult back ooo, or she will come back again with another stunt

I take back the insult.....

No more of these scary stunts please.

Cbella just punked us . All along Katie was imagining Mandy when it was Nectar she was with.

Ok seriously Katie shouldn't have even gone there in the first place cuz that professional crook that stole the name ' Mandela' has her under his control and she knows. She probably knows that going to where he is equals to sex so why push it. Well like the writer said, the characters have to make mistakes and learn, plus the act is despicable but feelings get stronger than reason often.

Hdanny:
nice one, keep it up dear

Thanks Hdanny

beltkid:
Wow, beautifully written. Reading stuffs like this that usually give me the vibe that I could gather the momentum I need and give writing a chance. U painted a fantastic story, so clear like I was watching it in 4D...keep up the good work
Hopefully, in the nearest future, I will write as beautiful as this

Thank you so much, and I really think you'll write even better once you start

lindytania:
nice story dear.plz i will like to read your other story, mention me when when you have another one

I'll definitely mention you next time lindy, thanks.

nawtielizzie:
I love this.
Please mention me in your future works.

Thanks I will.

It's true. When we are little and do wrong, parents flog us. When we grow up and procrastinate, life has various ways of ' flogging '

azeezat22:
nice one full of suspense and is getting more interesting and@purples 25 hope u are getting the suspense cbella want to give us heart attack

Yes, she wants to kill us with suspense sha........I hope Mandela comes back to beg, na my own b DAT.

azeezat22:
yes one of the best

For sure, for sure.

[quote author=azeezat22 post=59651717][/quote]Hey azeezat, see how this story is catching fire. This is one of the few stories that I get excited reading here.

I want people to be more encouraged to read so I deliberately made it short to encourage ' rare ' readers. When they find out that they actually enjoy reading and can bear short articles, they can move on to the longer stories.