Nickymezor:
Welcome bk dear

Hello Nickymezor! Thank you



3
***

“Hey baby,” Omoefe drawled. “How’re you, my love?”
“I'm good, how about you?” Imaobong flicked on the indicator and the car slowed.
“What's that sound, are you driving?”
“Yes baby but I just parked.” She said and brought the car to halt.
“Okay, I'm well. How're the kids?”
“They are very well. The holiday progress.”
“Hope they are not so much of a handful or two handfuls.” He chuckled at his joke.
She laughed. “It's normal. Besides, I've been in charge and will always be in charge.”
“Trust you babe. I miss you. I miss the kids. I thought I'll be home this time to spend the holiday with them but have to be at South Africa. After this, they would have no other choice than to grant my leave.”
“I understand dear, we'll gladly wait. Hope you're feeding well.”
“Yes. How is my baby girl?”
“She's fine.”
“I send packages across. Amongst them is a phone for Iniobong, do get her SIM card. Tell her I want to be the first she calls.”
“I will, thanks dear.”
“Send my apologies to them.”
“I'm sure they do understand.”
“Love you, baby.”
“I love you, dear. Bye.” Imaobong beamed and turned on the ignition. She had the sweetest man in the entire world as husband. She missed his absence but his presence was awesome time for her. Their marriage had been arranged between both fathers who friends and had retired in the military. Her father had retired as a brigadier general and her mum as a military nurse. They had both been reluctant at first but after two dates, found understanding and gave room for their love to grow. When they got married, she was twenty nine and he was four years older. They welcomed their first child two years later. Their joy knew no bound.
The nature of his job didn't allow limited time for his family. Passion was the reason he was yet to quit. Even when he even tried to, the authority wouldn't hear the end. He was a specialist in handling emergencies and that was one of the nature of his work. He was a marine engineer but worked with the Nigeria Navy.
***

Chidubem Ugorji washed the plates singing.
Mama Bisi watched him smiling. She loved the child. He had insisted on washing their plates after the meal of amala and vegetable soup. He was free spirited and well brought up. It didn't take an hour to notice that.
“My dear, what do you enjoy doing?”
“I love dancing. Knowing the components of electrical appliances, reading and helping out my parents.”
“Wow, dancing,” Mama Bisi’s face lit up. “I love to dance but I don't know how.”
“It is not hard, we all can dance. It is all about learning to move with the rhythm of the song.” He wiped the plates and arranged them in the rack.
She folded her arms beneath her bosom and listened.
“When you dance, you move some or all part of your body, it is an expression that can be quick, slow but lively, usually with gestures. That's why you can pass messages via dancing alone.” He turned to look at her and laughed at her undivided attention, “Grandma, you make me feel like a teacher.”
She laughed and hugged him. “You're a wonderful child.”
“Thank you, ma.” He thought she was a wonderful woman too. She appreciated everything he did like he was doing something extraordinary.
She took his hand and led him to the sitting room. “I need you to teach me how to dance.” She approached the music player.
“No—no ma, theory first then practical.” He led her to seat and went to stand across the centre table. At eight years of age, he was handsome, tall and acted more matured for his age. It was hard to believe he was an only son, the last born and his immediate older sister was 15 years older. He was his parent’s bundle of joy when they least anticipated.
***

Kindly share your thoughts on this story.


You should get copies of my books on Okadabooks.
https://m.okadabooks.com/book/about/lost_then_found_/32936
Titles are Substance in Her Corpse. The Last Sacrifice. Lost, Then Found. All by Esther Ugbaja. You can send a dm for more info or pdf copy.

See you on Wednesday.

Thank you, King Philip. �

***

“Go to hell and burn to ashes!” Morenikeji thundered.
Olajide plonked into the sofa. “I didn't wake up on the wrong side of the bed and I'm not ready to exercise my fist on you.”
“Come and beat me. Beat me o!” She clapped her hands. “You should be ashamed of yourself, your type can't fight a man.”
“I'm not destined to end your miserable life and send you to an early grave.” Olajide snatched one of the remotes on the table, tapped a button and the TV came alive.
“It's you and your extended family that are miserable, oloshi!”
Temilade Johnson shut the door and prayed her mother don't get beaten this time. She slumped on the bed and groaned. Her head hurt again. She lifted herself off the bed to pick the analgesic on the dressing table. Her mother gave her when she had same symptom few days back.
“I don't blame you. I blame myself for putting up with a second hand.” Olajide spared her a glance, sizing her up from head to toes.
She took steps forward with her warning finger pointed. “Do I blame you Olajide Adekanbi? I blame myself for putting up with your excesses and abandoning a man that loved me dearly.”
“Weré, onibaje!” He stormed out of the house, muttering some more expletives.
Morenikeji dropped into the sofa miffed. She had found a pack of condom in his trousers’ pocket with one missing from the roll. He had not defend himself.
***
Temilade swayed with eyes focus on the reflection the mirror gave. She made an adjustment to her head gear and beamed. She grabbed her bag and head out.
“You’re still in bed, mum.” Her brows narrowed.
“I don’t feel so good, dear.” Morenikeji lowered the duvet.
She felt her neck. “Do you need to see a doctor?”
Morenikeji smiled and reached out to touch her cheek. “No dear. I’ll be fine.”
“I should stay and make break…”
“Go ahead. Go to church and pray for me.” She sat up. “My sisi eko, you look lovely.”
Temilade grinned. “Thanks mum.”
She reached for her purse and handed her some naira notes. “Run along, so you can join Uncle Wale and his family in their car.”
Temilade embraced her. “Call me if need be, my phone will be on vibration.”

***

“That's her mummy!” Prince Akubor pointed.
Shadia quickened her steps.
“Good morning, ma.” The bespectacled teacher smile vanished when Shadia's hands gripped the collar of her blouse.
“Not only morning but your days will be full of woes if you dare lay your filthy fingers on my child ever again.”
“Ma, this is improper—did Prince tell you what he did?” She tried in futility to pry her neck free.
Shadia grip tightened. “I don't care!”
Prince beamed triumphant.
A teacher peered from her class and rushed to the staffroom.
“Pl— please.” The teacher rasped.
“Stupid girl, at your age you're not married. You don't even know if you’ll have children and you dare touch my only child.” Shadia bellowed.
It took the intervention of two male teachers to free Prince’s teacher from her grasp. They rushed her to the school clinic as she was wheezing.
“Mrs. Akubor, come with me to my office.” The headmistress who had been alerted told her.
***

“Sometimes, you behave like a woman who has not seen the four walls of a tertiary institution. How dare you attempt to strangle your son’s teacher?” Mnenga’s shoulders rose and dropped in disappointment.
“Haba darling, I didn’t strangle her.” Shadia pouted and folded her arms.
“When a child misbehaves, he deserves to be punished.”
“That girl has not right to touch our son.”
“You have no right to strangle his teacher! What has come over you, Shadia?” He glared at her.
“Darling, please calm down.”
He stopped pacing and sat on the nearest sofa.
“Sweetheart, the school authority want to meet with you and me on Wednesday.”
“That thing you started, go and finish it.” He yelled. “I have no time for frivolities.”
The knocked on the door halt the exchange and Shadia head to the door.
“Mummy, I want ice cream.” Prince said.
“There should be ice cream in the freezer.” She placed a hand on his shoulder.
“I searched, there is none mum.”
“Hold on, honey.” Her gaze swept the room until she found what she desired on the bed.
“What do you intend doing?” Mnenga asked with a grimace on his face
“Call Yisa to go buy for him.”
“Look at the time. Would he die if he didn’t take one?”
She avoided his gaze as it was 9 pm.
“But daddy, I want ice cream.” Prince was on the verge of tears.
“My friend, go to bed immediately.”
Prince didn’t need to be told a second time as he left in tears.
“Darling…”
“Keep quiet!” He thundered.
She clomped away to the washroom murmuring.
***
Oloshi- stupid person
Weré- Mad, irrational
Onibaje- spoilt person
Sisi eko- Lagos babe

You should get copies of my books on Okadabooks. Titles are Substance in Her Corpse. The Last Sacrifice. Lost, Then Found. All by Esther Ugbaja. You can send a dm for more info or pdf copy.
Do not exit this post without leaving a comment, thanks

Chapter 3 on Friday

1
***


At the balcony, Ini Okoh stood engrossed in thoughts. How is possible that I’m a prisoner in my home? How can I be happiest outside my home? A sigh pealed from her lips.
At fifteen years of age, she had a flawless olive skin, striking eyes, was slender and taller than most of her age mates.
“You cheated! You cheated, Amaka. Let us play again.” The voice from the next compound jolted her. From the balcony, she saw a group of four girls about her age. They were playing the tinko tinko game, a game in which two or more faced one another while singing the theme song. Her eyes lingered as they interchanged hands front and back. She glanced at other children in their groups playing other games. The house was the most populated in the estate.
It was two weeks since she returned home for holidays but her mother wouldn’t let her visit any of her friends. She shook her head repressing memories of their several dialogue.
“Ini— Iniobong!”
“Yes mum.” She hurried into the house.
“What’re you doing out there by this time?” Imaobong glared at her daughter before rummaging the content of her handbag. She was dressed in a blue and yellow flared Ankara gown with a matching scarf tied in style.
“I’m done with my chores, mum.” Her eyes were fixed on her toes.
“I’ve a meeting for eleven. Taw the stew and boil rice for lunch. Help yourself to dinner if I’m not home by 6pm.”
“Okay ma.” She massaged her forehead.
Zipping her bag shut, Imaobong spared her a glance. “What is it?”
“I need your approval to attend Nnenna’s birthday celebration on the day after tomorrow.”
“No party, dearest.”
“Nnenna is my best friend, I need to be there for her. All my classmates would be there.”
“That is how you children of these days go to parties, make a mess of yourselves and give your parents untold heartache.”
“But mum,” her brows creased. “She’s the deacon’s daughter. It would be in her house and under the supervision of her parents.”
“Madam, I said no.”
“She’s old enough to take care of herself. A celebration with her classmates won’t hurt her.” Indi, her older brother of five years had strode into the sitting room.
Her eyes shot daggers as it glanced from son to daughter. “When I was your age, I wouldn’t dare mention the word-party. But now…” her laugher was mirthless.
“That was then mum, this is now.” His voice was firm.
“The conspiracy between you and your sister won’t work.”
“It’s no conspiracy mum. I’ve been asking to go see my friends, you won’t allow me neither would you allow them come see me. You won’t allow me talk to the girls in the next compound.” Tears formed in her eyes.
“You’ve WAEC to face next year young lady. You better start preparing.”
“But that’s all I do in boarding school, mum. That’s all I do all day since I’ve been on hols”
“Her social life is vital to her growth and development. I’m offering to go with her.”
Imaobong clapped her hands. “You’re growing to challenge me and I feel for you with all my heart. Get out from my sight.”
Ini stepped away. She slumped to the ground when the door slammed shut and burst into tears.
Indi sighed and cover the distance between them to console her.
***

“I wish dad was home more often.” Ini wiped the plates and arranged them on a rack.
“We can’t always have what we wish for.” His eyes was focused on the screen of his phone with his fingers busy with winning the game he was playing.
For a moment, she stared into space. “I love daddy so much.” Her lips parted into a smile. “He is so understanding and different from mum.”
“Yea.”
“How I wish he will be home more often.” She wiped her hands and pulled another stool close to her brother.
“He is with us too, he is serving the country.”
She let out a breath. “Sometimes, I wonder what would have been our fate if mummy was in the military.”
Indi laughed so hard that held his knees as support and when she didn’t join him, he stopped. He studied the girl he had known all his life. He pitied her just like he pitied himself because they were malnourished of their mother’s love.
“Don’t worry baby girl, we’ll be fine. It’s your friend’s birthday today.”
She shrugged.
“We can go and return before mummy gets back.”
Her face light up but was soon to be replaced with horror. “No o big brother. You know mum and her ways, she might walk up to Nnenna’s mum just to find out if I attended. I don’t want wahala. Besides, she might kill me this time.”
He stood and took her hands. “I love you dearly and will do all I can to protect you.”
She embraced him. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d have done without you being around.”
“Let’s take a stroll before you get all emotional and stain my shirt with your golden tears.” He fled knowing she would throw a punch.
***


“Nkem, he is asleep.” Ijeoma Ugorji announced and lowered herself beside her husband.
Ugonna lowered his phone on the bedside table. “Since you’ll be away on the educational retreat for one week. We need to make preparation for Nna. He will stay at home till I get back from work.”
Her eyes widened in alarm. “You want him to bring apart all the gadgets in this house while feeding his curiosity.”
“Oh Nne,” he chuckled. “He knows better than that.”
“No, Nkem.” She shook her head. “I won’t accept the risk of electric shock with my only son.”
“All right. Let me hear your plan.”
“I intend to discuss with Mama Bisi, our neighbour upstairs. If she agrees, Chidubem stays with her until you get back from work each day. Before we know it, I’m back home.”
He sat back thoughtful.
Her brows creased. “What’s on your mind?”
“I don’t believe in intruding in another privacy. Besides, we don’t know this woman.”
“Her children are grown up and she is a grandmother too. Chidubem will be just fine with her. It’s not like he is still a toddler.”
He shrugged. “See her then.”
She reached over and kissed him.
He beamed. “I’ll go lock the doors.”
Chidubem was eight years of age. His mother was a vice principal while his father was a manager in a telecommunication company.

***

“Ma, you shouldn’t have bothered.” Ijeoma said when a tray of crackers and soft drink was set before her.
“I should bother my dear.” Mama Bisi sat across her. “It’s not every day I entertain guests or neighbours.” Since she had not given up on sophisticated lifestyle even at sixty three years, she looked ten years younger. She was a proud mother of five children and a grandmother.
“Thank you ma.”
“Chidubem can come stay with me. I am happiest when my grandchildren visit.”
Ijeoma genuflected. “You’ve relieved me and I’m grateful.”
“I am a bored woman and sometimes have to rearrange the house just for lack of what to do.” The older woman chuckled and Ijeoma joined her.
“My husband will pack him lunch and ensure he has breakfast before coming.”
“Iya Chiamaka,” Mama Bisi frowned. “I fed my children well and will take good care of your son. Please don’t make Papa Chiamaka to start doing kitchen work o.”
Ijeoma couldn’t help but chuckle at her tone and emphasis. “My husband was a better cook than I was when we were courting.”
“Between then and now is a long time.” She drawled snapping her fingers. Ijeoma laughed.
***
Lost, Then Found is my latest book on Okadabooks https://m.okadabooks.com/book/about/lost_then_found_/32936

DOTTED LINES
COPYRIGHT © 2020 ESTHER UGBAJA.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior permission of the author.

DISCLAIMER:
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.


AUTHOR’S CONTACT:

E-mail: ugbajaesther@gmail.com
Website: exceptionalstar.
Instagram: ugbajaesther

One more sleep, July 1st!

Francine Rivers.

No matter the character, circumstances or country. She remind us of the one thing that can't be taken away and makes all the difference, relationship with Jesus.

Lillian Fadeke is a beautiful woman, a brilliant aeronautics consultant and wife to an amazing ophthalmologist...well, until the night she stabbed her husband while he was asleep.
Terrified by what she has done, and the fact that she has lost the man she loves, Lillian realises she needs to face the demons from her past.
Lost, Then Found...a woman's journey of finding herself. Available on Okadabooks https://m.okadabooks.com/book/about/lost_then_found_/32936

This story is now available on Okadabooks as Lost, Then Found. https://m.okadabooks.com/book/about/lost_then_found_/32936

muhammed50:
Hmmmmm....
So heartbreaking!
I love this piece...
Thanks

Thank you dear. I have e books with more volume on okadabooks. Or send me an email on ugbajaesther@gmail.com

misskbest:
Nice story line
Please what's up with the end

I'm working on the book again so I could publish it.

He should have done more than shrugged when her phone contacts and messages were password protected in marriage. He should have suspected when she wasn’t as excited as expected at the birth of destiny.
She’d asked him to move on. He will. He must. Life was too short for the extravagancy of wallowing in grief and regret.
He must pick up his broken heart and give it a chance to mend.
Indeed, he was now a victim of misplaced priority. He should have investigated and paid attention. His love was blind but marriage became his eye opener.
He should have prayed, not just worked by sight and bank on the fact that since they had met in church she was wife material. That had always been the counsel of his mother— “Seek God’s face before taking a wife.” The lesson had eventually sunk in after six years.
He hadn’t waited on the Lord. He will do so now. With all his heart, soul and mind.
It would not be easy but what other option did he have?
He heaved off the floor, dusted himself and with slow but steady steps headed to the bathroom for a cold shower. Afterwards he would go into the kitchen to fend for himself.
Life must go on.

THE END

The paper dropped from his hand. He suddenly felt dizzy; everything swirled around him. He staggered forward, stumbled and fell.
“Oh my God!” He gasped, lying sprawled on the marble-tiled floor.
It was over. Five years of marriage added to one year of courtship — all gone!
Destiny wasn’t his son?
The child he’d been making endless list of what he would teach him when he grew up wasn’t his. The entire church, family and friends had gathered for his naming ceremony… and yet he wasn’t his son.
Tears rolled down his cheeks unchecked.
He wept as though God would look down on his tears and spare him the unbearable heart ache that seared through him.
“Oh Yemisi... you are cruel! You are evil! You are... You are...”
He couldn’t bring himself to continue hurling insults. He felt wrenched and he didn’t even know how to curse. So he laid there as tear drops washed down his face and trailed down to wet his shirt.
Sometime later, his tears stopped. It could have been minutes or hours, he didn’t know. For him, time now stood still.
She’d told him to move on. He would. What use was there to cry over spilled milk anyway?
People who know them will talk.
The thought brought him more sorrow. But he knew that other people’s opinion shouldn’t be priority. People always talked anyway— whatever the situation.
They had met first on the first Sunday of the New Year. He remembered now, quite vividly.
He looked his best that day, wearing his only Brook Brothers owned suit and Italian leather shoes that had been a gift. There had been stares, so much so that he’d become self-conscious. She had boldly walked up to him and paid him a compliment.
“You are looking like a true gentleman.”
Those were her words. He would never forget them. At that time though, he had blushed over them as he thanked her. Three weeks later, they’d met again at a midweek service. Afterwards, he had walked her home and she accorded him the privilege of her phone number.
Despite his busy schedule and having to travel more than twice a month, they had started dating. Their relationship had withstood the test of distance, time constraint and fluctuating communication. Theirs had been a purity-based relationship. He despised premarital sex and had told her so. She wasn’t a woman without experience but he hadn’t minded. It suited him even. Her experience would balance his book-acquired knowledge but he had been a fool.
He shook his head and made no attempt to wipe the fresh set of tear drops.
In time, he proposed to her. She accepted and they got married.
And here he was a five years later, an epitome of the word mess.
His eyes widened. Could it be that when she told him about the advances she got from men that she had taken it further beyond narration while he thought he was blessed with a lady that was the toast of most men? Could it be that she was part of the bevy, when she narrated and claimed it was the escapades of her friends with men whenever he asked for update of her welfare and that of her friends?
He heaved and shut his eyes.

LightQueen:
Nice one dear

Thank you

It's good to be back here after many years. This story is a flash fiction and I hope it'll be worth your time.




*~*


Whistling was an action that came spontaneous to him whenever he was happy and he was doing just that as he bounced from the car park to his three-bedroom apartment sparkling like the bottle of wine he held with happiness.
Who wouldn’t be happy, having just been promoted with a salary almost twice his former with attached benefits? He was now an administrative manager in an automobile company for heaven’s sake!
But the whistling ended abruptly on walking into the sitting room. He saw it at once, the void. And nothing in the world could have prepared him for the shock he instantaneously felt.
All framed photographs, which once adorned the walls were gone; pictures of their ten-day old baby, that of his wife and that of his wife and himself.
A shiver coursed through his body as he dropped his work bag and the bottle of wine on the dining table which was close to where he stood and hurried into the bedroom.
Same change had found its way there but it was worse. His baby boy and wife were nowhere to be found. Stupefied, he gazed momentarily into space like a statue in the centre of an ever flowing river.
Had the rapture taken place?
Hastily, he flung open the wardrobe. All traces of her and their baby was gone. The drawers were empty. Even their marriage certificate was missing.
He yanked out the drawers; and in one of them, he found the note. With heart thudding, he lifted the white sheet covered with the blue ink of her free-flowing handwriting.


—
Dear Kunle,
I am a horrible person and if you don’t find it in your heart to forgive me, I would understand.
I know I am callous, heartless and selfish. Whatever name you call me, I deserve it. You are a good man and do not deserve to be deceived and lied to the way I have done.
I was unfaithful to you during our courtship, and all through our marriage, I remained unfaithful. There is no need to list the names of those I have been with, that will only bring you more grief. We never had a real marriage because no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to be faithful to my marriage vows. Destiny is not even your son; that is why I left with him.
I am very sorry, Kunle. I know how you looked forward to having a child of your own. I know how much you love him. Even before he was born, you already loved him. Please don’t think it is your sexuality or that you must have done something that prompted my actions. The only problem was my lack of contentment.
I know you may likely plunge a knife into me if you ever set eyes on me again, so I have gone very far and I hope we never see each other again.
I have contacted my lawyer to begin divorce proceedings.
I am terribly sorry. Do forgive me and move on with your life as I have moved on with mine.


Yemisi.

COPYRIGHT © 2017 ESTHER UGBAJA
All rights reserved. No part of this E-book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, electronic or otherwise (mechanical, photocopying, recording or stored in a retrieval system) without the prior written consent of the author. Such action is an infringement of the copyright law.
This E-book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.



AUTHOR’S CONTACT:
ugbajaesther@gmail.com




AND READ MORE OF MY STORIES @
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holuwanoisy111:
Thank God Am Not Late Queenxstar Pls Fire On

Welcome here.

Nostradamus:
ride on!!

Welcome on board.

‘Partially, I went to the bank as a rule I switched off my phone.’ Her face light up. ‘I stumbled on the M.D. and he happened to be that senior that wooed me back in high school.’

‘Hmmm!’ Elvis raised his brows.

‘When is the outing or better still date?’ Chikere said testily.

‘Dinner tonight, care to join?’ She returned in the same vein. ‘What is the meeting for?’ She directed to Uche.

‘The family has decided to have Elvis head the branch in South African while you take his position.’

‘What a great family I have! Am I not so lucky?’ She smiled sweetly. ‘I beg your pardon chief executive officers of Emenike Group of companies, I’m afraid I can’t take the offer.’

‘Why B.B, don’t you like the location?’ Ejike was concerned.

‘Abuja is fabulous.’

‘I know what you can’t stand B, the people under me are serious minded and there are lot of cute guys over there.’ Elvis expressed with a smile.

She rolled her eyes.

‘Give us your choice, let’s consider it, you never can tell what we might willing to do for you.’ Chikere encouraged.

‘Come on babe, talk to us.’ Uche seconded.

She placed enclosed palms on the polished desk.

‘I know that based on my knowledge, I’ll do well in Abuja but … I won’t grow, you guys know how I’m like – ever learning. I want to stretch, please guys….I begged to be excused. If I am better out there, it will reflect in E.G, I am still part of this committee and I’ll always be available.’

Silence prevailed for few minutes.

‘Ejike, what do you have to say?’

‘We are all doing this because it is what we love and hence, went into it willingly. Our reward is the success story of E.G. I’m glad BB spoke her mind and we have to respect her request.’

Uche turned to Chikere.

‘That is her belief and we have to respect that so that she gets her fulfilment.’

Elvis smile. ‘I agree with my big bros provided we still have her.’

‘Guess what babe…’ Uche met her gaze.

‘What?’ She asked with a faint smile

‘I respect you; I’ve got lot of respect for you.’

She covered her mouth in surprise and they all laughed at her reaction.

‘Elvis, since you’re closer give her a high five.’

‘What is wrong with this one, raise your hand jare?’ He teased as he obeyed his brother.

‘So where will you like to work? We can help out.’ Chikere asked.

‘Like I don’t know the level of connections the Emenike brothers command.’ She beamed. ‘I’ll go job hunting myself. By the way, I have an interview on Monday. When I get a job, I’ll take you guys out to celebrate.’

‘Cool!’ Ejike and Elvis exclaimed.

‘Pass this to her, babe look through those papers and tell me what you think.’

***

ROSAMUND

 

‘Welcome to heart to heart, hi there.’ Rosamund Benedict, multiple award winning On Air Personality and host of the evening belt on radio. Her voice conveyed her smile via the electromagnetic device to all of her listeners all over the world.

‘How is my sweetheart doing today?’ A male caller asked.

‘Very well and you my familiar?’

Because of her always recognition of his voice, he chuckled. ‘Great, because my day will be complete now that I’m hearing your voice.’

‘That’s so sweet, thanks darl. What’s your freaking story Romeo from Lagos Island; it’s a full moon night.’

‘I went for an occasion with a friend of mine and his girl. I don’t know…’

‘Please don’t do that, don’t pause like that.’

He laughed. ‘You are my one and only, I am going to be faithful while waiting for your green light.’

‘I love you so much that I don’t want to encourage you to keep dreaming.’

‘Dreams make me happy.’

‘Go ahead Romeo.’ She chuckled.

‘I don’t know if the story I had from my friend that day was motivated by the extra can of poisonbhe took. He told me that he was frustrated; his girl was very good and had been faithful to him for two years. He knows she was expecting the next level question but he want out and didn’t know how to go about it because he enjoy male than female.’

‘Oh my!’

‘It was so freaking Rosa, I was shocked myself for I’ve known this guy for six years and never suspected.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I referred him to a counsellor because I was confused and could not afford to breed hatred.’

‘Good for you.’

‘So sweetheart, when did you say you’ll be free?’

‘It’s quite unfortunate that my P.A. is not here, I don’t know what my schedule is like.’

The caller burst into laughter.

………………..

‘I don’t know what to do with my life; I don’t know it’s worth anymore.’

‘Now don’t say Raphael. I don’t believe your situation is hopeless. She is not worthy of you Raphael, she is... Raphael…. Raphael are you there?’

‘I’m… I’m here?’

‘I want you to promise me that you won’t take your life.’

‘I don’t know…’

‘Promise me Raph, please darling, please.’

‘I promise…’

‘A promise is a debt sweetie, hang up and listen to me, will you?’

‘Yes… thanks Rosa.’

‘For the love of Christ, ladies please let’s be mindful of what we say. Ladies and gentlemen, let’s be careful of what we do. We are all humans and are under the influence of the supernatural whether we like it or not. Raphael and every other person that can fit into his shoes, this is my message to you…’

***

 

JEWEL

Treasure came in the sitting room with a bowl containing variety of fruit.

Jewel Wellington, her twin sister was lying belly down on the rug watching a comedy show. She burst into excited gales of laughter. They were identical twins- tall, slim, fair-skinned and beautiful.

‘Comediennes are standing up real good.’ She sat and popped a slice into her mouth.

‘They are doing great Tresh and it isn’t easy with majority of the Nigerian populace stone faced.’

‘Can we blame them with the economic situation of the country and the emotional imbalance we all face no matter how hard we try to avoid them. Baby sister, it is by the grace of God we are not consumed.’

‘Yes by his special grace.’ Jewel glanced at her sister. ‘Taking about emotional imbalance, during recess today, matron Ehi came over to my office to say hi, one thing led to another. She is an adherent listener of Rosamund.’

‘Rosamund of IBz fm.’ She picked a piece of strawberry and studied it.

‘Yes, without rivals. She delivers it hot.’

‘My kind of diva; never beating about the bush. Stumble on her in Kimberly before I took my leave, I love her for sure and you will never bet she is appreciated internationally.’

“Ehi told me about a guy who called in to share his freaking experience. By the time she was through I had reasons to thank God after the way Wale left me. I felt like I had been let down on a desert with a phone having network while he had been let down to land body deep in the heart of a desert with a blind fold on.’

‘Geez Jewel! What a comparison

MISSING LINK BY ESTHER UGBAJA



All rights reserved. Utilization of this work in whole or part in any form by electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented is forbidden without the permission of the copyright owner. You can contact me via ogechiugbaja@gmail.com

I am opened to criticism, comments and new members joining the family. I hope you learn from this story.


CHAPTER ONE

 

RAPHAEL

It couldn’t be true… no... It was only a belief… a cloud that will pass soon. Could it ever be possible….could it be possible that in no time it will be back to zero point… emptiness, loneliness, gloom and unhappiness will take over? And then… and then there will be only memories… that would dominate and be relished for a moment and fade away the next leaving nothing but painful and provoking reality.

The suitcase was slammed shut and its tires screeched on the floor. He felt tears, strength leaving him, his knees buckling, his feet going ‘e’, his throat becoming dry but like a soldier already in the battle front, he couldn’t turn back, he had to keep his hand trained to his gun hoping that he wouldn’t go down in the end. After all, his investment, happiness, peace of mind, and life were all at stake.

‘May, you can’t leave me; you know how much you mean do me. I guess I blew my top… we can sort this, we can talk this through.’

‘I don’t give a damn about talks anymore! I am tired of talking. I don’t belong to you from henceforth and I am leaving for my liberation whether you like it or not.’

‘Sweetheart, what happens to our love, dreams, vows, all the wonderful times we had together… what happens to our marriage?’ His palms were opened before him.

‘I don’t care!’

‘I know you care… you’re only upset’. He stepped closer. ‘I know you care about…’

‘I’m serious!’ She let the handle of the suitcase go and looked back. ‘If you want proof, I’ll give you,’ she removed her pencil heeled shoe and hit their wedding portrait hung on the wall. It shattered to a million pieces.

He stood dumb folded and transfixed like a statue in the middle of an ever flowing river.

But she was not done yet, she shattered every framed picture of them in the room. She put on her shoe and grabbed the handle of the suitcase and advance towards him. ‘I guess I can’t help myself; you can never satisfy me no matter how hard you try. I don’t need you anymore; I just needed you for a couple of season and it's ended now.’

‘What …? May…?’ He choked.

‘Get out of my way… get out now!’ She reached into the purse she was holding and fetched a knife. ‘If you don’t leave, I’ll slash you out of my way.’

She moved closer, ‘Are you deaf…..? Get out!’ She roared.

He stepped aside overwhelmed; his eyes were then filled with tears.

‘I have already filed for divorce and you can be rest assured you won’t miss any of your property.’

There were a couple of smashes in the sitting room and shatters followed. He knew what she had done. Those final actions launch into his heart and rent it apart.

Raphael Ugwuchi collapsed.

***

BEATRICE

 

Beatrice Emenike in a sleeveless navy jacquard dress with feet in matching sandals and hand clinging to a neutral bag with chain handle, sashayed into the study smiling. Of her brothers she was the least tall but above average, olive skinned, slender and very beautiful. ‘All of my big bros are in suit. What’s up guys?’

They were seated round a desk, papers and documents neatly distributed.

‘You don’t stay at a place anymore.’ Ejike, the second son of the family rebuked.

‘Where have you been?’ The third, Chikere asked curious.

‘What happened to your phone?’ Her immediate elder brother Elvis said, ‘We’ve been trying to reach you?’

Her gaze swept their faces analytically. ‘I don’t believe I am here to be questioned.’

‘It is wrong to answer questions with question and you…. haven’t answered my question?’ Chikere stated.

“Am I sixteen?’ She directed her gaze to him.

“Beatrice, you…’

‘I’m sorry but can I ask you a question?’ She prevaricated, her face blank and ready to do battle. They all knew her well, one of her powerful talent.

‘I see you are in a mood to be punished.’

Her eldest brother Uche, who had been reading and signing some documents, dropped his pen and stood. ‘B.B, your dress is beautiful.’ He advanced towards her with a smile.

‘Big brother, you are my best no contest.’ She beamed.

He pulled a chair. ‘Sit down darling.’

‘Thank you.’ She sat down gracefully.

He went back to his seat.

She smiled sweetly and blinked her eyes severally not caring about the eyes that shot daggers at her which was more than a pair.

‘The sun is not descending politely; hope it didn’t descend all on you.’

‘Partially, I went to the bank as a rule I switched off my phone.’ Her face light up. ‘I stumbled on the M.D. and he happened to be that senior that wooed me back in high school.’

....
Concluding part of this chapter is on

www.exceptionalstar.

laudate:
What is the meaning of Inspirator?? I thought the correct word was "Inspiration?"

It was a word I came up with.

MarieSucre:
Rest In Peace Great literary Warrior. You were the first to open my eyes to injustice suffered by women. Many of the things I brushed under the carpet, many of the things I accepted because "this is what the society expects of me as a woman", I rebuff. Because of you...

Sleep on Lioness. You have molded the minds of many Nigerian girls, and boys.

She did indeed.

MarieSucre:
Rest In Peace Great literary Warrior. You were the first to open my eyes to injustice suffered by women. Many of the things I brushed under the carpet, many of the things I accepted because "this is what the society expects of me as a woman", I rebuff. Because of you...

Sleep on Lioness. You have molded the minds of many Nigerian girls, and boys.

She did indeed.

Kondomatic:
Not true.


Our society hardly appreciate her type, the story wouldn't be the same if she was a singer or an actress.


We prefer cleavage exposing talentless individuals to hardworking individuals.

Well said, we need to start prioritizing values.

Emeraldz:
May her soul rest in peace. She was a magnificent writer.

Amen.

Pchikaodili:
Buhari's death rumour did not allow us to mourn this literal ICON
.
.
Rest in peace mama

Hahaha, Buhari is now to be blamed for everything.

Erudite202:
joys of motherhood is evergreen

True.

Considered by many to be one of the most important female African writers, she is greatly respected and admired for her creative and narrative writing about African women's experiences in Africa and in Great Britain.

She said :

 “A man is never ugly".

“A hungry man is an angry one.”

“I like to be called a Nigerian rather thansomebody from the Third World or the developing or whatever."

“I work toward the liberation of women, but I'm not feminist. I'm just a woman."

“Black women all over the world should re-unite and re-examine the way history has portrayed us."



NAME: Florence Onyebuchi Emecheta
BORN: on 21 July 1944, in Lagos, Nigeria

DIED:25 January 2017. 

EDUCATION: after persuading her parents to consider the benefits of her education, she spent her early childhood at an all-girl's missionary school. A year later, Emecheta received a full scholarship to the Methodist Girls School, where she remained until the

FAMILY LIFE: age of 16, in 1960, she married Sylvester Onwordi, a student to whom she had been engaged since she was 11 years old.

Onwordi immediately moved to London, UK, to attend university and Emecheta joined him. She gave birth to five children in six years. It was an unhappy and sometimes violent marriage. To keep her sanity, Emecheta wrote in her spare time; however, her husband was deeply suspicious of her writing, and he ultimately burned her first manuscript; she has said that The Bride Price, eventually published in 1976, would have been her first book but she had to rewrite it after it was destroyed: "There were five years between the two versions."

At the age of 22, Emecheta left her husband. While working to support her five children alone, she earned a BSc degree in Sociology at the University of London

CAREER: worked as a library officer for the British Museum in London. Was a youth worker and sociologist for theInner London Education Authority, and from 1976 to 1978 she was a community worker.

Following her success as an author, Emecheta travelled widely as a visiting professor and lecturer. From 1972 to 1979 she visited several American universities, including Pennsylvania State University, Rutgers University, theUniversity of California, Los Angeles, and the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign.

From 1980 to 1981, she was senior resident fellow and visiting professor of English, University of Calabar, Nigeria. lectured at Yale University, and theUniversity of London, as well as holding a fellowship at the University of London in 1986. 

She published over 20 books and received lot of awards. 

INSPIRATION: Just before Christmas, when my baby sister said she wanted books for the yuletide,  I was quick to indulge her. In the book Shop, I stumbled on Buchi's Joys of Motherhood; I had read that book in my early secondary school days and because I couldn't remember the story, I bought it along with Slave girl. I really enjoyed and learnt a lot reading them. 

On the 26th, after my quiet time, Ezeada's post on Facebook about her death struck me especially I had this article already prepared for this category of the blog. Another friend who knew I had been reading her book told me of her death and when I told him, I had a draft prepared prior to her passing, he suggested I make it an eulogy. 



You're a woman and a proud woman at that. 

A woman who didn't allow her circumstances define her nor determine how far she rose. 

A woman who knew when to stay and when to have no more. 

A fighter and Achiever. 

A woman with history and scar. 

A woman who can write, and write beautifully. 

A mother, A proud Nigerian. 

An Inspirator. 

Credit: Wikipedia 

So what would you excuse be for not making it in life?
www.exceptionalstar.

I learnt a lot from this story and I'm glad you shared.

I feel so sorry for Nma.

There is fire on the mountain for Nena.
I have truly admired the way you write. I could hardly find any typographical error, thumb up.

Nwiboko26:
Thank you queen xstar

My pleasure dear.