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This is the true story of a Bookworm.
Bookworm:
An avid Book reader.

Not anyone and everyone would tell the exact and true story of a Bookworm. Probably, because the aprochyhal is the popular one, or they just don't know Bookworm glory enough.

Well, here are 10 important and unimpeachable facts about an actual Bookworm;

#1. Not all Bookworms wear glasses: Not matter how many movies or shows you've seen with Bookworms and Book Lovers with gigantic glasses glued to their eyes, it's all a cock-and-bull story. It's that much of a cliché. Some Bookworms see perfectly well, as our eyes are really good, without the infamous glasses.

#2. Bookworms have no social life: Other than reading, sniffing Books, digging out old-but-gold Books, that's actually the end of the road. We may have friends, pals and buddies, but that's actually the end of it all. Our Books are our everything.

#3. Bookworms have a really special friend(s): That's just our Books. Nothing more, or less.

#4. Bookworms do not have miserable lives: We may be depicted in sore movies as people with no lives. Even with no friends or a social life, we actually do not live in misery or depression. We have our Books and that's almost everything.

#5. Bookworms are normal people: It's almost difficult to pinch a Bookworm in public, as you can't just tell, "He/She is a Bookworm!". That's because, we are everywhere, as normal people, with normal lives, unless you strut all the way to a Bookstore or a Bookworm convention.

#6. Bookworms never go extinct: Have you ever seen a Child that reads? Well, that's our progeny and pride!

#7. The Motto is "Never Stop Reading!": Do not even dare break the code!

#8. Bookworms are great lovers and friends too: We may be awkward, not sociable and really awkward (sic intended), but we make great lovers, friends and so much more, for an entire lifetime.

#9. You spend less on holidays with a Bookworm: Just buy a Book for he or she a birthday gift, and that would be all.

#10. Bookworms excel in other branches of knowledge: We may be the best in Literature and Novels, but reading all the time ought to make the Brain a major organ in the body, making us smarter and smarter each and every new day.

Fin!

Loosely based on Facts and more of Fiction. Brought to you by www.remenzack.com.


It was like the 40th time Lucy had to meet her Editor, the pale and daunting old man, who had the head of a tortoise and the infamous brain of one too, knowing how to make all of Lucy's ideas a masterpiece for a long period of time.

That bright breezy day, Lucy was dressed like a dove, a white and spotless pair of trousers and a baggy shirt, making her paunchy belly less revealing to the public eye. She knew no one cared the way she looked these days, since she was past 60 and not looking frail at all, like her Editor, Charles or anyone else her age.

She wore bright make-up and she wore a really staggering kind of perfume, the kind to make people sniff her. She loved the way she looked, even after being abandoned by her husband, who had called her all sort of names to quantify a loony woman, who did nothing else but write all day long.

Her first work was a complete flop. A failure, Rotten Tomatoes and The New York Times had called it but that never stopped her. She had her 5 children and her living soul to make her carry on. She couldn't also forget Mary Margaret, the long-time and surviving friend she had in her life.

Mary Margaret was also a resident in the apartment Lucy owned. After making her 5 children successful men and women of the society, she could live the life she wanted, all alone but Mary Margaret made it even better.

Two old ladies who did nothing else but sew new clothes, when Lucy wasn't writing a new Book. They would play all sort of mind boggling games, just to sharpen their brains and make them feel less frail and boring.

Back to reality, Lucy had enough to do that day. For an 65-year old, she had to visit the Pet Shop and pick up that new dog she wanted. Mary Margaret felt it would be nice to have a little one bark and make a few noises, when they weren't asleep or trying to concentrate and write. Then, she also had to see her Editor quickly and plan that small visit to Norway, for her Book signing next week and lastly for the day, she had to meet up with her Son, Ewan, the one with the dove-y eyes, also willing to see his Mother, whenever he was in town.

So much to do and Lucy was agile to do it all. She almost collapsed into her seat, the one very intimate to her Computer, including her Desktop and Laptop. It wasn't the right time to write a Book but there was never a bad timing to write that one special friend. She hastily powered her Computer, the Laptop and played with her bubbling knuckles until it was time to write.

The so called note was concise, making Lucy giddy to get a reply sooner than she expected. The time was almost 11A.M and she ought to be out of her apartment already. But the conversation with her friend seemed to come first before anything else.

An exciting noise was heard and an exciting reply came as well. It was from Mary Margaret. She used her favourite Emojis in her reply, making Lucy's already brightened mood brighten all the more.

"Make sure you get the cutest and youngest Dog you can find. We are already too old and we need a young one. P.S, I love using these Emojis!" Mary Margaret had written. Lucy replied one more time and turned off her Computer. She was off to do what she had to do that day and return back home with a new dog, good news from her Editor and probably a considerate amount of money from Ewan, as a surprising gift. She loved surprises and she knew Mary Margaret did too.

Before she walked out of her apartment door, she peered into the mirror and noticed Mary Margaret there, looking at her and admiring her. She was loony after all but she had a friend, who was also a resident in her house and a Ghost, the kind that never scared her but only made her happy, for the rest of her life till her death.

My newest Book is out. It's a joint Book of mine. For more info, visit www.remenzack.com.


As my eyes grew dilated, feeling the same old wetness between the legs, the kind to make me scream and run to the hospital, asking for the emergency room. Phil, my boyfriend and lover of many years, fast asleep next to me didn't know what I was going through, just after our second time in bed as an erstwhile platonic couple.

I had swore to be pure and chaste, keeping myself for the only true man. Yes, I was celibate.

Even as a lady in her 30's, marriage wasn't mandatory for me. It was rather voluntary. I had a good job, a good life and a new good man to call mine, Phil.

Phil was the kind not to rush into anything, other than buying and selling houses, as he was the best realtor in business. He understood my values and I understood his, until the very first night he tucked the strange priapic figure into my being and soul.

It felt so painful, excruciating painful, making me roll my eyes. Phil had assumed I had this eye language, because I was enjoying myself for the first time sexually, but I could hear my insides scream for release.

The wetness continued, as I've heard many women say, you can't stop at one in the bedroom. Was I one of those women?

I put my hands between my legs and I could feel something other than mere liquid. It smelled nothing like mere liquid. Even in the dark, I could be this sensitive. It was blood, flowing out from my insides. I screamed like a troubled school girl, making Phil alert and alarmed. He had concern etched on his face, that was the last I saw before passing out.

The last time I saw so much blood was the last time I vaguely chopped open my finger, while making a meal for I and Phil. He had teased me, calling me a weakling and offered to kiss the bloody wound.

We relaxed eventually to enjoy the tasty taste of the delectable meal, all thanks to me and my mother, for her recipes.

The other time I could feel so much blood flow from my body could actually be the time I was reduced to a lesser being and woman. That time I was so scarred, making the scar unforgettable.

It was another Monday and here I was, trying to juggle everything, just before 9am. I woke up at 5am, while Phil was still fast asleep. He was a realtor and he could work from home, easy-peasey!

I did a little aerobics, just to make me feel ever young and vigour. For a lady in her 30's, I was so alive. Then came shower time and breakfast, now Phil was awake, as he assisted in making it a huge success.

After my "wet" encounter, I and Phil decided not to talk about it or even get sexually active for a while. I agreed my body still wasn't accustomed to the ethos of sex, making me bleed. Phil agreed as well, making the air above us turmoil-free.

I hastily took a bus to work, where I worked as a Civil Servant. I arrived at exactly 8:56am, just because of the log-jam of traffic, as a few tattered looking men rallied to and fro for rights and privileges no one could fully understand.

Work began almost immediately. I had files to type and move to various offices. Monday was no fun-day. There was also a meeting and I had to be there, nodding rather too much and filling note pads. That was all this work was about. It was pretty easy for a tough woman like me.

The day flew by and I was entirely grateful. There I was, going back home in a bus. There was the usual traffic, making me grab an energy bar-chocolate, almost thawed in my purse. I was vaguely hungry but sweating too much, the evening heat making me weak.

Phil had proffered I took his vehicle to work, since he worked from home more, but I always declined, right about now, I regretted my decision.

Two women, with two annoying toddlers, sitting behind me laughed and talking in a smattering language. The stereo was turned on to full volume, as the driver and a few passengers sang along to the catchy tune.

I was alone, with my thoughts and my thawed bar of chocolate, making me uneasy. The two women stopped talking suddenly, as a vox-pop programme, involving the public and the humorous interviewer. As if I had said a word, the driver turned the volume button a few times more, making the whole bus listen fervently.

The topic was obviously something to argue about, it was about the archaic law of Female Genital Mutilation (FGM). What a topic, I thought!

The two women behind me had two totally different opinions, making them a sparring-partner to one another. One of them argued it was a good thing, as it was the right way to tame a girl child. While the other stated firmly that it was an abomination to women and womanhood.

When they asked for my opinion, I smiled and said nothing, making one of the women roll her eyes at me.

Finally, I was home to Phil, who was already making dinner. I was smiling on one cheek and frowning on the other. My belly closed its gates for food, making me manage only a glass of icy water.

I retired to our bedroom and powered his computer, to do a little research. I suddenly felt young again. I never used the computer, except when I was at work or desperately needed to send a mail.

Google was where I needed to be right now and I searched for, The effects of female genital mutilation. Network was pretty steady and fast, making it on my side. I got too many websites as links, telling me everything I needed to know about this archaic and humiliating practice.

It didn't take too long before I began lying to Phil, telling him I had to run some extra errands at work, when I was actually meeting up with a fellow scarred friend of mine, Nina Peters.

You will get to know more about her in her personal struggling tale later, but I can divulge she's a kind human, with a heart of gold and a spirit of sheer likeness.

We created the greatest team ever, doing our ardent research about FGM, obviously finding a way to stop the wicked act. Nina had her own smart and deft ways and I had mine, making us an unbreakable and insurmountable team, together and forever.

I had put everything else on hold, just to find out so much more about myself and being. I had been scarred and been a victim of FGM, when my Mother practised the unlawful act on me.

It is common in Africa, Asian and Arabic nations and I was a victim, as an African woman. My mother was probably innocent and naive as at that time, but that didn't make the practice right.

There were four or five possible ways to scar a female, from the ages of 0-15, cutting off the vital part of their womanhood, causing physical, emotional, psychological and cultural effects. It would cause bleeding for a substantial period of time, painful, excruciating pains and distasteful feelings during sex and childbirth, making them feel less of a real woman.

I knew it would be too late to turn the hands of time and correct what has been done, but it was never too late to talk so much more about FGM and the possible ways to enlighten people against the practice.

Today, I'm still happily married to Phil, and we have two delightful children, Vintage and Sharon to call ours. I remember our wedding day, with Nina Peters by my side as my maid of honour. She looked just as illustrious as I did that day, being happy and exuberant with her new Man, that understands her from the tree top to the ground and back.

And the wedding night, it was something that could make me "wet", but for the right reason.

Two girl children and I never let myself or anyone else endanger their lives via FGM. I'm a great mother, greater wife and the greatest woman, possibly out there. Who are you and what side are you on?!

amicable09:
Beautiful!
I love your choice of names for the characters in the story.
Nice 'monikers'


Will there be a continuation Remenzack?

Honestly, this is the end!
Thanks for reading and commenting.

Forever powered by Fiction via www.remenzack.com


I could hear faint throbs and knocks on my door. It wasn't even windy tonight.

I had just finished making dinner - more like micro-waving Chicken and Chips, with a really cold and icy glass of Coke beverage.

I rarely cooked these days, since I was a new woman, with new ways. I had just moved to the United States of America for a crispy start. My elder sister, Veronica had made plans for me to be with her in the foreign land.

I had dwelt with her and her Togolese husband for a year and a few baggage of months but I decided it was time to spread my wings and begin my own life.

I wanted things to be different indeed. I wanted my life to be an analogy with something cut out of these foreign movies. I just wanted the pressure and tonight, I was getting it as the doors trembled more vehemently now.

I immediately grabbed the rolling pin I never used as I grabbed my phone with my other useful hand. I speed-dialled Vera and it took two rings before I could hear her voice from the other side of the phone.

"Tiffany, what's up? How's that way?" Vera managed to ask in that usual friendly and casual manner. I shook my head vehemently and talked in a beggarly sound, sounding like a CIA agent.

"Vera, please you've to help me! I think someone is trying to break into my house," I panicked on the phone, my throat parched and suddenly sore.

"Don't you have any neighbours? Let them do the job. You can scream a little and they will simply do it all for you - from calling the Police to even answering all of their pestering questions. Try and relax, you hear?" Vera said loud and clear, but I could vaguely believe what I was actually hearing.

My life was probably in danger, even though I had little belongings and properties I could call my own. I had just a small amount of money, hidden in my room. What could anyone possibly want from me?!

The door shook more and more now and my hands did the same, as if on cue. I wanted to scream but I lacked stimulation in my mouth. I had a parched throat and a throbbing heart. What if I was murdered like a rat in such a mammoth country, like the US.

That was when the strange figure with a visible weapon appeared. He was my next door neighbour, Keith, the one that liked watering plants, collecting mails and even sniffing them afterwards, immediately after his usual morning jog. We had talked once or twice but that was all. Zilch!

He looked virtually harmless but he had a small purse in his hands. Now was the time to scream, wasn't it?

Just one din scream after and the Police came, attacking the privacy of my apartment, just like Keith. I suddenly felt as if I were in a movie, a bloody thriller and horror movie and I was fortunate or unfortunate enough to be the main character.

"What did he even want?" Vera asked the following week when I visited her. She was hiding a bump underneath the sheath of her dress but it was for all to see.

"Just my mails. He felt I was hiding something in my mails, since I had different stamps on mine. Can you believe that? He almost hurt me because of my mails?" I said, the whole thing inexplicable to my ears and mind.

"Well, that's the US for you. They can do anything that hasn't even been done anywhere else in the world. Get accustomed to it already, Sis!" Vera assured, almost mocking me.

The Police had stated earlier that Keith would be dealt with meticulously, since the other neighbours had clamoured he had a weird way of doing things in the neighbourhood and their mails had gone missing several times, which explains the predicament which led him into the breaking-and-entry in my apartment.

We laughed and shrugged it off eventually but I gave Vera's growing blip of a bump another peering stare, making me wonder if it was truly a real baby inside of her, or just something else the Americans could make happen.

Only with www.remenzack.com


Ever wondered what would happen if Authors suddenly just stopped making little and big masterpieces, called Books? Well, if you haven't, I have to admit, I have.

Even if Author is to Novel and Poet is to Poem, how about great and well-known Songwriters and Singers fill in the blank space, even if for a little while.

Not every Artiste, Songwriter or Singer knows a lot about Books, since none of them were raised from the beginning to write Books. But, this post has decided to switch things up and make our favourite Singers/Songwriters bookworms for just a little while.

#1. Celine Dion: Basically, she's the Queen when it comes to emotional songs and what-not. Her voice still thrills the world till the end and her songs will never ever be forgotten
That's why she's number 1 on this list.
Imagine if Celine Dion made a Book. It would be emotional, touching and highly sensational. It would probably be on the Bestsellers List for a while, just like her Songs are forever timeless.


#2. Beyoncè: Here's another Queen. No one calls her Queen for nothing, as she always slays, even when she's not trying so hard.
Honestly, if Beyoncè made a Book, it would be something everyone would talk about, especially if the main theme got to be about Feminism and/or Womanhood. Oh boy, it would last a lifetime, just like her music.


#3. Lady Gaga: Yikes! She's gaga, alright! Her style, music, outfits and everything else is faute mieux (because there's nothing else). She's also Queen and the Queen of the stage and red carpet she is.
Let's not go into too much of her entertainment saga and sequel, but if she ever made a Book, it would be scary, thrilling and scary (did I mention this earlier).
Yes, Lady Gaga, make a Gaga-licious Book, will ya?!


#4. The Weeknd: Okay, let's get this settled right here and now. He's my favourite, I admit. But he's also the favourite for so many others all around the World.
If The Weeknd, known for his salacious and obscene lifestyle, via his music, ever made a Book, it would be just like Zane's.
Zane is known all around the Globe for her erotica novels, and that's just fine, because The Weeknd would do a better job.
Let's also imagine what his pen name could be...


#5. Adele: Hello! It's me... Yes, that's Adele for you. Her singles and albums always brings tearful tears to our eyes, not just because of her voice but her lyrics and all of the emotions she puts into every song.
If Adele ever made a Book, it would trend for a while, just like her phone call cliché song, Hello. I bet the World would make a parody about it as well.


#6. Taylor Swift: Baby, now we got bad blood! If Miss Taylor Swift ever made a Book, especially with her catchy and yet heartbreaking lyrics, amazing music videos and girl power squad by her side, no one would agree not to have it on their shelf.
Taylor, with her myriad of fans would trend, wail, talk and even cry about it, just to get everyone to purchase it.
She just does it all. A Book wouldn't be a bad idea either.

Other amazing Singers/Songwriters, who would make amazing Books include, Jhené Aiko, Neyo, Pharell Williams, Michael Jackson, Kendrick Lamar, Alicia Keys, Eminem, Ed Sheeran, Sam Smith, John Legend, J Cole, Lana Del Rey, Katy Perry, Sia, Frank Ocean, Britney Spears, Carrie Underwood, Jennifer Lopez, Dolly Parton, Lionel Richie, Whitney Huston and so many others.

Happy Mother's Day from www.remenzack.com


On the 18th of a really rainy September, Katherine picked up her keys in the most tremulous manner, her hands cold and shaky, but the sight of her only child, Jack, got her unknown strength.

She smiled at him and picked him up as well. He had the most brightest eyes, lighting up her world, like an incandescent candle. She kissed his red cheeks and said a soft, "I Love You" into his soft ears.

It was a long ride, and she was tenacious to keep going, even if it took her all night long. Her life and that of her son was in danger and nobody could stop her, even the blaring sirens behind her.

Jack cried quickly, obviously sick and tired of the blaring and din sirens. She wanted to kiss him once more, on his cheeks, but she was driving and he was behind her, in the back-seat.

"Don't worry, baby. We will be safe soon. Just hold on!". With that assuring statement, she revved the engine vehemently and sped up the vehicle, like never before.

Jack was no longer scared, as he giggled and chortled. Katherine hysterically laughed as well, trying to make a fool of the men chasing her.

Katherine claimed they knew absolutely nothing about her. She has had her few bad days before, where she would get too inebriated and try to harm someone or someone's property, but that was all. It was her normal demeanour and that was it.

Now, the Police were after her soul once more. She had been accused for something, something a little serious and demeaning this time.

Katherine was fleeing away from the Police, her friends and family, with her 3 year-old son, Jack, just to start anew and give them a simple-but-happy life.

The racket siren continued and Katherine's over speeding continued as well. She laughed more loudly now, as she could still hear Jack's giggles and happy chants, such as, "Mummy, go! Mummy, go!". She was happy her son was happy.

She peered at the passenger seat and a spades amount of money was strewn on it. She laughed less hysterical now, wiping the tears off her eyes. She began crying hysterical next, making Jack worried and shed a few tears himself.

When Katherine noticed she wasn't driving too fast anymore and her son was crying too loudly now, she tried to think about what to do next. She was so confused, her hands were icy and sweaty at the same time. She and her son ought to be happy but it seemed like it was an impossible task.

She looked behind for the last time and saw Jack's ears bleeding. Then, his tears became blood and his legs and every other inch of his body was bleeding. Katherine cried out, pulling up the vehicle immediately.

The Police team surrounded her and ordered her to place her tremulous hands behind her head. She obeyed fervently, even kneeling as well. A Police officer walked closer and scuppered her hands with handcuffs.

She begged and cried, but all they could do was watch her. The others secured the strewn substantial amount of money, not looking towards the back-seat to rescue the bleeding child.

Katherine implored once more, "Help my child, I beg you. He's bleeding and almost dying. Please, don't take him away from me. I want him to know we are going to be okay!". The Police officers looked at one another, wondering if the crimes of the woman had made her loony.

She was taken back to the precinct and then to the Court of Law, charged for stealing, driving under the influence of alcohol and over-speeding. She was never charged for kidnapping or even endangering the life of a minor, because a child, her child, Jack never existed.

Thanks for liking, reading and commenting.

Solely based on Fiction and nothing more. Powered by www.remenzack.com


Her system was "Pill-free" and she was glad about this. She hadn't been on the "Pill" for a few months now, and she was amorous as ever.

She looked into the dim mirror, just because of the dim illuminating light in the Powder Room. She could see a lean looking figure called her reflection. She tried to smile, but her mouth smelled too foul of alcohol and her teeth was shaky, bumping into one another, like two pro wrestlers.

Her morsels of breast was erect and her nipples were excited. She bit her lower lip, just before putting another thin layer of lipstick on it. She finally smiled and complemented her perfect looking ass. She was ready to head back home, not hers anyway, after another night of partying, drinking and more partying.

Ruth almost ran out of the Powder Room, as if it was on fire. She was on fire, as her sight had a blurry effect and her heels were a little too tall for walking. She would have taken them off but Naomi wouldn't approve. Naomi knew what seemed right and what didn't.

She was just a lean looking girl, with deep eyes, a perfect looking shape and a broken heart. She knew she was doing the wrong thing. She was at the wrong place, but it didn't matter, because it was obviously the wrong time.

She was partying, drinking and partying more and more, when her Boyfriend, she wouldn't call him her Ex-Boyfriend yet, was somewhere else, because they had just one nasty fight, which left a nasty physical scar on her wrist. She had wanted to relinquish her own life several times, but Naomi was there to make things different.

Naomi had promised and confessed with a kiss on her lips and below the neck, that she would make things better for her. Things would be better, she would always try to say, but most times, she found herself missing or thinking about Louis, who was faraway in another city for a Field Trip, with his other pals.

Naomi asked Ruth to move in with her and Ruth only obeyed, because saying, "No!" was never an option. She said "Yes!" to virtually everything. She said "Yes!" to trying out new clothes, that never really fit her size or make-up that made her only look like a underage sex-worker or new positions that really hurt her neck. But she never complained. Never ever.

Another night and they were having another orgiastic moment of drinking and kissing girls, she probably wouldn't recognise the next day.

Naomi was standing outside the alleged Gay/Lesbian Nightclub, when Ruth sauntered towards her, her eyes dim and forlorn.

"What's wrong, baby girl?" Naomi asked, touching Ruth's chin.

"No!" Ruth almost yelled, making heads turn.

"Uh, Ruth, are you okay?" Naomi asked, almost poking Ruth's lips with hers.

"I said, No!" Ruth managed to say again, small tears at the corner of her eyes.

"It's okay, baby. I got you! Let's go home and do what you always want me to do to you. I'm going to make you satisfied, I promise. It's going to feel sooooo good, as always!" Naomi said, biting her lips and winking. Ruth was mute now, nodding her head vehemently, making Naomi smile wryly.

"That's my girl. But for a moment, just for a moment, you made my heart skip when you said No to me. That's so unlike you." Naomi commented, grabbing Ruth's face and wiping her little eye juice with her soft hands.

Ruth only managed to smile and nodded yet again, letting the sweet nightmare go on, till she was ready to yell another "No!".

So, today, I decided to take up a consummate 30-day writing challenge. I promise myself to be faithful, by posting every day and it should be fun!

Day 1 and I will be writing about the 5 things I totally do not like (hate) about Social Media. Here we go;

#1. The whole exaggeration with people and things on the Internet.

#2. The amount of tricksters, unnecessary trends and topics on the Internet.

#3. Lack of real information on the Internet.

#4. The spam is unbearable!

#5. It's so addiction and the cure is either to chop off your fingers or turn off your brains.

Forever powered by Fiction!


It was so real, blinding and gleaming. It was the Sun, the rising Sun, the one that made my eyes fluttered open to every new day. But now, it was nothing but a fable to my generation and the next.


My Grandmother had prodded me severely never to talk about the things of the gruelling government. But I still had my mouth and I just couldn't shut it.


After stealing rotten oranges from the living tree of Mr Johnson's swathed compound, the one with too many dogs and trees. He had a permanent scowl on his face, but that never stopped I and my fellow mischief creator, Jude.


We still managed to sneak in and steal oranges. Even with the rustling of the leaves, the dogs still laid asleep, not making a single sound to alert Mr Johnson.


The stolen oranges weren't even sweet at all, making me regret for actually risking my life and that of Jude's for nothing but rotten oranges.


When Grandmother heard us talking about our next mischievous plan, she grabbed my ears too tight, making them red for a few days after.


The city was nothing but the inverse of an utopia society. We smiled but it was nothing but a vestige of water paint, which came fading after a little while.


We had dictators for rulers, wealthy men like Mr Johnson, who could get whatever they wanted from the low-life citizens, like I and Jude's families.


Our common resources were no longer ours. Grandmother was forced to work at the municipal farm, even with her racking hands and blinding eye-sight. At the end of every harvesting season, all we got was a morsel of all the good stuffs.


The Sun wasn't even ours any longer. It was for the government as they had caused so much insurmountable havoc on the citizens and on the land.


The Sun grew blind each and every day and one day, it just stopped giving out its gleaming light. Even Grandmother couldn't explain what had gone wrong with the Sun, just like what had gone wrong, just before my Mother's inexplicable death.


But I knew who had to be blamed for all of these things!

Strictly powered by Fiction, via www.remenzack.com.


The Night Before:
College things set in the wagon, even when Stephany wasn't even a College student yet. She was so hyped, elated and exulted. She had big plans to brag to her friends this weekend. It was just a day away. Oh boy, she couldn't wait!

The Night:
Stephany drove hastily but steadily to the Camp of the Lake-side. It was a place of water, relaxation, fun and so much more water. It was going to be a good time, bonding and revelling with her friends from the past.

Grace, 17, the youngest of the pack, with a really small ego and short legs. She hopped almost like a rabbit but she was imagined to be brave.

Tiffany, 19, the oldest and also the meanest. She was boring as well, and only enjoyed taking photos with friends, when she was just a cynical girl, who only cared about her looks.

Last was Tori, 18, with big boobs and a really small personality background. She became a member of the pack when Stephany found her and made her a friend. She had deep eyes, that could tell a lot. She was also rumoured to be a good DJ.

Just as Stephany got to the place she and her friends would be hanging out for the weekend, just before she flew a million miles away, to study Arts and Culture.

She yelped, screamed and almost cried when she laid her eyes on her three friends. Tiffany had immediately whined that Tori was late, as always but Stephany shook off any bad-blood feeling, because all she wanted was a good time.

"You've grown fatter, haven't you?" Tiffany asked.

"Fat? I even thought I've lost a few pounds!" Grace said, almost ashen and heartbroken, as weight-loss was her in-thing.

"Well, whatever you're doing, it's not working. Quit it!" Tiffany snarled like a toothless dog. She was mean but not scary.

Stephany laughed as her friends made fun of each other.

They made a list and they couldn't wait to begin doing things on that list.

"First, we need drinks and food. We can't just starve. You're going to college, you ought to know that!" Tiffany said, making Grace roll her eyes a few times.

"She's knows that, Tiffany. She's going to be a college girl in a few days, remember?" Grace pushed Tiffany's buttons in return.

When the ambience was getting hotter, even with the lake by their side, Grace was about to air the room via the windows when quiet-and-easy Tori stopped her.

"What do you mean? It's so hot in here!" Grace said, rolling her eyes again.

"Someone's paranoid again!" Tiffany teased, making Stephany laugh faintly.

"Haven't you heard about the legend of the lost song?" Tori continued, making the girls more sober now.

"No, we haven't. Now, air the room, sissy!" Tiffany said, interjecting Tori's speech.

Stephany shot Tiffany a long stare, before turning to Tori and eventually making her talk, after a coaxing smile.

"Well, I've read about it on the Internet. It's about a bunch of girls who made a really cool song but after a while, they all disappeared..."

"Crazy lies!" Tiffany interjected yet again.

"It's not a lie. It's true! Look it up on Google if you want. I know it's true. The song was never found and that's why everyone has to be careful not to make too much noise, else the lost girls will come haunting!" Tori finally narrated.

"Wow! That's really scary, Tori. But it's so hot in here. I'm sorry!" Stephany coaxed once again, with a really pretty smile.

"And you don't want us to party, because you're boring and stale!" Tiffany quipped.

"Okay then. But I warned you!" Tori said, standing on her wobbly feet to take a drink from the cooler of drinks.

Babacele:
you must finish this story unless you want Lacy to fulfil the growing imagination with mistakes after eating d apple of knowing about sex at all. hmmm d Lacy in all of us.

The "Lacy" in all of us indeed.
Thanks for reading and commenting

Babacele:
you must finish this story unless you want Lacy to fulfil the growing imagination with mistakes after eating d apple of knowing about sex at all. hmmm d Lacy in all of us.

The "Lacy" in all of us indeed.
Thanks for reading and commenting.

For likes, comments and cool stuff to be shared, visit www.remenzack.com today. Powered by Fiction.

What is Sex?!

Little Lacy had asked her frail grandmother, who she got accustomed to calling Mommy most of the time. Her Mother worked overseas as a Brain Drain worker. Life was good but it wasn't easy.

Eventually, Lacy grew and so did her grandmother. They loved each other so, as Granny would bake fresh cakes every year, with the money Lacy's mother sent from her stay abroad.

When Lacy grew more feet and less skin, she had to move to another school, just because she was caught reading an erotica novel during school hours.

"It's just a Novel, Ma. What's the fuss?" She asked calmly, as she was never rude to her grandmother.

"I know that. Your mother was friendly with those once and so was I back then. It's no use or any good to you, Lacy!" Granny had admonished and the next day, Lacy tossed her series of hidden erotica novels underneath her bed.

The following year and the girls at her new school were squealing uncontrollably, just when the endless school break was over and everyone was looking so different, but in a good way.

The girls had grown longer hair or bigger breasts. While, the boys had this masculinity laced in their voices and they couldn't stop making the girls giggle. It was almost out of control.

Lacy's grandmother was now too old to tell her what time to stow her out-and-about movement and when not to. Lacy was free, young but never wild, at least not yet.

Lacy and her other friends, their nipples alarmed and perturbed in their see-through tops did a scene from their favourite erotica novel, Mills and Boon. That night, Lacy dug out the forgotten novels underneath her bed and she had a weird dream subsequently.

She was too scared or just mortified to share the dream with her squad. But when they had another round of meeting at Nelly's house, immediately after school hours, she spilled the juice out of the Can.

Lacy narrated how the dream felt so real as Junior, from the Science class made her breasts feel so numb and yet so alive. The girls envied her dream, as if it were real.

That same day, they watched a really punishing and graphic porn video of a brawny man forcing his huge self into the tight covering of the woman, who couldn't do anything else but moan, shake and quake. It was funny but only for a while.

It didn't take too long before Stella, Nelly and Tracy began having sex before God and Men. It began one term, immediately after another long holiday. After that, everything changed. Everyone else was having sex except Lacy and the Pastor's kid, Olivia.

Olivia had told her once and tried to say it yet again, that having sex would only make your private part explode, especially when you tried to do what those illusory porn stars divulged in their movies.

Lacy wasn't drunk or sick with fever when she asked her grandmother a unequivocal question, while she was baking a cake for the next Sunday's big dinner.

"Ma, what is sex? Would it make my vagina explode if I ever tried to do it? Why do porn stars lie?" Lacy had asked, as she twiddled the hem of her dress in my wet hands.

That night, her grandmother made her read her erotica novels, even when she didn't really want to. She had to, because her grandmother said so. It was the beginning of an obedient life for Lacy, as she kept away from any kind of erotica novel and Indecency movie every created.

For likes, suggestions and comments, kindly visit www.remenzack.com. Powered by Fiction!

She had promised her folks back then to always read the holy and scathing words of the Bible. She knew a few verses by heart and King Solomon was her favourite, as he was also the richest.

She never knew she would be tied up in a small sofa of a bed for the rest of her life, following every servile order of frail but agile looking men, who she got to call, Daddy.
Daddy 1 had a really big belly. His face was spotless with spots of red and purple, probably the effects of bad skin treatment. He always had this sinful smile on his face, making her feel worthless.

Daddy 2, also known as Pa James was the hotshot of the company, as he still managed to look smart, clean-shaven and young. Even for his age, he was always willing to do anything to make his frail bones and flesh feel alive again.

Rebecca Jones was all Daddy 1 and 2 wanted, even after working for years, with the Big Thing Porn Companies, a group of companies involved with the making, marketing and sales of pornographic movies. They were making it big time, as these movies were widely known all around Europe and America.

Rebecca Jones was getting her hair and make-up done when Daddy 1 accosted her. She wasn't even ready yet to take off her clothes and make yet another salacious scene with Bruce, the fresh-out-of-college boy, who was still too shy to make any woman excited with just a simple flick of his long tongue.

Daddy 1 was shirt-less and his face was almost faceless, that blank and sinful look all over his face. He gave a mean stare to Lucy, the make-up and hair stylist girl, who disappeared from their presence, giving him and Rebecca a brief time to communicate.

"I know what you've been doing, little girl!" Daddy 1 almost snarled, his face now pink, as if he had been fighting back his urine.

"What are you talking about?" Rebecca asked, obviously not ready for games.

"You've been reading that Book again. I saw you going through a few pages earlier. Don't you dare turn your back at me now, Rebecca Jones. You're ours now!" He snarled yet again, but this time, he grabbed her face roughly and poured his saliva into her mouth. It was disgusting and erratic.

"What was that for?" She yelled, her mouth glistening and sheen in spit.

"Just be careful, that's all. No one likes a Saint of a Porn star. No one!" He said, just before strutting out of the room, his hands in his pockets.

Rebecca fought back the tears as her throat constricted and so did her heart. The Holy Bible was just inside her bag but she couldn't look at its words anymore. She was too filthy and she felt someone might just be watching her, someone other than Daddy 1.

For your likes, suggestions and comments, share all of these with www.remenzack.com today! Powered by Fiction.


It was just another ominous morning, as the sun hanged there, in the cloudy skies, while the water drops of rains did something else, but willing to fall on people soonest.

It was a confused morning, Miriam thought. Her satin bonnet was full, the braids inside her hair held properly and almost too tight. She sighed as she held her wailing teenage daughter or gaunt husband dashed out of the bedroom.

She was making breakfast, fried eggs and green pepper. The kitchen smelled so green; green and great, Lucy, her 6-year old daughter would say.

It was just Taylor and she had a really messy hair and a skin rash. She grabbed an apple from the fridge, without saying a word to her parent.

Miriam's heart almost tore into Titanic's halves, until her husband joined her in the kitchen. He was leaping, looking dead, with a shade of pale pigment on his then smooth skin. He tried to kiss her but she fought it back gently.

"What's wrong, Princess?" Carlos asked, his emotion befuddled and betrayed.
"Please, don't call me that now. Just get ready already, so this day can simply go faster!" Miriam yelled, her rage taking no prisoners.

"Okay then. But can I've breakfast first? It smells so nice," Carlos commented, but Miriam looked out of the window, watching her next-door neighbour, Mrs Pebbles and her three sons briskly walk to School. Everything seemed so perfect and clear.

Carlos hastily ate his breakfast and wobbled out of the kitchen, as Miriam watched him do so. She was willing to watch everything fade away so easily and quickly.

She was now a stay-at-home Mother, Taylor hated her for something she would never really understand, Lucy was slowly becoming a big-mouth, telling everyone at her School that her Mother was jobless and happy. While, Carlos was just Carlos.

Carlos used to be the bee figure of their family. He was always working extra time, doing his best with work and now, he was diagnosed with Cancer and everyone knew there was not even a chance he would make it.

Somehow, it was the intervention Miriam desired. But it had to be the one with the usual frantic Chemotherapy treatment.

Mine is remenzachforever22@gmail.com.
Pick me!

Stlomo1s:
Lovin d story already,keep em comin......chai donkross1...here again!!!!!

Thanks for reading and commenting.

donkross1:
Jaytoy shift for me joor. Remenzack am here to keep my word

Thanks for being fervent with your promise. I appreciate it.

Www.remenzack.com made this one!

So far, I've been prolific and enraptured enough, with my written works. I've been able to successfully write more than 5 Book Series and 10 Short Series and I'm going to be sharing meticulous details about all of them, for those who weren't able to keep up with any from the beginning.

1. Overdose Fan Fiction: Fan Fiction and YA Book.

2. The Henchman: Fiction.

3. Alabama Trips: Fiction, Thriller and YA Book.

4. The True Christmas Story: Fiction and Fantasy.

5. Routes of an Americanah: Fiction and Adventure.

6. A Prison Tale: Fiction.

7. Chronicles of Charm: Fiction, Thriller.

8. Famous People: Fiction.

9. Ghoulish Vibes (Hemingway's Freddy): Fiction and Gothic Book.

10. Our Wedding Night: Fiction.

11. Boredom Made Me Do It (Book Series): Fiction, YA Books, Gothic, Adventure and more.

12. The Reunion: Fiction and YA Book.


I promise to never stop writing, as long as the ink of the pen never just stops flowing, like the endless ideas in my head. There shall be more!

donkross1:
Lol prepare a table for me there, I am coming to see the story.

Thanks though.

You're welcome
And a thank you to you in advance.

What a coincidence. I recently posted a story with the same title but it's nothing alike at all.
Great story though!

Jaytoy:
Grab a pack of popcorn with zobo drink. Number one on seat. Keep it rolling.... Nice one.

Thanks for reading and commenting.

www.remenzack.com made this one!

Rosetta Berries, being the only adopted Child of her stern and ugly-looking Mother, Goodness Berries had to dress in the most genteel looking manner, even as a 16-year old.


It was the first time for her to visit her folks, who lived faraway in the suburbs of the town. Her Mother would say to Rosetta, that as a Child, she loved the smell of the Bakery and would play around in the Garden, with her Cousin, Daniel Berries, until the mean-old-looking bully, Roger would twist her ears, till they looked like they were going to bleed.


In the rickety and noisy Car, the only priced possession of her Mother, they still managed to reach their destination, without any scratches and scars. Goodness hollered at Rosetta once more, making sure the bow on her dress looked just fine.


"Make sure you smile, baby girl!" She would say most times. Other times, it would be, "Stand upright like a Woman. Dignity oozes out of an active body, girl!". Rosetta was never going to be accustomed to all of the unnecessary and taxing yells, making her curse herself for being adopted.


They knocked on the door, before noticing there was actually a rusty, old doorbell. Then came a nice and neat looking Help hobbling at the door. Her name was Lara, her eyes dim, as if she were going to grow blind like a bat in a few minutes. She briskly walked to and fro, just to get the refreshments or to make sure the Cake was safe in the kitchen or just to proof to her Employer that she was efficient and diligent enough.


Goodness' older sister, Mercy Berries didn't seem to care at all. She had a mean face, just like Goodness but she bellowed less, making Daniel grow a happy head on his shoulders.


Rosetta remembered a vivid picture of Daniel being sick-looking and gangly, but now, after 12 years, he was almost burly and brawny, as if he spent all of his days in a Gym Centre.


"Wow! Look at little Rosetta. Her boobs are so mighty now, just like mine. After actually breastfeeding Daniel, they didn't seem to remain the same," Mercy blurted out, making the ambience calm, while Lara iced the delectable looking Cake.


"Is that an actual Cake?" Goodness managed to ask, trying to kill the impertinent fact that her Sister actually just insulted her, calling her Barren.


"Yes, it is, Ma'am," Lara said quickly and easily. Her smile was effective and contagious, making the whole ambience lively again.


They moved to the dinning room, sitting awkwardly, waiting patiently for Lara to share the Cake and also pour the vintage Wine into their shiny and empty glasses. They could smell the main dish, cooking up in the Oven, making their bellies churn.


Rosetta was still playing with her Cake on a plate when Goodness snarled at her, making her grow a red eye and a sore countenance.


"You better eat, girl. I may not have Children of my own but I know how to take care of them regardless, like every other Mother," Goodness snarled some more, making Mercy drop her fork on her plate noisily.


"Well, Rosetta looks starved, for sure. You aren't doing your job at all. I mean, look at her arms, so skinny, like the relics of a Chicken!" Mercy said, now guffawing like an hysterical animal, making Daniel appalled.


"She's beautiful, Mom. I like how she looks!" Daniel commented now, his face downwards as he spoke. Rosetta, now almost crying managed to look at him shortly, just before running out to cry it out in the Garden. Daniel followed her quickly, while both Sisters battled their rancour for one another vehemently in verbatim.


"Barren Witch!" Mercy would say. While Goodness would reply, saying, "Lecherous Woman. You don't even know who the Father of your Son is. What a shame!".


Daniel offered Rosetta a spotless handkerchief, as she cried on it for a few more minutes, before giving it back to him. They talked about their childhood memories, likes, dislikes and hobbies, just before there was an heaven's cry, making them run back into the House.


Lara's dish was ready now, making them less angry at one another. They ate rather too silently, as if no one was even eating.


It was day 5 of the reunion and Goodness was dressed quaint and so was Rosetta. There were ready to head back to their own Home. Rosetta hugged her Cousin goodbye and smiled at her Aunt.


In the rickety Vehicle, now too silent, even with the raucous music playing, Rosetta still managed to say, "I think I've made myself pregnant!". Goodness only had a tight grip on the wheel, her face blanched and etched in terror.


"Well, we are not related by blood so I'm proud you could actually get pregnant, unlike me," Goodness said, her voice calm and icy. Then she added immediately, "We have to call Daniel and his Mother as soon as we get home. They deserve to know too."


"No! Daniel can never know he made me pregnant. The sex wasn't even good. He put it in the wrong hole and made a whole lot of mess on my dress," Rosetta said, now almost imploring, her hands shaky and sweaty.


"He still deserves to know, girl. I will call them as soon as we arrive." Goodness said, her tone firm and mood inscrutable.


"He is also gay. He's made love with Roger the Bully several times. He told me so!" Rosetta said, her face etched little in disgrace. Goodness grabbed the wheel more ferociously now, as the clangour sounds from the noisy stereo continued.

For any suggestions, likes and totally unbiased comments, reach out to www.remenzack.com today.


It didn't take so long for Diane to report cases of strange or eerie acts of her Boyfriend, Eric. He would yell and bellow like an inflated and dying Cattle sometimes and other times, choose to canoodle with her and squeeze her till she almost lacked breath.


He was abusive but also very gentle. He was the most genteel young man she had ever met, making her gasp for air whenever they went on fancy dates, looking clean shaven in Suit and Tie and everything else.


Diane was trying to get out of that figure-hugging red outfit, while her hair was held up in those fancy Chinese hairpins, when Eric propped himself on one knee, almost falling flat on his face, probably because he was fret and alarmed.


"Eric, wh-what are you doing?" Diane asked, her tone incoherent and voice shaky, like an old lady's.

"Marry me, my darling. Be mine," He said, still on his knees. She felt great pity for her lover and ordered him to get on his feet and make love to her hungry body.


Eric obeyed too quickly, his eyes enchanted and enthralled by her charming beauty. He kissed every spotless inch of her aching and shaking body. He wanted to make her ache and sweat, all because of his magic touch on her incendiary body.


Eric took off more and more of his clothes, while she indulgently waited for him to finish revealing his Adonis figure to her. That was when he kissed her yet again, making her arch her back, like a tent and cry out like a perturbed child.


"Please, Eric don't stop," She said, moaning and imploring him gently. Eric continued his magic, until there was a loud and disturbing sound from the Windows of Diana's draught room.


The Windows flung wide open, making both of them scream. Eric looked intently at the dark figure and he screamed some more, making Diane panic and blub.


"What do you think you're doing? Let us be!" The voice echoed, making Diane beg for mercy.

"Stay out of this, Diane. This is between I and this fool. You're mine and he has no right to be with you anymore," The voice replied, his tone rash.

"Ho-How do you know my name? Who are you?" She said, now yelling, "Show yourself," She added, now yelling some more, making Eric turn his gaze from what was about to be revealed.


Diane yelled as her eyes met with an exact replica of Eric. They looked so much alike, making her gaze paralysed on the replica of a figure before her. Eric stood up to place his arms around her but the other stopped him rather too quickly.


"Diane, this is my twin brother, Nathaniel. I am Eric. I am your real boyfriend," The voice reverberated again, making Diane incoherent and unable to say another word.


She collapsed immediately and right before the eyes of the Twin brothers. Eric and Nathaniel went on with their usual romp of arguments, name-calling each other, while one eventually sent a jaw-breaking blow to the other, making them ferocious, until Diane was fit to be awaken from her unconscious reverie.


Eric and Nathaniel Benson were Twin brothers, who fell in love with the same woman, Diane. That explained the whole dilemma with their enigmatic and unintelligible differences, because they were nothing like the same.

KashyBaby:
this is a very positive note..even here in Singapore a lot of women pushes gender equality which is great..hopefully we women can achieve this goal...one step at a time..

I guess so. It's a few steps from becoming a law here, in Nigeria.
Honestly, I'm a Feminist but the wrong doings of Gender Equality (such as, hitting a man) is totally outlandish. I'm against such and equally against Gender Discrimination as well.
I hope you totally get my point!
Thanks for reading and commenting regardless.

P.S - www.remenzack.com is thoroughly responsible for any of her posts linked here on Nairaland.


The first time Dorothy slapped her husband across his face, it was the beginning of a silent war and the end of another.


Dorothy slapped her husband, Timothy and their only daughter, Tina watched disconsolately. It was the first time she watched her Father and Mother sleep in separate rooms.


Timothy slept uncomfortably on the hard Couch in the sitting room, while Dorothy locked up herself in their bedroom, laying Tina by her side. The next morning, she moved out of the house and moved into a fresh new apartment of hers.


Miss Michaels, who recently got out of her 25-year old union with her Husband smiled as she worked on her Computer, offering ever student their fate of 'F' marks, like it was their birthright.


She loved her family. Her first son, Benson, who was now a Reverend in the Cleft For Me Methodist Church had proffered and prodded her severely to return to her Husband, but Miss Michaels loved something more than family. She loved her rights.


Ruth Willis was the average educated woman, who worked as a self-employed business woman in her Automobile shop. She was making enough money to feed her home, even when her Husband was copious enough financially to feed nations. She could talk and move mountains and her walk was never mere, as she was a traveller of many places.


It only took a few more months when the newsflash shook the Town that the bill of Gender Equality had been passed and it was now an actual law. A lot of women, including Dorothy, Miss Michaels and Ruth Willis celebrated their victory, throwing parties and talking endless about the success of the law.


"It is indeed a great thing. Now, I will study whatever course I wish to study in the university." Adora had said, while she enrolled to sit for the upcoming national examinations.

"Maybe I will be a Doctor after all!" Another young lady blurted out, making Adora nod her head rather vehemently.


Many ladies who were pressurised by their Camaraderie and Mothers to pick a date for their wedding or a dress for their special day were colonised to travel abroad and grasp their educational degrees, even if it cost them a lifetime. They didn't seem to mind anymore.


The celebration shook the Town, women, ladies and girls doing the impossible by writing articles on newspapers, magazines and creating moral stories, while others spread their views in verbatim via television shows.


It was an eye-opener enlightenment for all and nothing was going to remain the same in a very long time.

Damsonkc:
Welcome. Thanks also for the clarification. You write well. Keep it up.

Thank you so much. I appreciate it.

Damsonkc:
A good story but might pose a problem for some. The issue is you didn't elaborate on what she was arrested for aor what "stuff" means. I guessed it was some type of drug:cocaine, heroin, meth. Someone else could guess it to be a bomb, stolen diamonds, or anything. I hope you got my point.

I do. The thing is, this actually isn't my first post. It's a short book series and the persona was arrested for cocaine. The first post deals with the insides of the prison and then comes subsequent more.
Thanks for reading and commenting.

P.S - www.remenzack.com is thoroughly responsible for any of her posts linked here on Nairaland.


"Are you sure you're alright?" My Mother had asked, while we talked passionately on the phone. It was yet another trip to Malaysia with my Boyfriend, Gregory Williams.


Life had suddenly gotten better for everyone and I made sure I wasn't feeling any different.


Within a few months, I could brag to anyone that I was a traveller of many places. China was fun but I couldn't understand a word the dwellers were saying. Europe was great but I didn't like the weather, making me sick for a few days. Australia was amazing but it wasn't as stupendous as I had expected. I always wanted more and Gregory was the answer.


"I'm good, Ma. How are you over there?" I asked quickly, but my Mother's reply came to me slowly, making me vaguely bothered.


"I should be back in a few weeks, Ma. Just take care, okay?" I said earnestly, trying to placate something or someone that obviously didn't need my help.


"Take care of yourself as well, my dear. Be good and remember to pray," My Mother had said, just before the conversation trailed off. I grew a lump in my throat since that day and it moved quickly to my Chest.


Gregory was out shortly to shop for a few groceries, since we lacked Milk and Honey. I was expecting him to arrive with that gleaming smile on his face, the one I usually bask in, making me calm and quiet.


But he dashed into our Apartment sweating and frowning. My heart shattered!


"What is it? Where are the groceries?" I asked, not minding my cadence tone.
"Groceries? Forget about that, Cynthia. We've to move now. We are in danger, I tell you. Danger!"

"Danger? What are you talking about?" I asked, but Gregory ignored me, throwing his Clothes and Shoes into his Gucci travellers bag, mine next to his, empty and wide open, as if expecting me to do the same.

"Greg! What aren't you telling me? Why are you leaving?" I asked, my Chest now rising and falling.

"We have to leave here now. We've been busted. Get your travelling documents so we can get out of here as fast as possible or else, we might just be killed like the others," Gregory proffered, making my head swivel in trepidation. It was obviously not the time to put every of my countless belongings into one small bag. We were in danger and we had to be fast to escape.


"Now, get in the Car," Gregory almost yelled, making my eyes water. He ordered me not to look back when the Police Van echoed in blaring and racket sirens, almost making me deaf.


"Now, listen to me. I've got the stuff but you've to make sure you arrive Nigeria. There shall be someone there, waiting to take care of you and make sure you're safe. I shall be with The Godfather in Tokyo but when I'm done, I shall be with you soon," Gregory said, making my heart churn. There were so many instructions and I could barely hear them, with the wailing Sirens behind us.


"What? But how am I so sure that I will make it to Nigeria? Look, they are after us and they might get us. Please, let's go to Tokyo together. I've to be with you," I said, imploring as tears escaped my eyes.


"Are you crazy? You'll only get hurt. It's too dangerous for you to be with me. Don't worry, a friend of mine will be with you when you successfully arrive Nigeria, am I clear?" Gregory said yet again, his tone commanding yet placating. I relaxed for a deep breath, making my heartbeat less palpitating now.


We didn't even get to say goodbyes. I hated goodbyes, because in Movies, it was always the beginning of something tough. I hated the tough life. That was what got me here, in Malaysia.


Gregory ascended into the sky in a small jet, as he flow beyond to Tokyo, while I was ready for my flight to Nigeria, ready to see my Mother and tell her everything. I was ready to eventually repent, pray and live a spotless life, even without the riches and wealth I needed so desperately.


When I arrived Nigeria, I could spot really dark clouds, as if they were holding unto something too heavy like a really big downpour, so heavy like my emotions. I wished to be with my Mother soon and hold her so tight, when I let go of everything that had happened between I and Gregory. He was safe now and so was I.


I walked so slowly, moving to and fro amongst other people, bustling here and there. The Airport was filled with so many people and I wondered if they were on a mission, just like I was. A mission I had obviously failed.


I waited shortly to be with the one who had been positioned to watch over me and take care of me but I met no one. I only met a few Men donned in Black, with really big guns, scuppering my hands with the stymie force of shiny handcuffs. That was how I began my own Prison Tale.