Babacele:
hmmm ...in life there are no guarantees.. nice piece.

Thanks for reading and commenting.

jacy67:
such a sad end for the innocent orphan.

Reminds me of Ikemefuna in Things Fall Apart.

Killed by the very one he calls father

Thanks for reading and commenting.

Royver:
Erm, okaaay

Too gruesome or forlorn for you to handle?
Thanks for reading and commenting regardless.

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


She was a sad, sad human with rancour, bitterness and laced hatred strewn in her evil heart and mind.


But she had the most beautiful smile, her set of white teeth, complementing her oily and honey coloured skin.


Her hair was silky than silk. It was black, full and long, just the perfect trilogy of a Woman's hair.


She would sit outside, very close to the Mango and Cashew trees, watching the Children intently, as they played with one another. She decided to make up a snack from a big bowl of Flour, to feed to the almost tired and frazzled Children.


She offered them a snack as they hungrily devoured it, the one who looked just like him kindly asked for more.


He would have been Oliver Twist, always asking for more but he didn't last too long to do so. She took him into her home. She fed him more than once and put fine clothing on his dry skin. She talked to him and he talked to her too.


She looked into his eyes whenever he was awake and when he closed his tired eyelids, she would stare deeply into his Chest and beyond. She loved him greatly, everyone thought.


The boy became her son and he called her Mother. Everyone was envious of the erstwhile orphan boy, because he had a loving Mother to call his.


She would offer him delectable dishes whenever he wanted. Until, he fell terribly sick, looking and acting emaciated with a malaise illness, no one could understand.


That was when she stopped looking into his eyes or at his Chest and beyond. She stopped playing the role of Mother but he never stopped being her Son, as he would twist, turn, cry and beg for her to answer his one last dying request, but she would silently sew new clothes.


Until he died on a Sunday morning, she was done with the Suit she had been paying so much attention to finish. It was a black coloured Suit, just the right size for his height and other inanimate bodily measurement.


She put it on him and she cried her last.


She said, "You looked just like the one that made me so bitter to kill you. You looked just like him. How could you, O little orphan one?" She asked rhetorically, she wiped her tears and buried the lifeless boy at the top of the steeples Hills.

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


My First Love was a reflection of myself.

My First Love was always dressed beautifully in the best Outfits, dazzling and flaring in beauty and elegance. My First Love never really got the opportunity to look into my eyes. Those eyes I knew would burn intensely in the most attractive way.


My First Love spoke in the most swift manner. The lips never dried out of the most romantic words and poems of admiration.


My First Love was always there for me. Never leaving my side even after falling and rising from Life's greatest temptations and distractions.


My First Love will forever be my first love as we would walk hand-in-hand and look deeply into the eyes of one another for the first time.


My First Love was the reflection of myself. My first love was a shadow and replica of myself all along and I didn't notice until now. I decided never to let go of my First love. Never ever.

Thanks a lot. Incidentally, thanks for reading and commenting as well.

I read the synopsis of the Book once again today and it's just so worth my time and energy. It's amazing.

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


Pardon any form of physical violence and abuse. All is fictional and the names mentioned are totally fictitious and not real.


For Christmas, he would take her shopping, while he insisted she sat on Santa's lap, even as a 28 year old. He would take silly photos of the scene, while she would catch him stealing glances and sending ogled signals to various ladies as they walked by.


For New Year, they would stand close to the Christmas tree and have a countdown to the brand new year, holding, groping and kissing each other. It would be a merry moment, after which they would drink wine.


For Valentine's day, they would exchange valuable and exotic presents to one another. His would be more expensive of course and hers would be eye watering and mouth gaping. They would hold each other in their arms and talk about the erratic future.


For every other holiday, they would do their favourite things together. She would cook specials meals, divulging the recipes from her Grandmother, who lived faraway and he would buy her shoes, clothes and more of those.


Until all of those Masterpieces ceased to exist. It stopped like a flashing light in a cavernous cave. He would stop buying her things but she never stopped cooking or dressing good, just for him.


She would buy Lingerie dresses, that wouldn't even fit too well, since he had called her overweight once or twice. But she still managed to force her clunky skin into the sheer silky material. She would wear showy makeup on her face, wasting spades amount of time, just to make sure she looked good enough for her lover.


Some other times, she got more special recipes from her Grandmother, who often proffered that the route to a man's heart has been proven to be his belly but that doesn't mean he has to be stuffed with food only. She would say there's more to do for a man.


That night before another Valentine's day, she looked into his things, because she watched The Notebook and read a few chapters of the Book too. She searched on and on, as if something important were missing.


That was when she saw the most sparkling wedding band in history. She was swooned almost immediately, making her gape at the sight.


She wanted to take hold of the opportunity, by placing it on the appropriate finger but she feared it was a wrong move when it came to the puzzles of a relationship. She kept it back into its erstwhile hiding place but she failed and placed the big precious band on her finger, making her yelp and adore it for some minutes.


She thought he would ask the ultimate question but he never did that night. The next night, he still didn't, making her worry in trepidation slightly. That was why she bought more silky Lingerie outfits and begged for more delectable recipes for their taste buds.


Still, he wasn't moved, not biting his lips or licking them either when he saw her full cleavage or ate her meals. When he was asleep, she searched for the precious band and it was gone. It was gone for real!


That was when she prepared to make a Masterpiece, another Masterpiece just for herself and not for him anymore. A Masterpiece made of him! She was ready to please herself with the sight of him pleading, begging and crying like a toddler, seeking Candy and Cookies.


She wore one of his Sweatshirts as he walked past her, not saying Hello. He smelled of another woman and she was still sitting and waiting for him to say just a word, but he didn't. With the nearest object, fit to impale into his flesh, she turned into savage beast with it.


She watched him ooze bodily fluids out of his immobile body, not the kind to make her or any other woman pregnant but the kind of pains and eternal sleep.


She didn't regret any of her violent actions because that was the only kind of Masterpiece she appreciated for herself and no one else.

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



Rosemary was befuddled and her mouth ajar when the Inmates went ferocious on one another. The guards popped into the Cell and began victimising all of the Ladies. Rosemary's eyes were dilated as she was being humiliated by her fellow Women.


The young and happy Inmates played with one another, managing the few shabby toys cluttered on the floor. Rosemary was standing afar and watched them have the time of their lives, not caring they had no love in the bitter world, wrapped in anguish.


Rosemary walked far away yet again from the screaming and giggling Children as she looked out of the chipped louvre Windows. She looked intently at a Fly buzzing around a flower plant, probably acting like a Bee, fighting for sweet nectar. Her eyes were darted at a small apartment, opposite the Orphanage Building.


It was two lovers, laughing in gaiety. The ambience smelled so much of love and happiness between those two, making Rosemary's eyes water briefly.

It was a tornado of Romance for the pair, Gideon and Rosemary. Their love affair became like a mustard seed during their Secondary School era. Rosemary made him a fool several times, after he would prop on one knee and ask her to be his Girlfriend but she would reply him in several skin itching rebuff methods.


Rosemary had a tough skin for love, as she was abandoned by her Birth father and her Mother went on the run next, leaving her to be alone in her lonely life. When she hit 18, Gideon's tactics to officially make her his girl improved, making Rosemary trapped soon after.


Rosemary and Gideon were together for so long. They were so much in love ever since. They would hold hands, laugh and talk about everything. When Rosemary wouldn't receive her usual visitor for a month, they would pray for ambivalent reasons. They wanted to start a family soon but they weren't old enough or financially copious to do so.


Gideon was offered a big-time Scholarship to study in the UK. It was a huge opportunity for Gideon to make their lives better, but he didn't want to leave his better half behind to suffer the incessant and throat throttling bills alone, back in Nigeria. Rosemary implored that it was a grand opportunity. She pressured him to go ahead and make their dreams come true.


Gideon was away for a few months and next, a few more years. Rosemary was wont to the struggle of making far disconsolate ends meet. She was alone to make her own life better, while she got erratic letters from her Lover. Until, he stopped sending those Letters and she was left to improvise his words instead.


Gideon touched her ears, just the way Rosemary liked it, making her world stop for a minute. He held her close and she wouldn't believe that he was actually right by her side. Gideon was still the same, he only looked older and his beard was now more visible, unlike before.


"I promised us a Family and I'm not the kind to break a Promise. Our love is forever!" Gideon whispered. Rosemary hugged him tightly and placed a kiss on his lips, as the Children afar watched the Lovers intently.

Thanks for the recognition I didn't even expect at all. I'm really pleased about this. We ought to write daily, especially if it's Fiction. It's called Fiction for a real reason.

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


Just like the Science Fiction or the YA books are known for their special attributes, there are certain Books (Novels) written by special authors, who passed a great deal of knowledge about Race, Racism and Racial Privilege of the White via their written works.


There are a famous few and here they are;

1. The Color Purple

2. Dark Princess

3. Chicago (Novel)

4. Daniel Half Human

5. A Fine Dark Line

6. A Gathering of Old Men

7. The Native Son

8. The Help

9. The Secret Life of Bees

10. To Kill a Mockingbird

I was fortunate and enthused enough to check out a few and it was totally worth it the time and effort.


Don't forget to check out one or two of these, as it won't just be enlightening but also refreshing. Black race and history will linger in our hearts forever.

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


Just like the Science Fiction or the YA books are known for their special attributes, there are certain Books (Novels) written by special authors, who passed a great deal of knowledge about Race, Racism and Racial Privilege of the White via their written works.


There are a famous few and here they are;

1. The Color Purple

2. Dark Princess

3. Chicago (Novel)

4. Daniel Half Human

5. A Fine Dark Line

6. A Gathering of Old Men

7. The Native Son

8. The Help

9. The Secret Life of Bees

10. To Kill a Mockingbird

I was fortunate and enthused enough to check out a few and it was totally worth it the time and effort.


Don't forget to check out one or two of these, as it won't just be enlightening but also refreshing. Black race and history will linger in our hearts forever.

Divepen1:
Thiss it

Thank you so much.

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


For those of you who aren't sufficiently endowed enough to know what kind of Book you may be reading or to go for, there's a special kind known as YA books, also known as Young adult fiction or young adult literature. It is often abbreviated as YA instead.


YA Books are fiction written, published, or marketed to adolescents and young adults.


It is defined as Fiction for a young adult, someone between the ages of twelve and eighteen.


The terms young adult novel, juvenile novel, young adult book, etc. refer to the works in the YA Books category.


YA stories are known to focus on the specific challenges of youth. They are sometimes referred to as problem novels or coming-of-age novels.


Young adult literature contains specific characteristics that are present throughout the genre. These include;

1. Characters and issues young readers can identify with. Those issues and characters are treated in a way that does not invalidate, minimise, or devalue them.

2. It is framed in language that young readers can understand.

3. It emphasises plot above everything else.

4. It is written for an audience of young adults.


Furthermore, research suggests young adult literature can be advantageous to reluctant student readers by addressing their needs. Authors who write young adult literature have an adolescent’s age and interests in mind.


The language and plots of young adult literature are similar to what students are accustomed to finding in reality, television, movies, and popular culture. You too shouldn't be discouraged to grab one of these popular YA books today. Spark up your Popular Culture already!

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


I remember being little, so little that I couldn't walk too well with my own two stunted feet. I remember playing around with my Mother, who would bake the nicest of Cakes and Cookies. I got to eat even more delectable Cakes and Cookies on my Birthdays.


I got to be the only Child in the small house, where I now lived in with my Grandmother for many, many years. I didn't have much memories whatsoever about my birth Mother and I got to find out so much more in the most mind boggling manner.


It was my 18th birthday and I was only a few sheep away from being 21 and fully legal. Boy, was I going to have a good time! I had major plans to fly out of the small Town and move to the bigger part of the City, to live with a close friend, Cassandra.


My name is Alecia Davies and I was 18 when I realised I was just a doll, a worn out, washed and battered rag doll.


My Grandmother was the one packing my stuffs, both personal and private into my bags when I returned from a short trip with my Boyfriend, Pete.


"Mom, what are you doing that? You should be resting instead," I cajoled mildly, making my Mother's face lit up and bask in the evening sunset, incandescent through the room's window.

"No, let me! You're going to be out of Town for a lot of months and I won't get to pamper you like a Child anymore. Let me do so just this once!". She was persistent and I couldn't stop her frail self. I smiled at her and placed a kiss on her Cheek as I undressed right in front of her.


She looked up at me and pointed at my two large breasts, making my full Chest obvious.


"You've such lovely breasts, Alecia. Has Pete seen them yet?" She questioned, trying to multi-task, fixing my bags and examining my body parts intently.

"Of course not! We are both ready to wait before the official show and tell of our bodies. Pete is willing to wait and so am I," I answered, trying to cover up my unclothedness now. My Grandmother laughed and walked away from my bare sight, before I was alone to take a nice, long shower in the Bathroom.



I heard voices downstairs and I thought it was just the neighbours. I was now in a white, stainless dress and a pair of pink flip-flops, the one Pete got me last Valentine's day.


I raced myself downstairs but my feet stopped for a minute and some more, making me eavesdrop momentarily.


"I've come to tell her the truth. She's old enough to know all about it now. I don't want to die being an evil witch to the poor girl," The lady voice almost yelled at my Grandmother, making me tensed.

"You're going to die now?" Grandmother asked, making me wonder who the lady might actually be. I also wondered vaguely who the poor girl was.


It was like a melodrama to my ears, making me urge to eavesdrop some more.


"Yes! I've Cancer and I'm dying. It has been years. You made me take in your own daughter into my Life and Home and abandon her after only a few years, just to make myself the villain of the whole situation. I'm wiser now and I've come to confess!" The lady persisted.

"No! You can't! I committed a grave sin with an Ex-lover and I couldn't and still can't admit the whole truth to Alecia. That would be too confusing for her tiny brain. Please don't, Michelle!".



It was as if I couldn't hear clearly or my ears were deceiving me. I became ashen and my throat dry as a toad's skin. Why was Grandmother talking about me? And who was this Michelle person? Was she who I thought she really was?!


"No, I've to die in peace and the girl deserves to know the truth. Her Father is probably still alive and she deserves to know him. She deserves to call you Mother!" Michelle argued, her voice now like a trumpet.

"Mother? Who is Mother?" I asked, revealing my face and figure like a new billboard in Town.


Both identical ladies turned their gaze at me at the same time, as if on cue, their faces ashen and blanch.


"Alecia, my darling!" Grandmother cooed, her hands reaching for me.

"Alecia, we have something to tell you," Michelle quickly quipped, making Grandmother cry. I hated seeing Grandmother cry but this time, I was only thinking about my well being and not hers.


"Alecia, please listen to me," Grandmother said in a conciliatory tone but I moved further and further away from her.


That was the last time I laid my eyes on my real Mother, who claimed to be my Grandmother for so long, just because of a grave sin she dipped her hands in, making me the Child of an Ex-Senator. Grandmother made my own Sister act as a Mother figure and also made her abandon me, just to make her look like a Saint to my eyes. I couldn't believe my ears or eyes anymore. I was a rag doll with no real or true feelings.

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


Valentine is really, really close to Everyone's heart. Incidentally, if you're just as much of a Fiction or Book Lover like myself, here is a complied list of highly romantic Books to make the Lovers' holiday a great deal. Enjoy!

1. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

2. Outlander (Outlander, #1)
by Diana Gabaldon

3. Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen

4. Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell

5. Dragonfly in Amber (Outlander, #2) by Diana Gabaldon

6. The Notebook (The Notebook, #1)
by Nicholas Sparks

7. After Forever Ends by Melodie Ramone

8. A Kingdom of Dreams (Westmoreland, #1) by Judith McNaught

9. A Knight in Shining Armour by Jude Deveraux

10. Persuasion by Jane Austen

There are only Ten books on the List but these are the Ten greatest of all times, with Jane Austen reoccurring three times. Don't miss or ignore this for anything. Your Lover might just be in need of one of these. Huddle up and enjoy the season together!

I want one so badly.
The info is, Not as you think (A prison tale) by Remen Zack.
Thanks in advance.

bellovers:
hey remenzack nice piece you got here.

Thanks for reading and commenting.

Godmother:
This looks quite promising. *Following*

Thanks for reading and commenting. I appreciate it a lot.

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


If you think Travel Literature is not a real thing, read the following facts below then;

The Genre of Travel Literature includes adventure literature, exploration literature, guide book writing, nature writing, and outdoor literature, as well as accounts of visits to foreign countries.


The Travel Genre was a fairly common genre in medieval Arabic literature.


One of the earliest known records of Travel Literature is taking pleasure in travel for the sake of travel and writing about it.


Travel books range in style from the documentary to the evocative, from literary to journalistic, and from the humorous to the serious.


They are often associated with tourism and include guide books, meant to educate the reader about destinations, provide advice for visits, and inspire readers to travel.


Travel writing may be found on web sites, in periodicals, and in books. It has been produced by a variety of writers, such as travellers, military officers, missionaries, explorers, scientists, pilgrims, social and physical scientists, educators, and migrants.


Some known Travel Writers from the earliest of Centuries include, Odyssey, Decimus Magnus Ausonius, George Shelvocke, Daniel Defoe, Jonathan Swift, Lady Mary Wortley Montagu and so much more.


Wouldn't it be a pleasant idea to Travel all around the world and also get to write about it? I know it would!

wazupguy:

you never tell...just do wat you do best...put all the beta ingredients...people will flock in wenever you dish out yo meal

Thanks for the advice and spice. I appreciate it.

Thanks for reading and commenting but you're the only one who seems to support this story piece. I don't think I will be making new chapters for what people aren't even interested in.
Thanks for the support regardless.

Thank you for reading and commenting. I appreciate it.

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


I was a Boy Wonder when it came to almost everything; Girls, Party and the Elite life as an African-American. As the Son of one of the most influential men in Town, I was expected to travel out of the borders of the Country, to do what Big Boys of the Society do best.


My other friends and associates were known for having the Elite life overseas as well. It was an inner circle thing.


With the expectations of going Overseas one more time and settling down to marry and have Children and my Father's Grandchildren, it was a big task for my body and soul.


Technically, I wasn't ready. No 28-year old was ready to put a ring on it these days. I wasn't any different.


"We won't pressurise you to marry one of these Nigerian girls, just because of how influential their parents or descendants may be. We want something different for you!" My Father admonished. Whenever he said, 'We', he was actually referring to himself and my Mother, who joined the others in the other world a lot of years ago.


Father got everything ready for me to fly to London. I was mainly living and becoming something or someone all of my friend loved and adored. I was one of the known African-American boys, almighty thanks to my dual citizenship and fame of my Father, which still managed to spread abroad.


With my Car, Belongings, mainly of gold and diamond, I was in one of these 100-year old houses in London, my Father still managed to call his own, even when he wasn't even aged 60 yet. It was raining that day and I swore I hated it when it rained. It made me so lonely and bored. Then I went, finding something to do with my new life in London. Father had instructed me to live a rather calm life in London and find a suitable wife as soon as possible.


Mother would often cajole me and guess the name of my future Bride. Sometimes, it was Nneka Mccann, the African-American girl, who was young, beautiful and very enthused with the culture and heritage of every country she visited.


Other times, it would be Nancy Snowpierce, the girl who liked to cook with a Cookbook but wasn't so lucky in making it a dream meal.


Mother was wrong because I was willing in making the small looking girl with pale skin, supple waist and attractive booty moves on that dance floor.


I was so drawn to her moves, making me move closer to her and say a word after our brief dance sessions to the Electro beats. The neon lights making both of us happy-go-lucky on each other, the influence of alcohol, drugs and the Piccadilly Circus of the Club making us bond so quickly and easily.


A lot of drinks, smokes and fights after, I couldn't make Lilac Brown a Bride. She just wasn't Bride material. Father would be disappointed if I told him the truth and nothing else. I was a failure, even as a Boy Wonder with anything and everything.


Lilac Brown was having a bulge in her belly with a Child of ours. She kissed me Goodbye as I was almost ready for my trip back to my Father's land. He thought I was still unmarried and prepared a fine Bride, like a fine dish for me. I had no right to complain. Lilac Brown wasn't what a Boy Wonder like myself could control with her fetish orgy for smoking and drinking.


I hugged her gently and kissed her bulge afterwards. We waved our hands at one another and I knew this had to be the end.


Cc Godmother, joanee22, penastory, wazupguy, divepen, aminatiwa and everyone is invited to read this short piece.

Thank you very much. Educating!

Go on. I'm listening.

Follow back, please?