₦airaland Forum

Sweetheart Dodo,

From your number one fan from ATL USA, the moment i read the first post and the second update, you put me on a hook. Can you post more? This is intriguing

CHAPTER 5

The bartender came back with the orders, but Kingsley had long gone and Sly was deep into a phone call. He gestured him to drop the drinks on the table and leave.

"Yes, he just left. No, no, not at all. I will be a little late. I have to make other arrangements. Yes. I know I know. Okay... Exactly! All right. No, 2am. Yes, but not the bar you dropped me. Yes, that one. No. Audu should come and pick me there by 10pm. Okay, all right. Bye."

He hung up, reached for the sweaty chilled beer in front of him, opened it and gently poured it into the cup while staring into the blank air. It was almost 8 pm and people had begun to trot into the bar for a cool evening relaxation. His phone beeped. A message on WhatsApp. He reached for it. It was from her. He had been expecting to hear from her, was at the brink of calling even.

'He's here, how do I proceed?' The message read.

He dropped the cup in his right hand and handled his phone with both hands.

'You don't need to do anything. Just make sure you're within his glare. He's too flirty to let any gorgeous woman, who walked into the bar alone at that hour be,' he replied.

'I hope everything goes according to plan, I'm kinda tensed'

He gently lifted his gaze from his phone to observe his surroundings. He didn't feel comfortable anymore. He summoned the bartender, paid for a beer that he almost didn't touch, and took his leave. As he walked, he was engrossed in the ongoing conversation.

'It will. Just calm down and act your script,' he typed.

Swiftly, he put his phone into his pocket and walked even faster. His phone beeped, obviously a message from her. He didn't immediately reach for it. At the junction, he flagged down a taxi headed for the popular Geneva club. It was when he was seated in the backseat of the cab alone that he reached for his phone to continue the conversation.

'Calm down?! I'm dying man! How do you tell anyone in my shoes to calm down?' was the message he received that beeped his phone a while ago. He felt slightly irritated and disgusted by her nagging. Sly was never a man to understand. He had never been in the position to sell his life, so he wouldn't know why she was being hysterical. But of course, he had been in a near death situation, too many times before. If she were there with him, he would have been vociferous.

'You're selling your life! I'm buying. Your family would reap the benefit of the sales. Or you want to bail?' he punched hard on his keys as if the recipient would feel the effect more than if he typed ordinarily.

'Hmmm. Easy option to take right now. But, 100 million is a hell lot of money for a life as miserable as mine. I hope you don't renege on the agreement when I'm gone. I swear, my spirit would haunt you to the death.'

'Women! You can never be right with them. Dealing with them is always complicated.' He mumbled under his breath.

"You say?" the cabman cut in.

"No, nothing," he replied.

'I can't even do that, given the many witnesses involved. Plus, you witnessed the upfront payment of 25 million already,' he replied to the last message he got.

'He just passed a note to the bartender. 'You look ravishing' is what he wrote.'

A mischievous smile graced Sly's face. His irritation abruptly disappeared.

'Good, now this is the moment. Give him a signal, something to make him feel you're buying into his vibes, then finish up your drink and leave immediately.'

'Leave?'

'Yes. He'll follow you. Walk really slowly, but don't make it seem so obvious. Dude is a sucker for anything in skirt. Trust me, he will.'

'I winked at him.'

'Did he get the memo?'

'I don't know. He smiled at least.'

'Nice one! Now pay up and leave!'

Sly lifted his face from his phone screen and stroked his beard. 'No carry me pass my destination o,' he jeered at the cabman.

'Na we draw the map of this city o, oga. No worry, you no get
problem. See Geneva for front there,' the cabman replied.

Sly wasn't the one to engage in any unnecessary or irrelevant conversation with any stranger, especially this evening, so he didn't respond. He had a lot on his plate and a very little time to address it all. He looked at his wristwatch, it was a few minutes past 9 pm. In less than a minute, the taxi pulled up in front of the club. All the disco light glittered the entire area. Sly paid his fare and got off. As he alighted and walked towards the club, he was approached by numerous hookers in a flirtatious manner, but tonight was for business. Pleasure can wait for another time. He adjusted his cap to perfectly cover his scar. The darkness was swallowed up by the many colorful lights and anyone could make his face; an eventuality he needed to make sure was not the case.

At the entrance of the club, he flipped his card in the faces of the bouncers. Ordinarily, he would have embraced them and exchanged pleasantries for about a minute or so. He was regular here. But tonight, there wasn't any much time for formalities. It was a brief handshake and the door to club was thrown open for him.

CHAPTER 4

SLY

As he is known by most people. Real name, Sylvester. Has been working for Chief many years now. One of chief's most trusted confidant; his right hand man. Sly had a repute for shady deals. The scar on his face was a given, and that is how he earned his other moniker; scarface. He didn't liked to be called that. Presented him more as a dangerous person than he was. Or was he?

He would be found mostly seated at the backseat of chief's most driven Chevrolet, which had a tinted glass. They would be engrossed in a conversation at hushed tones and burst into bouts of laughter at intervals. But most of their longer conversations were held at the residence of chief, behind closed doors.

"So, you think she would be a fine specimen, right?" Chief whispered.

"Sure, why not? I have carried out necessary preliminary investigations and they have yielded fruitful result to our course," he replied.

"But is her life really worth that much sef?" Chief asked, shoving Sly playfully. "Or you're trying to fatten your own purse, heh?"

They burst into loud hysterical laughter, as the car slowed down and made a left turn, then halted. They just arrived at the bar. Not really the bar, the next turn would make it there. But chief was of the habit of stopping some distance away from his actual destination, and Audu, his driver, had repeatedly had this order, enough to not make any mistake.

"You are meeting him here? The hotel attendant I mean?" Chief asked.

"Yes, yes, sure. I had earlier called and made necessary arrangements. I hope he shows up," Sly replied.

"Oh, he will. You have no idea how hard 500 thousand is to make. Who wouldn't?" Chief asked as he handed him a thick brown envelop. They laughed carelessly like two high school teenagers handling with their newly grown pubic hairs, mindless of Audu as if he weren't there.

"Upfront," he chipped.

"Very necessary," replied Sly. And they laughed again.

"I'm sure you have finalized agreement with her too, I mean the girl?"

"Oh, may her soul rest in perfect peace," Sly replied making the sign of the cross. And they laughed again. "I would be home before 9pm. I have some other engagements after now," Sly said ad he made to open the car door.

"That's fine, just be careful and be safe, and keep me abreast with the entire process, " chief replied. "And leave no stone unturned," he continued.

And with that Sly got out of the vehicle and watched them drive off. He adjusted his loosened shirt to cover his protruding stomach, looked sideways and walked towards the bar. It was 5:47pm. "Right on time," he said to himself as he turned his cap sideways.

He walked towards Royalé bar in rushed steps, like he was late for an appointment or something. When he got to the bar, he briefly combed the entire area with his eyes. The place was still scanty. It was too early in the evening for the regular drinking galore to begin. After reconnoitering for the most convenient table, he opted for the one least visible. He walked in and made himself comfortable in one of the four chairs around the table. A bartender walked towards him to get his orders, as was the regular routine, but he gestured him to not worry as he was waiting for someone.

Just then, a young man made his way into the bar. Average height, dark skinned, a well combed Afro and a backpack strapped to his back like a high school student. He halted for a brief moment at the entrance to the bar and looked around as if he was searching for someone. Sly quickly reached for his phone and combed the gallery in search of a particular picture. 'This is our guy,' he mumbled to himself as he began composing a text.

As his phone beeped signalling his message had been delivered, he watched the young man, first staring at his phone like he was reading something, and then look in his direction in searching eyes. After a while, he began to walk in his direction. Sly adjusted his cap to fit and sat in a more commanding posture as if to say 'hey, I'm the boss here'.

"You're the friend," Kingsley said deliberately stressing on 'friend' as he buried himself tiredly in the chair opposite Sly.

"Don't I look friendly?" Sly replied as he stretched his hand towards Kingsley. The two men shook hands.

"How did you get to have so much information about me anyway? You have my private number, know where I work and all. What else do you know about me?" Kingsley asked.

"More like, what do I not know about you?" Sly said in a very relaxed, genuis-like tone. "Let's just say, I have my eyes and ears everywhere and I pay attention," Sly dragged, visibly uninterested in too much formalities. "Straight to business," he continued.

"Oh yeah, the 'small task, I need to do," Kingsley replied excitedly. You could tell the eagerness in his voice.

"Careful now, boy. You don't wanna be robbed, do you? You sound so loud like that, you don't know who would be eavesdropping," Sly warned. But he was more concerned about concealing the entire deal than caring about whether or not Kingsley was robbed.

Kingsley rubbed his palms, one against the other to keep warm. It was a cool evening and they were seated out in the open. He was a mixture of excitement and tension. What was he to do? He had kept thinking the whole time since leaving his house. He paid keen attention as the strange man took him over the process of what he was required to do. He was dumbfounded anyone would offer to pay anyone that much for just that. Sly could tell this. He was a smart man. Many a times, he had directly been involved in deals like this and he wasn't really astonished.

"You don't have to delay one minute past 2. You have barely ten minutes between when you must get to the kitchen and back. The security guard on duty would play his part in switching the CCTV cameras in the hallway for this exact same duration. One minutes past your time and you've blown your cover, and thus mine. I would gladly shoot you in the face," Sly said.

Kingsley's smile gradually faded as he saw the serious look on the strange man's face. Five hundred thousand was worth the risk and he was taking it. With the security camera off, all he had do was deny he even met with this customer at all, let alone give him food.

"Is the food poisoned?"

"That isn't part of your job and shouldn't be any of your business, but no. You're not going to be an accomplice of murder. Just to be sure, you could scoop a spoonful and taste it."

The two men's eyes locked for a minute. Sly could feel the young man's heart pound. 'He thinks 500 is all that easy to make huh?' Sly thought to himself.

"2 am, right?" He asked.

"Not before or after," replied Sly.

"But the kitchen would be locked by then,"

"It should be. But tonight, it will not be, but only for ten minutes. You will not meet the kitchener on duty and she won't know who came for the food in the tray, but that's not your business. Do what you have to do and get out." Sly replied as he reached out for the brown envelop from underneath his shirt and handed it to Kingsley across the table.

"Here's 250 thousand. You do the job, all goes well, you get your balance." The barman walked towards their table, received their orders and went to fetch.

"Just that?" Kingsley asked.

"Only that," Sly replied.

'Why do I feel I am being overpaid, and there is more to this than you're letting me know?" Kingsley said, scratching his chin and looking around.

"That's why you're still poor young man. Can't someone, from the benevolence of his heart, choose to be charitable in any way?"

Kingsley reached for the envelop and peeped, obviously knowing he couldn't count it there, he squeezed it, unzipped his backpack, shoved his work uniform aside and buried the envelop deep into the backpack.

"Can I have your phone?" Sly requested. "It's nothing, just protocol," he continued after Kingsley gave him the suspecting look.
He went through the call log and cleared his phone number. Scrolled to the messages and wiped off every text he had ever sent him. Done.

"What's my name?" Sly asked in a mischievous tone.

"You're yet to tell," Kingsley replied.

"Your response implies you do not know, right?"

"Of course not!"

"Good! We are done here. Your balance would be transfered directly to your account. Just do as you are told."

"Done. I have to take my leave now." Kingsley said as he got up and adjusted his backpack comfortably on his back, this time clutching it a bit more tighter. It was more than just work uniform now.

"Feel free. It was nice doing business with you," Sly said stretching his hands towards Kingsley in offer of a handshake.

The two men shook hands and Kingsley took his leave.

Chapter 3

THE HOTEL ATTENDANT

He was on night duty tonight, so he had to sleep for most of the day.

When his phone, which seldom rang, rung that noon, he was astonished as to who the caller would be. He received the call with some sort of boyish enthusiasm.

"Hi there," came the voice at the other end.

"Hello, who is this?" He asked.

"Oh man, be easy. I'm just a friend."

He was actually starting to become uneasy. Just a friend, at noon, on a Friday? He tried to make the voice out, but that was an attempt in futility. He had very few friends and they all had his number as he theirs, so it would have displayed if it was any one of them.

"Who is this please?"

"Like I said, just a friend."

"Yes, who would you like to speak with?"

"Am I unto Kingsley? A hotel attendant in Nadeco Hotel and suites?"

"Yes, and this is?"

"How would you like to make an easy 500 thousand over a not-so-demanding task?"

"Did I hear you right sir?" He didn't know where the 'sir' came from. He didn't bother to figure out whether or not, whoever at the other end of the phone was older or younger than he was. But then, all his excitement faded into thin air when he remembered the spate of fraudulent activities in recent times.

"All this wayo people sef, una no dey taya? Guy go learn work. How u take get my number sef?" You could easily tell the irritation in his voice as he dropped the call.

In less than five minutes, he received a text from the same number. It read:

'It will behoove you to at least risk knowing what I'm about first. Dropping the call was rude and unnecessary. Meet me at the bar, just a stone throw from where you work, by 6pm. You are to resume work by 8pm, so I have less than two hours to bring you up to speed on what you're required to do. The cash is here with me as I speak to you.'

It all seemed surreal and he wasn't buying it yet. Sleep eluded him and he was rather tensed about 6pm. His mind juggled between going or not, but five hundred thousand was a lot of money worthy of consideration. He had nothing, so it wasn't going to be a case of kidnap; they would be wasting their time and resource. His mind traveled back to the previous weeks, could he have by any means, done something wrong to someone and he was being set up? He had always been a pacifist and so, there is no way in heaven, that could have been it. Although, you can't trust humans, what he may have intended to be a light joke may have been taken out of proportion.

6pm was slow to come, and eager as he was, the closer it came, the more tensed he became. But then, it did come, and he did go. Dressed in his mufti with his work uniform in his backpack, he made to leave for the bar. He arrived a few minutes past 6 and looked around. There was no familiar face. Just as he was about to dial the number, he received a text:

'I can see you. You're a bit late. I'm the guy on white with a papa's cap, sitting alone at the fifth table to your right.'

He looked. The face wasn't anywhere recognizable. It didn't even ring a bell. Maybe it was the distance, he thought, so he walked towards the table, with the hope that he would know the person as he drew closer.

Now seated face to face from across the table, he still didn't make the face.

"Here, 250 thousand. You do the job, all goes well, you get your balance." The strange man said, putting a brown envelop on the table. The barman walked towards their table, received their orders and disappeared to fetch it.

"Just that?" He asked, after he was taken through the process of what he was to do.

"Only that," replied the strange man.

'Why do I feel I am being overpaid, and there is more to this than you're letting me know?"

"That's why you're still poor young man. Can't someone, from the benevolence of his heart, choose to be charitable in any way?"

Well, it was a done deal. All he had to do was deliver a meal at an ungodly hour to a customer in a certain room, courtesy of one Chief Bells? That was easy. He only risked losing his job if the customer complained to the management, but he was just paid 7 months salary upfront, so, losing his job was a considerable option.

8pm, he had to leave and resume work. He was given facial description of the person. The room number would be communicated to him as soon as the said customer was lodged.

Strange man requested for his phone, fondled with it for a minute or thereabout, and gave it back.

"What's my name?" Asked strange man.

"You're yet to tell," Kingsley replied.

"Your response implies you do not know, right?"

"Of course not!"

"Good! We are done here. Your balance would be transfered directly to your account. Just do as you are told."

"Done. I have to take my leave now."

"Feel free. It was nice doing business with you," strange man said stretching his hands towards Kingsley in offer of a handshake.

The two men shook hands and Kingsley took his leave.

At around 12am that midnight, he received a text from another number. 'Room 203, fifth floor'. He knew who from. His orders were straightforward; wait until 2am, go to the kitchen, you would see a tray of covered food, the only tray that would be there at the time. The kitchener would deliberately leave the door open solely for this purpose. You have to be fast, because by 2:10, the kitchen door would be locked. You mustn't know what kitchener is on duty, as she mustn't know what hotel attendant came for the tray.

1:59, he felt some uneasiness. He made for the kitchen, saw the tray, and without stalling or hesitation, he carried it and headed for the said room. He knocked, a delayed response.

"Who is it?" Came the voice from the room in a hushed tone.

"Room service," he replied.

When the door opened, he was greeted by the face of the man who fitted perfectly into the description he was earlier given:

"On the house, courtesy of Chief Bells," he said, smiling mischievously.

"Who's Bells?"

He had already anticipated the question, and played the script finely. The strange man already told him what to say when the question was asked.

"Oh, you don't know Chief? I guess you're a stranger in the city. Everyone knows chief Bells. He's the..." the impatient and obviously tensed man interrupted him.

He demanded the tray be handed over. And he did. And left almost immediately. His job was done! Alas! Easy 500, he thought.

He tiptoed downstairs heaving a sigh of relief.

'Done', he texted the number. He didn't get any reply, but he didn't need to even. This was the easiest money he he had ever made! ~ Osula

Chapter 2

•HER

She had little or no option to explore anymore. She was done trying. Her hope had faded out and there was no resuscitation in sight. Her background was tale enough for how her life ended up that way; empty, shattered and broken. All she had ever strived for was the best, but somehow, it always came in reverse. She bottled everything inside, looking her best when she was in public glare. She could afford a smile and a wave, and that was all she needed to get by.

Her mother and siblings would think she was doing very well in the city, because she always looked her best whenever she visited them in the village. She had a gift, no matter how small for everyone, and liked the way she was teased --city girl-- it gave her a certain feeling; of importance --more like superiority.

Until that night, she never thought for the life of her, she would be sacrificing her life for her family. Her life! Literally. She was ready to do everything to make them happy, and giving her life was the last on the list of everything. But alas, every other thing on the list had, by her books, been tried, and so she was resorting to the very last option.

When she walked into the club that evening, knowing it was her last night on earth; as a living human, that is, she sniffed in every breath, savoring the entire air. She sat down at the table and began to tap on her phone.

"He's here," she texted. "How do I proceed?"

"You don't need to do anything. Just make sure you're within his glare. He's too flirty to let any gorgeous woman, who walked into the bar alone at that hour, be," came the reply.

"I hope everything goes according to plan, I'm kinda tensed."

"It will. Just calm down and act your script."

"Calm down?! I'm dying man! How do you tell anyone in my shoe to calm down?"

"You're selling your life! I'm buying. Your family would reap the benefit of the sales. Or you want to bail?"

"Hmmm. Easy option to take right now. But, 100 million is a hell lot of money for a life as miserable as mine. I hope you don't renegade on the agreement when I'm gone. I swear, my spirit would haunt you to the death."

"I can't even do that, given the many witnesses involved. Plus, you witnessed the upfront payment/of 25 million already."

"He just passed a note to the bartender. 'You look ravishing' is what he wrote."

"Good, now this is the moment. Give him a signal, something to make him feel you're buying into his vibes, then finish up your drink and leave immediately."

"Leave?"

"Yes. He'll follow you. Walk really slowly, but don't make it seem so obvious. Dude is a sucker for anything on skirt. Trust me, he will."

"I winked at him."

"Did he get the memo?"

"I don't know. He smiled at least."

"Nice one! Now pay up and leave!"

She tucked her phone in her bag, beckoned on the bartender, paid and made to leave. She walked really slowly, watching behind her every second, and when she saw him run out of the bar as if he was being chased, she knew he was after her. She didn't look back anymore. Snubbed the first two 'HIs' and turned back to respond to the third.

So much trouble for a young gentleman this handsome. It was going to be her last night, but his trouble would begin at the end of her living. He spoke fluently, gesturing often like she was deaf. She didn't have to keep the conversation too long --or short-- just enough for him to fancy her enough to want to spend the night with her. And when he did, he offered to take her home. That was an already considered option, but the plan was for her death to happen in public. He could easily hide, bury or dispose off her corpse at his private residence. But he stood no chance doing same in a hotel. So she said she would prefer they lodged instead.

And lodged they did. While he was in the shower getting set for a long night of 'fun', she was finalizing her agreements.

"Now you have to clear your phone, make sure the last five numbers you called are members of your families. Delete my contact entirely. Wipe our conversations. Leave no stone unturned. Remember, if I go down, your family does, and that would mean you wasted your life for nothing."

"I know. We don't have to go over this repeatedly. How long before the drug kicks in?"

"Four hours tops, from the minute you swallow. No trace of it in your system, even if autopsy is carried out on your corpse. We've tested it on specimens. It would seem as though you were strangled."

"OK. Deleting and clearing now. He's almost done."

"Rest in peace."

"You're very...." She cleared the message. That didn't deserve a reply. Nothing else was important right now. She cleared everything. Called her mum, then her brothers. They were all excited about the ongoing construction of their new house. They all thanked her, showering praises and prayers asking when she would be coming. 'Soon', was all she could say.

She reached for her purse, brought out the drug. Her heart pounding heavily. After all, she was going to hang by a loose rope somewhere, nights before, when she was rescued and brought to Chief. She wanted to die; a waste of life. He still wanted her dead too, but would have her family paid for it, and have whatever his aim, achieved. It was a win win situation. She closed her eyes, said a short prayer and took the drugs.

When he came out, she managed a faint smile and made for the bathroom to have her bath.

Ten minutes in, no sound of water. She was mourning her own death --very few people have that opportunity-- to mourn their own death. In one minute, letting the water run down her body, she was done. Dead body no get case.

He offered her food and drink, but she declined everything. She had less than four hours to live. He should be asleep by the time the drug had began to work.

He switched off the light, made for her in the dark, and they kissed. She was numb to his touches. But then she thought 'last sex? It better be a good one', and so she turned him over. Holding unto his hardened dick, she reached for it with her mouth, swallowed it like it was some sort of antidote for the drug she just took. He moaned, dragging her gently by the hair. She pushed him gently by his chest into a lying position, climbed on and rode him to paradise. In less than four minutes, he had climaxed, was weak and tired and in no time, his eyes closed. 'That was good,' he managed to say in a tired tone.

She lay still on her back, staring at the blank ceiling. The room was dark so she could see nothing. All that was on her mind was how well she had lived. Twenty seven was just enough to live, she consoled herself. Waiting for the drug to kick in, she gently packed up all her belongings and squeezed them in her bag. She quietly got up, and made for the bottom of the bed. Her bag serving as a pillow, she laid flat.

Nobody alive can describe exactly how death feels, and so, in the dark, she faded out of existence. OSULA

CHAPTER ONE

He looked at the empty bed with fear in his eyes. He has always heard stories like this, but until this very moment, never believed in them. The door was still locked, and so were the windows. The windows were actually no option because the room was on the fifth floor of the elegant hotel. He shivered at the thought of it. His legs, too wobbly to walk down to the bathroom.

"Are you there?" He managed to ask in a low tone, but that was most likely rhetorical because every single item she came with was nowhere in sight. His mind traveled back to the previous night when they had just met.

She had walked into the club looking like the typical wild city life kinda girl. Her dark brown hair, falling slightly below her shoulder. Dark skinned, or so it seemed, as the evening was dirty dark, but her eyes and smiles shone so bright, piercing through his glance. She stood at five feet eight inches, but her high heels added a couple extras, making her elegant. She clutched tightly unto her bag and looked around as if she had come there on a date. After some couple of minutes, she walked briskly towards a table and signaled the waiter, placed her orders, and dug into her phone.

All these while, his eyes was glued to her every move. She was his kind of girl. His first instinct was to walk right over to her table, but on second thought, he opted not to. Instead, he beckoned on the waiter and slipped him a note to hand her. 'You look ravishing' it read. He watched the waiter hand her the note. She faintly smiled for a brief moment, look towards his table and winked. He could feel his heart in his mouth, but he didn't have to make it obvious; his excitement. He was fuzzy as to whether or not to make a move or not. He felt glued to his spot.

Still contemplating his next line of action, she got up, picked up her bag, beckoned the waiter, handed him some money and made to leave. This was his chance, it was now or never. Opportunities don't come like this twice in a lifetime. He hurriedly walked up to the counter, paid for his drink and ran up in her direction. She hadn't covered any much distance when he caught up with her...

There was a knock on the door.

"Who's it?" He asked, with the anticipation that it was her.

"Room service," came the voice.

His heart melted. He didn't order anything. As he walked up to the door, he wondered why room service was there in the first place. He opened the door and was handed a tray.

"On the house, courtesy of Chief Bells," the young man clothed in a sort of uniform, said beaming with smiles.

"Who's Bells?" He asked, slightly uninterested, as he had other things on his mind.

"Oh, you don't know chief? I guess you're a stranger in this city. Everyone knows chief Bells. He's the..."

"OK, OK, hand the tray over, thanks," he said, cutting him short.

He didn't even bother opening the tray to see the content. He just dropped it on the table and walked over to the window to have a view of the city.

Still lost in thoughts, his hand on his chin as he looked around. The shining disco light from the Tenzo dance hall was still glowing in many beautiful colors. Not very many people were on the street. Shops were closed. There was a certain calm alien to the city, and that is when it struck him. It was 2 O' clock in the morning, why would the hotel be having everyone's orders from whatever chief at such an ungodly odd hour? He thought to himself.

His curiosity was piqued and he dashed towards the table and hurriedly opened the dish. Food! Nothing serious, just food. It didn't make any sense. He kept pondering. Just as he was about to get back to his deep thoughts and walk towards the window again, he noticed a white piece of paper, just beneath the plate. He moved the dish sideways and slipped the note out.

'She's dead, right beneath your bed. Look'.

He was dazed! Myriads of thoughts running through his mind simultaneously. He bent down dramatically and noticed a dark shadow of a human body. His head was exploding. He looked around as if he wasn't the only one in the room. He wanted to scream, but his voice had long left him. He walked to the other side of the bed, and pulled out the body. It was her! Still, stiff, cold and lifeless. He stared at the note in his hand.

'She's dead, right beneath your bed. Look'. He wished he was dreaming and began to mumble 'wake up, wake up, this is a nightmare, wake up right now!'.

He passed put from shock. ~ Osula