₦airaland Forum

[quote author=Mynd_44]e-book or paper back?[/quote]
E-book (pdf) from my phone

[quote author=Mynd_44]Debate between who and who?[/quote]
Lolz. na only that part you see read.

Okay.
But you would have written underneath the poem the initials of your friend.
Can we please end this debate?

Hurray!!!
I read all 63pages
Princesa, you are great! (but the story for get part 2 na)
I enjoyed every bit of it.
Thanks for sharing.
Cheers!

I Just decided to try my hands on story writing and I must confess its a bit difficult joooor



After a dramatic slurp, loud belch erupts from his mouth, hard liquor scent diffused the bar as sounds of empty Star bottles kissed the cooperating cup goodbye. Obindoro had arrived at the bar with plenty thoughts, first; his mother is on her way to his house for his wedding; secondly, his fiancée just called off the wedding and has absconded with his best friend and best man-to-be leaving him heartbroken with a disturbing note; and his wedding planner is on his neck to pay up his balance. Obindoro discovered the note in his jacket pocket carefully planted by Azaasi, his never-to-be wife days before eloping with Patrick to Dubia. He sat wondering what actually led to her sudden change of mind in the company of eight fat green bottles. “I thought she loves me” he muttered as struggled to keep those rain in his eyes from falling.

He managed to lean back to his seat, dipped his hand into his pocket and pinched out some naira notes then placed on the table for the bartender and staggered off his sit to the parking lot like a wounded warrior. After some calculated steps to the lot, He looked around and something was missing - his car. It has been stolen. “What the fu...! Where is my car?” He asked looking up like he was fed up playing hide and seek with his creator - the atmosphere spoke mute. He searched everywhere while staggering and falling hysterically. He checked the gutters, under the other parked cars and walked down the road with the hope that the car had not been put on the brake and have rolled down the hill. When his search was futile he resigned to his fate with a loud shout. “Who is doing this to me? Who have I offended? Why rob me off my only car? Why is this world without a care? God, where are you? I need justice!” he cried, slurred and cursed.

While milling around the dark streets, a call came in, it was his mum, her bus just arrived Abuja and she had alighted as told by her son at the popular Berger junction at Lugbe, Abuja. She wants him to come pick her up. The thought of his missing car puzzled his face. He managed to be calm and told her in his drunken state to exercise patience that he would be with her in a jiffy then he hung up. Sadness and depression consumed him, his spotless face wrinkled, his eyes sullen and his heart aches. His bladder was full and he needed to pee, he was so pressed that the urine couldn’t wait to explode all over his trousers before unzipping. “Gosh! Big willy see what you’ve done to my trousers, you silly thing!!” The thought of him talking to his manhood amused him a bit. A change of plan: he decided to take a cab home and change his cloth, brush his teeth to get rid of the stench alcoholic smell before picking his mum at the junction; by the way, the junction isn’t that far from his estate; he would come pick her with the same cab immediately he’s done looking presentable. He halted a cab and got in. "Federal Housing Estate" he manage to say, then he brought out the note his fiancée dropped in his jacket and read it again weeping silently. He questioned his faithfulness, his love, his ailing heart; he blamed himself for loving stupidly, for being so weak, for thinking Azaas loved him or that Patrick was a faithful friend, reminiscing how far they’ve come, the relationship built –

It was a drive of about thirty minutes to Obindoro’s place of residence at Federal Housing Estate Lugbe. The driver had driven for about ten minutes when his passenger fell asleep in his cab. His loud snore alerted him; He held his steering with one hand and tried to wake him with the other hand. “Oga, we don reach FHA estate na where you go drop?” the driver queried. Obindoro told him he’d alight at the white house after the big tree. The fact is that almost all the houses there are white and each has a tree and some flowers. The driver drove with a worried face and patted him again by the shoulder in an attempt to wake him. “ Oga, na where u go drop na, abeg I no get fuel oooo and night don reach, which kind wahala be this?” he furiously asked again. Obindoro, again spoke feebly. “Just drop me by the house where some clothe are spread at the balcony”. His eyes lids were already overpowered by the subduing hands of sleep. The driver looked around and virtually all houses had clothes by their balcony. He was very bittered. He parked by the road, scanned the street to see if someone was watching, he muttered some unknown words in his language. Obindoro cared less. He was held in the bondage of sleep, snoring like a pregnant toad. The sound further vexed the driver. He alighted, went to the passenger seat and pulled down Obindoro then searched him for cash. He found some naira notes and a smartphone, he switched off the phone and put it in his own pocket then sped into the dark. Obindoro unconsciously gathered moles of sands and built himself a pillow and slept dead-drunk on the ground.

Mama was worried.Why haven’t her son come to pick her from the park? What could be the cause of the delay? She knows the city is notorious for traffic jams and other negative vices. She said a little prayer for her son then went out to buy recharge card to call him. She tried his number severally and waited interminably while the tick tock! She decided to head back to the park to rest and wait for her son to turn up. She was about crossing the road when a petite car knocked her down and sped off. Onlookers sprouted from different shells to steal a glimpse and awed. Some nodded, while some closed their eyes and swallowed hot saliva, and then someone picked up her smashed phone and cried in commotion. “Is she dead?” someone asked the kerosene-crowd but no one was in the mood to answer. A young man emanated from the crowd and bent down to feel her heartbeat, and proclaimed “she’s alive!” He carried her numb body into his car and zoomed off to a nearby hospital.

It was a romantic night; Azaas stared into Obindoro’s eyes with love, her teeth glittered like silver in the dark as she laughs at Obindoro’s jokes. The dinner was perfect and the two retired to a hotel room where they kissed, pledged and reassured themselves of their undying love. Obindoro got a call from Patrick who was in town for a seminar and needed a place to stay for some time. He wanted to cut costs by not lodging in a hotel, by the way, of what use is it when his best friend’s lives comfortably in a three bedroom bungalow, he thought to himself. Obindoro agreed without a blink and ended the call. He felt pressed down below then excused himself from Azaas and dashed to the toilet, he let out a large moan as he peed into mouth of the WC. He heard a voice and felt a touch by the rib, he felt disturbed and shouted,“Who’s that fool knocking at my door? I and my wife-to-be need not be disturbed, please go away waiter?” It was the Night Patrol Police, they had stop when they saw him giving himself a very big slap on the cheek, in an attempt to murder an escaped mosquito. They wondered why such a decent man would be lying by the roadside sleeping. They quickly grabbed him and threw him at the back of their patrol van. They observed the wet trouser and the urine and alcoholic smell oozing out from his body. He spat and cursed them when he woke up from his dream still tipsy. They tried to ask him a few questions but he spoke silence, he bowed his head and fell asleep again. They read his offence to him and drove him to the police station few meters away and locked him up in a cell.

It was five past six in the morning, and an inmate in the cell was performing his morning devotion, he sang and clapped like an aggressive prayer warrior, this woke others who yelled at him to lower his voice. Obindoro woke up with confusion, his head ache and he felt an arm around his body, as if he was in a romance section. An inmate was cuddling him, he saw himself beside a man. He rose with fear, “sodomy!” he screamed. Obindoro had been sodomized by the inmate, his buttock hurts. He saw the inmate wearing his boxers while he was wearing ragged underwear stained with sperm, blood and faeces; the sight of it churned his stomach. He rushed to the iron gate and let out a loud cry for help as he thought of his mum crept into him.

Obindoro had finished signing some documents that require his release from the cell; he had begged a police officer to call his colleague who came to bail him. He thanked his God for being able to remember his number off heart. He also dialed his mum’s number but it was not reachable. He got angry and hated himself. He left the station in shame and disappointment, the world he sees now seems like a nightmare. He asked to be driven to the park where his mother had alighted, his colleague complied without hesitation. When they got there, they asked around for her whereabouts, the news he got made his heart quake, he couldn’t blink nor talk, his colleague did the talking and enquiries and they drove to Rimi Memorial Hospital, where she was admitted in the intensive care unit. Obindoro was amok at the sight of his mother, one of her legs has been amputated, and her face was bandaged. Without any words, cloud of pain gathered in his eyes and his face began to rain, he wailed in pain and agony like a baby undergoing circumcision. His colleague tried to console him but he wailed the more. He was left alone.

“Mr. Tondo Obindoro?” a calmed voice called him. “Yes Doctor?” he replied quivering. “will she make it?”. The doctor affirmed in doubts “you know she was brought here after loosing much blood and the car badly damaged her arm and leg, ehm... so while trying to save her life we had to amputate her left leg, operate and stich her. I’m sorry, no one could sign off on our ‘go ahead permit’on your behalf so the gentleman who brought her here signed it and donated some pints of blood too. You see Mr. Tondo we are banking on a miracle here because we've fone everything to stabilize her but she keep coming and going into coma. Her case is critical.”The doctor briefed him and excused himself. Obindoro couldn't believe his eyes, he wished everything could be a dream. He paced the walkway talking to himself, “what is my fault in life? Why would I bear all these snares? Why is my heart sacrificed at the altar of love? Is it that I love too much? Patrick, who needs an enemy when friends like you exist? Truly, to love is to learn how to hate, yes! Life is paradoxical. Will mummy forgive me?” all these questions turned his head into a market place full of confused thoughts and regrets.

Obindoro’s trance was interrupted by the colleague; his eyes were soaked with tears as he whispered the bad news to Obindoro. “I’m sorry dude, your mother has passed on. She died calling your name. I’m sorry man, please take heart”. His colleague said as he wept profusely. Obindoro heart sunk like a stone in a water. He took a free-fall to the ground and collapsed; he was quickly rushed to a bed and was admitted too in the hospital. He later woke up after several medical administrations and he refused to be comforted by anyone not even his colleague. He kept blaming himself and the guilt soon consumed him. He tried to forget but everything reminds him of his agony. The night has become a scar to him. If only he hadn’t taken so many drinks, the only person who he cherished most would still be here comforting and assuring him that everything will be okay, but she is no more.He cursed Azaas, Patrick, the makers of Star lager beer and death. He blamed them all for his woes.