Archives for category: Fiction

Journey Through Eternity Wall Photo

Waging war against tears.
The borderline
The enemy shall cross not,so I thought.
Preacher persists with peace talks.
The night stole my bliss.

My heart hollow,sorrow hovers around.
The pain sunk in teeth and stays clasped.
The fire within,finds friendly it’s doom.
How does he not give in? He withers within.
Death; a hound profound in gloom,in theft of life

Life kept concise,hassled off land of the living.
In wavelength with the dead,leaving behind ripples of regret.
Rhetoric questions reasoned,riffing response received;
Sympathizers with answers to my loud thoughts.
Reality reckons my loss,wreath shall grace your abode soon.

While you lay lifeless in bed,your child in his cot.
You gave to him life and left me void of support.
Shed blood on him and bled to death.
He throws tantrum,craving milk from your breast.
A boy denied his first love from the onset.

Six feet beneath the surface,all earthly possession surrendered.
Crying cousins witnessing your confinement to a coffin.
Growing giddy gathering gravel,shoving aside sense;
Wailing while women weep like men.
Rest in peace dear wife,it hurts to see death do us part.

Ex- ghoul is male, a Poet, a Wizard and Genius. he blogs at phonicphoenix.wordpress.com

Follow him on twitter @_l3kan

 

 

Manickal’s Purge

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I actually intended to tell a fictitious tale. And then I realized I’d told too many. Maybe this time, I just have to be real. Reveal a bit about my true self. LOL. I always tell myself that maybe one day I’ll find that person who I can pour out myself too. Even shed tears a little while doing that. Release the weight that has burdened me for so long. Let myself go. Oh well, what the heck…

The first time I contemplated committing suicide, I was 13 years old. I was in boarding school. The story behind it makes me laugh till this day. I had been the usual quiet guy in boarding school, talking only when I needed to. Spoke only when I was spoken to and the person speaking to me needed a reply. I never talked to girls. Even when they tried speaking to me, I would shy away from them. I liked being on my own, so I could think dark thoughts and draw a few of them on whatever plain pages I could find. I never liked to offend people. I wanted people to either be indifferent about me or not care about my existence at all. As long as they were not angry at me for something I might have or not have done, I was cool. I wasn’t a friend to many of my mates, neither was I to any of my seniors. And they’re the last folks in boarding school I wanted to offend. I’d seen what they did to students who offended them. It had put great fear in my heart and mind. I didn’t want to be the one exexperiencing such a grueling form of punishment.

A day came when we had to go for lunch. In the dining hall were different tables. Each table had eight students assigned to them for the week. And out of the eight students, one of them was a senior. The school had begun four years before my arrival. The most senior class was the Senior Secondary class 1. Or SS1. The senior on my table was nicknamed Tega by his colleagues. It had nothing to do with his real name. He just loved to be called Tega. Tega hadn’t come for lunch that afternoon, so I assumed Tega was not hungry, so I shared the food among seven of us that were present. That assumption was wrong, and almost cost me my life. Tega came into the dining hall with some of his senior pals when we were just about through with the food and looked into the pot. The pot was empty. Tega’s face became one that I, at that time, identified with pure evil. His face twisted into a malevolent scowl as he asked who the person was that had shared the food. All eyes settled on me, but no one spoke. Tega didn’t need a deity to tell him who the perpetrator of such great travesty was. I had stopped chewing a while back when he walked in and there was still food on my plate. Tega walked up to me, stared down at me for a few seconds and the next thing I saw was his right hand slapping me across the face and throwing me off the seat. I fell on the floor and I didn’t want to get up. There was a ringing in my right ear. I felt I’d gone deaf in that ear. But Tega wasn’t done with me, he dragged me by my day-uniform and brought my face to his. I could smell the terror emanating from him. He looked like the type that would kill me and throw my body over the school fence. But students were not allowed to kill other students. They could only punish them. And I knew Tega. He was a sadist. And the School’s assistant senior prefect.

The rest of my day was a horrible one. I had lain under Tega’s bed until it was time for dinner. And the dinner wasn’t even mine. For my portion belonged to Tega. The prefect allowed me to just one meal a day for the next week. Breakfast. Lunch and dinner was his to do what he pleased with. A few mates who were compassionate shared some of their food with me. It was a terrible time for me. The hours of starvation were coupled with hours of punishment. Washed his sheets. Fetched him water. Made his bed. Did his weekly school chores. All because of one stupid assumption. Some of my mates told me to report him to the school authorities or to my guardian then. But I had seen such happen before. Students who had been badly maltreated had reported their oppressors to the school. The school had disciplined the Senior involved, but that only angered them more. And made them do worse. We could all remember the tale of Gbenga, who had left the school with a broken neck, and never returned. A senior student had pushed him out of a first floor window, and was expelled. I couldn’t report Tega. I was scared of him. I just wanted the whole ordeal to be over. I even prayed about it. Maybe God heard, maybe He didn’t. He could have prevented what happened next if He did, yes?

It was a Friday morning, we were about to have breakfast. Everybody liked this particular meal. Even I. I was so happy my oppressor could allow me have breakfast. Just as I was about to take a bite into the Agege bread and fried egg, Tega holds me by the neck and tells me to drop it. My whole body went weak. From fear, my mien transformed to anger. That day, I decided I’d had enough. I’d missed lunch and dinner for six days because of that guy. I’d begged for scraps from people I wouldn’t even talk to. I’d suffered numerous punishments and embarrassments all for his sake. And just when I was about to enjoy a meal I loved so much he tells me to drop it? I stood up, looked him in the eye and told him no. He looked shocked at my reply. He tried to hit me but I blocked his hand with mine and pushed him away. Tega never thought a JSS2 student could stand up to him. He was flabbergasted. He drew his belt and was about to use it on me before the school Guardian halted him. He happened to be in the dining hall at that particular time. He had been watching our little scuffle. He ordered Tega out of the dining hall and told him to match to his quarters and await punishment. My bravery drained from me quickly. Tega’s last scowl at me before he left felt like it was death staring at me. But I knew I wasn’t going to die. I knew I was going to suffer so much I wish I was dead. Tega couldn’t kill me, but he would make want to die.

For the next few hours, I kept thinking about what Tega would do to me when he returned from the Guardian’s place. I couldn’t think of anything else but every possible form of punishment that the sadist could think up and use it upon me. My body shivered everytime I thought of one. All my mates pitied me. They even talked about how they saw the Guardian punishing Tega, him crying and begging for forgiveness. The Guardian had learned about Tega’s oppression of me for the past week. He was meting out the deserved punishment for such inhumanity. The thought of Tega begging for crying and begging for forgiveness made tears flow from my eyes at the prospect of what he would do to me when he returned. I wanted to run somewhere and hide forever. I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me. I wanted my parents to come and take me far, far away from this school.

I wanted to die.

I had heard about suicide before. I had images in my head of people hanging from ropes around their necks. I remembered Judas. I wondered how I could do that. I thought about other ways to kill myself. I also had once heard about a girl who had slit her wrists with a blade. I went and bought a blade, and I opened it and brought it to my wrists. I imagined how it would be to die and leave this cursed world. I didn’t have any friends. Nobody cared. And Tega would be the least to care when he returned from the guardian’s quarters. There really was no reason to live. Nobody, except my parents, would miss me. And it would serve them right for bringing me to that school which I had hated. I looked at the blade and looked at my wrists. I was the only one in the hostel when the other students were in class. I would be dead when they returned and there would be a huge uproar in the school. After a while though, I realized I didn’t have the heart for it. I dropped the blade and closed my eyes. I found resolve in myself to accept whatever was coming. Let Tega have his way…

Tega returned. And the first thing he did was call me to his corner. He was lying on his bed and looking into emptiness. I stood there looking at him. The whole dormitory was quiet. They waited for what was coming next. Tega apologized to me, there and then. He told me he was truly sorry for what he did. He told me he would never do it again. He asked me to forgive him. I couldn’t believe my ears, and tears came to my eyes. The only thing I could say was “okay”  and he permitted me to leave. I went to my bed and I thanked God. I laughed a little. I was relieved. I didn’t suffer, and I didn’t die.

I’m Michael, known as @ManickaL on twitter. I’m a mel-phleg personality I think. I’m a socially-awkward, very quiet type of guy who writes for fun. Its kind of a hobby for me. I blog at musedminds.com and  mykaliztales.WordPress.com (personal blog)

Hi Readers,

I know the weekend wasn’t so pleasant with all the terrorist attack. And I find it hard to believe Kofi Awoonor died in one of these attacks (sometimes I forget these people are human).

So, Remember how I told you about a funny story on Friday? Well, This is it; It’s Moskeda’s Purge, and I hope it cheers y’all up. Enjoy 😀

Send entries to loonpurge@gmail.com hola me on twitter @sunkit1

got_suya_spaghetti_top_tshirt-r4abc510c205b4361a65a3f7a69e64a04_8nhmm_324

Suya of Revenge

Aaaaah! Suya!

This story cracks the hell out of me each time I remember it. Okay, so on this particularly evening, I was with my sister, my cousin, my aunt and my dad. In those days, my dad was a terrorist and I mean this with a big grin. He terrorized us for a while until we learnt the art and switched it back on him. That was to be years later, though.

That evening, we were just from church. My dad was driving and on our way home, he stopped at this junction to buy some stuff from a store across the street. We ladies sat back in the car but whilst waiting, a nice aroma, scent, smell, whatever you call it, came wafting in and invading noses. If we were cartoon characters, we would have floated right out of the car and followed that aroma. Our heads followed though, and turned to a suya spot which was just beside us and we all began to salivate.

“Let’s buy suya!” someone said. I can’t recall who. But we all agreed and put our kobo-kobo together to come up with N25 which was something in those days. Being that I had plans to sample the product, I got down and went a’buying. I sampled and waited as the guy cut and wrapped the order but as I stretched my hand to pay, I heard my dad’s car start and before I could turn my head, I saw them driving off. I was surprised but I did not panic. “They will come back,” I said but as I saw the car zooming off far away, the tail lights going further and further, I was like, “wait o, these people have forgotten me.”

“No, it’s not possible,” my other voice said. “They will come back.”

I waited for like two minutes and when I didn’t see the car heading back up from the darkness, I allowed myself to panic. My next emotion was anger. I was angry at my fellow suya lovers in the car for not informing my dad that I was not with them, I was angry at my dad for not noticing my absence, I was angry at the long distance I had to walk to get home and the fact that the only cash in my hand had gone into the now useless suya; but I was angry most of all that no one would tell my dad that I was not in the car until he noticed my absence which might probably be when he got home. Long and short of the whole story was, I was screwed.

I started heading up home, the once lovely street not looking so lovely anymore. In those days I loved busy streets at night. They gave me hope that one day I would grow up and live independent like the adults who roamed around them with no care in the world. But for that moment I had to settle with being an adolescent and slapping the street alone. I hastened my steps and started nursing thoughts about eating the whole suya spitefully but I held back and decided revenge would be a suya eaten cold.The plan was to go home, eat it slowly in front of my not-helping accomplices without sparing them a piece and after I was done, I would painfully relate my trekking ordeal.

So, with a renewed purpose I urged on, even looking forward to walking by the lonely and creepy cemetery road that led to my house. I walked for like seven minutes (wasn’t really checking my watch) and got to this bridge that meant a landmark for me. That’s how I do in my life. If I want to walk from my bedroom to the kitchen and I feel it’s too far, I pick a landmark. When I cross it, I feel elated and find strength to finish my journey. The landmarks are just mentally marked points though. No soul searching or any weird thing happens there. Please, it’s just from the bedroom to the kitchen.

I crossed the bridge landmark and from afar, I saw my dad’s car racing towards me and I was like“this does not look good.” My dad drives like a movie star. I love that man. When he’s mad, he and his car become Fast and Furious.

The car scarcely made a turn as the passenger door flung open for me. I got in and my dad, without a word, snatched my precious Suya of Revenge and flung it over the bridge. I swear, I could hear it splash into the water. I looked at him aghast and my anger was refreshed but I said nothing and went into heavy sulking mode. I exuded heated fumes from my pores and hoped he choked on them but for where? The man was still driving like 007 oblivious of what I was thinking. Throughout the ride home, all I thought of was my suya, my suya, my suya of sweet revenge and malice. I wanted to strangle somebody. Dad first!

We got home and I stormed out of the car and slammed the door. Now, why did we slam doors in those days? Did it help our point? Nope. But just last week I slammed the door at my husband. It felt good, suffice to say.

So, I slammed the door of that car and went to my bedroom. All the culprits were there… looking very guilty and I think, very foolish. I had a picture… no, a recording in my head of me lining them up and telling them how it was doing me. But I didn’t. Instead I asked them why they abandoned me.

“We told him you were not in the car but he didn’t hear us,” my sister said.

“You couldn’t shout?”

“We shouted. We were saying, ‘Sally’s outside, Sally’s outside’ but he didn’t hear.”

My dad had hearing issues. He can like to be deaf for Africa.

You can be going like:“Daddy, please can you pass that spoon.”

And he’ll be like, “Ehn?”

“The spoon!”

“Ehn?!”

“THE SPOON!”

“Why are you shouting?”

And you reach for the spoon and take it and he goes, “What were you even saying sef?”

So they may have been right. The old man didn’t hear then. But I wasn’t letting them off easily. I still told them my mind sha. Trust me to always say it how it’s doing me. I told them. I can’t remember what I said but I said it and went to sleep angry. The next day, we brought the incident up and it was all laughs. Later on, my dad and I laughed about it too and he explained why he did what he did. He said he was simply pissed. I understood. I made him pay me, sha. I think he’s still paying; it never ends.

What pained me most about what happened that evening is that I missed that sweet suya.

LESSON: Don’t go buying suya unless you’re sure of your transport back home.

Sally is a writer and that’s all she basically does. She’s Phlegmatic but would prefer to be known as Melancholic. She is just trying to make sure the world reads her work or she will set its citizens ablaze
she blogs at www.moskeda.wordpress.com
follow her on twitter @moskedapages

Good morning.

Hope we had a good weekend cos I sure did.

This here is Dunni’s Purge. A realistic piece that goes to confirm that trust is really a box of chocolate and you never know what you’ll get.

Please send your entries to loonpurge@gmail.com

Hola me on twitter @sunkit1

dunnie

Sacrifice

I was doing the dishes when my mum announced, “Feyi, you know you’ll be going to the university in few months’ time and I’ll need someone to assist me around the house so I employed a house help.”

“Okay. Male or female?” I asked, trying to sound indifferent.

“Male. He’s arriving next week from Togo.”

“Ugh, Mum! You know I don’t feel comfortable around male house helps. Moreover, how are you going to deal with the language barrier? Both of us can’t speak French fluently.

“See, we are in the twenty-first century”, she informed me, as if I’d just stepped out of a time machine. “Not many people are willing to be menials anymore so I can only take what I get.”

“Yeah, and luckily, it happened to be a boy,” I retorted

She sighed exaggeratedly. “Honey, the thing is I don’t trust the female ones. They’re so naive and gullible. Remember that girl that lived with us when you were ten? I never told you why I sent her away she got impregnated by the barber that works in the next street. I don’t want history to repeat itself. Moreover, boys are more hardworking. Oh, and about the language thing, the woman that helped me get him said he can speak little English.”

He arrived the following week. I had just returned from a friend’s house, when I saw him sitting in the parlour, with a ‘ghana-must-go’ bag on the floor beside him. He was wearing a white robe, like an angel bringing good tidings to my family. He was swarthy and seemed to be of average height.

“Hello, you must be the new house boy.” I said, forcing a smile.

He nodded. I decided to switch to French.

“Comment t’appelles tu?”

“Placide. Je m’appelle Placide.” His face lit up immediately. “You talk French?”

“Um, yeah, I speak little French.” I was about to mount the stairs when an idea occurred to me. “Hey, let’s make a deal. I’ll teach you English, you’ll teach me French.” He nodded his head obligingly, smiling faintly.

Placide behaved like his name. He was placid and meek. He was very diligent and got a hang of things pretty quickly. He took initiative and didn’t have to wait for orders before knowing what to do. My father was usually apathetic to every helper my mum employs but when Placide returned the three thousand naira he had found in the pocket of my dad’s jeans when he was about to wash them, my dad took a liking to him. Honest helpers are as rare as real diamonds.

I kept my word. My mother had neatly stacked my primary and secondary school textbooks in the bookshelf in my room, so I fished out the ones for English and French. He possessed an enviable alacrity and aptitude for learning, which helped him master the English language faster than it took me to master French.

The apprehension I had earlier concerning him quickly vanished, and a bond began to form between us. I became comfortable around him, and would converse freely with him whenever we happened to be together.

“Placide, you seem really clever and dexterous. Why aren’t you in school?” I asked one day, when we were cleaning up the kitchen.

He sighed, “I dropped out of secondary school when I was about to enter the final year. My parents got involved in a car accident few days before school was to resume. My father lost his life, while my mother couldn’t walk anymore. We exhausted all the money we had for her surgery and wheelchair. I couldn’t continue my education.”

“I’m so sorry. But don’t you have siblings or relatives that can be of help?”

He shook his head. “I have an elder brother but he doesn’t live with us. He’s very selfish. He works in a business firm but never bothers to send money home.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. I’ve been doing odd jobs since then, so that I can save up enough money. I’ll send some to my mother− my aunt takes care of her presently– and I’ll use the rest to further my education.”

“That’s good. What do you want to study?”

“Computer Engineering. That had always been my dad’s dream for me.” His voice sounded husky, as if he was crying, but he was doing the dishes so I couldn’t see his face. I walked over to him and hugged him from behind, not knowing what else to say. Comforting people was not my forte.

Days turned into weeks, and then months. My mother successfully persuaded Placide not to return home at the end of the year as he was now part of our family. He celebrated New Year’s Day with us.

The first week of that year was very tiring for me. Due to the previous strike ASUU embarked on, the University of Ibadan ended up starting a new session in January, instead of September. I was to leave the following week, so I was busy buying all the necessary items and packing for school. Placide was somber through out that week, and I had to promise to call him often just to put a smile on his face.

Ziiiip

The sound of a zip being drawn down stirred me one night. I could feel a movement on my legs. Something was tugging at my underwear. “Oh my God, a rat,” I thought. I started and fully opened my groggy eyes only to see Placide over me. He was half-naked, clad in blue-checked boxer shorts, and was looking downwards into my skirt as if he was searching for a treasure between my thighs.

I was bewildered. Why was I still in my clothes and not my night wear? Why was Placide on my body? And then everything started falling into place. I had got back home late the day before. Out of fatigue, I had slept off, forgetting to take my shower and change into my nightwear. I hadn’t bothered to lock my door. My parents had mentioned that they would be attending a vigil that night. Placide had surreptitiously entered…

“Oh my God. What are you doing?” I cried

He looked up at me and blinked, as if he had just had an epiphany. “I…I, um, came to get something.”

“On my body? Jesus. Just get off me and get out!” I said, tears already streaming down my face.

“Feyi, please stop crying. I’m very sorry.”

I looked around me, and picked up the glass lamp, that was on my bedside table. “I swear I’ll break your head if you don’t leave my room this minute.”

He scrambled off. I hurriedly locked my door, and turned my back towards it as I slid to the floor. The tears gushed down in full force at that moment. My mind was whirling with agonizing emotions− Anger. Disappointment. Shock.

The person who I called my brother had tried to… what was the appropriate word for his action? Indecent assault? Attempted rape?

After all the love my family had shown him, he had chosen to repay us with evil.

What exactly did he expect? That I’d not wake up while he tried to sleep with me? Or I’d wake up and give him a go-ahead? Or maybe he was sleep-walking. The more thought I gave his action, the more obfuscated my mind became. I always made sure I was dressed decently at home so as not to seduce him. I could not remember ever giving him the impression that I was attracted to him. He always called me his sister so I never had the slightest idea of him being attracted to me.

I was angry at myself.  My usually keen instincts had failed me. No warning alarm had gone off in my head. I had let my guard down.

I got up from the floor, and got onto my bed. A green wristband beside my pillow caught my attention. It had the letters WWJD imprinted on it. I sighed. I had no idea what Jesus would do, but I knew how he would feel.

Jesus, this is how you felt when Judas betrayed you, right? The difference is that you’d seen it coming. I hadn’t.

I was in a quagmire. Was I supposed to tell my parents or pretend like nothing ever happened?

Hypnos emancipated me from my thoughts, as he cast me into a deep sleep while Morpheus formed dreams of half-naked men in blue-checked boxer shorts.

I opened my eyes, looking into the worried eyes of my mother. “Feyi, are you okay? It’s noon and you’re still asleep. Or did you observe your own vigil at home?” My mother was like that– always trying to joke even when she was worried. I smiled faintly.

“Seriously, are you okay? Your dad and Placide are really worried about you.”

The events that had occurred in the early hours of the morning flashed across my brain. In that moment of truth, I made a decision that seemed to border on folly. I decided not to inform my parents or anyone at all. It would break their hearts, and my father would definitely send him away. I knew how much they needed him. My mother needed him to help her around the house. My father had taken him as the son he never had. I remembered when they’d play table tennis together and discuss sports for hours. I thought of Placide’s mother in the wheelchair. I thought of his late father and his hopes for his son. He needed this job.

I knew that reporting his actions would not take the pain away. Instead, it would cause more pain for everyone involved. He had not actually defiled me. And I was leaving for school in few days so the opportunity would never arise again. I would suffer in silence, I would endure the pain. Time would heal my hurts and perhaps enable me to trust again. It was better for my parents to dwell in blissful ignorance. It was what I thought Jesus would do he would sacrifice himself for the joy of others’.

I smiled at my mum and said, “I’m fine.”

Placide has returned to his country. The world can finally hear my story.

Oluwadunni is an 100 level Law student of OAU. She is a PhlegMel who hopes her laziness will not hinder her from being a great writer. She only gets enthusiastic about the Word of God, good books, like-minded people and fine guys. She blogs at dunnidoxa.wordpress.com and is @I_am_doxa on twitter.”

Dear Readers,

I must apologize for stopping Diary of  a Minister’s Kid abruptly. Some issues came up that had to put it to a stop.

Enjoy this new post. Thanks for always being there.

                                      SWEET ESCAPE

images    By: Seyi Oluyole

Cynthia woke up that morning on top of the world; she had no idea the day would end with world on top of her.

Once she was on the 7th floor of the ten story building office where she worked as a production manager, she got out of the elevator.

She took her royal steps and strode by other employees like she did every morning. But this morning was different. She was not getting her usual looks of admiration, envy, respect; they paid no homage.

This morning everyone seemed to be looking at her with contempt. Even the interns who never dared to look up at her were glowering fearlessly.

She began to feel like she was in a dark forest filled with owls staring at her with their large forward facing eyes. Her black Louboutin shoes suddenly began to make her feet wobble.

She tried her best keep her calm and poise as she walked past them. She decided to get into her office first and look in the mirror to be sure she hadn’t been struck by leprosy before she decided what to do about their unholy stares.

Once she got into her office, she breathed out in relief, dumped her Gucci portfolio on her seat and made a rush for her bathroom.

She stared at herself in the mirror; saw nothing new.

She was still the same Cynthia; brown eyes, black hair, high cheekbones and irresistible Angelina Jolie lips. She raised her hands, saw her wedding ring and whispered sadly

‘ And still married.’ she let a moment pass and said again in bitterness

‘I curse the day I met you Bobby’

*                                            *                                   *

Cynthia was lying on her ostrich beach chair reading a magazine and enjoying the sound of the rolling sea wave when she drifted into a short sleep.

‘Hi’ the masculine voice said, upsetting the serenity she was experiencing.

She wasn’t in the mood to entertain a pervert and She was prepared to give whomever it was a saucy attitude that would have him running. Cynthia waited a few seconds before making an attempt to respond.  The moment she put up her head, saw his shirtless body, she had a change of heart.

‘Hello’ Cynthia said sitting up.

she noticed he had already set his beach chair beside her, this made her wonder how long she must have slept when.

‘I’m Bob and I don’t mean to bug you. I was getting bored sitting all alone and I thought I’d just make some conversation’

Cynthia smiled, wondering how such a spruce guy could think he was bugging her.  She tried her best to make sure the smile did not transform into a blush; she couldn’t make it so obvious she liked him.

‘ That’s fine. My name is Cynthia ’ she said.

Cynthia began to think of ways to get Bob to ask her out on a date. She looked at his ring finger, it was as bare as naked daylight.

strike one she thought as she desperately hoped he wasn’t one of those married men who took off their wedding bands to hit on women. She had had enough of them to last a lifetime.

But with such comely body, she doubted he was married. Married men didn’t usually look this good shirtless.

After some minutes of trivial conversation, Bob said

‘Cynthia I would like to see you again. What are you doing tomorrow night?’

Cynthia was elated but tried on a poker face .

‘Are you married?’ she asked

Bobby laughed ‘Oh no. Do I look married?’

‘I wouldn’t know.  Just taking precautions. I don’t want to be going around with another woman’s man. I don’t like to share my men.’

she bit her tongue with that last statement. She wished she could take it back, he wasn’t even her man yet and she was claiming ownership.

‘That’s fine Cynthia. You don’t have to share me with any other woman. So tomorrow?’ Bob asked again

‘Positive’ Cynthia replied.

He asked for her number and she gave it to him without asking for his. She didn’t want to appear desperate; she had shown enough of that already.

Immediately he left, Cynthia called her best friend Tito and told her everything.

*                                      *                                       *

Certain that there was nothing wrong with her and the employees just felt like toying with their jobs, she went back into her office. She was going to call for a general meeting when Beyoncé’s ‘we run the world’ interrupted her plans; her phone was ringing. It was her friend Tito.

‘Hey babe how you doing’ Cynthia said once she picked the call

‘Good. Have you checked your mail Cynthia?

‘Nope. I just got in a few minutes ago and–’

‘Cynthia please just check your mail as soon as you can’ beep Tito was off.

Cynthia wondered what the whole check your mail saga was about, that was unlike Tito. Tito was her best friend from college and they could tell each other anything. Tito knew her greatest secrets, she knew who Cynthia really was behind her poise and sassiness.

*                           *                               *

Bob had picked Cynthia from home on their first date. Cynthia felt at ease with him, he seemed to light up her heart like a matchstick.

At around 11pm he dropped her off at home.

‘You wanna come in and have a drink or something’ Cynthia asked him when they were at her front door.

‘Sure’ he said.

Cynthia opened the door ushering Bob in.

‘What would you like?’

‘Your lips’ His response threw her off balance

‘Huh?’

Bob got up and moved close to her, the space between them was barely an inch; their breaths were getting heavy.

‘I said I want your lips’ Bob said again and planted his lips on Cynthia’s.  Cynthia’s mind was spinning like a top as she responded to his passionate kiss.

Cynthia barely hard the chance to think about how fast things were going, she wasn’t about to stop him. She decided to save regrets for later and enjoy the bliss the moment could offer.

Their hands began to move on each other’s flesh, and their body’s began to want more than a kiss. Cynthia gave in to the pleasure of the moment with no inhibitions. They ended up in her bedroom, on her bed and Cynthia was glad she ate well during the date.

By morning, she woke up to two things: the birds singing and a kiss on her lips by Bob. He was fully dressed already.

‘I need to leave, I have some business to attend to.’ Bob said.

It was a Sunday morning and Cynthia almost asked what business it was. Regret was beginning creep in. First date and she was already in bed with guy she hardly knew.

‘This might sound cliché but I don’t usually sleep with my first dates’ Cynthia said trying more to save any self respect she might have left.

‘I don’t make love with women on my first dates either. It’s not our fault that our chemistry took over our sense of reason. I’ll call you later’ he said and was out through the door.

*                                       *                                            *

Cynthia sat down on her office chair and turned on her computer. Since she was in the office already, she saw no reason checking her mail on a tablet. Tito probably sent a picture of some really cute shoes, which she would definitely adore better on a large computer screen.

Her phone rang again while she was putting in her password. It was Bob this time.

‘Hey’ she said dryly

‘What have you done Cynthia?’

‘I married you. That’s what I’ve done’ Cynthia replied with regret laced in her voice

‘Why do you choose to be so shameless and drag me with you?’

‘What is it Bob? I have things to do.’

‘Oh yes! I bet you do’  he hung up.

‘Bastard’ Cynthia said in anger

*                                  *                                                  *

Like a cherry blossom, Cynthia and Bob’s love blossomed and a year later they were married.

Five years after marriage, they had two children but it still felt like they were on their honeymoon. Bob made certain Cynthia’s smile never stopped lighting up an already sun drenched day. Bob was now running for governorship and Cynthia loved him and the children with everything in her.

One of the weekends when Bob went on a political campaign trip, Cynthia took the children to Tito’s and decided to surprise Bob. He always gave her all the information about where he was lodging, so she had no problem finding his room.

Once she located the room, she opened the door.

Oh my God!’ she screamed

Bob turned, his eyes as wide as the moon. He picked up a towel and wrapped up himself

‘What are you doing here Cynthia?’

‘Oh my God Bob’ was all she could say

‘I tried to protect you from all of these. Why didn’t you call me before coming over?’

‘Bob why? why? What did you want that I did not give you; that you had to stoop so low’

‘This is who I truly am Cynthia. But I really needed a wife and maybe some children to help my political plans.’

‘So I am supposed to be your trophy wife while you sleep around.’

‘I don’t sleep around Cynthia. Its just him and you.’

‘So I have been married to you all these years and you have been having sex with men?’

‘I was with Silas before we met. I know you love me, Silas feels the same way you feel about me.’

Cynthia did not know what to do or say, confusion clouded her mind. She just found out her husband of five years was bisexual. He made love to her and then made love to men too.

‘I want a divorce’ Cynthia said

‘I’m sorry Cynthia I cant give you a divorce. I can’t afford to lose this election and have my name all over the papers. And if you insist or try something funny Cynthia, I’ll make sure you never see the children again. But if you stay, this will be our little secret. You could have your own men too if that’s what you wish. ’

*                                 *                            *

Cynthia opened the mail Tito sent and saw it was a link. She chuckled.

‘I knew it was a picture of shoes or something’ she said to herself and clicked the link.

The pictures had shoes in them but a naked woman wore them, obviously while taking crazy pictures for her lover. Cynthia knew her life had been crushed at that moment because she was the woman in the pictures and it was all over the Internet.

She had accepted Bob’s offer three years ago.

Her boyfriend Austin had taken some pictures of her naked last night. She couldn’t believe it was all over the Internet.

Now she understood the looks she had gotten when she came in this morning, they had all seen the pictures.

She had to talk to Tito; she just had to. But She couldn’t go out of her office and face the other employees. She began to think of alternatives, she had to see Tito now and get some comfort.

“I need you now Tito” Cynthia said as she looked around her office  like a lost child. her eyes caught the window, she pulled it up and without any thought jumped out the window, making her sweet escape from a judgmental world.

@sunkit1 on twitter

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FINDING THE DIMPLES AFTER AKARA ELEPO
‘You started this and you will finish it Sandra. Ko kin de ba eni ki a yeri gbon gbon lon kan oloro. You have nowhere to run. Vanny said in a deadly manner.
I know now that this is the end of the road for me and Cassandra. In my bid to save my sister, my mum will lose her two children.
‘What do you want here?’ Mrs. Bankole asks with so much confidence, I begin to fear for her.
‘This is none of your business woman. Except you want to end up like your husband’ Vanny says in finality and faces me. But Mrs. Bankole is not done.
‘It became my business the moment she came to ask for help. It became the business of the Father the moment she decided to go back to the heart of worship’
‘You will be doing yourself a big favor if you mind your business. Eyan o kin so ori olori ki awodi gbe ti e lowo. One does not carry another’s problem on his head and watch his problems get worse.
‘I am here to save her. As you can see you are the ones in my room. Leave Sandra and family quietly’
Vanny scoffs. I do agree with her scoff though. Mrs. Bankole must think she can get rid of them like sugar ants. With what happens next, I conclude that they must be like sugar ants compared to Mrs. Bankole’s power.
Suddenly Mrs. Bankole starts to speak some incoherent language; Vanny and the rest begin to feel uncomfortable. They scream and in a moment they are gone. Am in awe, first because they actually screamed and left with fear in their eyes and secondly, whatever made them leave does not affect me.
I have to leave now to my room. But before I do, I ask Mrs. Bankole so many questions and she explains to me that it is the power of God. She says because I surrendered earlier that’s why I stopped feeling the heat. She tells me I still have to fight and start speaking in tongues. She says that is what makes us feel we are on fire. She also says I have to do that in person and with that I will be totally free from them. But that is when I am actually in flesh. She also tells me the story of Oluwatamilore and that she will pay her visit tomorrow. I feel so sad for the young girl and for a moment I feel good about killing Pastor Bankole. I feel like I have come to rescue Oluwatamilore. She finally tells me there are no vampires or witches where Eledumare is.

* * *
(Please Read Finding The Dimples (Part 1-3)

Tammy saw aunty diva. ‘Aunty Diva’ she screamed in disbelief her heart almost falling out of her chest. She wriggled in her cloth to break free but it was like a spider’s unsuccessful attempts to go up a wall.
Aunty Diva ran towards her and embraced her. Tammy longed to return the hug but her hands were tied. Aunty Diva took Tammy’s face into her hands as both of them shed tears of reunion and joy.
‘I knew you’d come Aunty Diva. I knew you wouldn’t forget me’ Tammy said elated.
‘Oh my sweet princess Tammy, you are so grown. Who did this to you? I have searched for you for a week now.’
‘Aunty Diva it’s…’’
‘Hmm hmm’ the official cleared his throat. ‘Your time is almost up madam’ he said
‘But I just got in here. Okay can I get her hands untied?’
‘Madam that’s not possible. She is dangerous’ the official said in a warning tone.
‘Listen, she’s my niece and I am sure there’s nothing wrong with her. At least from what I have seen.’
‘Am sorry madam, I can’t’
Aunty Diva turned back to Tammy in exasperation ‘sweets, I’ll get you out of here, even if that’s the last thing I do. I know you are not crazy’ Aunty Diva said. She was about to leave.
‘I am not Aunty Diva’ Tammy said desperately. ‘I can tell you all that happened and how I got here. Aunty Diva please don’t go. What if he comes back?’
Aunty Diva walked back to Tammy and cupped her face in her hands ‘Nobody is coming love. Please don’t talk about anyone coming till I can get you out. I know you have a lot to say but you have to keep them till I can get you out of here.’
Aunty Diva made to leave. Tammy started to drop streams of tears from those no longer chubby cheeks. At the door Aunty Diva said ‘Free your heart…’
‘… Embrace the world and let your mind wander’ Tammy completed feeling a bit light hearted.
‘I’ll be back love’ Aunty Diva said as she left with the official.

Aunty Diva is at the head official’s office. She was having a hard time convincing them that Tammy was fine. She was told only Pastor Bankole or his wife could testify and get a release for Tammy, no other person. Aunty Diva couldn’t stand that couple, a couple who couldn’t take proper care of her niece; they even brought her to an asylum for only God knows what. Just then Mrs. Bankole entered.
‘Oh thank God’ the official said on sighting Mrs. Bankole.
Aunty Diva looked back to see who it was. She recognized her; she was the one who had told her where Tammy was. The inhumane being who locked her niece in here.
‘Good day’ Mrs. Bankole said with her charming smile to Aunty Diva and the Official. Aunty Diva looked away. She wasn’t interested in her so called greeting. She secretly thanked God that Mrs. Bankole had walked him at the right time. The official had said only Pastor Bankole or the wife could authorize Tammy’s release. She was determined to make a scene if this woman did not play her part well. Whatever she came for she cared not. She was going to make sure this Mrs. Bankole authorized Tammy’s release or all hell would let loose.
‘I’m glad you are here’ Mrs. Bankole said to Aunty Diva with a smile.
‘Hmmmmm’ Aunty Diva replied dryly.
Mrs. Bankole turned to the official and said ‘I’d love you to release Oluwatamilore to hear aunt. Any papers I need to sign?’ her voice was shaky. Quite obvious she was fighting tears.
The official gave her papers to sign which she did diligently.
‘I am terribly sorry for whatever pain I have caused your niece through my insensitivity’ Mrs. Bankole said and walked out immediately before any reply came from Aunty Diva or the official.
Aunty Diva did not miss the tears welling up in Mrs. Bankole’s eyes before she left. But she was more concerned with Tammy. She wished she could hug Mrs. Bankole and say thank you but then, it was not necessary.
Tammy was the happiest person on the face of the universe as she took a drive with Aunty Diva in her car. She felt like she was dreaming and hoped if it was a dream she never woke up again. She told Aunty Diva all that happened. Aunty Diva had dropped tears from her eyes occasionally through Tammy’s account but she was glad her niece was fine and she had come to her rescue.
Tammy was very happy. She said a silent prayer in her heart that her new life with Aunty Diva would be happy ever after . She hoped that all the misery in her life had come to an end.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Follow on twitter: @sunkit1

If you read Finding the dimples, here you’ll know what happened to Pastor Bankole. If you haven’t, its on this blog page. Do read. Thank you dear readers for always being there. Enjoy!

AKARA ELEPO: PART 2
Mummy has brought her home. She has brought my little sister home and a quick look at her made my heart beat with joy and my face beam with smiles. She is so pretty with those pink lips and translucent skin. Her blood is the freshest I have perceived in a long time. The pleasure and bliss I’ll feel at the taste of her blood on my tongue crosses my mind for a second but my love for her overcomes my love for evil. A good thing. I am so sure she is the prettiest thing that ever got into the world. I move close to her and make a silent but sincere promise to protect her as long as I live. I’ll name her Cassandra.
Later in the evening a pastor comes over to the house to pray for mum and the baby. The moment I sight him and he begins to say the prayers, I can see that he is empty. He takes the offering and tithe of the church for his personal benefit and he fornicates. All through the time he says his prayer I just stare at him in total mockery. Mummy says his name is Pastor Bankole but I care less about his name. All I care about is his blood. If mum and dad weren’t here I would have jumped on him and quench my thirst for blood. The cult will be glad to have a taste too am sure. I’ll put him down at night or soon. Am very sure his blood can’t be bitter. He has no fire, he can’t stop me.
‘Sandra, where is your sacrifice’ Vanny asks. My name is Sandra and at the cult, we refer to grandma as ‘Vanny’. I look at them apologetically. Everyone is beginning to look pale because we have not fed in a while.
‘Vanny, I have a better sacrifice than…’
‘NO’ Vanny shouts. Sounded like a thunder clap to me as we all shook in reflex. ‘You will give us what we picked Sandra’ she thundered again.
‘Vanny I can’t. Remember how long we have expected this child. And now she’s here…’ grandma turns her face swiftly and her eyes stare into mine in a whole different way. I have never seen her eyes that dark before. They were as dark as a walnut. Her voice became deadly.
‘by morning we shall pay you and your little thing a visit so you can know how serious we are. Afira ’ she said in finality. I wasn’t given a chance to speak.
By morning, I go take a look at my little sister and true to grandma’s words I see them all standing by her court in a semi-circle like wolves getting ready to feed on sheep. I see those two special teeth out and ready for a meal as they drip blood. I look to the ground naturally even though I know no physical eyes will see the blood drop to the ground. They give me a knowing look and I see that their eyes are like grandma’s last night. I could feel their rage and hunger fill the room I was unnerved I agree but I wasn’t going to back down.
‘True to our word last night, we are here to pay you a visit. Ai le soro loju oloro ni ibere oriburuku. Now I see why you keep her, the smell of her alone is intoxicating I can imagine how it would taste on the tongue. Tonight we shall have her. It’s her or no one else.’
‘No. never, I won’t let you take her. Never’ I reply in confidence.
‘What is it? Who are you talking to?’ dad asks me confused and mum’s eyes were bulging out with worry. I look at them. If they knew what battle I was dealing with, they wouldn’t be asking me silly questions. They were the least of my troubles.
‘No one’ I say with a fake smile and turn back to the cult.
‘Tonight nothing shall stop us. Itakun to ni ki erin ma gun oke alo, tohun terin lon nlo’
‘I will stop you’ I shout in fury. They all laugh at me and are gone in a moment. In sincerity I was hungry and the smell of my sister whenever I move close to admire her was really choking. I wanted her as much as they did, even more. But my love for her is more potent than my hunger for her. I see mum and dad mumbling something in hushed tones.
Dad’s next words to me are ‘honey, pack your night bag, we are going over to pastor Bankole’s place. You need prayers’
I am about to grumble and beg when I see the light behind this tunnel. If I had to spend a night at Pastor Bankole’s, it would be my chance with him. My chance to save my little sister’s life.
When we are at pastor Bankole’s place, entrance into his house is not as swift as I envisioned. There’s some heat in the house. His wife comes out, she has such a beautiful smile but she is the one making the house warm. She has some fire but her fire can’t save him. Like they say ‘esin baba o le gba omo’ She smiles at me and I return the smile with my face but not my heart. My heart is in my night mission. The only mission that can save Cassandra.
At night, I decide to do a swift check on the house and I see Pastor Bankole sprinkling some substance into his wife’s drink. None of my business. My only business is to breeze through the house unnoticed and adjust for any hindrance that might want to occur
I am in my bed which means time to get some sleep, and also come up with a plan to get the Pastor. The moment its past midnight, my senses get sharper. Everything human about me at that point is absent, I practically become a vampire. My hearing is as sharp as a rat’s, my body very responsive, my teeth out and my eyeballs go red. I must have slept off. From my sleep I feel someone touching me and I jerk up, first thing that comes to my mind is the cult is in this room. I react from the touch and grab the hands that touch me, am on the person within a second and I snarl, its human blood, which means it’s not the cult. Its pastor Bankole, and I see fear has engulfed his eyes, he begins to shake like a sick goat. I am shocked at his presence but smile at my luck, my prey walked to me on his own. He had touched me where mummy said no one should touch me which meant only one thing, this man must be a pedophile. A perfect excuse to kill him. Putting all thoughts aside, I pin him down as fast as a cheetah, my hands over his mouth to stifle any noise, I bring my head down, close enough to let my nose perceive him and my teeth bite into his neck deep enough. I can feel him trying to scream and fight me off but this strength of mine are not mine. I bite deep into his flesh, my body shivering with satisfaction. I do a quick mind call to invite grandma and the rest of the cult over. It was time for supper.

 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

By: @sunkit1

I am twelve years old; I don’t know what I am. I am either a witch or a vampire. but I know my appetite for blood is insatiable and my love for evil seems eternal. Whenever mum cooks her delicious meals it no longer appeals to me because it is not as sweet and intoxicating like the blood I get to suck every night.
Like the bible begins from genesis, it all began on my tenth birthday. Grandma had come visiting and like a mother hen goes about with her chicks she came with her goodies. Those goodies that always made my tummy sing ‘bum sha sha’. I loved Grandma irrespective of the way she scorned mum and how mum scoffed at her presence. They were my favorite women.
Whenever grandma came, it was like she brought some amount of tension with her delicious goodies.
Dad would ask ‘ mama ki le wa se? What do you want? I sent you money already’
And she’d say ‘cant I come to see my grand child when you won’t bring her over? Shebi if Mohammed does not go to the mountain the mountain will carry itself to Mohammed’
Then prayers will increase in the house like the pressure of a tap. Mum and dad will start skabashing. I disliked this prayer sessions a lot. I couldn’t even see whoever we were talking to. And whenever it was time to do the praying, the television had to go off, which meant I’d miss a show on Disney channel.
Whenever grandma offered me the goodies she brought, especially those mouth watering Akara Elepo mum would collect them from me. Leaving me to revile in the smell as she marched away like a soldier with my Akara in her hands. The aroma of the Akara would tease my nose and aggravate my stomach but my tongue was never fortunate to get a taste of it.
“Don’t collect anything from strangers” mum would say every time. I even have those words up in my memory than my memory verse at church
“Yes mum. But grandma is not a stranger; she’s grandma’ I’d say in a confused voice
‘Honey, does she live here?’
‘No’
‘Then she’s a stranger. Show me everything she gives you’
‘Okay mum but mum when will I get a little sister?’
‘Soon dearie, soon’. A kiss on the fore head and she was gone
Regardless of the fact that mum always took away my Akara Elepo and she could be a ‘jerk’ like I heard those Americans say in their movies. I loved her and dad so much and I hoped they’d give me a younger sister soon. I love church too because of the songs but the prayers can get tiring.
I probably should have taken the prayers seriously. Tuesday, 7th of August, a day before my birthday, I had chicken pox so I had to stay away from school and be home alone. Grandma came and I was so excited to see her. I hugged her tight as she took up my face and admired me like a gemstone.
‘ oko mi, olowo ori mi. omo adara bi egbin. Come and sit on my leg’
whatever all that Yoruba meant I was clueless but I responded sharply to the English language in her sentence. I was so glad mum and dad weren’t home. I secretly hoped mama brought Akara Elepo so I could eat it without mum’s intervention. If it was God or the devil that answered my prayers I don’t know. All I know is grandma dipped into her bag and brought out the almighty Akara Elepo. I consumed it sharp sharp before mum could walk in. A part of me kept warning me like a teacher’s instruction as I ate maybe the Holy Spirit like mum said , I don’t know but with my first bite of that akara, there was no turning back. That Akara Elepo was just too sumptuous and gratifying. She gave me five and I ate them to the last.
After my eating and finger licking, guilt came calling. I hoped grandma wouldn’t say a word to dad or mum. Just then I thought I should pray and ask God for forgiveness but I dismissed the thought as fast as it came. I was sure like the ground beneath my feet that God wouldn’t want to listen to me. Grandma started to tell me stories and I guess I slept off at some point.
My eyes flipped open at dark, midnight most likely and I was so glad mum and dad did not wake me for night devotion. One good thing about being ill. I tried to get off the bed to the bathroom but shock gripped every part of my body at what I saw. I could only hope it was one of my dreams until I realized I was not in my room. The place where I saw myself was very dark. It was like I was in a dungeon. I was about to start crying out of fright when I saw grandma sitting on a big chair like she was the king of this dungeon.
‘Oko mi don’t cry enh? Am here’ grandma said trying to comfort me
‘Grandma what is this? I want to go home please’
‘You will my dear. Oma lo le, bi koba si idi ese kin dede se. you will go home, just drink some water. You must be tired.’
A young girl a little older than me started to make her way towards me with the water, at that moment, it was like a veil was taken off my eyes with my sudden realization of how thirsty I was. I stretched my hands in attempt to collect the calabash but she relieved me of the effort by putting my hands down with a smile and her beautiful smile made me like her that instant. She put the calabash to my lips and the moment the contents of the calabash touched my tongue, I know it wasn’t water but I couldn’t stop drinking. The hunger for more suddenly fired through my veins and my thirst for whatever I was being fed increased. I began to pant for more like the deer pants for the waters. The girl stopped and I felt different. I looked around and saw other children, none that I recognized.
From that night, I knew I was not the same. I knew I had gotten some kind of power. Whenever I watched Wizards of Beverly Places on Disney I just laughed at them and their joking powers. They did not even suck blood like me. I lost interest in such movies. I wanted bloody movies, movies where people sucked each other’s blood. I sucked blood every night so I deserved such movies. Sometimes I’d make my school mates who offended me fall ill.
Grandma was our head and she always told us when it was time to bring our sacrifice and who to bring. There was no resistance once she stated who she wanted us to bring. Was it possible for a dog to disobey its master? So was it impossible to refuse to bring the stated sacrifice.
I have been around for a year and some months but I haven’t being asked for a sacrifice yet but whenever it comes I am fully prepared. I enjoy sucking the blood of other people’s sacrifice so I will drop mine willingly too. Mum and Dad keep telling me that I have changed and I know. I must confess I don’t really like what I do sometimes but there’s nothing I can do about it. The way water is the essence of a living fish that is the way the blood I suck is my essence.
Mummy says I am going to have a baby sister which means she is pregnant and I am so excited. I am so going to protect her and let nothing happen to her. I won’t let grandma near her so she doesn’t start to suck blood like me. Sometimes I feel like telling mummy all that is happening to me but then she might start running from me or even take me to that stupid show ‘Labe Orun’ mshhceew.
I have teeth that no one can see except me and my members. That’s why I still can’t decide if we are witches or vampires. Mum won’t stop asking me what is wrong. She wants to know asiri ikoko. I can’t tell her because I love her.
When its my turn to sacrifice, I hope grandma chooses Mistura my seat partner in school. So that I can suck her stupid blood. She’s such a pest and an arrogant monkey with her ugly face. Or maybe Beatrice who thinks she’s better than everyone because she’s smart. I’d eat that her brain if I get the chance.
But I know who it will be because I was told last night. Mummy was taken to the hospital last night. Daddy says she’s in labor and when next she’s coming home she’ll come with my little sister.
Grandma told me last night that she has picked my little sister as my sacrifice. I know a dog must not refuse its masters command but I am going to refuse grandma and the entire cult. Even if it means my death or the dissolve of the cult, I care less. I won’t let them take my little sister away from me. Not now, not ever.

 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

By: @sunkit1

Hello my ever sweet and faithful readers :D. This piece might be familiar to most of you but please read it to the end. I have added some things to it so please read till the end. And please I have no copyright to the beginning of this story. It was written by the prolific writer Seun Salami and all I am doing is ending the story that he begun. Thank you. His title is ‘the sex life of a Lagos mad woman’ and I gave my ending ‘end of story of end the story’. God bless as you read.

The dizziness and vomiting has not stopped but now I have a new friend where I live. It’s the LaCasera woman oo. After her display of madness that day, she became calm and I let her stay in my house. She does not think it’s smelly. Although it feels good to have a friend that also understands I am not mad, I am still jealous of those round breasts that look like an overripe orange.

All these people still shake their head whenever they see us talk and laugh together and I am beginning to think they are the mad ones. The bad thing about having this my friend here is that I have to share that fool Rosco with her as if he is a delicious meal. Sometimes I feel like killing her because I don’t have Rosco’s thing in me every night again but she is like my only family and friend around so I have to share like a good child. I wonder why he likes her maybe because of her breasts and she has not grown dreadlocks as her pubic hair. I have never asked my friend if she likes what he does like I do because I don’t want to think about it.

I have greater troubles and worries than Rosco’s thing right now. I keep vomiting and my stomach is getting bigger as if someone is blowing a balloon inside. But I think it is Rosco’s baby that is growing inside me. If it is I will be a little happy because he just might abandon my rounded breast friend. He might even start squeezing more than 100 naira into my hands and his thing will stay longer inside me. If it is I don’t know how I’ll tell him and he won’t start thinking that I am mad.

Oh God. I can’t stop crying ooo. Something very bad has happened and my fears have come to pass. This morning as I was cleaning my room and making sure nothing has been stolen from my house, I start hearing people shout and running around like scurrying ants. There’s a crowd gathered and I know it means someone has been hit by the careless morning drivers. I am so sad for the family of the bereaved. I move a little closer and people begin to part like the red sea, I ignore them and look to see who it was. It was Rosco with his dirty beard lying on the floor.

I can’t stop crying and I will miss his thing and watching him bath. My round breast friend just acts as if it’s nothing. She does not even cry. But I do especially because I am carrying his baby inside me.

I will keep this little thing growing inside me; my link to shameless Rosco. I will not let anyone take him from me when I birth it. I will devour anyone who tries like a lion devours its prey.

Now that my Rosco is gone, I don’t know what to do. I feel lost in this lonely world even though my round breast friend is still around. My stomach keeps getting bigger and bigger than watermelon and I know its little Rosco growing inside me. I have said my own; I won’t give him to anyone no matter what happens. He is now the apple in my eyes and my link to my sweet but shameless Rosco. Now with Rosco gone, there is no one to squeeze in 100 naira into my hands and I always feel hungry, it’s like my appetite has increased immensely. I have been thinking maybe I should start frying early morning akara but am afraid of Fashola’s people.

I have heard that there is going to be a dance competition at the national theatre. They say the name of the competition is ‘show your moves’. They say the first prize is a house. Exactly what I need at this point in my complicated life. I can’t have little Rosco where I live now because the place is cold and there are no doors or windows. Am sure it is Rosco’s spirit that is showing me a way through this competition. I will cross the seven seas and climb the highest mountain to win this competition. Tomorrow is the audition and I will go. You may not know but before I started living in that my house, I was a very good dancer and I still am.

Today I am at National theatre for the audition. I had to walk down there because these useless okadas will not carry me. Good riddance. They ride that thing like they are demon possessed. At the audition people are just looking at me in a funny way and I’m so sure that these people are the mad ones. I finally get to dance after so much harassment. There are so many good dancers in this competition like Laura Ikeji, Wale Rubber, Lemmy Adejo , but I am not afraid of them at all. I have been told that I have to get to the shortlisted ten first and the only way to do that is to get people to vote for me. Simple thing. I’ll just tell my other friends who live under various bridges in Lagos to vote for me. If its vote, am sure I have won this competition. I’ll just tell my friends that I’ll let them live in my house when I win ‘nothing goes for nothing’

My heart has been broken like a fallen mirror and my hopes have been dashed to the ground. The list of shortlisted ten is out and my name is not on it. I know it is because they think I am mad because I am sure I had enough votes. Now there is no beautiful house to live in with little Rosco. The way this people behave keeps amazing me. They just stole my right from me. So please tell me who is mad, them or me?

twitter: @sunkit1

                                                                   

 

…She started to run back to her room, but her move was interrupted with a shout of “HAPPY BIRTHDAY”. The lights came on. Tammy was so shocked, she was sure she had woken up in the wrong house; she looked around and saw familiar faces smiling at her. She saw her girls smiling mischievously at her. At that moment, Tammy understood why everyone had been behaving strange the past weeks. Everyone Tammy could imagine was at her party, she felt very loved and special. Her favorite personnel; her aunt whom she called Aunty Diva walked up to her and gave her a big hug and said in her British accent “happy birthday love. Tammy, remember to always free your heart, embrace the world and let your mind wander.” Tammy ran for a pen and her journal and wrote down Aunty Diva’s words and said to her “I love you Aunty Diva” as she ran off like a squirrel to chat with the girls.

Aunty Diva was Tammy’s role model. Tammy valued every word from Aunty Diva’s lips like a mother valued every child from her womb. Tammy made it a point of duty to memorize those words and say them always.

Towards the end of Tammy’s party her parents walked up to her with a couple. “Happy birthday love” her mum said smiling generously

“Thanks mum” Tammy replied beaming with her dimples on display as usual.

“This is the new area pastor and his wife. Their names are Pastor and Mrs. Bankole” said Tammy’s dad with admiration in his eyes.

“Happy birthday Tammy, u have lovely dimples” Pastor Bankole said to her with a smile.

 

*                                              *                                             *

Tammy was now wide awake; the dizziness had finally stopped its harassment. Her memory was coming back like the prodigal son and she could fill the dotted lines now as she recollected how one event led to another.  But she was still couldn’t decipher where she was, her purpose there and why she was dressed in her worst color. Tammy realized that it would be approximately four years she had her surprise birthday party. This would mean she was 16 years old at the moment. But that still did not explain to her why she was in a place covered white with unusual soft walls and why she was tied down in white cloths. Tammy racked her brain and fought through the headache she was having, she had to unravel the mystery behind this ‘white cubicle’ she was in. There was no Uncle Vincent, no browned teeth Uncle Ladi with his updated Yoruba slangs; she didn’t even mind Uncle Gandonu’s presence right now or anybody just to take away this obscure loneliness.

“What about mum and dad” Tammy asked herself in confusion.

“Oh Jesus, I remember’.

 

*                                                  *                                          *

The 14th of august; few days after her 13th birthday. It was a bright Monday morning the major reason the marching song that morning after the assembly was ‘the day is bright, is bright and fair…’  Mrs. Uchechukwu, the principal had summoned Tammy to her office during English period. Tammy never got into trouble, so she was sure she wasn’t getting punished but once she was in the principal’s office, the funny but sober look on Mrs. Uchechukwu’s no-nonsense face betrayed her confidence and Tammy couldn’t help but wonder what had gone wrong. She now saw her Pastor; Pastor Bankole in the office staring at her. She rolled her eyes. She never really liked him despite the fact that he was a Pastor and had become a close family friend over the last year. She still never felt comfortable around him and hated the way he smiled at her when he commented on her dimples.

Tammy was offered a seat which she took with the fear in her eyes evident; it was like in those suspense filled movies when you just shiver through the climax.

“Oluwatamilore the princess” Pastor Bankole said smiling sadly.

“It’s your mummy and daddy” Mrs.  Uchechukwu said. Tammy wondered why they were taking turns to talk.

“They went on a long visit and will not be coming back in a very long time” Mrs. Uchechukwu said.

“But they did not tell me and that is very unusual” Tammy said feeling hurt. ‘Why would they travel without telling her? Where did they expect her to stay till she got back?’ Tammy thought to herself.

“Well, Tammy they never planned it but God knows best” Pastor Bankole replied.

“How come they wouldn’t be coming soon and they didn’t tell me?” Tammy said with tears taking shape in her eyes.

“That’s because it was unexpected” Mrs. Uchechukwu said.

“And why are you taking turns to reply my questions?” Tammy asked quizzically

“That’s because your parents died in a ghastly motor accident this morning” Pastor Bankole said finally hitting the nail on the head.

“And you will have to stay with Pastor Bankole and his wife” Mrs. Uchechukwu said finally.

Tammy couldn’t believe her ears and she stared blankly as warm tears rolled down those chubby cheeks.

*                                          *                                     *

Tammy wouldn’t deny that she was having a good time and life with Pastor Bankole’s family. Everything was almost the same as before just that her parents were not there and she had not heard from Aunty Diva in a long time. It was a year now that the cold hands of death snatched her parents from her; a year of trying to cover up the hole in her heart as she lived with Bankole’s. She was reasonably happy with the Bankole’s and since the couple did not have children yet, she got to be pampered.

Tammy was now 14 years old and everything was going on pretty good at least for an orphan but Pastor Bankole’s weird smiles and comments on her dimples had not stopped. Even though she had never seen a monster, she believed she’d feel more at ease at the smile of a monster than that of Pastor Bankole.

The only challenge Tammy had been having was she always felt the presence of someone in her room most nights but she always discarded the feeling and took it as her own imagination.

One night when pastor Bankole’s wife was out on one of her business trips, Tammy prepared dinner while Pastor Bankole kept strolling into the kitchen; an unusual act. He helped Tammy do most of the job which he never did for his wife. At times he walked into the kitchen and put his arms around her and smiled. Finally after dinner, he said goodnight to her and they both retired to their different bedrooms. Tammy felt so relieved at least his weird behavior was on temporary hold.

At 1:00 A.M precisely, Tammy felt the presence of someone in her room and just told herself that it was an illusion as she drifted back to sleep. Minutes later, Tammy felt something walking through her body and she hit that part of her body and saw that it was the wool of her duvet, she hissed and went back to sleep.

10 minutes later, Tammy felt something move on her thighs and this time she got up in anger determined to change the bed sheet but she was slapped by shock. It wasn’t her bed sheet this time, it was human hands. Tammy jumped up and switched on the bed lamp only to see Pastor Bankole kneeling on her bed with his bare chest wearing just underpants and giving her wry smile.

“Do you need something sir?” Tammy asked stammering

“I need you Tammy” replied Pastor Bankole

“To do what?” Tammy asked again in a confused manner wondering what he wanted that couldn’t wait till the next morning.

“To make me feel happy, I have always loved you since the first time I saw you on your 12th birthday and I have been waiting for this opportunity”

“Sir I am sorry but you need to leave”

“That’s when we are through dear. I have always used my fingers but today I think I am fully ready to do things the right way”

Tammy then understood the visits and presence she had been feeling all the while but before she could say another word, he was on top of her, his Palm over her mouth. Since her existence, she had never felt the kind of sharp pain that engulfed her thighs and shook her bones as Pastor Bankole kept throbbing into her. Minutes later, he took his hands off her mouth, stood up, gave her a satisfied smile and a kiss before he walked out of the room taking Tammy’s happiness and innocence with him.

 

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Final part will be posted soon I promise. Thanks for reading and do leave your comments.