Archives for posts with tag: fiction

SHADES

abused-woman

Nothing could ever dim from my memory the calmness of that cool afternoon. It was right after my second lesson when my Uncle Frank came to whisk me from boarding school.
“Oroife, Your uncle is here to see you”. My teacher; Miss Okere called.
With a huge smile spreading across my face, I popped out of my seat in my timberland boots and walked out like I was about to miss my flight. Miss Okere gazed after me with sad eyes but I was too over the moon to notice.

When I got out, My Uncle Frank was standing by his wife; my favourite aunt.  I ran as fast as my legs would let, to give her a bear hug. That was when I noticed that they had come with a Soldier escort. My innocent mind was too lost in excitement to worry about the soldier. I jumped into the car, and in seconds my aunt was feeding me with as many cookies and candies that my body would allow. I ate so much that I slept off; forgetting to ask why I was taken home unexpectedly.
I woke up to the cry of a baby. I was heading to my aunt’s room to ask whose baby that was when I saw a number of people in the living room, crying and shaking their heads.
 *Did they find a baby in a dumpster? *

I thought, as I went to find my aunt. She was in the kitchen making tea.

“Aunty what’s happening?” I asked

“Oh you are awake.”

“Yes. The cry of the baby woke me up” I said twisting my face in displeasure.

“Sorry dear. Babies can be loud.” she smiled sadly then asked  “do you want some tea?”

“No thank you ma. So whose baby is crying?” she stayed quiet as if she was giving my question a moment of silence, then she spoke

“That’s your brother”. My eyes lit up again
“Mummy is back?” I squealed and began to run out. She pulled me back gently

“Your mummy is not really back.”  I looked at her, my mind lost in a sea of confusion.  “Your dad went to get your mum and new baby brother from the Airport” she looked at me forlornly before saying her next words “they had a fatal accident. Miraculously, your baby brother survived”.

My innocent mind couldn’t grasp the idea that my beautiful mum was gone, I started to shiver then opened my mouth to let out a primal scream. My drew me close, holding me in her arms as if that would make things better.
I never got over my parents death but I learnt to live with their absence.

I christened my brother Ifeobi (love of parents). Very poetic; I know. I grew up loving my brother so much that I was convinced he was the reason I still had breath in my lungs. I felt like he was a message from our parents. Their one final gift to me before they left the land of mortals.

* * *

Right now, I’m in the United States of America because….Do I really want to write about this? Well, I’ve heard that writing takes some load off so here I go…

After my parents death, I spent so many nights soaking my pillow with hot tears. On those nights my aunt would come in and wrap me in her warm arms.

But this one night, she wasn’t there to offer the warmth of her comfort.  She was away on Pilgrimage to Jerusalem and this is how my horror began.
Uncle Frank chose to step into her shoes that night’ offering me faux warmth and comfort but the moment I began to doze off, I felt his hands in my underpants and I knew that was the last time I’d feel my innocence.  I was only 13 but that night became the first of many, I wept like I
had lost my life. My clothes were drenched in tears, I forgot I was bleeding. My eyes felt like a tumor. I could only breathe with my heart, it needed air.  I had nowhere to go. He was all the family I knew. He always seemed helpless whenever he came to me. I  couldn’t tell aunty; I didn’t want anything to jeopardize my her marriage so I kept mum. Cold days and
colder nights rolled by and I knew I was losing a part of me, my sanity.

And  although my parents christened me  Oroife (the thing about love) because they had me  long before they got married and they could foresee what a beautiful young woman I would be, I changed my name to Charlotte,  something easier for my American friends. Even with my parents long gone, I have everything any young girl can ever want, lovely clothes, good shoes, access to money. They left enough wealth to last me and my brother a lifetime and I’m glad Uncle never kept it from us. But all these could never repair my damaged emotions.

I’ve met a few friends here in the states but I miss Ifeobi so much, I hardly comb my hair. I’m leading my class in school as a law student. It’s where I pump all my energy. A discipline I chose because one day, I’ll reveal who Uncle Frank truly is, and I will persecute him.

My Baby brother will also become a soldier, and I’ll make sure he wields the gun that snuffs life out of my uncle at his execution. Perfect! Isn’t it?
I won’t ever get married, Uncle Frank ruined any form of attachment for me and I hope my brother saves himself from a world of hurt and doesn’t get married either. The only love that exists in the entire world is the one between me and Oroife; every other love is claptrap.
Oh I must tell you, I have a neighbour, I know loves me; He has never said hello but I know he wants to. I see it in his eyes. I have written all about him here (https://laryoo.wordpress.com/2013/10/20/call-me-crazy/).

I’m calling the police; I just left my neighbour in a pool of blood.  Help! I don’t know what’s wrong with him.

By Oyindamola @TheTailor and Seyi @sunkit1

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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)

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.”

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Here I stand, my hands soaked in blood like I had killed a ram for a sacrifice. But I did not kill a ram for sacrifice; I killed a man for love. I look down and see how blood gushes out from his tummy and form a trail like they have a destination.

I can hear my ragged breath as I see my chest rise and fall, an exercise this lifeless man’s chest won’t undergo again. Time flies, the silence increases, the blood trails, my rage reduces to anger and reality dawns on me faster than new dawn for a new day.

‘Sally you just killed’ that’s what the voice in my head tells me. I look down slowly without remorse at the lifeless body of this man. Even in death his face is still as beautiful as a puppy’s and his lifeless brown eyes stare at me. His long legs accuse me and those hands that had held me countless times condemn my act but justice smiles at my action.

His name was Fela and I loved him and still love him more than life itself. We had been so happy together till he decided to burst our bubbles. My love for Fela was pure like water from the springs. Undiluted like the tears that trickled down my face now. But I can’t say the same about the love he had for me. I had believed our love would move mountains like the faith of a mustard seed. I was so naïve, innocent like a child yet so in love.

‘Nothing but a dance’ his husky but alluring voice had said to me that night at Funbi’s party. I would have turned down every other guy but not this god-like creature. He was just like my dream man; tall, dark and handsome. More like the men in Tiwa Savage’s videos if not better.

Our dance that night had resulted in a dance of love; a burning inferno no one could quench. Fela called me always and told me how much he loved me and though I always believed men to be liars and deceitful creatures, Fela’s case was different and love had erased every iota of doubt I had about men.

A new born baby did not get as much love as Fela showed me and an egg was not treated with as much care Fela expressed to me.  We spent time together and he’d tell tales that gradually removed the wrong presumptions I had about love. His hands always set fire running through my veins and his lips washed my fears. He’d talk about when I would become his wife and be in his life forever.

‘Take it slow Fela’ I’d say. ‘Marriage is still a far thought’

‘no baby, you have everything I want in a woman so we can talk about marriage. I’ll catch a grenade for you Sally’ he’d always say with sparkles in his brown eyes.

12th of February 2012, I visit Fela at home, ignoring the gnawing feeling that I’d leave home like an innocent child and return a broken woman.

At his house, we talk; play; till things begin to go too far. I hear the warning bells in my head grow louder like a siren so I withdraw.

‘Babe what is it?’ He says with so much concern in his alluring voice.

‘I don’t want to do this’ I say in a shaky voice, trying to fight passion with reason.

He relaxes.

‘But we love each other’ he says with a grin.

I start to feel the knots in my stomach tighten. That smile always stops my breath.

‘I know Fela, and love should not be based on sex’

‘oh Sally this won’t be sex. It would be love making. Gentler; more meaningful than sex’ he says, his hands trailing my back.

‘I promised myself only one man will ever touch me. I love you so much but what if something goes wrong?’

‘Oh sweets nothing can go wrong. Everyone in love does it and nothing goes wrong’

‘Fela am scared. It’s my first time’

Shock embraces his face for a second but a smile replaces the shock and he pulls me close and plants a kiss on my forehead.

‘Oh Sally, I always told you, you are the woman of my dreams. You are a virtuous woman. Okay, we’ll wait’ he says and resumes his touching and kissing.

In the next ten minutes, there’s no sense of reason in me; passion takes charge.

One thing leads to the other, hands touch hands, cloths hit the floor, bodies become entangled, caution thrown to the wind; I scream. The cherry was popped.

I push him off and start to cry, he goes to get tissue and cleans me up but the tears won’t stop. He touches me, begs me and tries to console me. He goes on his knees

‘oh Sally am sorry I did not mean to. Please forgive me.’

My love pulls me close and rocks me like an old rocky chair as he apologizes and makes promises. Promises that dry my tears. Promises that silence the voice in my head saying ‘you just lost what you’ll never get back.’

Since the deed is done; we do it again. It’s painful but it gets easier. Pain and pleasure engage in battle and it becomes painful pleasure. It felt so good that the anger I felt at myself evaporated.

‘I’ll always be your man’ he says as he toys with my fingers

I blush and say ‘the day you leave me Fela I’ll kill you’

he laughs loud ‘you can’t  kill me sally, you love me. And stop talking that way. Have you ever seen a living snail separate from its shell?’

I shake my head.

‘That’s how inseparable we are’ he says and kisses me.

I pay Fela a surprise visit today, he doesn’t look so happy to see me though; but I blame it on stress. I tell him I bought him his favorite fruit; orange. He seems happy so I get the knife from the kitchen, peel it for him and watch him suck the oranges as we make small talk. We start to cuddle and we are about to go over the bridge but Fela stops and says he needs to tell me something. I get all jittery and my over active mind tells me he’s going to ask the question all ladies want to hear from their man.                                                                                                    ‘Shoot’ I say grinning

‘I think we should take a break Sally’ this thing is not working’

I don’t know if I’m still grinning but I know Fela is joking. He loves to joke so I respond to his joke with laughter.

‘Sally am serious’ I stop laughing and stare at him, too dumbfounded.

‘But Fela what’s wrong? Everything has been–’

‘Yes Sally but the truth is I see you as a friend’

ggggggrrrrreeennnn the fire alarm in my head goes off.

‘Fela you are a bastard’

‘I know’

A bullet in the head wouldn’t hurt as much as Fela’s words. The indifference on his beautiful face fuels my rage.

He lies on the bed where we had consummated our love so many times and closes his eyes feigning sleep and obviously dismissing me. I look around as memories flood my mind. I pick the knife I had used to peel oranges for him earlier. I stand over him like a mother over her son’s grave.

‘My word is my bond Fela ’, I say as he flips open those beautiful brown eyes

Up and down goes my arms with the knife in my grip and rage burning up my body .I feel the blood splatter on my face and it feels good just like droplets of rain on my face on a sunny day.

Freedom, love, hatred, rage, revenge all become one in my heart. I feel like I am in the seventh heaven as the taste of his blood on my lips is as satisfying as our love making.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

BY Oluwaseyi Oluyole, @sunkit1 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

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

                                                        

Tammy’s eye lids slid open slowly; still feeling a little dizzy she surveyed her environment, wondering where the whole silence was coming from. Tammy was never a fan of serenity. It unnerved her.

Still lost in the silence that had engulfed her and the dizziness that controlled her thought pattern, Tammy shook her head vigorously trying to figure out what was happening. The realization that she had hands she could wade off dizziness with struck her like a blow. She attempted to wipe her eyes with her hands so she could at least gain some stability but alas; her hands wouldn’t move. “What’s happening to me?”  She murmured as she looked down to see what had gone wrong with her hands. They were intertwined and she was wearing a white cloth, immaculate like a dove.

“This is strange” Tammy thought, “I am in a quiet place which is very unusual and I am wearing white. But I hate white, how come that’s what am wearing? And as if that is not enough I feel so dizzy and my hands are tied I can’t even wipe the sleep off my eyes” her mind was drowning in confusion. She looked around like a kidnapped child, everything was so strange. Everywhere and everything was white, she tried using her bound up body to feel the white walls but they felt too soft to be considered walls. She tried to make sense of her environment like one solving a puzzle; her hands were tied, she was dressed in white and there she was feeling dizzy like a housewife who just got knocked out by her child’s football after a long day of chores. Tammy tried looking in her mind’s eye if she could get a clue of this scenario and then it started coming back to her like waters at the sea shore; she was beginning to figure out where all this came from though it was still quite vague. She guessed it must have been so long that she had being in here that she wasn’t sure of what led to what and how it all begun. She wasn’t a person with short memories so she knew she had to calm down. “Free your heart, embrace the world and let your mind wander” Tammy whispered to herself. These were the words she always said whenever she was confused or nervous; the words soothed her mind like bath in a pool sooths the body on a sunny day. Those words gave her hope. She could still remember Aunty Diva had told her those words on her 12th birthday and she had come to love and memorize the words like her life depended on them.

“Gbam! Yes!” that was it. Tammy exclaimed. It was all coming back to her.

It all started on her surprise 12th birthday. The party she always fantasized about in her dreamy world.

*                                                     *                                       *

Tammy sat at the back seat in the navy blue Honda C-RV with her driver; Uncle Vincent who was on the driver’s seat. He asked her “Oluwatamilore the princess how was school today?” Tammy ignored him and stared with a frown at her pink journal where she always wrote what had gone wrong or right at school. Uncle Vincent knew something must have gone wrong with Tammy at school. Tammy was known to be a cheerful and respectful child with her dimpled face that stuck in people’s memory like snail to a wet wall.

“Is something wrong with the princess?” Uncle Vincent asked Tammy looking through the rear-view mirror with smiles on his face trying to get a glimpse of Tammy’s expression. Tammy didn’t say a word she just stared with a frown on her face like she was going to explode soon.

Uncle Vincent smiled knowing the only thing that could really bring up that expression on Tammy’s face and asked “what happened between the girls today that upset the princess so much that she wouldn’t even talk to Uncle Vincent?”

Tammy’s face had taken up some amount of calmness and he knew he was getting to her.

“Oluwatamilore, you know you can talk to me except you want me to switch with uncle Gandonu”. Uncle Vincent said raising his brow for her to see.

Uncle Vincent knew that Tammy would rather sleep in school than let Gandonu drive her back home, she always complained that Gandonu’s Ghanaian accent was irritable and embarrassing, she felt his accent and mode of conduct did not fit into her Porsche  princess world.

Like a flash, Tammy’s facial expression changed and she made an attempt to utter something but changed her mind. This wasn’t lost to Uncle Vincent so he pulled over at the closest parking lot, retrieved his phone from his pocket and made an attempt to dial a number.

“Uncle Vincent, what do you want to do?”  Tammy uttered her first words since she got into the car that afternoon.

“I am calling uncle Gandonu to come take over” Uncle Vincent answered with a straight face.

“Oh no! Uncle Vincent you won’t do that to me will you?”

“Well, since you don’t want to talk to me, I’d better call Uncle Gandonu who can cope with your silence and would not play you any song.”

“But you know how much I hate silence Uncle Gandonu”

“Well, I think you want it because…”

“No Uncle Vincent I don’t”

“Then you will talk to me”

“Okay, but only if you move the car”

Uncle Vincent ignited the car engine and drove the car, he looked through the rear-view mirror again in order to get a glimpse at Tammy and he said “oya, I am listening”

“Okay. Uncle Vincent you know tomorrow is my birthday right?” Tammy said

“Oh! I almost did not forget tomorrow is your birthday”.

Tammy smiled realizing that he was trying to confuse her as usual.

“I guess that means you did not forget” Tammy said

“Yes my smart princess” said Uncle Vincent with a smile

“You wouldn’t believe that all the girls refused to talk to me because I am not throwing a party. They said I am not one of the ‘real girls’ or I would have celebrated my birthday. They all said they will never talk to me again.” Tammy narrated trying to choke back tears.

“Don’t worry little princess, they’ll change their mind. What will they do without the princess” Uncle Vincent said assuredly

“they won’t Uncle Vincent’ I know them too well” Tammy cried

“Don’t worry Tammy; they don’t have a choice. And when they start talking to you, you will remember I told you so”

They arrived at a big golden gate and Tammy smiled knowing they were home. Uncle Ladi the gateman opened the big gate and smiled at Tammy with his brown teeth and Tammy returned a warm smile showing her dimples and shouted “Uncle Ladi e ka san, your teeth are still sparkling white as ever”

Wa sere Tammy” replied uncle Ladi as he waved the car in.

“That must be the latest in the Yoruba dictionary” Tammy said to Uncle Vincent with a chuckle

“Well, you know Uncle Ladi never fails to upgrade his Yoruba slangs” replied Uncle Vincent.

And with that, Tammy jumped out of the car feeling relieved and ran into the house shouting “thank you Uncle Vincent, you are the best.”

*                                               *                                               *

It was a bright Saturday morning and the morning breeze blew over Tammy’s face as she opened her eyes and smiled as she felt the beauty of the day caress her soul.

Suddenly, she jumped up with a frown. Today was her birthday the 5th of August, she remembered that her girls would not be here to wish her a happy birthday and she couldn’t have the party she wished for.

“I wonder what mummy and daddy bought me” Tammy said through her frown as she hopped out of bed to freshen up at the bathroom and then uncle Vincent’s words of the day before rang in her hears like a door bell “Don’t worry little princess, they’ll change their mind. What will they do without the princess?” Tammy rolled her eyes. She knew her girls too well and didn’t think they were going to change their mind. Tammy had just clocked 12 years and knew that attaining age 12 was a ritual among the girls because they believed the next year they would move from girls to teenagers and as a result, they never spared their 12th birthdays. “This is the first time mummy and daddy did not tell me happy birthday at exactly 12 midnight and I really hope they have not forgotten.” Tammy said to herself as she looked through the mirror and made to brush her teeth.

Tammy was the only child of her parents and she knew how much they loved and cherished her which is why she was still confused why they refused to let her celebrate her birthday with a party. Her parents hardly refused her anything and whenever they did, she always got an explicit reason. But this time, they only said “Tammy love, you are not getting to celebrate your birthday with a party this year” which was from dad.

“But dad, mum, you know this is like a ritual to the girls, I will never be twelve again and this is like my last year as a girl, I’ll be a teenage girl next year” Tammy whined. But with that they just got up, mum gave her a hug, dad a kiss and they walked into their room. Whenever Tammy tried to bring up the topic, they always changed the subject.

Tammy got out of the bathroom, got into a beautiful pink gown customized with her name on it “OLUWATAMILORE”. She slipped into her pink slippers and went down the stairs after knocking at her parents’ bedroom door and got no response. “Why is everywhere so quiet?” Tammy asked herself as she took her last step on the stairs and made a move for the living room. The lights were off and Tammy was getting scared. She began to hear people shout and scream…

 

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