ElectaAlen's World: Fiction

Fiction

Showing posts with label Fiction. Show all posts

The cascade of bougainvillea, roses and sunflowers was always a sight to revel in. So, as I sit today on this old wooden bench, taking in the beauty of nature the park offers, I only wish I was as beautiful. I guess people would be attracted to me then, and not treat me like I didn't exist. When I got any attention, it was usually a forerunner to very distasteful ridicule. The words pierced deeper when people saw me in the company of my sister and asked where I had come from in a tone laden with a mix of surprise and mockery. This has been my life since I was a little girl. I'm supposed to be used to this already. But how can I? The wound in my heart seems to be in a never-ending cycle of clot-and-open-up-again, especially now that I've moved into the teenage years. The words seem to hurt a little more now so that I can't shake them off as easily as I used to. Not that they were ever easy to shake off though.

I hate to look in the mirror and see the outbreak of pimples spread across it. I wish there had been a break out of womanly curves instead. I once heard someone say that guys don't look the way of girls who are straight as a rule. Not that I cared about guys anyway. I liked to think I didn't care. I liked to believe I wasn't bothered that the guys didn't stop to say hi or pat my back. But deep down, I knew that wasn't the case. I craved attention. I yearned to hear some dude holler at me in his rich baritone.

'Omo, you're smart. Focus on your studies, become somebody great in life and people will flock around you. Then you'd be weary of all the attention coming your way,' Father said often, only that he did so in different ways. He was like the only person in the world who didn't love my sister more than me.
He also said, 'People are beautiful in different ways. While you think you'd give anything to be pretty, there are people who'd gleefully give away their pulchritude to have your quick mind and intelligence.' And I looked up the word, pulchritude, in the dictionary. People say I got my intelligence from him. Well, I didn't have mother around to compare him with. She died when I was 4 and Ibhade 5.

When Ibhade, my sister, fell pregnant I felt sorry for her really. I also prayed for her, that she'd find the physical and emotional strength to scale through. But there was this part of me- obscure and faraway- that thought it was good riddance to bad rubbish. Ibhade had been too proud of her beauty. While my skin was a dull shade of black that I had tried to improve with oils and lotions, hers was as smooth as shea butter and its brown colour was the hue of chestnuts. People who had met Mother said she had Mother's bright eyes and graceful gait. And she, Ibhade, dressed to kill. She was the typical slay queen. I wanted to see how she'd slay now with a baby bump. She's due in two weeks, an indication that, inspite of me and the little traces of evil lurking in my heart, God answered my prayer to help her.

I glance at my watch. 5.30pm. I had better hurry home before Daddy returns from work and begins to worry about his little girl. Besides, I was beginning to feel sleepy. I pick myself up and make my way out of the park and into the route that leads home. Immediately I arrive home and the four walls of my room, I settle into my bed to catch some sleep.

I was on a grand stage, and my teeth shone beneath the golden lights as I received an award. It seemed to have been a very important award. Perhaps a Nobel prize or something close. In the succeeding scene, I had been flanked by my husband. And as we walked down a red carpet, at least a hundred cameras clicked.

As I get out of bed, reliving the dream, I remember Father's words last week. I had been sulking over what the meanest girl in my class said to me. Father had cupped my face and looked into my eyes as he said, 'You're gold, my girl. The world cannot wait to see and experience you because what you have in you is priceless. Get up and show them what you've got!'

And I sure will show the world what I've got.

You've known her all your life. You both grew in the same middle-class neighbourhood. Perhaps you even attended the same primary school or worshipped at the same church. You were once exuberant 7-year olds playing together in the evening rain, savouring the scent that came with the refreshing water that landed on your skin. They say pure water is odourless but rain sure has a characteristic scent trailing it. You used to be 9-year olds too, playing chase every other Saturday evening. Then, you were scholarly 12-year olds exchanging books and excitedly talking about them the next time you met.

Years later, you were 17-year olds stuck chatting on WhatsApp night after night. You've been best friends. And each time you met, the time together was always fleeting, too short to say all you both had to say. That's even after five hours of sitting and talking. Talking about everything. She'd tell you about the new guy trying to catch her attention. You found his 'wooing' tactics amusing. The guy didn't know your bestie well enough. He didn't know showering her with expensive gifts isn't what would work on her. You knew better. You knew she's a sucker for love notes, love poems and flowers. You knew having the right words would be the first step to winning her. Like a protective brother, you rejoiced in your heart over his ignorance. You'd been with a bunch of guys, listening in on their sickening conversations. They talked about the games they had played with this girl and that girl. When she was done talking about Mr Ignorant, you told her about a certain girl. Voluptuous and desperate for your attention, she kept sending you photos of herself. You fished out your phone and showed each one to her. She laughed over a particular one. The girl had in that photo turned her back to the camera. You then said you couldn't fathom why girls would take photographs that way. And she took her time to explain to you. You laughed so hard your ribs hurt.

Less than a year later, you were both students of a federal university. And you remember the day you retrieved her from a night club. You had advised her not to go. She didn't heed your advice. And that day, you called her on phone. There was no response. You panicked when you realised she may be down there, clubbing. You quickly made your way to the venue and there she was- drunk to stupor. Somehow, you got her out of there and to her off-campus apartment. Anything could have happened to her that night but you, her bestie, came to her rescue.

Suddenly, you are back to reality and you smile admiringly as you stare at the couple facing the mini-crowd. Your bestie is the new bride and this is her wedding reception. Beautiful bride... she has always been stunning. Her man is light-skinned. Back in those days, she always had a thing for good looking dark-complexioned guys and swore she'd marry a tall, dark and handsome man. But she fell in love with this dude, handsome and with glowing skin the colour of milk candy.

You do not see the future though. You do not yet realise that a gulf has been built between you two. You're both 23 but now in different phases, different leagues. Six months later, you'd see her at a social function. You'd be that boy dressed in deep-blue jeans and a smart multicoloured T-shirt. She'd be flanked by her doting husband and dressed in wrapper and buba. She'd not scream your name and give you a bearhug like she did in her girlie days. She'd give a brief hug and smile and talk, choosing her words wisely. You'd notice the gentle protrusion on her tummy.

Twelve months later, you're talking on WhatsApp and she'd have to go for a nap after 20 minutes. She'd complain that she barely slept last night because of her baby. Then the next time you'd talk would be on a phone call and you'd tell her about the youth meeting you attended. She'd talk about one women organisation she belongs to. She'd also tell you about the NGO she and her husband are going to launch soon. And you both would remember the little groups you and her brought together as enthusiastic young people. You'd remember the meetings you planned together. They were always her idea and you were there to support her all the way. She'd thank you for all those years, for your unflinching support back then.

You're agemates. You were besties. But she's a woman now. You're still a boy.

'Belle?... Dami?’ I heard Josh's call. I turned to face him. From the expression on his face, it appeared he had been speaking to me for a long time and only met with silence. 'Is there a problem?'
'Oh no, Josh. I'm fine. Very all right,' I assured him. Oh Josh, you care too much, I thought to myself.
'You seemed faraway, lost in the island of your thoughts. I had to rescue you,' he teased. 'Josh to the rescue!' he added, faking a hero's accent. We both laughed heartily before he continued, 'Or would you let me in, you know, on this island of your precious thoughts?'
'Silly you. Get your eyes back on the road, dude. You don't want to get us killed,' I replied, amidst chuckles.
'Aye, my Lady,' he said, laughing.
He returned his eyes to driving, and I stared at him. I couldn't believe my luck. Josh was everything I wanted in a man. From his glowing black skin to his penetrating eyes. What about his build? It was just the way I liked it.

I really had been deep in thought, reminiscing on the day I met him. 6 months ago. It was during one of the symposia I attended. He was there, seated in a gentlemanly fashion and easily smiled whenever a speaker said something interesting.
'This last speaker was everything amazing. She's the best so far,' he said, looking at me who was seated next to him. He had that smile on his face, and I couldn't help but admire his perfect dentition. His black skin made his already white teeth even whiter.
'I couldn't agree less,' I replied.

'So here we are,' Josh said, pulling up on one side of the road.
'Thanks Josh. I had a good day,' I said, hugging him. The hug lasted a little too long, was a little too clingy. But that was because I was a little too happy.
'I cherish you dear,' he said as I unlocked myself from his arms. He seemed to have suddenly remembered something when he added, 'I'd be having a pleasant surprise for you next time we meet.' Another surprise? The shopping spree of today was already enough surprise. What else could he have up his sleeve? I silently pondered on his words as we bade each other goodbye and I alighted from his Chevrolet Impala.

He reached across the table that separated us and placed his hand over mine, squeezing it affectionately.

'Dami, you mean so much to me.' He was staring into my eyes, and I desperately wanted to avert my gaze to something else. Anything to avoid this eye-contact thingy. I boiled with confidence most times and always thought I could look anyone in the eye. So this feeling was new. I was so shy, so excited I feared I'd blush carelessly or smile too much or become breathless. Or I would wet my underwear. I was having a fairly hard time holding in the urine that threatened to escape its prison at any little provocation.

My eyes settled on the small mahogany table, and I listened as he continued, 'The softness of your voice and ethereality of your smiles calm the raging storms in my head. Thanks for everything.'
'And thanks for bringing me here. It's a beautiful place. And they have really tasty cuisines,' I said trying to ease off the tension. I felt I could look up now. I saw him nod and smile, like an understanding older brother would. He sure knew and understood my trick.

***
He dropped me off a little but safe distance away from my house. I was only being careful. I wasn't going to allow myself to become the new object for cheap gossip in my nearly overpopulated neighbourhood. As I walked on, I smiled to myself. I was satisfied. Josh had made my day once again.

I smiled yet again when music blaring from a loud speaker in front of a music shop greeted my ears. It was a popular song, and of course I had heard it several times. Only that it was different this time. Or so it seemed. It held a deep meaning now. I suddenly felt like I could relate with the lyrics. Today Ed's words seemed alive and more beautiful than ever.
'People fall in love in mysterious ways... maybe just a touch of a hand... Well me, I fall in love with you everyday,' I sang along excitedly.

It was the sight of the gigantic black gate that shielded our home from the outside world that jolted me back to reality, and I thanked my lucky stars that no one had noticed that I was grinning like an idiot as I walked home. That would have been enough to send tongues wagging.
'Love sure makes idiots of its slaves,' I thought to myself. It was a delicious feeling.

I see it walking swiftly across the room with the characteristic lopsided gait. Disgusted, I hiss and curse but I do not go after it. Suddenly it changes its direction, three of its feet balanced on the ground and the other briefly suspended in the air. It moves towards me, fearless and dauntless courage written all over it. I remind myself that I'm human and what is staring me in the face is a mere, worthless... rat.
'One, two... three, four, five... six, ten,' I count to myself with my eyes tightly shut. I open them and find it still there, staring. So I let my eyes wander in search for the nearest object of destruction. I bend down to pick up the iron rod lying a few inches from me. I raise myself up, clutching tightly on the rod suspended in the air, ready to hit this 'spy' hard. But... it's not there. I can't find it. The thought that I'd have to live in this house with that mysterious vermin hiding away somewhere gives me goose bumps.

PS: While my piece about Googoo, the slain pet chicken, is a true story, this is not. It is entirely fictitious. Thanks for reading my ratty story.😂😍

Every day, you see that young girl who lives down the street. But you've never seen her walk on her own. That's because she's with a new guy for each day. And you spit and shake your head and condemn her in your heart each time she walks past you, a guy's arm holding her by the waist. In your heart, you call her a spoilt mango. But you have no idea what she's been through. The day Chi Chi was born is the same day her father disappeared because she was female, the fifth female child in a row. Her mother was left with the herculean task of raising her girls alone. Mother is not one of those tough women, and the throes of life easily broke her down. She's too broken to show her daughter what love is, to tell her she's pretty, to give her a peck on her needy cheek like Vincent does. You condemn her but do you know... do you know that if you'd encountered half the temptations Chi Chi has faced in her 18 years of existence, maybe you'd have fallen face down?

As a school girl, she had no friends. Everyone seemed to hold her in disdain. Her worn out school uniform, the smell of fish that saturated her easily made her classmates mark her out as inferior. Yes, she smelled of fish because each morning she had to hawk till the very last minute that saw her rush off to school. There were no friends to talk to during recess...

Before Senior Secondary School, life improved a bit and she no longer had to hawk fish, yet the memories of rejection would not leave her. With each new day, life seemed more worthless, her self esteem going further down the drain. And then he came on the scene. He always had the right words to sweep her off her feet. Vincent easily caused butterfly riot in her stomach with words ever so sugary. He told her she was gorgeous and she found herself staring into the mirror more often. Vincent was quite intentional, he knew his purpose and he was patient till she gave in and let him lie on top of her. Vincent was her 'all' and she could do anything to keep him. But soon, Vince moved on to the next girl. Another guy came on the scene, and another cycle began. And so it was till she gave up on life, ready to accept whatever came her way. She welcomed virtually any guy into her life and let them do anything as long as it... as long as it gave her temporary ecstasy. There remained no self esteem, dignity and pride to protect.

Do you remember when you had this conviction to give her some of your money. You had some, yes you had. But you didn't want to give a dime to someone so promiscuous. No you wouldn't even talk to girls like Chi Chi. Do you know she needed money that day? Desmond was there to give her whatever she wanted but she was tired of living that kinda life. She was going to turn a new leaf. And then because she could not get what she was in dire need of, Chi Chi went back to her vomit. Desmond is the guy who has his arm on her waist now, her new catch. Or I could call her the catch instead. But at what price?

Author's Note:
There are so many Chi Chis out in the world. Would you please help find one, take her in your arms of love and show her the way to Yahweh.

I lay in bed, staring into space. I have just eaten the last garri in the house. I have no idea where the next meal will come from. I would have considered begging any of my neighbours but I dread the probable humiliation I'd receive. I have long become a laughing stock amongst even the poorest of persons. The poor call me poor. As my eyes move to and fro, from the cracks on the floor to the openings on the ceiling, I hear the honk of a car. A million thoughts race through my mind. Could it be a creditor? Or maybe an old friend. It takes a few minutes for me to garner enough courage to step out. I step outside to see a Toyota Venza, 2016 model parked right in my compound. I'm too shocked to move. As I stand glued to the ground, gazing intently, he alights from the car. My mouth goes open in shock, my legs are suddenly too weak to carry my weight, my eyes almost pop out of their sockets.
'Mama?'
'Eeeh... Eee... Ejike. My son!' He walks up to me, confidence oozing out of him. Ejike had always been confident. Even my kicking around and bullying back then could not rid him of his confidence.
'Mama,' he says, his long arms hugging me. He quickly releases me and asks, 'Where is my father?'
'Your... your father?'
'Yes. I have come to see him. Where is he?'

Two Years Ago...
'My wife...' he said, and paused to draw in a deep breath. 'I have very little time left here,' he continued with much effort.
'No, my husband. You're staying with me. You... you'll come out of this,' I said as I held his near-flaccid hand in mine. I stared at his bare chest and at his belly that once stood out in its massiveness. It was now as flat as a slate. The tears I had been trying to hold back were let loose and flowed unrestricted. I saw a bead of it fall on his arm. I was relieved to see that his eyes were shut. 'He's asleep. He did not see my tears,' I sighed in relief. I cried a river as I stared some more at my dying husband: his pale and saggy skin, his emaciated structure, the drool at the left corner of his mouth. It was saddening, utterly depressing to see my better half stuck in this debilitating condition for the past 2 months. All the profit he had made from his job as a mechanic these past few years, all my little gains from my petty trade had been consumed by this illness. An illness that had defied both herbal medicine and pharmaceuticals. No doctor had been able to arrive at a diagnosis.
'My dear...' I turned to see Nnamdi wide awake, staring weakly at me. I quickly made to wipe my face with one end of my wrapper. 'I wish I could linger with you. I wish I would not have to leave you now. But with each passing moment, I see my life ebbing away.'
'My husband...'
'Nkechi, listen to me...' he said before a throaty cough cut him short. 'You've been a good wife, and I appreciate you for that. But you were never a mother to my son, Ejike. He ran away from home, yes. But I strongly suspect that it was because of the way you treated him. And it hurts that I'd never set eyes on him again. I wish I could behold him one last time before my sojourn here comes to an end. Oh, I wish I had done better as a father. I let you turn me against my only child.'

My late husband was right. Only that he did not know the whole truth, the truth that would have made him die with seething hatred for me. Ejike did not run away from home, I kicked him out. Ejike, the son my husband's late wife bore him, was a handful for me. I wanted to wield total control over him, like I did with his father. But he proved to be more than I could handle. So I got rid of him, after all efforts to bring him to total subjection met with failure. He was 19 at that time. Now that he's back, and his father is 6 feet deep in mother earth, what can I do?

Kara was the first. Enchanted by her surreal beauty, he thought she was the one. He imagined mornings when he would wake up on their matrimonial bed smiling and beholding her pretty face. She was that beautiful. They talked about their wedding. It'd be the talk of the town, they both agreed. But she walked away... she left with a piece of his broken heart.

Then, it was Chioma. He had met her at Bella's wedding. She was the life of the party, and he couldn't resist her charms. 'I'd never be unhappy with such a woman by my side,' he thought to himself each time he heard her excited laughter or her cheery alto voice talking sweetly. Soon, he had her attention. Within a few weeks, they had become an inseparable duo. How would he forget how his heart leaped with joy when Chioma handed him an envelope on Val's Day? He had grown excited, convinced he had been given a card emblazoned and laced with Chioma's love. They went their ways after an evening out at one of the most expensive eateries in town. It was a happy and satiated Temi that sat on his king-size bed to look into the content of Chioma's envelope. He grew skeptical as he drew out an ivory card.

The Families of....

He read on, and as reality slowly dawned on him, his hands began to quiver, his head began to swirl, goosebumps suddenly formed on his skin. Chioma was getting married in two weeks' time. She'd be married to Chief Okoye, the middle-aged business tycoon in the East. He had only been her side-boo in the North. His heart sank as he lay still on his large bed, unable to understand why loving a woman was always a mistake.
He had thought he found Heaven with Chioma. But now all that's left of their seemingly perfect relationship are memories that haunt. Chioma had warmed her way into his heart and rid it of yet another piece.

*****
'Nne, you're so wonderful. The man that will marry you ehn, him life don better be that,' the middle-aged woman said with her gaze fixed on the young woman before her.
'Ah Aunty, you're always talking about the man I'll marry,' Naomi replied, mildly embarrassed.
'Yes, my pikin. I can't wait o. But I must advise you, shine your eye well oh. Only the very best deserves you.'

*****
'Lord, I surrender. I thought I could find my woman myself but today I'm letting you take charge. I give up.' Temi said his last words of prayer and laid down to sleep.

*****
She bends down to pick up the paper lying on the terrazzo floor and goes after the tall light-skinned man walking up the stairs.
'Hello... Excuse me.' He turns to the direction of her gentle voice.
'Ye--es. A...ny any problem, Miss?' he stutters, awestruck in a way that he can't explain.
'I think you should see this. It must have fallen off you,' she says with a warm smile spread over her face. His eyes widen as he sees the cheque.
'Thank you. Oh, thank you,' he keeps saying till she walks away in graceful strides. She was gone before he could ask for her name.

As he sits in his living room, his thoughts again wander to that scene at the Bank. In fact, the scene has occupied his thought system almost all day. There was something about her he couldn't place his hands on. There was a mystery about that young woman with the shoulder-length hair, singsong voice, graceful steps, ebony-dark skin, heart-warming smile... There's a mystery he wants to uncover. Somehow, he finds himself wishing and praying he'd see her again.

*****
'I'm sorry, Emeka... I have to turn down your proposal. I pray you find a better woman. Thank you,' she says to the person at the other end of the line at a stretch, without a single pause.
'I love you, Naomi. Where can I find a woman like you? Where? Please... just give me a chance.'
'I'm really sorry, Emeka. Please understand,' she murmurs before ending the call.

*****
'Please let her in.' He downs a cup of coffee and draws in a deep breath. He hears a knock on the door and readies to see who the talented programmer is.

'She's the best you can find. She's my friend, and I'd help you speak with her- I mean, convince her to bless your company with her magical wits. Her work is always superb,' Kola had said as they sat over lunch two days ago. He was sure this lady was the best person to work on the project they discussed.

She- the programmer- walks in, and he recognises her dark oval face. She's the lady he's been praying to meet again. Here she is standing in his office.
'Naomi Ehiane,' she says in a crisp, formal tone.
'Oh, you're welcome. Please have your seat,' he says as he gestures to the seat facing his. A happy smile subtly forms on his lips but he quickly catches himself.

*****
It has been three months since he first met Naomi. She's the one for him. He hasn't been surer of anything in his life. But there are fears, doubts lagging in his heart. 'What if she turns me down?' he asks himself, his fear taking a hold of him. Still, he'd take the step. He was sure God had his back this time. Naomi, his Naomi, is a thousand times better than Kara, Chioma and all the other women. She easily made his heart merry with her priceless words. Her words were like bread fresh from the oven and honey from the hive. And oh, Naomi loved the Lord and sought to please him.
Temi knows that friendship with Naomi would never be enough. He desires her for a soul mate, a life-long partner. He wants her face to be the first he'd see when he awoke in the morning and the last he'd behold at dusk. He had dreams, lofty dreams he would love to chase and clinch with Naomi by his side. For one would chase a thousand, and two a thousand.

*****
'Naomi Ehiane, do you take this man, Temi Afolarin to be your lawfully wedded husband?' the Bishop asks in a most solemn tone.
'Yes I do,' she says. Her usually warm smile is even warmer, gentler. She looks like a seraphim in her immaculate-white wedding gown.

Three or four months into their marriage, her mate had declared that they were moving to the state capital. The villagers thought he had gone insane. What about his fertile farmland and barns of yam? He sold them off and with his young wife, he travelled out of his hometown to see the world and trade like his uncle, Nwodo, had done. He had heard that the real money, the true success was in the city. But the emigration multiplied his wife's sorrows. It wasn't only those dark nights or the sudden evolution from a child to a wife and the other things in between she had to endure. Now, there was the separation from her family and everything home-like to bear. It crushed her already broken spirit. Her mother cried the day they left. She was inconsolable as though her child had died from a debilitating illness.

So, Nwosu moved into the city with Chinelo, who for him was an acquired property. They settled into a modest house, a 2-bedroom apartment. It was quite different from the village huts Chinelo was used to. Everything was strange: electricity, tap water, the brick walls and even the people who seemed not to notice one another and walked past without a word of greeting. Back in Umuazi, women who met each other on the way to the stream would greet excitedly as though they were twins who lived in separate houses; the men, when they ran into each other on the way to the farm or the village square, would salute one another like brothers from the same mother. And it was almost bizarre to find that she would ease her bowels in a room right inside the flat, and not in one of those outhouses constructed with bamboo sticks and red sand.
'Chinelo!' she had heard him call one evening. His tone was fierce. His voice was naturally forbidding but this time it was even spine-chilling, somewhat hair-raising.
'My husband,' she called back, as she scurried out of the kitchen.
'Get me my food now.' He was obviously drunk, the smell of cheap beer was all over him.
'Nnanyi, food is not ready yet. It's almost done.'
'Hmm,' he growled deeply, before taking her by the waist. She tried to wriggle free from his grip but his energy over her was overwhelming, he succeeded in taking her clothes off and eating another kind of food.
By the time he had had his fill, she rushed to the kitchen in a bid to save her food: yam- that she intended to pound- and egusi soup. It was there, burnt black by the heat of the flames from the stove. That was only the beginning. Nwosu took to coming home dead drunk. There were times, though, when he was sober and acted like a kind stranger or a considerate master. He wasn't always severe. There were the fairly good days.

Nwosu was once a child himself. His mother died before he was weaned, and he was left with a callous father. Uchenna, the callous father, soon got himself a new wife. She was a pretty face, but her heart was evil. She made life torturous for young Nwosu.
'I am not your mother, you rat!' she would say to the toddler and he would cry as though he could see the hatred bubbling inside her. Soon, she had her own children, and he became even more insignificant in the eyes of his father.

Culled From A Larger Piece.
©Elect Alenkhe

'Yinka, is that you?' Chima says, in a half scream. He is too shocked to keep from shouting.
'Yes, this indeed is Chima. I'm sorry but... may I know you please?' the young man clad in a clean-cut suit asks with an air of suavity accompanying each word.
'Oh, you don't remember me? I'm Chima, Chima from the University.'
'Oh, oh. Chima, the czar. Wow, is this you?' Yinka asks with a fetching smile spread on his robust face that has the sheen peculiar with those who have been exposed to the good things of life. He swiftly locks Chima in a bear hug. This is indeed Chima who was a sort of Napoleon on campus. But he looks different now. He looks subdued and Yinka can tell just by looking into his eyes that he has suffered defeat.

'Yinka, where the hell did you come from? I dey shame for you no bi small. You've spent more than two years in this school yet you never hook any babe, even the ones wey dey try send signal, you no dey gree receive or connect. Haba, you too dull. No bi only you sabi book o. For book matter I dey, then for grooving, I still dey. Na so e suppose to be. You are just wasting this opportunity you have now. The one wey vex me pass na this Jesus, Jesus you carry for head,' Chima used to say back in their campus days. He left no stone unturned in tormenting Yinka. He laughed him to scorn in public, he held him in disdain and was always out to prove that Yinka was a dunce, a complete ignoramus. There were times when Yinka's heart was broken, when he asked himself if he was really stupid. He wondered if his decision to abstain from the wild lifestyle the others led was an error. Many of his peers stayed away from him, treating him as though he was unworthy of their friendship and attention. Chima, on the other hand had so many friends, yea, followers. He was tall, dark and comely. He wore clothes of the latest fashion, from rugged jeans to blazers, from suede and corduroy trousers to Italian derby shoes to sneakers, from Versace to Prada to Dolce and Gabbana designer clothes- he had it all. He commanded respect and had all he wanted at his beck and call. The hot chicks flocked around him like hungry ants around a cube of sweetened sugar. He commanded respect and had all he wanted at his beck and call. No one could dare cross his part, else he would have Chima's ever-supportive followers to contend with.

But now, standing before Yinka, Chima is humbled. This is the Yinka he mocked in the past. But now he, Yinka, has every reason in the world to laugh and sneer and mock and ridicule him. He was now qualified to laugh, and he who laughs last always has the best laugh of course. While Yinka is well-dressed in his trim two-piece suit, Chima looks haggard in his faded denim shorts and pale-yellow T-Shirt. How did all this happen? How did the great Chima Obi turn into this- a laughing stock? What are the choices that brought him down here?

Author's Note: Watch out for Part 2. Hopefully, it'd be out on Saturday or Sunday.
Love,
Elect Alenkhe(ElectaAlen).

'Tayo, why? Why? Why?' the 40-something year old woman cries as she sits sprawled on the floor. Tayo just stands still as tears streams down her copper-brown face. She wishes her father would say something instead of pacing the room, staring at her disconsolate mother and then at her. She knows she made a terrible mistake. She is downcast and yet relieved that her secret was finally uncovered. It has been big work hiding her pregnancy from her parents for about six weeks now. As she leans against the wall of the living room, her mind wanders into the past.

'Mum?' Tayo had called out to her mother as she typed away on her laptop.
'Yes?' She stared back, impatience written on her face.
'Errm, Mum...' she started. 'Don't worry Mum. I see you're busy.'
'Yes I am. Whatever you have to say can wait,' she said as she focused her eyes on the screen before her. Tayo knew better. She knew she would not get the opportunity to tell her mother about Kola's letter after today. Kola, the coolest senior, had been all over her for sometime now. She was shy and found the excessive attention he gave her embarrassing. Just the day before, he had shuffled a note into her hand. It was a blue sheet of paper that had these words written on it:

My Dear Tayo,

I just couldn't keep from writing this. I'm constrained to express what I feel for you. My darling, if seeing you in my dreams every night, if being lost in the island of my thoughts with you as the object of my meditation, if being totally enchanted when I see your beautiful face is love, then I can say that all of Kola loves all of Tayo. Babe, please accept my love. I love you.
Your prisoner-in-love,
Kola.
Since talking this over with her mother proved to be a herculean task, she turned to her friends for counsel.
'Oh, wow! Kola, the bundle of cuteness. Girl, what are you waiting for? Go for it, babe,' Sandra chirped.
'Tayo, please don't do this. You don't want to ruin your life so soon. By the way, everyone knows he's dating Sylvia. Last year, it was Katherine,' Chika advised.

So, Tayo decided she wouldn't date Kola. But he wouldn't let her be and slowly she found herself being drawn to him. He always had time for her, treating her as though she was the only woman in the world. Then came the day that she was completely won over. It was her birthday.

She woke up that morning full of expectations, hoping that Mother and maybe Father would give her something special to mark the day. While she allowed her hopes rise, another part of her tried to warn her, tried to tell her of the possibility of her parents forgetting her birthday again. Well, that part was right. Her heart broke when Mother and Father left home that morning after responding to her morning greetings. There was no sign that they knew it was their only child's special day. Tayo was forced to reminisce on the previous year with sorrow in her heart. They had not remembered her birthday just like today and when she told them about how she felt about their forgetfulness, they apologised profusely and promised to spoil her this year. But yet again, they left her disappointed and heartbroken. She left for school in the Toyota Camry driven by Mr Adamu, the family's driver. She was disillusioned while the morning assembly lasted and even during the first break till someone came along to brighten her day.

'Hey, Tayo. How are you today?' he asked, his disarming smile etched on his finely-chiseled face.
'I'm fine, thank you,' she sighed. He looked into her eyes in silence before reaching for a parcel inside his bag.
'Tayo, my Tayo...,' he began, as he reached for her hand. '...have this token. I love you,' he said and scurried away before she could mutter a reply. Tayo was swooned. She was overcome with ecstasy and curiosity, she wanted to unwrap the parcel at that very moment but decided she would do it in the confines of her bedroom back home.

As soon as she got into her room that evening, she settled down to see the contents of the only parcel she had received for her birthday. In it was a necklace and a wristwatch. 'Oh, Kola... I love you. I'd be your girl. I love you, I love you,' she exclaimed excitedly. He had won her heart.

She became Kola's girl and found seeming comfort in their fairytale relationship. She was 15 and one year younger. She was also Kola's junior by one year. She thought she was having the time of her life. She constantly found herself reminiscing on Kola's mushy words and smiling like an idiot. Then came the day that she'd not forget in a hurry, the day Osahon, Kola's classmate decided to throw a party.

Kola told her about the party but she had no interest in it. She was an introvert and certainly not a fan of social outings. But Kola cajoled her till she gave in. Anything for Kola.
'Thanks darling. Trust me you'd have real fun,' he said to her as they walked towards the school gate.

Then came the D-day. It was easy for her to leave home that Saturday afternoon. Her parents were away at a social function like every other Saturday and the gateman let her pass through the gate, thinking her parents were aware of her movements.
'Small madam, Madam know sey you dey comot?
'Yes. She knows I'm going to study with my friend, Ezinne.'

She got there to meet loud music and wildly dressed people. She felt uneasiness well up in her. What am I doing here? Then she felt a hand come over her shoulder. She turned swiftly to see Kola.
'Oh, Kola!'
'Look at you, bae. You look like a scaredycat,' he teased. 'Let's get you seated.' He did a mock bow as he added, 'My Lady, you look ravishing.' Tayo offered a grin and followed him closely. There were a lot of students there, many seniors and a few juniors like Tayo. Osahon's parents were out of town and he had stolen the opportunity to invite his friends over to party and catch bad fun. Soon, it was time to drink and dance.
'Here's one for you,' Kola said, as he held out a bottle to Tayo.
'Isn't this alcohol?'
'Yup. But trust me, you won't get stoned. A bottle would do you no harm. If you're so scared, you could take half but just drink something,' he nudged her.
Tayo looked around and saw that almost everyone was busy with a bottle. 'All right. Just a little,' she said both to Kola and herself before reaching for it.

But that was the genesis of her problems. Soon, almost everyone in that living room was drunk... dead drunk. Some found their way to the laundry room, some to any of the bedrooms to make out. The whole place turned into a brothel of some sort and somehow Kola and Tayo were part of the mess. With all resistance destroyed by alcohol, they did it. They ate the forbidden fruit.

Three weeks after the party, she noticed her breasts were suddenly fuller and tender. She often had the urge to throw up and sometimes tried to stifle it with chewing gum and kola nuts. When she missed her period, she grew pretty scared, went for a test and her fears were confirmed. She was pregnant.

'Who is responsible for the pregnancy?' her dad finally asks.
'It's... it's Ko... la,' she stammers.
She doesn't know what to expect next. Maybe he'd disown her, perhaps he'd storm Kola's house, maybe he'd send her far away to live with a relative. But standing there in this situation leaves her heart in her mouth. She knows she would have to face it, she'd have to weather through this storm and if she's tough enough, she'd make it through... she would still achieve her dreams. So, here she is, pregnant at 15.

Nina… Nina Peters. That’s my name. There’s nothing special about me. Or is there? Some say I’m beautiful, some others claim I’m brainy. They may be right, but still I’m not deaf to the verbal venom constantly hurled at me. The stigma hovering around me is almost suffocating. In the eyes of my immediate society, a woman’s worth is based on her ability to keep and hold a man; a husband is what makes you a woman, it’s what makes you whole. I once owned a man, or a man once owned me. But not anymore. I’m a loser. A big loser. I wish things were different. I wanted things to work out between us but we were too incompatible. Eric was some sort of sex addict but I had virtually no interest in sex, so he satisfied his wanton desires with numerous girls around. For him, it was a case of anything in skirts until one of them, Lilian, finally had him all to herself.

Sometimes, I feel betrayed and think, ‘what a devil Eric is’. At other times, I wear the garment of guilt. I feel it’s my fault. I wish I wasn’t a victim, not just of a failed marriage, but of something worse. I wish I wasn’t so abused and brutalised by those dearest to me.

I can still remember the day I was cut; it’s impossible to forget a thing like that. I couldn’t understand why I had to be treated that way then.

***

It happened many years ago… the worst experience of my life. I was outside, a little far from home, playing and gossiping with other little girls when a middle aged woman came over, to whisk me away. She claimed she was taking me to Mother, so I followed her subserviently. As I walked on in reverent silence, many thoughts wandered through my young mind. ‘Why does Mother want me so soon? Does she need me to wash the grains before they are taken for grinding? Does she want to show me and my bronzed complexion off to some visiting friends? Or…’

After a short walk, she stopped at a little mud house. ‘What could Mother be doing here?’ I wondered to myself but kept mum; it was forbidden to question your elders. I followed my Guide into the small room. I got a little scared when I saw three other little girls sobbing silently at the other end of the room. I could read the pain on their faces, a deep and heart-piercing pain. Before I could take any action, another woman, younger than the one I came with, grabbed me by the arm and lay me down on a mat set on a bamboo bed. My instincts immediately told me that danger lurked. I fought hard, and screamed as loud as my small shrill voice could. A third woman close by quickly tied a piece of cloth over my mouth, and two others held down my 8 year-old body with their relatively strong arms. My heart beat so fast and vehemently that I thought I heard each heartbeat clearly. Then the middle-aged lady who doubled as the local midwife brought closer those tools that inspired a spine-chilling dread in me, as another woman put off the wide clothing tied around my tiny waist. I screamed! A surge of fear overwhelmed me as I wondered what was going to happen next.

‘Be calm, my pretty child. It wouldn’t take long,’ she said with a smile that revealed her teeth that were tan from years of living on tobacco pipes. I pleaded, but the words were unheard, thanks to the gag in my mouth. Then, it happened and very fast. With a sharp knife in her sturdy hand, she swiftly cut off my clitoris, taking part of my labia with it. The pain was indescribably excruciating. I thought I was going to die. As my blood- thick and red – flowed profusely, one of the women who had held me down released me and reached for something close to her. She then took off the gag, making my piercing cries audible. The same woman placed some pieces of dried leaves over my wound.

‘This should stop the bleeding and make your wound heal fast. Be strong, little girl,’ she said in her contralto voice. All I could do was cry, my tears flowing down my face as blood flowed down my slender thighs.

**************************

I didn’t know the term used to describe what had been done to me till many years had passed. They call it ‘washing’ in my community. Actually, I had gone through excision, a form of Female Genital Mutilation (FGM).

I kept asking Mother why she had allowed them to torture and afflict me in such a way. She finally gave the explanation years after the inhumane treatment meted out on my unfortunate self. ‘It’s a strong part of our culture and a mark of purity. Any woman who doesn’t go through ‘washing’ is filthy and would most definitely become sexually immoral. We wanted you to have your pride of place amongst us. We didn’t want you to face rejection. We didn’t want our daughter to be an outcast,’ she calmly explained. Although Mother couldn’t bear to watch the process, she had given her support because she thought it was for my good. In my birth-community, going through ‘washing’ was something that evoked a deep sense of pride and purity. The tough experience made you a real woman. At least, so we thought.

I remember how proud my family had been when I finally returned home after undergoing herbal treatment for two weeks. Not every girl survives the ‘washing’ rites, but I had survived. I was now a true daughter of the community. So, they were immensely proud.

But soon, I left the place where I was born and bred into the larger world… into enlightenment, illumination and civilisation. Then, I saw that what had been done to me was in no way a necessary good but a grave evil that mustn’t be allowed to live on. What they- including my family- thought was a shield of protection was actually an open pathway for woes. The sheer truth is there’s absolutely nothing good about FGM.

I’ve struggled with low self-esteem and depression. I often feel incomplete, like a vital part of me is gone. I face fears of various kinds. A minor cut on my skin throws me into panic as it reminds me of the day I would readily describe as the ‘worst day of my life’. I fear the thought of child birth. Two of my friends, Anne and Lucy had died during child birth due to either prolonged labour or excessive bleeding, and these were consequences of FGM. I even fear the thought of a second marriage. Aren’t all men the same? Who amongst men would lovingly and patiently help me weather through the storm of dyspareunia. Who would cope with my asexual tendencies, as I hopefully would gradually overcome them? Who would understand me, and not be like Eric who was totally insensitive to my struggles? I wish I wasn’t born into such a culture. It didn’t make me feel like a woman as intended, instead it was an insult to my dignity as a female human. Now, I only feel betrayed, abused and injured. It didn’t give me any sense of pride, instead I sense the wind of humiliation blowing over me. I feel cold shivers running down my spine anytime I reminisce about that horrible act.

Martha Gold, my friend is a victim too. The story is the same. FGM has done us no good. Her story is as pathetic as mine but the truth is we are among the less unlucky ones. Some other victims lost their precious lives, there are those who suffer from one short or long-term health condition, all because they were subjected to such a gruesome practice. Martha is my bosom friend and partner in the fight against FGM, and together we’ll enlighten the world on the evils of Female Genital Mutilation. We’ll save the girl child. Working with Martha has birthed a nascent hope in me, not only for other girls but for myself. I will live again!

Author's Note:
Watch out for the sequel to my story: Martha Gold's story written by Remen Zack. It'll be published at My World of Fiction next week.
www.remenzack.com.
Thanks for reading. We love you!

‘Useless woman, you're leaving my house today. I regret the day I met you,' he bellowed, with fiery eyes.
'Please, nnanyi, calm down. I can explain,' a visibly shocked Ada managed to mutter. But Uche would have none of that. At long last, he had found the perfect excuse to employ in putting away his wife of three years. He didn't want any explanations. He just wanted to hold on to what he believed, or rather pretend to everyone else that he believed his allegations were right. Just yesterday, he had seen her with her boss at a restaurant. He saw him-the boss- brush her face and wipe the corner of her mouth with a piece of serviette paper. At first, he was shocked beyond words. Could Ada be cheating on me? he asked himself. Part of him wanted his assumption to be untrue because if really Ada was unfaithful, if she was warming another man's bed, if she had been fooling him all the while, then it would be a blow to his pride, a ruinous punch to his ego. To his own surprise, and in a sudden twist from his previous wish, he hoped it was true. It would be the perfect excuse to finally get rid of her. He could get her out of the way for good and place Sandy as the new queen of his home. She already was the queen of his heart and she could be his official woman if he played his cards right. He had long fallen out of love with Ada. Did he ever love her at all? Perhaps it had been infatuation, a temporary flutter of emotions. It was a pity that they had gone all the way to the altar.

'Adaeze, why are you in a hurry? You've not known that man for long. Marriage na serious mata ooo,' Ada's mother had said, holding her ear and stamping a foot as if for emphasis.
'Mama, I love Uche. He loves me too.' She was certain he loved her. Just the day before, as they sat over dinner at a gorgeous eatery downtown, he had said he couldn't live without her. He always had the right cloying word to sweep her off her feet.
'Ada, my daughter, you're doing things in a rush. I'm scared for you. I'm very uncomfortable with this. Please, let's wait a little more before you get yourself hitched.'
'Oh, Mama. This is what I really want... to be Uche's wife,' she had said staring into her mother's eyes, eyes that were older than hers and had watched events upon events unfold for almost half a century.

As she pleaded with her husband who was bent on putting her away, she vividly remembered that day and how Mama had tried her best to make her slow down. But she had been head over heels in infatuation with Uche, her reasoning had been clouded by her blazing emotions. She should have waited a little more to see his true character unveil.
'I saw you with my eyes. He was caressing you, playing with your face,' he said as he paced the room.
'Honey, please, let's talk this over. This is a case of misunderstanding,' she pleaded as the accumulated tears in her hazel eyes threatened to flow. But he didn't want to know if it was true or not, he just wanted her out of his way.
Ada was used to her husband trying to pick out faults but this time it was just crazy- no, heartbreaking. He should have known that she wasn't capable of being a slut. It was depressing that after moving past all the guys who tried to win her golden heart, after getting married to Uche unsullied, he would lay such a demeaning accusation against her.
‘I give you 48 hours to get yourself outta here. 48 hours.’
‘Uche, I will go. But…,’ she paused to wipe the tears that betrayed her, ‘…you will beg me later. Only it might be too late for you then.'

Episode 7:

'You all should put more efforts into your study because you'll be writing SSCE pretty soon. Next month, actually,' Mr Egbo, the Maths teacher said before using exit door. He was a dark and lanky man who spoke meticulously, picking and giving his words in drops.

'Hi, Eric,' she said with nothing more than a glance and wave at him. She swiftly turned to Chris. 'Hey, Chris. C'mon, let's take a walk...'
'Annie...' Eric cut in. 'We need to talk.' He had been wondering why Annabel was suddenly treating him this way, like an alien she would love to get rid of.
'What's up?' she asked, feigning ignorance.
'Please, let's go to the field. I won't keep you for long.'
'Oh, okay.' Looking at Chris who was engrossed in the note he was updating, she said, 'See you soon, dude,' and walked behind Eric as they left the classroom.

'Annie, what's up? Things have changed between us and I don't understand why.'
'Really?'
'Yes, and you know it. Did I do anything wrong? I'm not dumb. I know you'r

e holding a grudge against me.' He paused, expecting her to say something but she remained mute. He continued, 'Annabel, I'm your friend. Tell me if I've wronged you. Let's talk about it. Please,' he said. Annabel looked at him keenly. He looked like a 3-year old child as he pleaded with her. He looked so humble, so innocent, so helpless.
'You did nothing wrong,' she said finally. 'I just don't want to come in between the both of you.'
'What are you talking about? You mean Chris and I? Come on.'
'I don't want any trouble. I want to give you some distance since you have a lover now.'
'What?!' he exclaimed, in deep shock.
'I heard it all. You poured out your hearts to each other. Stella and you.'
'Oh, Annie. You must have misunderstood everything. I'm not in love with Stella or something.'
'Hmm. My ears cannot deceive me. I heard you both clearly.'
'Did you listen to the full conversation?'
'There was nothing left to hear, Eric.'
'You see? You didn't hear it all. You didn't hear me tell her off.' He gave Annabel a deep stare and added, 'I'll admit I'm in love with someone but it's certainly not Stella.'
'Oh. Now, that's the more reason I should give you some space. I don't want to get your lover frenzied with jealousy, and... There is nothing left to say. I should leave now,' she said and made to walk away. But Eric held her back and she waited to hear what he had to say.
'I love you. It's you that I love, Annabel.'
'Me? You love me?' she asked in a half whisper. Her hazel eyes suddenly seemed wider, her fair face even fairer. She felt butterfly riot in her stomach.
He continued, 'You've brought sunshine into my life, and all of me loves all of you.'
'Eric, I... I...' She was cut short by Chris' screams as he hurried towards them.
'Come on, guys. Mr Wole is in the class already.' The trio walked together in a rush, hoping that the Chemistry teacher would not scold them for coming in late.

As soon as school was over that Wednesday afternoon, Annabel went over to Eric's desk to have a short chat with him.
'Eric, I'm sorry for misunderstanding you. I'm embarrassed by my own actions.'
'It's okay, dear. Let's leave for home together,' he said as he tried to take her khaki school bag off her shoulders.
'Oh please, don't,' she said with a baby chuckle. 'You really want to embarrass me. Don't you?' she said as she held on to her bag.
'You know I'm always at your service, My Lady,' he said with a mock bow while Annabel laughed hard. He liked the timbre of her laughter; it was music to his ears.

It was Friday, the last day of school for the week and Eric was alone, away from the other guys. He no longer had interest in their petty gist, their perverse gossip about the girls in their class. He could imagine what they would be discussing now: how big Nene's backside is or how Sonia winked at Daniel during assembly or maybe about Nicki Minaj's newest video. He didn't want to spend his time talking about such things. He preferred to be alone with his thoughts. 'Annabel must be with her clique now,' he thought to himself. She easily had girls hovering around her but there were few times when she preferred to be on her own too. As thoughts of her slid into his mind, his eyes danced to a corner in the distance and then he saw her. Looking at her from where he was, he had strong suspicions that she was sulking. He got on his feet with the speed of light and walked towards her.
'Annie...' He was right. Her fair face was saturated in her tears. 'What's wrong?'
'Eric, I hate my life,' she said matter-of-fact-ly.
'No. Don't say that. Your life is beautiful, Annie.'
'I hate my parents. I hate them.'
'Annabel, stop this already. Tell me what's wrong.'
'I have brain tumour,' she said as she broke into a fresh round of cries.
'How did you know about this?' he asked quietly.
'I saw it on my student record file. I was asked to update my information and as I looked through the file, I saw my health status. I was shocked to my bones.'
'Dearie, it's okay,' he said in a convincing tone.
'My parents... they hid it from me. I hate them.'
'Annie, maybe you were not supposed to know.' By now, Annabel was stunned by how calm Eric was. There was not even the expression of surprise or shock. He was taking it like it was old news. Something was not right, she knew.
'What do you mean?' Eric was speechless, trying to think up a good answer. 'Did you know about this?' she asked looking at him, studying him intently. Her face was wet and stern.
'Uhmm...'
'Oh, so you knew.'
'Annie, it's not...'
'Stop right there. Oh... I hate you. What were you all thinking? That I'd never know till I die... soon.'
'Oh, no. Please understand.'
'Understand what? That my surgery is due to hold in two months time and I've been totally kept in the dark about it?' Eric was wondering how she knew about the surgery. 'Or that I have been taking drugs that my life depends on thinking they were irrelevant.'
'Annie please...'
'Eric, you know what? About what you said to me the other day, I don't feel a thing for you. Now, I don't even know if I can call you a friend,' she said and walked away. Eric thought about running after her but his legs wouldn't move. They seemed to be stuck to the ground as he looked across the field, dazed.

Episode 6:

The buzz of the phone woke him up from the short nap he had slipped into, not deliberately. He had just drifted into sleep, without changing into his night clothes nor putting out the lights. He shifted his gaze to the wall clock. 12:15am, it read. He sleepily took the call to hear a feminine voice at the other end of the line.
'Hello.'
'Hello,' he said, drowsily.
'Good morning,' the soft voice greeted.
'Oh... Is this Annabel?' he asked, as he suddenly recognised the voice. 'I have been trying to reach you. I'm yet to save the number and that's why I didn't know it was you at first. Pardon me.'
'No problems. I saw my missed call from you. I see you must have been asleep. I'm sorry I ruined your peaceful slumber.'
'I'm glad you did, Annie. How are you? Why are you still up? It's late, you know.'
'I'm all right. And Eric, I was just busy with some trivial stuff.'
'What could the Queen be busy with? It must have been very important,' Eric said, overcome by curiosity.
'I don't know, but my parents say I have to take some of my drugs by 11pm.'
'Oh dear. Do the drugs repel you?'
'Of course. But don't worry about that, I'm fine.' She sighed, and quickly changed the topic. 'What did you score on your Chemistry test?'
'96%. You?'
'99%,' she said. 'What about Math?' she asked excitedly.
'100%.'
'95%.'
'I'm sure you'll get straight A's in WASSCE.'
'You really think so, Eric? Don't flatter me.'
'Sure I do. You're amazing. Everyone knows that.'
'Thanks, Eric.'
'What do you intend to study?'
'Industrial Chemistry.'
'Wow. I dream to be a Chemical Engineer.' He smiled. 'You could work in my company, you know. I'll treat you right.'
'Who says I can't own a company?' They both broke into a laugh, subdued though because the night was dead silent. They talked on and on until there was nothing else to say and they had to bade each other goodbye. Eric promised he'd call the next day. As he lay in bed, he reminisced the words Annabel said a few minutes ago, on the phone. I MISS YOU. Her voice had been soft and singsong. He was not sure what would have escaped his lips if she hadn't ended the call before he could utter a reply. He kept reliving the words in his head until he succumbed to the power of sleep with a wide smile etched on his face.

'Annie,' she heard someone call from behind.
'Ah! You scared me,' Annabel said, visibly shocked at seeing Eric.
'C'mon. Don't be such a scaredy cat,' he teased, now standing before her. 'What are you doing here, and alone?' he inquired.
'I just feel weird. I don't know what's wrong. My head seems to be swirling around.'
'Hey girl, stop being paranoid,' he said as though he wasn't aware of her condition. He could still remember the information he stumbled upon at the hospital. 'Let's play an intriguing game,' he suggested in a bid to cheer her up.
'What game is that?'
'Eric...' They both turned towards the direction of the voice to see Stella approaching them. 'Hello Ann,' she said to Annabel in a rush. 'He-llo Eric,' she cooed.
'Hi Stella,' Annabel replied, uninterested in whatever she had to say.
'What's up, Stel?' Eric said.
'Please come with me. I won't keep you for long,' she said to Eric, and threw a quick glance at Annabel.
'Right away?'
'Yes, please.'
'All right. Excuse me, Annabel. I'll be back.' Before he walked away with Stella, he whispered into Annabel's ears, 'Cheer up, pumpkin.'

Chris joined Annabel just as Eric walked away with Stella.
'Beautiful rose,' he said. Annabel wasn't sure who he was referring to until she saw that his eyes were fixed on the flower she was caressing. She had plucked the stalk off the plant. 'How are you, Ann?' he asked, staring at her now.
'I'm all right, Chris. You?'
'I'm good as always. Why are you alone?'
'Nothing.'
'I just bumped into Eric and Stella.'
'Yes. She just came to pull him away.'
'Ann, are you okay,' he said with a searching stare.
'No. Is anything going on between Stella and Eric?' she asked.
'No. Why?' He asked and laughed heartily. To him, it'd be ridiculous for Eric and Stella to date.
'Errm. Nothing, Chris.'
'I smell jealousy. You like Eric, don't you?' Chris said with an impish smile. 'They are just friends. I suspect Stella fancies him though but fear not, Annie.'
'I hope so. I don't want anyone hurting my friend.'
'Amazing. How sweet. I'm going to tell it all to Eric!'
'Oh, no, please don't.'
'All right. All right.'
'I want to go for some snacks and maybe a drink. Do you want to come along?' she asked.
'All right. Let's go,' he said, and they both walked towards the school's mini-mall.

'I don't know how to say this, Eric.'
'I'm all ears. You can tell me whatever you have to say, Stella.'
As they- Eric and Stella- talked on, Annabel caught sight of them and hid within earshot. She was by now, very curious. She listened attentively and heard when Stella said, 'Eric, I love you.' He just stared in surprise. He hadn't expected her to say those words to him. It hadn't crossed his narrow mind at all. Stella continued, breaking the awkward silence, 'I've had a crush on you for sometime now and...' She paused and put up a shy countenance that was rather false. '...I know you don't like me. I know you...'
'No, Stella. I like you a lot.'
Annabel felt her legs shake and a tear trickle down her cheek at the sound of his last words. 'I was right all along,' she muttered to herself and walked away. She didn't wait to hear the full conversation.
'I'm not in love with you, Stella. I value our friendship but let's not go beyond that.'
'Oh.' That was all Stella could say. She was quite disappointed.
'Stella, I have to go now. Someone might see us here and draw wrong conclusions. Plus, Annabel is waiting for me. Bye,' he said and swiftly walked away.
'Maybe I'd get another rich dude to capture. Just maybe,' she thought to herself.

'Hey, Chris. Have you seen Annie?'
'Annabel... We were together a...' Suddenly, he saw her walking towards them and declared, 'Here she comes. The Queen!'
'Chris, let's go,' she said without paying any attention to Eric.
'Annabel,' Eric called out. Annabel walked away, without looking back.
'Chris. What happened?'
'I don't know, man. I'm as surprised as you are,' Chris said and joined Annabel who was walking in quick strides. Eric just stared on, shocked and confused altogether.

1. Bittersweet Experience: The Journey To Motherhood
He walked into their vacuous and aesthetically furnished bedroom, and stopped in his tracks, dazed. He felt like screaming, 'Why are you doing this to yourself?' but on a second thought, he rushed to her side and wrapped his muscular arms around her chubby body.
'Baby, it's okay. I'm here, all right,' he cooed into her ears, cuddling her some more. His warm hand wiped the tears off her pimpled face.
'I'm just fed up. I can't even explain how I feel, neither can I tell why I feel this way.'
'Oh, don't worry about it dear. You'll be all right. You're already 6 months gone,' he said, with a wide grin spread over his ruddy face. He placed his head on her taut tommy, checking for the foetus' movements. 'Bae, he's kicking again, he's kicking!' he said in a cheery voice.
'No! She's kicking. Our Sharon is kicking'.
'Hmm. Are we going to argue over this again?' he said with a laugh and funny grimace on his face. He looks funny, Tola thought to herself. This was her man, the love of her life. As they sat together in a moment of brief silence on their king-size bed, her mind wandered to their period of courtship and even the dates before then, when she was svelte and trim, without the new excess flesh. She reminisced his gentle mushy words that wooed her easily. Now, she was his wife and pregnant with his child. Of course, she was happy to have a tiny creature that looked like her forming and camping temporarily in her body, and soon to be born. But it was challenging... morning sickness, dizziness, swollen feet, restlessness, the abdominal cramps, backache, intense hunger, stretch marks and the mood swings. The changes in her body were getting her worried. Would she get her slim figure back, after her dream daughter is born? And if she doesn't, would Obinna still fancy her?
'Darling, you're so beautiful,' Obinna said, bringing her back to reality. He was looking deep into her eyes, and his had a twinkle in them. He was full of admiration for his woman. Tola was going to voice a reply when she suddenly felt the need to spit.

The evening breeze blowing over Obinna and Tola as they relaxed on the balcony of their large apartment was relishable. The comfy house was in dire need of more humans to fill it, mini humans calling, 'Mummy! Daddy!' in high chirpy voices.
'Honey...' Tola started.
'Yes, Baby,' Obinna said, as he turned to face her. Tola quickly wondered if Obinna would still call her Baby when she becomes the proud mother of a charming baby girl.
'Do you really have to go on that trip tomorrow?'
For the full story, click on https://goo.gl/UR2WXu

2. Broken
'I love you,' he said, over the phone. 'It is you that I love.' Prisca could hardly believe her ears. Osazee had just confessed love to her. Osazee... the charming Osazee with the bronzed complexion, the muscular build, the disarming smile, the soothing baritone voice. She was carried away, lost in the euphoria of the moment till Osazee's elfin voice jolted her back to reality. 'Are you there?' he asked.
'Yes, Osazee. I'm still here,' she said, with a lame attempt at hiding her glee.
'So, will you be my woman?' he asked, in a rather calm tone. He was sure he would get a yes. No woman had ever turned him down. Prisca wasn't going to be the first.
'Osas...,' she said in the sweetest tone of her musical voice. 'Let me think about this,' she told him, although she wanted to say yes right away and become Osazee's woman. She would proudly show him off to all her friends as she would do a gold trophy.
'All right, darling. I'll be waiting. Please, make sure it's a yes.'
'Just hold on to hope while you wait,' she said.
'I love you, Prisca. Please don't break my heart,' he cooed. 'We'll talk tomorrow. Bye for now, darl.'
'All right then. Bye,' she said, with a blithe smile on her butterscotch face. He hung up and on hearing the beep, she said, 'I love you too, Osazee. With every part of me.' Prisca was overjoyed. She had met Osazee three weeks ago at a picnic hosted by a mutual friend. She had been full of admiration for the tall hunk. Osazee was all over the place with his rich sense of humour. The ladies were hoping to catch his attention, to get him to shoot his smile at them, to notice them. Calm Prisca had just sat with a friend or two watching and chatting. But she was a captivating beauty and Osazee could not help but notice her. I have to get this one, he thought to himself. So he walked over to her, talked and flashed his enchanting smile at her. She willingly gave him her phone number at his request. And that was it. It had been three weeks of phone conversations and lunch dates. Although, she was crazy about him all the while, she could not dare to raise her hopes. But, things just got brighter. He had said, 'I love you'! She fantasised about their future together, a lavish wedding, the three cuties they would have for kids. Her life was finally taking shape.

'What?!' she screamed, shaking hard.
For the full story, click on https://goo.gl/oDy68w

3. Wetin We Do Sef?
'Holy cow!' Justice Tunji screamed aloud.
'Darling, what's wrong?' a petite woman asked, as she scurried into his commodious study. Worry was written all over her 46-year old face as she watched her husband try to maintain his cool. Her eyes danced around the antique and aesthetically pleasing room where her husband of 23 years read and meditated and strategised.
'Kemi, I just got a call from one of the boys. Justice Dolapo was arrested by the DSS this morning,' he said and paused to heave a deep sigh. 'I think I'm next. The DSS guys are coming for me,' he stated matter-of-factly. His legs were trembling as they leaned against his chestnut study-table. They shook in fear, despite his effort at hiding the emotion that had overpowered him. Everyone had always viewed Justice Olawole Tunji as tough. But he was human after all.
'Chai! Thank God we moved the cash we had been saving in the underground storehouse to Mongolia two days ago. Oluwa, ese ooo,' she said as her shrill voice intruded her companion's thoughts. 'Darling, you know who to call. Don't you?' she added, fondling her husband's hand.
'I've called them all... but I don't know. Those guys took Dolapo George. Powerful Dolapo! I don't know if I can escape this scourge. I don't know,' he expressed without pretence.
'I wonder why that Aboki at Aso Rock won't mind his business. What have we even done? We've eaten very little sef. He should investigate his holy and blameless cabinet, his fellow party members... and just look at the wristwatches and Hermes Birkin purse his wife flaunts for us to see. That young lass! All my wristwatches put together are worth only five million naira. Those ones that are spending billions a week, he did not see them. They want to investigate us!' she talked on and on in annoyance. Her hubby remained mum. His shrewd mind was faraway, lost in a myriad of thoughts, seeking an escape route. Suddenly, he picked up his HTC tab and typed in some texts and sent them to whoever he texted. As soon as he put the mobile phone to rest on his table, he heard it ring.
'Hello?' he said in his calmest tone. 'Hmm. Two of them. Let them in right away,' he said and put his phone away.
'Tunji, who was that?' Kemi asked, with her light brown eyes searching his for clues. His worried countenance had been replaced with an impish smile.
'It's the receptionist. She says two police men are here, looking for me.'
'What?' she shouted, her voice louder than intended and shriller too.
'Kemi, relax. I have it all figured out,' he said with a reassuring smile. 'They'll soon be in the outermost living room, and then they'd take me to the station to write a statement. That's it. I'll be back soon.' He looked away and added, 'I have plans, woman.'
Go to https://goo.gl/iUfLq7

Episode 5:
Thanks a lot, guys,' Eric said, as he forced a smile through his teeth. 'I might be in school tomorrow or next.'
'No, Eric. Take all your time and rest. You must be shaken by the loss,' Chris said emphatically.
'Yes. Chris is right. There should be no unnecessary rush, dear. Everyone understands,' Anabel said softly.
'Hmm. Being home all day... it makes things worse for me. I want to come to school as soon as possible.'
'All right man. No problems. We'll be glad to have you back.' Eric and the trio were finally at the monstrous gates of the vacuous compound. 'You should get back to the house now, Eric,' Chris suggested as he squeezed Eric's hand hard. 'Thanks for seeing us off.'
Eric sighed and bade them goodbye. 'Goodbye guys. See you at school tomorrow.'
'Bye, Eric. Please take care of you,' Annabel said, and gave him a side-hug.
'Bye, sweetie,' Stella cooed, after being mute for so long. She had been a million miles away in her thoughts. Her eyes had been dancing round the compound from the moment they stepped foot in it. When they had arrived and walked into the compound a couple hours ago, Stella gaped in disbelief as she beheld the home of the Okons. 'This must be the wrong house,' she thought to herself. She expected Chris and Annie to quickly realise this and then they'd turn back. But they walked on and on and into the gorgeous and palatial mansion. The beauty of the antique living room left her awestruck. She heard Eric's voice in its rich timbre as he walked into the room and then it dawned on her that this wasn't a hotel as she had concluded.

Eric had lost his father. Meningitis had taken Mr Okon away from the world and his beautiful family. Annabel, Chris and Stella had paid their broken friend a condolence visit. Eric still couldn't understand how his ebullient and jovial father suddenly turned sickly pale and then died. His father's death made him realise for the first time in his seventeen years on earth that one could lose the things he cherishes the most in the twinkling of an eye.

It was a warm Wednesday morning and Eric was home. Walter's High School had gone on a one-week midterm break.
'Hello,' Chris called out, from the other end of the receiver.
'How you doin' man?' Eric asked his childhood friend of many years.
'I'm cool o. How...'
'I text you for Whatsapp since. You no reply.'
'Errm... What's up?'
'I just need Annie's digit. Please text it to me.'
'I thought you have Annabel's number.'
'No. I lost it, Chris.'
'All right! I go send am for Whatsapp. Make I subscribe now. I even get gist for you.'
'Thanks man.'

'Oh Annie, please take your call,' Eric lamented. He had tried Annabel's number for the umpteenth time and there was no response. He was already

torn between different emotions. First, it was something close to anger, then it was worry. Was she deliberately snubbing him? Or had she fallen sick again? 'Is she all right?' he kept saying to himself.
They had been good friends for some time now. What had suddenly gone wrong?

Episode 4:

A week had gone past, and Mr Okon still lay ill on the hospital bed. The prognosis wasn't good. Young Eric was affected emotionally as was his mum.

Eric sat on the lush grass of the field alone, whistling quietly when Anabel walked up to him.
'Hello, Eric!' she called out.
'Hey, Annie,' he said, soberly.
'You shouldn't be here.'
'I just want to be alone. That's why I am here, away from my friends.'
'Why? What's wrong? This is not the Eric I know.'
'Nothing. That's just what I want.'
'Hmm. Okay. Eric, I need your help.'
'With what?'
'Calculus.'
'Right now?'
'Well, I came ready to learn.'
'Anabel, I'm sorry but I can't teach you that now?'
'Why?'
'I... I...'
'I'm listening. You can tell me what's bothering you,' she said, taking her seat beside him.
'It's my dad, Anabel. He's seriously ill. I do not want to lose him,' he said in a broken voice.
Anabel placed a hand on his shoulder and said in her most soothing tone, 'It's all right, friend. Daddy will be fine.'
'Really? You're sure about that?'
'Yes, Eric. Don't sweat over this, okay? I used to be very worried and confused myself but I've decided to give myself peace.'
'How do you mean, Anabel?'
'Sometimes, I get really sick and feel like my life is ebbing away. They take me to the hospital and fill my closet with drugs. I wonder what exactly is wrong with me but my parents have left me clueless.'
'Hmm. Annie,' he said, staring at her.
'Eric, quit worrying. That's not what will get your dad to become healthy again. Go to him, and speak into his ears. I'm sure you know what to say.'
'Hmm. Thanks Annie dear.'
You're welcome, Eric,' she said with a pat on his back.

The doctor was checking for Mr Okon's pulse when Eric came in.
'Good morning, Eric,' he greeted with a calm smile.
'Good morning, Doctor,' Eric said with a forced grin.
'Your dad will be all right,' he said in an assuring tone. 'I'll excuse you now,' he told Eric as he walked away with his stethoscope over his neck.

Eric sat on the bedside chair and stared at his father. Mr Okon was sound asleep. He was hardly ever awake during the time he had spent at the hospital.
'Dad...' Eric called. 'How are you?' He reached for his Dad's hand and whilst fondling it, he said, 'Dad, you have to get well soon. I know you will be okay but please come around sooner than later.' He sighed as a trickle of tear flowed down his face. Quietly, he walked out of the room and onto the passage. Then, he saw them again. This time he was pretty close, close enough to hear the doctor say they should ensure their daughter takes her drugs religiously and that the brain tumour will be removed surgically in 3 months' time.
'Thank you doctor,' Anabel's mum said.

A Look Into The Mirror

BEST FRIENDS FOREVER?

NOT IN THAT WAY(2)

NOT IN THAT WAY(1)

FIGMENT #001

CHI CHI

STORY(2)

THE ONE

UNTITLED

SEEDS AND HARVEST (PART 1)

BUTTERFLY RIOT

FREED

STALE LOVE

TWIST IN THE WIND(RITA SONWU AND ELECTA ALEN

TWIST IN THE WIND (RITA SONWU AND ELECTA ALEN)

MY STORIES PUBLISHED ON OTHER BLOGS

TWIST IN THE WIND(RITA SONWU AND ELECTAALEN)

TWIST IN THE WIND (RITA SONWU AND ELECTA ALEN)

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