Short Story Fridays

Arts

Short Story: Brightly In The Shadows | By: Victoria Adebileje

Alani was just giving himself one last look over when he heard a knock on the door.
“Isn’t it just annoying how people feel comfortable coming to someone else’s house early in the morning?” He mused.
Alani looked around and made sure nothing was out of place. He then assumed the manly gait it seemed he could never get used to before walking to the door to open it.
“Alani my friend! I thought you would still be asleep.”
“I’m an early riser Labisi. Good morning, what brings you here at this time of the day?” He stepped back as Labisi made to come into the house.
“It never ceases to amaze me how neat your house always is. Is that why you haven’t chosen one of the girls as a wife? I know they can be burdensome, but since warming your bed and taking care of the house is what they are made for you really should bring one of them in…or two if you want.”
Alani sighed silently. Labisi is one of the very silly, very shallow ‘friends’ he unfortunately has to put up with. His brain must be the size of a peanut.
“Hahahahah! Labisi my funny friend! You really shouldn’t think of women that lowly though, they are much more than cleaners and cooks.”
“Please don’t start with your pet talks this morning joor. You speak so highly of women, yet we never see any around you, you know you actually don’t have to marry them if marriage is what you are scared of. Just frequently throw some little change at any of your choosing and she will do all your bidding for as long as you want.”
The smile on Alani’s face slightly went dim. What Labisi said couldn’t be farther from the truth, it is so sad that women have buried their self-worth for meaningless things.
“Did you come to my house this early to lecture me about my lack of a woman?”
20 minutes later, Labisi left. He had come to ask if some of Alani’s farm workers could come help on his own farm.
Alani hurried out of his house, Labisi had set him back on the numerous things he had to do before the day ends. He checked his wrist watch and saw that he had barely 5 minutes to make the monthly elders meeting. He of course had no business attending the elders meeting, but 6 months ago, the elders had permanently invited him to their monthly meetings stating that his unique and manly wisdom was needed. When he had asked why there was no single woman in the meeting, they had simply said; “what would be their function if we included them?”
How ironic…
After the meeting with the elders, he went on his routine rounds to all of his 7 farms. It was early evening before he finished from his last farm. He had earlier on received a message from the king asking that he comes to the palace at his convenience. The always ran his ideas and decisions by Alani before executing them. Alani had once told the king that he is sure his daughters would do a good job of listening and offering advice when needed, and the king had had a very good laugh with tears running down his black, strong face.
When Alani finally got home, he walked straight into his room and fell face down on his bed. He then slowly got up after a while and stood before his mirror, staring at his own image.
“I really do miss my hair, it used to be full, and long, and shiny.” He pulled off his dansiki and slowly rolled off the swaddle of cloth wrapped tightly over his breasts.
With a deep, long breath she thought; “It feels good to be woman again…”

Victoria is an editor and writer. She blogs at mytwocentsnmore.blogspot.com

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Short Story: New Perspectives | By: Jerry Chiemeke

“Hey, you want me to formally invite you first, right?

Nike turned her head away from my direction and continued walking towards the bathroom room……not like my eyes were focused on that part of her body anyway. Sure enough, she had nice eyes and her weave was properly fixed, but I was gazing at something else at that moment.

Nike’s butt cheeks bore that aura of perfection, and no, I wasn’t harbouring that opinion simply because I nibbled at it earlier on and watch the juices therefrom grace my jaws. There was that smoothness like none other, and now I was getting that full rear view, I could see how well formed it was. She had told me of her preference for walking around the house unclad, and I blessed the Lord for her fashion choices.

I looked to the table to the right side of this large bed where I was sprawled, totally unaware of where I had flung my briefs. On the table lay a copy of the book “Good Morning Holy Spirit”, but I loved to think that if those leaves had feelings, they would cringe upon feeling my touch, particularly considering where my fingers had been for the greater part of the past few hours. There was also a large frame on the wall containing a picture of Jesus and the twelve at the Last Supper, and while the photo didn’t bear the mystique of the Mona Lisa piece, I could feel Peter and John staring at me, frowning deeply. There would be no communion for me on the following Sunday for sure, unless her skin would serve as bread, and the liquid on my jaws be substituted for wine.

Her phone beeped. I checked out the Caller ID, which bore “Le Boo”. I knew better than to answer the call, so I let it ring and turned over the Infinix Hot Note. I was not about to reflect on the issue of fidelity in modern day (heterosexual) relationships. Then again, Nike had got the shower running, and as I slowly got up to join her at the other end of the door, I grinned as I recalled how different things were more than half a decade ago.

***************************
“Oh God!! This flat sef? Who don use my water again?”

The year was 2010, I was chasing my university degree at the time, and I had rented an apartment away from the main campus, apparently being fed up of sharing hostel bathrooms with rats and having fellow occupants stealthily hijack pots from electric cookers midway through cooking half-decent cuisines. Each habitat had its own peculiarities though, and with this 50,000-a-year apartment, I was faced the burden of fetching water quickly before our landlord locked the tap and access to water would be denied until evening. The widow in the next compound would not hear of “strangers” coming to her water tank since we were not “paying rent to her”, so I was understandably livid at being deprived of a bath; there were mid-morning lectures to catch up on, never mind that a slumberfest was in store.

“It’s Charles. He and his girlfriend are bathing together, as usual”, my roommate said, in response to my inquiry.

I knew the girlfriend in question; Imade, a plus-sized lady who would get battered by Charles by 9am and still come over by 8pm to tickle his pubic hairs with her tongue. She cooked for him, did his laundry, helped him out when his bank account was malnourished, and on some occasions (as this one), scrubbed his body.

Beyond the fact that my hard-earned bucket of water had been the sacrificial lamb for their fantasies, I was a conservative student fellowship leader at the time, and I considered joint baths totally disgusting. I viewed it as a precourse to fornication, and I didn’t mince words in stating my opinion.

“Those ones will just be committing sin in there”, I said.

“Oh, Charles and his babe? That one is a regular thing now. Sorry about your water o, something had to give”, my roommate replied.

“But this neighbour really needs to give his life to Christ sha. I will talk to him one of these days”, I went on.
And in my righteous anger, I prayed for Charles’ conversion, while mulling over the length of time expended in that collaborative shower, and my impending lateness for lectures. I would go online and update my Facebook status thus, with the aid of my Nokia 2690:

“Ladies, just because you bathe with him is no guarantee that he’ll marry you. Please, repent!”

**********************
All that felt like a lifetime ago. Nike was probably the eighth lady I would be taking a joint bath with, and there was nothing to indicate that she would be the last. I had long realized that people had various ways of expressing how they felt about one another, and that it was silly to judge others when one had not been faced with similar situations. My mind had become open to various perspectives over time, and I perfectly understood where Charles had been coming from years ago. I took one last look at the photo on the wall, and I turned the door knob so I could help Nike in her quest to conserve water.

****************************************************
Jerry is a sports enthusiast and future art collector who lives in Lagos. Unofficial brand ambassador for small chops, he lives for some good literature with rock music seeping from the headphones. You can catch up on his thoughts at pensofchi.com

 

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Short Story: Apparition |By: Victoria Adebileje

 
Hope was so tired she picked the phone as if in slow motion.
“What did you want?” she said into the mouthpiece of the phone to her twin sister in the other room.
“What did I want?”
“Yeah you just turned my door knob and I heard you go back when you found the door locked.”
“I haven’t stepped out of my room in the last one hour.”
“That’s odd; someone did come to my door” Hope said with a frown. She transferred the phone to her other hand as her eyes strayed to the door.
“Are you sure of that? You were sleeping, and I sure did not hear… someone is in the hallway, I just heard footsteps!” Charity’s voice had made a transition from tired and lazy to frantic.
“Is your door locked?” Hope screamed. She felt a shiver from the core of her being. Something was definitely wrong. If someone was in the house, he must have broken in. She and her twin lived alone in a two bedroom apartment with both rooms on both sides of the house, and she was sure she had locked the main door when came in hours earlier.
“Is your door locked?” She asked again.
“I’m not sure… oh my God the door knob just turned…ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
“Charity, Charity is your door locked, charity is your door locked?!”
Even as she kept screaming the question to a now silent phone, she ran to the door, unlocked it in one beat and began a sprint to her twin sister’s room. She was just a little distance away from Charity’s door when she noticed it open, she stopped abruptly, her heart beating so furiously fast that it was the only sound she heard. She couldn’t have been more scared, and then as if being pushed, she moved like a zombie to Charity’s door. With few more steps to the door, she pulled to a stop again, rushing into her with great force was the feeling she gets when something goes wrong with her twin sister. This time, the feeling was a million times more intense than what she’d ever felt. She never could have believed that it was possible to feel so intensely. Feeling this way could only mean one thing, and in total denial, she started shaking her head vigorously.
“No! Oh God no. it can’t be true. No it can’t be true…”
By the time she got to Hope’s room, she was already sobbing profusely, and to confirm her fears was her sister in a pool of blood on the floor just by the foot of her bed. Still moving like a zombie, she went to the body and knelt beside it and gasped when she saw clearly the horror before her. Hope had been stabbed seven times in the stomach and once at the centre of her heart.
Who could be this vicious? Who could Hope have wronged to have been this angry? A sound from her back made her spring up and turn and then she saw him. He wasn’t a tall man, but he was strongly built. He had a murderous expression on his face and in his raised hand was the knife he had used on her sister still dripping blood.
Fear tore into her like the knife he was holding. The last thing that crossed her mind before the knife came down into her stomach was that her sister must have felt exactly the way she was feeling now before she had died. That thought made her feel happy in a painful sort of way.
Charity woke up with a start and a scream, her throat was so dry that the scream did not quite make it to her lips. Her body was covered in sweat, making her night gown stick to her like a second skin, the bed sheet and her duvet were both on the floor. She must have kicked them off the bed in the course of the dream.
She had never in her life had a nightmare that graphic, her heart was still beating fast, and in an inexplicable way, she still felt that painful happiness. Odd, so odd…
 
She was thinking of a cold drink of water when her door knob turned.
 
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Victoria is an editor and writer. She blogs at mytwocentsnmore.blogspot.com

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Short Story: Corporate Tensions | By: Jerry Cheimeke

Photo Credit: themuse.com
“Heyy,
make sure you report early to the office tomorrow. Remember you’ve got a
journey to make.”
“But
Sir, wouldn’t it be better if I just took off from my place to the park, I
mean, to save time and….”
“Look
here, I don’t know how you want to do it. Even if it means waking up by five,
better report here at the office. You keep acting like you know it all. I don’t
like it, you must take my instructions….maybe I should contact  your previous employers, so I can find out if
you have a history of insubordination.”
Insubordination,
really?  I spent the next half a minute
trying to process what I had done wrong, by suggesting what I felt was a better
way to carry out the following day’s tasks. All that bile from his lips, just
for thinking on my feet! For this boss of mine, it was either his way, or the
highway.
I
knew that I should have got used to his vitriol and bile by now, but there was
something about his recent utterances that found their way to my bone. It was
probably the fact that it was past the day’s closing hours and so I had drawn
down my mental anti-employer defences, letting the venom from his words seep
in….or maybe it was because he had not paid my salary, ten days after
everyone else in the office had received their paycheques! He had cited
financial difficulties, but was it not I who did the most work the previous
month (even doubling as clerical staff on certain days), and had he not only
yesterday instructed the secretary to pay out some money into a relative’s bank
account, money which amounted to twice what I earned?
There
had also been the multiple episodes of being dressed down for errors as grave
as a double line spacing instead of single line spacing on a document. Failing
to mentally regurgitate one point out of ten points made by him during a
previous interactive session would usually lead to questions about the
authenticity of the excellent academic qualifications contained in my resume,
and on more than one occasion he had called me out for not making efforts to
bring more clients, reminding me that marketing prowess made up half of my
assessment points (never mind that the office had no marketing department). I
did not even want to recall the days that my one-hour mandatory break was cut
short after less than ten minutes, or the threats he made about my having to
forfeit a month’s worth of earnings in the event that I desired to leave. I did
not need to watch the movie “Horrible Bosses”; I acted it out every day.
I
would often go home depressed because of this man, and during my intense battle
with malaria I did not get so much as half a day off; as a matter of fact more
files were placed on my desk. I had long chosen to ignore, patiently waiting
for a much better opportunity, upon which I would withdraw my services without
so much as a warning. I took a deep breath and picked up my jacket, getting
ready to go face the city’s gruelling traffic, when he began to speak in his
trademark annoying tone:
“The
clerk said he got to Yaba with those documents by 4pm. Why so late?”
“Sir,
that was because he also had to get to Victoria Island earlier in the day. I
gave him both sets of documents, and he said traffic contributed to the
delay….”
“I
don’t know, there is so much inefficiency and incompetence on display here”, he
cut in. “Why didn’t you call him from time to time to track his movements? I
don’t care about the traffic situation, I want things done. I am many years
ahead of you in this business, you don’t know everything. I am beginning to
think I erred in hiring you.”
*********************
At
that moment, I decided that I had heard enough.
I
looked around the office. It was only slightly larger than an average living
room, the beautiful design of the firm’s website obviously made to deceive
desperate jobseekers before draining them of their souls once they got their
employment letters. It was nearly 6.30pm, and we were the only living creatures
in the building. I saw that he was putting some of his personal effects (such
as his food flask and mouth spray) into his bag, I quickly reached for the
office scanner, and in a matter of seconds, I had applied it to the left side
of his head with considerable force.
I
was fully aware that my stint as an employee in this low-level firm would come
to an end, but I was determined to make an impression. I gave him a cold stare
as he lay on the floor, clutching his head in pain, and I swung the scanner
again, only dropping it when I began to spot some red liquid on it. I then
grabbed the charger of the laptop assigned to me, that laptop which stood for
all the oppression I had endured in the last three months, and I wrapped the
chord around his neck, knotting it tightly and dragging him around the office,
but not before tying his hands behind his back with the ropes used in sealing
some of the office files . He would not stop screaming though, groaning in
typical work-hour-whining fashion, and I took hold of his jaw, clipping his
lips with the stapler I picked from his table, before proceeding to close up
shop with a maxing tape. Reasoning that I had to finish what I had started, I
pulled down the office printer, set his bloodied head on it, and forcibly
brought down the scanner repeatedly until I was sure that he had gone
motionless. Satisfied, I dragged his body to the door and hurled it down the
stairs, before returning to clean up all the blood left in the wake of my
notice of resignation.
***********
“Hey,
where has your mind gone?”
My
boss’ voice jolted me back to reality. It had all been a figment of my
imagination, another one of many times I had sent my boss to permanent sleep in
my head. Sure enough, I had a mind to put him away, but the law prescribed a
death penalty as punishment for what I desired, and I was not quite sure as to
whether the hangman would make a good host. I grinned as I picked up my bag and
jacket, ready to close for the day, when I heard him say:
“How
many times will I tell you to leave a line, and not two lines, between the
address of the recipient and the salutation? Incompetent thing, maybe I should
even further withhold your salary. Your appraisal is up for next month, and if
I must say, you have done nothing to merit a raise.”

The
fact that everyone else had departed helped the echoing effect of the words. I
looked up and saw him putting some of his personal effects in a bag. For me,
having no dignity was worse than making a necklace of the hangman’s noose, and
my boss’ statements stripped me of my dignity with each passing day. I stepped
to the right and reached for the scanner.   
********************************************************************************
Jerry Chiemeke is a lawyer and freelance writer who lives in Lagos. An amateur photographer and sports enthusiast as well, Jerry’s works have appeared on Blanck Digital, Elsieisy and Oshodi.tv. You can follow him on Twitter @J_Chiemeke, and also check out his craft on his blog at pensofchi.wordpress.com )
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Short Story : Pristine | By: Morountodun (Vol 15)


Read Parts 1,2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13 and 14 of the Pristine series here, here  Here Here here here, here, here Here  here here  here  here and here
“I hope you found what you were
looking for.”

She turned in the direction of the
voice, but saw David instead in the dimly lit room. He wasn’t wearing the white
shorts and tee or the khaki uniform she was used to seeing him wear. He wore a
black suit and looked even more handsome than she remembered him to be. He was
still holding the orange handband like the first time they’d met, but this time
it was in an open ring box and he was on bended knees.
She looked further to see Chika
beckoning to her with his ever charming smile. She started to run towards him
but Uju beat her to it. Chika looked delighted to see her too and scooped Uju
up in his arms.
Tayo showed up from nowhere and
took her right hand in his left. But Christy’s hands were wrapped around his
waist from behind.

“I hope you found what you were
looking for,” the voice echoed after her as she walked away…
                                                         
*****************************
Dara woke up to realize the car
hadn’t stopped moving. She had lost count of how many times she had dozed off
on the 18-hour trip. Nothing was ever
taking her back to Gombem that she was sure of. Her 1-year madness was over,
she inwardly scolded herself, wincing as she adjusted her behind on the car
seat.
Had she gotten what she had
wanted? Her mother would definitely ask her that when she got home. Every dream
she had had on the trip had been centered on the same question.
Before she left home, she had
wanted the freedom, the exposure—which she wouldn’t still say were bad for a
girl to crave. At least, she had learnt, she had grown, and she hadn’t had
entirely bad experiences. She had done some pretty good stuff, in fact. It
could have been way worse. She would
have wasted a precious part of her and moving on wouldn’t have been as easy!

Green and yellow. Dara’s heart leapt at the sight of the first
Ilorin cab. She was home! No more sharing the toilet and bath with everyone in
the compound, queuing and waiting till she could get in, or having to hurry out
when someone else started banging on the door. She felt stupid to have chosen
to live like that, but she felt blesses at the same time. She would never have
realized how much of a luxury home was if she hadn’t been away.

THE END


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Morountodun is a writer and a microbiology ‎ graduate of University of Ilorin.
Twitter: @Morountosweet




‎
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Short Story : Pristine | By: Morountodun (Vol 14)

 Lovers, Pair, Young, Woman, Man, Together, Love                                                                 Read Parts 1,2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 and 13 of the Pristine series here, here  Here Here here here, here, here Here  here here  here and here

       

She tried to forget Uju’s words, but they rankled. She might have even believed them the year before, but not after the camp, the way David had looked at her and the way Chika had held her. Men wanted her. What was Uju talking about?!

“If you were to describe me in one word, what would it be?” Dara asked Tayo the following weekend after surprising him with a visit. She had told him over the phone that she wouldn’t be available for the day, only for her to have shown up at his doorstep some minutes later.
Tayo grinned as he tossed a can of drink at her from the fridge. “Cute.”
Dara’s heart sank visibly. “Cute. So you don’t think I’m attractive.”
He took a seat beside her on the couch, and asked, puzzled, “What’s this about?”
She shrugged. “Just wondering what makes me cute and some other women sexy or attractive.”

Tayo smiled. “Dara, you know you’re beautiful.”

“You never tell me. We spend so much time together, extremely comfortable with each other, and you’re not even my family. Isn’t that strange?”

He got up without a word, walked into the kitchen briefly, then went back to sit with her. Raising her chin with a finger so her eyes could meet his, Tayo told her, “I wanted you the very first time I saw you. I liked you even more after spending time with you. It’s been hell trying not to show you how much I want you, and that’s because I’d hate to hurt you.”

“Show me. I’m not an egg, Tayo.”

“You’re sure about this?” he asked, searching her eyes.
Dara nodded, eyes shut.
Without hesitation, he cradled her face in his hands and met her lips with his. She wasn’t too sure of how to respond at first, but the deepening of the kiss as she met his growing urgency with her eagerness, assured her she was doing something right.
She shivered slightly as the kisses trailed down her neck, but froze entirely when she felt his hand stroking her thigh under the dress.

“I want you so badly but I really shouldn’t,” he said, his voice hoarse in her ear and his hand on her thigh no longer moving.
It was the farthest she had ever gone with a guy. Perhaps he had sensed her fear. He wasn’t only mature, witty and smart, he was sensitive and attentive too! Dara couldn’t believe her luck. Suddenly, she didn’t mind him going all the way, but was grateful for his better reasoning. Her idea of her first sex wasn’t on a sofa, but at least Uju had been proved wrong.

“Come. Let me hold you.” One of his legs was on the floor, the other leg along with the rest of his body on the chair. Dara leaned in to him, both of them wordless, at war with their raging hormones.
They must have cuddled for ten minutes, when his phone rang. She felt him tense as soon as he saw the caller, so she sat up to give him some space.
“Are you serious?!” He jumped off the chair at the same instant a gentle knock was heard at the door.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming!” He angrily hissed, cutting off the call and heading for the door before remembering Dara, who was staring at him, wide-eyed.
He quickly walked back to her, whispering, “My fiancée is here from Abuja. I had no idea she was coming. I’m so sorry.”

“You didn’t tell me you were involved with anyone!”

Tayo  ran a nervous hand over his head and then ran back to open the door.

“Hello, darling. You wouldn’t come home, I got tired of missing you and hopped on the next available flight—” the fiancée, fair, pretty and heavyset, was saying as she walked through the door. She paused on seeing Dara and arched a perfectly drawn brow.

Dara realized she had been gaping, and quickly bent to throw her phone in her bag, hands shaking. “I was just on my way,” she mumbled, not looking up.

“Christy, meet Dara, a friend,” Tayo said, but Christy was already headed for the bedroom, wordless.

Dara dashed out of the house. “How dare you! What do you take me for?!” she yelled, trembling, when he followed her outside.

He tried to explain or apologise, but nothing he could say would ever make sense to her. Dara was just grateful she hadn’t wasted her virginity. She would never have forgiven herself.
                                                        ***************************
She had no right whatsoever to be so angry at Tayo, Dara scolded herself often. He had never asked her out or lied to her, he had merely not told her. He had conveniently left his engaged status out of their frequent conversations, which she now missed. Why he had done that, she would never know. She knew she couldn’t have liked him any less if she had known about Christy, but at least she wouldn’t have made herself so available, spending so much time with him, hoping a real relationship could come out of it.
Christy. Dara felt her own eyes turn green at the thought of Tayo’s stunning wife-to-be. He had loved her but had wanted Dara, but not as much as Christy—or what? What exactly had he hoped to achieve? Ladies were thought to be complicated, but apparently men were just as confusing! And Christy’s calmness that day had been even more puzzling. What woman didn’t cause a scene on seeing her man with someone else on a surprise visit? Perhaps she was used to seeing him with different women, but Tayo really didn’t strike Dara as a womanizer. She had known him for about three months and had no record of inappropriate behaviour against him. Even when he had the chance, he still hadn’t lost his head. He had obviously cared, but to what end?
At the next CDS meeting, there was an issue of shortage of funds to carry out the group project of providing more desks for five under-equipped schools. All it took was Dara’s intensive roadwork suggestion to get everyone’s creative juices flowing. Even Uju was actively involved and actually made useful contributions. They might never be friends, but still it warmed Dara’s heart to know Uju could be positively inspired. And so Environmental CDS members gathered every Thursday morning at major roads to sweep and get paid by willing passers-by, volunteered to clean companies to earn sponsorships, and made almost as much money as they needed by August.
The very first set of desks was delivered on a particularly sunny September afternoon to their PPA, and Dara and Uju presented them to the school together. During the overwhelming speech of gratitude by the headmistress, Uju sighed and muttered, “It kinda feels very good to be good.”
Dara, standing beside her in front of the HM’s office, whispered back, “All I’ve been trying to tell you” and ignored the smirk that followed.

To be continued….

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Morountodun is a writer and a microbiology ‎ graduate of University of Ilorin.
Twitter: @Morountosweet




‎
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Are you a writer? Interested in sharing ‎your short stories on this

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Short Story: Pristine | By: Morountodun (Vol 13)

Read Parts 1,2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, and 12 of the Pristine series here, here  Here Here here here, here, here Here  here here and here
Tayo and Dara connected in ways
that never ceased to amaze her.  He was
older, more mature and naturally more knowledgeable, and it fascinated her how
much she learnt from him. His intelligence tripped her, but his humour got her
everytime! She loved how he made her laugh without even trying sometimes. With
him, she felt safe, like she could talk to him about anything, and for this she
was grateful.  It was a relief to be able
to open up to someone after the whole Chika saga, although she had known Tayo
for barely two weeks and had to be as careful as possible.
Her second time at his place, they
had lunch and saw the first season of Modern
Family. She got so engrossed, sprawled on the sofa, that when her eyes
darted to her watch, it was already past ten.

“How did time fly so fast?!” she
exclaimed springing up to throw her phone she had been charging into her
handbag.
He drove her to the lodge, where
she was appalled to find the gate locked when they got there at eleven. She
became agitated when no one answered her knocks. A peek at Uju’s  back window
suggested that she wasn’t in, but Chika was already out of town, so where could
she possibly be? Two other families stayed with them in the compound was
everyone really asleep? Seriously?!

“It’s weekend, you don’t have to
be up early. You could sleep over at mine if you don’t mind,” Tayo offered
gingerly, careful not to aggravate her frustration.
She ignored his offer. “I have
Uju’s number, let me call her. I hope she doesn’t switch off her phone at
nights.”

A giggly Uju picked up to say she
was spending the night out. Tayo stood watching Dara stare at the gate as if
she would break it down. As if she could. Finally, she sighed and muttered
without looking at him, “Let’s just go.”
Back at his, they continued the
movie till midnight. He let her have the room while he slept in the parlour,
and even though she knew she should probably sleep with eyes wide open, somehow
she completely trusted him. He didn’t seem the type to try anything nasty in
the night, and even if he did try, surely he wouldn’t go any further than she
agreed to. She really liked him. How far she would consent to was the big
question, but she drifted off to sleep still thinking of an answer.
He dropped her off as early as
seven, at the same time Uju was stepping out of a black jeep. They both
wordlessly walked into the compound, and when they got to their doors, Dara
couldn’t help but ask, disgusted, “Chika left town a few days ago and you’re
already seeing other men?”
Uju looked taken aback. “Oh I’m
sorry, I didn’t realize I needed anyone’s permission to get on with my life.”

Dara shook her head. “It doesn’t
speak well of you, moving on so quickly from one guy to another.”
“Bloody goody-two-shoes,” Uju
said, smiling as she turned her key in the lock.
Dara frowned and followed her into
the room, uninvited. She had been there a few times when Uju just moved in, but
the visits had stopped when Uju didn’t seem to appreciate them. Now four months
had passed, and the room still looked barely lived in. There were no towels or
panties hung to dry, no single pot or plate in sight. Dara had to remind
herself Uju stayed out most of the time anyway, to stop wondering how come her
own room never looked so tidy. She asked, a frown on her face, “Uju, don’t you
see any reason in what I said?”
Uju had taken off the animal
prints mini dress she wore to reveal matching black lacy lingerie. She folded
her arms across her chest and replied with a half smile, “There’s a power that
comes from giving and receiving pleasure. That power is my drug. I couldn’t
possibly live without itm Chika or not.”

Dara’s frown grew deeper. “But you
really did like him, right?”   

“Yeah…I liked what we had. No
promises, no false declarations, none of the delusion called love, just some
good ol’ fun, and lots of it too, if you know what I mean.” She winked.
It struck Dara then, that the
things Uju mentioned were the very same things she had expected of Chika. A
few, simple heartfelt words would have made a whole world of difference in his
kitchen that day. She had already known she liked him, all she had wanted was a
confirmation that the feeling was sincerely mutual, and then the kiss could
have happened. But…kiss first and then spend the rest of her life wondering
what it meant? Wasn’t it just better to have everything defined right from the
start?

“He was amazing in bed, we did
some crazy things you don’t even want to know about trust me. You’re not
jealous now, are you?” Uju continued tauntingly, twirling some strands of
Dara’s curly weave around her fingers as they stood facing each other.
Dara shrugged off her hand and
told her, “You know all you sound like right now is a sex-crazed freak, right?”
Uju laughed. “Call me whatever you
like, but I still think seeing a guy say your name in ecstasy is one of the
most beautiful sights ever. It’s just priceless.”

“Love isn’t a delusion, Uju. And
sex is beautiful only between who have genuine feelings for each other, it
carries more meaning that way!” Dara replied, horrified.
Uju scoffed. “How would you know?
You’ve obviously not even tried it before.”

“Maybe that’s because I learnt to
carry myself with dignity and not mess around with guys,” Dara retorted,
heading for the door.

“Of course, there’s always a
chance of guys not finding you attractive because you’re so uptight too, you
know,” Uju replied, slamming the door shut.

To be continued….
***************************************************************************
Morountodun is a writer and a microbiology ‎ graduate of University of Ilorin.
Twitter: @Morountosweet




‎
***************************************************************************
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Short Story: Pristine | By: Morountodun (Vol 12)

Read Parts 1,2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 and 8 of the Pristine series here, here  Here Here here here, here, here
Here  here and here

It was the last CDS meeting before
the batch B passing out, and Environmental CDS members had assumed Dara would
take up Chika’s position, being the Vice President and already familiar with
the president’s roles. She declined, however, giving a busy schedule as excuse,
what with her private tutoring and heavy workload at the school.
After the election meeting, Chika
caught up with her on her way out and asked, puzzled, “What was that about? You
know you deserved to be president.”

Dara smiled. “Well, I’d rather
spend my time grooming kids to be smart enough so they know not to litter the
environment in the first place.”

“I just hope that decision had
nothing to do with me,” he said, arching a brow.
Uju walked up to them then.
Playfully pulling Chika’s hand, she asked Dara, “Can I steal him for abit?”

Dara shrugged, mumbling, “Wouldn’t
be the first time.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Dara, please don’t leave yet,
we’re not done talking,” Chika said as Uju pulled him away.
Dara continued walking. The sun
was scorching and her phone was ringing, but all she wanted to do was walk. It
had been months, why did it still hurt so much that he chose Uju over her each
time?
The phone wouldn’t stop ringing,
so she picked up and hissed angrily, “What is it? Look, there’s nothing you can
say to make me change my mind so just don’t bother!”

There was a pause, then a confused
“Hello to you too. Change your mind about what, though?”

Dara frowned, confused too. She
hadn’t bothered to check who the caller was, she had simply assumed it was
Chika. She apologized, embarrassed, “Sorry, I thought it was someone else.”
Amused, Tayo asked, “Am I calling
at a bad time?”

“Just not having a good day,” she
told him quietly.
“I figured. You sound like someone’s
pissing you off. Where are you?”

“Leaving CDS. Headed home. Around Kasuwa.”

“I’m not at work today because I
have malaria. And I’m making myself some get-well-soon soup,” he said. “Want
some?”

Dara chuckled. “Over the phone?”

“Well, if you asked nicely, I
could allow you pay me a visit.” She hesitated, so he added, “You sound like
you need to talk, I’m offering you a listening ear plus a plate of soup, that’s
all.”
She thought about it for a second.
“You can tell me how to get to your place. I’ll just get home and change from
my uniform. But you know these tricks of yours are getting old, right?”

He laughed. “I’ll be expecting
you.”

When she showed up at his door
about an hour later, they were both dressed in similar blue jeans and tees, and
she told him, “You look younger.”
He frowned, smiling. “Is thirty
really so old?”

“Yes. To a twenty-one year old.”
She covered her face with her hands. “Now I feel so small.”

“Come on. It’s only almost a
decade.” He grinned.

“Only?! At your age, I hope to be
married with two kids—Are you married?” She quickly asked. It hadn’t occurred
to her before that he might be.

“Not yet. But you’re about to
taste the best soup ever. I boiled some rice to go with it,” he told her as he
fetched the plates.
Dara suddenly stiffened as she
watched him dish the food. He must have noticed, because he asked, looking at
her with concern, “Are you okay?”


She nodded.
“Then why aren’t you talking? I’m
the sick one here, remember? We agreed I was only going to listen.”

“Thanks,” she smiled as he handed
her a plate. “It’s just…the last meal I shared with a guy didn’t end so well. I
couldn’t help but remember.”

He took a seat beside her on the
couch. “What happened?”

“He-he tried to kiss me.”

Tayo shrugged. “He must’ve been a
healthy young man. Can’t blame him.”

Dara stared at him, astonished.
“Seriously? You’d do that too?”

He shrugged again and replied with
a straight face, feigning seriousness, “Well, we both know how you’ve asked me
for some favours in the past, so of course I would if you begged me to.”

She rolled her eyes at him,
smiling.
To be continued….
*******************************************************************************
Morountodun is a writer and a microbiology ‎ graduate of University of Ilorin.
Twitter: @Morountosweet




‎
*********************************************************************************
Are you a writer? Interested in sharing ‎your short stories on this

platform? Be‎ our guest on our Short Story Fridays segment. Email: [email protected] or ololade.olatunji@yahoo/ gmail.com
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Short Story: Pristine | By: Morountodun (Vol 11)

Photo: Lifedaily.com
Read Parts 1,2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 and 8 of the Pristine series here, here  Here Here here here, here,  here
Here and here

“Happy birthday!”
“Jeez, is it twelve already?” Dara
yawned, sitting up on the bed to rub her eyes with one hand while holding the
phone closer to her ear with the other.
“Not yet. It’s eleven. But I
wanted to be your first caller, just in case I slept off before it’s time,” Dan
replied, chuckling.
She pictured his mischievous look
and smiled. “Thanks dear. You know, I just realized it’s going to be my first
birthday away from home. Aww. I miss you guys.”
“Miss you too, sis.” He feigned a
sob.
“I have no idea how the day is
going to be. Maybe I’ll go withdraw some money and go to the market after work,
cook myself something really nice,” she mused.
He teased, “Yea, the
marketplace…perfect place to meet your dream Fulani.”
Dara laughed. “Dan, you’re just a
case.”
“And you’re just telling me that
now? You’re sixteen years late.”
“Okay, now I give up,” Dara
sighed, still smiling. “Where’s everyone? Asleep?”
“I’m sure Gidddie’s just waiting
for the strike of twelve, and of course mum and dad will call later. But at
least it’s on record that I called first. Yayyy. Gotta go now though, exam in
the morning.”
“Alright. Love you!”
                                                               
              ************
The day was going as
expected—early morning birthday calls, work as usual, with school closing at
2pm and the private tutoring ending at exactly 4.
Dara got to the ATM, and on her
first attempt received a debit alert without any cash being dispensed. She
immediately made for the bank entrance and told the security guard when he
tried to stop her, “The machine didn’t dispense and money has been deducted
from my account. I have to lodge a complaint.”
“Bank is closed. Come back tomorrow,”
he replied curtly, standing in her way.
Dara glanced at her wristwatch.
“It’s just five minutes past four. Please let me go in so my problem can be
resolved quickly.”
“Come on time tomorrow,” he
repeated, his face expressionless.
Agitated, she explained, “I need
the money now. Please.”
“What’s going on here? Madam, how
may I help you?” asked a tall, dark man who had just come out of the banking
hall through the second door. He was wearing a suit and an ID card hung around
his neck, obviously a bank official.
After Dara had told him what
happened, he gently assured her, “Usually, the cash is reverted within
twenty-four hours so you should have it back in your account latest tomorrow.
But just in case you don’t, can you give me your account details so I can do
the follow-up?”
Dara went back to her room that
day blinking back tears. It was her twenty-first birthday and she couldn’t even
afford to cook herself a decent meal. Birthdays at home were fetes, and here
she was in a strange land, alone and depressed.
She did get the money back in her
account the following day. The alert came in during break at work, right before
she got a call from an unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Hello, good day. I’m calling to
confirm that your transaction error has been resolved. Your cash should be in your
account anytime from now if it isn’t already.”
She recognized the gentle,
assuring voice and smiled. “Yes, thanks. I just got the alert .”
“Alright. So sorry for any
inconvenience you may have been caused.”
“Seriously? You do this for all
your customers? How nice,” she said, genuinely touched.
“Well, not all customers turn out
to be my birthday mates,” he replied. “I saw it on your account profile this
morning and realized what an awful day you must have had with your money stuck
in thin air.”
“Yeah…worst I’ve ever had.”
He said after a brief pause, “I’d
tell you how mine was too, but you didn’t ask. And I have to get back to work.”
Dara laughed. “Well, I have a
class to teach too in a few minutes, so maybe we could save the birthday gists
for another time.”
“Oh, there’s going to be another
time? Alright, I’ll be expecting your call.”
“Wait…what?”
“You just promised me a call,
right?”
Confused, Dara said, “Did I?”
He laughed, then asked, “You’re a
corper?”
“Yeah.”
“I just got transferred here a few
months ago. I know how lonely and boring Gombe gets sometimes. I also know
teaching is a lot of work and I’d hate to disturb. So if you’re ever free to
talk sometime, I don’t mind a call.”
“Okay, but I didn’t get your
name.”
“You didn’t ask for it.”
“So now I’m asking. Otherwise,
I’ll just save your number as ‘man in suit’.”
“Tayo. It’s good to know my suit
made an impression,” he said, a smile detectable in his voice.
To be continued….
*********************************************************************************
Morountodun is a writer and a microbiology ‎ graduate of University of Ilorin.
Twitter: @Morountosweet




‎
*********************************************************************************
Are you a writer? Interested in sharing ‎your short stories on this

platform? Be‎ our guest on our Short Story Fridays segment. Email: [email protected] or ololade.olatunji@yahoo/ gmail.com

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Short Story: Pristine | By: Morountodun (Vol 10)

Read Parts 1,2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 and 8 of the Pristine series here, here  Here Here here here, here,  here
and Here
                                                                         
There wasn’t only a wall separating their rooms, Uju was unlike anyone Dara had ever known. Nothing really seemed to interest her. Her quietness bordered on coldness, and after several attempts to find common ground, Dara realized she had been forcing it. Maybe civil neighbours and colleagues were all they were meant to be, not necessarily friends.
Uju seemed to lighten up wherever Chika was, though. Not that it surprised Dara, he was a known charmer. It was probably the reason why Dara thought nothing of their fast closeness, at least not till she began to notice the private jokes and the stolen glances. Sometimes she even saw him leave Uju’s room without stopping over at hers.
Three weeks passed, and on a sunny afternoon while walking home from the school, Dara summoned enough courage to ask Uju in as unconfrontational a tone as she could muster, “So what’s up with you and Chika?”
Uju shrugged. “I don’t know.” She continued after a few seconds, “He’s just someone I relate with quite easily. He understands my kind of person. Let’s just say he’s perfect company for me.”
“So I noticed. You guys have been spending a lot of time together,” Dara remarked dryly.
“He told me what happened with you.”
Dara quickly glanced at her. They were home now, each unlocking her door. “What did he say?”
Uju shrugged again. “Everything. He’ll never understand why you rejected him, why you didn’t want him, but I get it. You’re a serious-minded person and he just wants to have fun. Some of us don’t mind that, in fact it’s what we want.”
Dara continued staring at her door even after she had gone inside her room. Why on earth would Chika think she didn’t want him? He was the closest person to her in Gombe, she obviously liked him, why would he even think that? All she had done was stop him from kissing her in his kitchen, and she had been so close to melting that afternoon. Why then was he talking to Uju about it and not her?!
She got a chance to talk to him alone the following day. The state environmental protection agency declared an emergency meeting with the CDS execs to discuss a proposed week-long rally. The corpers were to stage a playlet on one of the days.
“I think we should throw it to everyone on Thursday, we’ll get more ideas,” she told him as they walked out of the office together after the meeting.
“Alright. If you say so. Although I know you can single-handedly come up with the best idea.”
She looked up at him, smiling. “You realize we hardly talk these days except it’s about CDS?”
He looked surprised. “You wanted it this way, right?”
“That just wasn’t how I pictured my first kiss. I didn’t mean we couldn’t remain friends,” she explained.
“Well, you didn’t exactly say what was on your mind, all you did was turn me down.”
“Neither did you. All you did was try to kiss me. Imagine how shocked I was to find out how you felt about my ‘rejection’.”
Chika smiled. “It’s okay, Dara, seriously.”
“So we’re cool now?” she asked quietly.
“We’ve always been,” he replied, squeezing her shoulders in a chummy way that irritated her. “I see you and Uju have been talking. Isn’t she like the coolest ever?”
Dara’s insides were raging with resentment, jealousy and anger, all in a mix. Were they both acting all loved up solely to hurt her for any reason or were they for real? Couldn’t Chika tell how bad it made her feel that he’d ditched her for Uju?
When he stopped a bike to take her home and waved her goodbye, she smiled in return. She had a new plan. Two of her students’ parents had spoken to her before about private tutoring for their kids. Maybe it was time to take that up. With no free time on her hands, Uju and Chika would be the last thing on her mind.

To be continued….

*********************************************************************************
Morountodun is a writer and a microbiology ‎ graduate of University of Ilorin.
Twitter: @Morountosweet




‎
*********************************************************************************
Are you a writer? Interested in sharing ‎your short stories on this


platform? Be‎ our guest on our Short Story Fridays segment. Email: [email protected] or ololade.olatunji@yahoo/ gmail.com

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