Short Story: The Man Who slept away his tomorrow | By: Ticia Towns

One of the things I love about my job as an online
editor is because I do not have to deal with paper, most people around me think
it’s centred on my asthmatic condition and while I enjoy letting them think
that, the truth remains that my success is tied to my phobia for paper.

After a terribly lazy weekend, where the work I took home wasn’t even looked at not to dignify it with the word attended to, here I
was scurrying around on a Monday morning to make up for lost time, I had a
deadline to meet and not just that I needed a masterpiece.

“Ugo, what’s causing the nuisance out there?” I called
out to my secretary after 15 minutes of which my expectations for calmness to
be restored were brought to nought. It also seemed my question to her was
misunderstood to mean “Open Sesame” for Eucharia; as I would later reluctantly
learn her name to be came barging into my office and unknown to me she was
carrying the masterpiece I was trying to create all along.

“He killed my baby and has ruined my life. I want him
to pay for it”
but just before the words “you need a lawyer” could be formed in
my confused brain and uttered through my quivering lips, with a teary and
broken down voice she added “I want the whole world to hear my story, please
help me tell it”. All I could do was sit and stare at this lady who was now a
shadow of herself; a cocktail of pain and anger masking what used to be a young
beautiful sanguine.
I don’t remember how many seconds or perhaps hours
went by while I was lost in thought but that window was my decision period and
I was going to listen to her lament. “My name is Ebun, I am the…” “I know who
you are; I didn’t come here by mistake. Other magazines have offered to pay me
but I chose you so let’s get to destroy that SOB”

Such arrogance! I thought to myself, but I got to this
point in my career by tolerating people worse than her so I wasn’t going to let
miss-I-don’t-need-your- sympathy here to stop me.
“Tega has a sleeping problem that he has refused to
admit to even now that it has caused us the life of our baby”
she let out more
calmly this time, obviously in control of her emotions. “This lady has multiple
personality and it’s quite difficult to tolerate”
I muttered between clutched teeth
to myself.
“I noticed it for the 1st time while we
were still dating, I had spent the weekend at his place and he took me to
church and promised to come pick me when service was over”
she paused and
smiled to herself, as if remembering the loving side of this monster she was
trying to tear down.

“Even though he knew what time service ended, I still
sent him a text message when pastor was rounding up his sermon to be sure he
hadn’t forgotten. I think I may have OCD, I always like to double and even
triple check things”
and with that she started chewing on her nails like was
typical of a nervous wreck, I took my phone and quickly texted Ugo “please get
a doctor on standby; we may have a medical emergency soon”. After chewing to
her satisfaction she started blowing out the contents of her mouth across the
table towards my direction “it’s this stupid OCD that made me check on tammy
again for the 12th time that night to discover she wasn’t herself,
something was off but I couldn’t tell exactly what it was”
she hurled out like
someone who was relapsing from cocaine abuse.

“I tried waking Tega to take us to the hospital,
screaming and hitting him for 45mins did not achieve that”

“What!! I have only known you for about 2 hours now
but I believe your screams can even resurrect the dead. Are you sure it took
that much effort and time to wake him up?”


“Ebun, the day my husband was meant to pick me from
church I ended up going home myself because not only were my messages not being
replied; he also wasn’t answering his phone. I was worried something might have
gone wrong so it wasn’t even any relief finding his car still parked in its
usual spot.”
She got up and walked to the window as if in search of more air,
while I was almost freezing from this AC that didn’t seem to cool the heat of
anger that was boiling from within her.

“I stood at the door banging and calling his name
while also dialling his number for over 30 minutes. Even his neighbours were
drawn to my now angry and terrified screams. What if he had died inside? To my
relief I heard the door open from within, overcome with more relief than anger,
we made fun of it as he claimed Jesus gives sleep to his beloveth. Then it was
cute to laugh about but looking back at what it has caused me now, I should have
sort for a lasting solution.”

“Wow!” was all I managed to say, for the first time in
my life I was short for words. I knew about insomnia but this? It sounded very
surreal, that it would take 45 whole minutes to wake up a sleeping person who
was not sleeping beauty.

“My baby died before we even got to the car” her voice
came interrupting my thoughts and awakening me back to this unbelievable story.
“I sued him but the lawyers said technically he couldn’t be held responsible
for poor tammy’s death as an autopsy had revealed she died from a heart problem
that had never been detected before.”
“Most women worry their husbands are with other women
when their phones go into voicemail, I wish that was the case with my own
husband but no, he’s too busy sleeping”
. After about a second she continued “ I
have filled for a divorce and I want to tell every woman to stay clear else the
next woman who marries him might be killed in a burning room with Tega sound asleep.
I want to ruin his life, but I am also hoping my story can attract doctors to
find a name and solution to his problem”.

She still loved her husband, I detected from the last
sentence she had made. That was the cherry I needed on the cake and with that in
place, I drew out my laptop.
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Ticiatowns is a writer extraordinaire with a passion for entertaining and that she does through her vast imaginative ability touching fiction, lifestyle, inspirational and humor.
Follow @ticiatowns on twitter





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Short Story: Counting Fingers | By: Femi Eromosele

The heady smell of igbo was thick in the air. The five men with eyes already glazed puffed in turns on their wraps, intermittently using their hands to ward off smoke as if to see clearly. Magic was trying hard not to puff more than five times. He always kept count. On days like these, he liked to stay clear headed. If he finished a whole joint, his head became too fuzzy and he would make silly mistakes like slipping into his perfectly enunciated English.
He didn’t like that. It gave him away and made people want to reason with him. That was bad for business. Very bad. He needed people to be too fearful to question or reason. Five puffs was just good. That kept him high enough without losing him in the skies, high enough to get the job done.
The journey from Benin the previous day had been rather stressful. His back and buttocks still ached from the ceaseless bouncing every time the driver hit a pothole. The road to Lagos has always been in disrepair. He couldn’t remember a time it wasn’t. Usually, he would go with God is Good AC buses, but he didn’t have that kind of money this time. The nameless transporters by the school main gate charged a lot less. They didn’t have a big name he had to pay for. And from the testimony of his buttocks, they had no shock absorbers to pay for either.
 
“Don’t worry,” he consoled himself, “this should be the last time you would go on such a bus.”
 
Fourth puff. He was getting there. They had run through the routine one last time and it was almost time to go. His mind drifted to his girl. He had been thinking of quitting. He could not continue with the risks any more. Once he was done with his final exams in a few weeks, he would go and start up his printing business. He had no intention of looking for any job. The proceeds from this last job would be enough to set that up and even get married the next year like he planned. Maria would be in her finals then. She was a good girl, and he could tell she was from a good family. He was more than willing to let go of this part of his life she must never find out about.
“Guys, time don reach. Make we dey go,” Degbesco interrupted his musing in a voice that sounded clogged with sharp sand.
 
Magic was relieved. He had just noted with worry that Degbesco was smoking more than usual. He tended to get a little reckless afterwards.
 
” Make una remember, na sharp sharp we go do am. We go take the document wey Chief say make we collect. If money dey the house, dat na our own.” Wahala explained unnecessarily. They all knew the money Chief had promised was more than enough to make anything they might find in the house seem like peanuts.
 
He thought of his girl again and how he longed to see her. He should be back in Benin before she returned from Abuja. She said she was going to see her uncle’s family. It was her custom to spend a weekend with them every month. She had no idea he had left Benin an hour after she did.
He took the fifth puff.
They parked the car in front of the street. The security guard came out with his flash light to see if it was the regular night crawler that lived in number 4. The guns that suddenly flashed at him made him as meek as a cow before a Fulani herdsman. They tied him up and left Agbako to watch over him. The house was easy to locate. They knew their target would be at home. According to Chief, he used the place during weekends though his family lived on the Island.
 
 
The guard in the house came off even easier to deal with than they envisaged. Kura and Bado climbed the gate in and caught him unawares as he slept. They banged on the door, their confidence buoyed by the steel in their hands. Out of impatience, Degbesco fired a shot on the lock. It didn’t open it, but it seemed to convince the house help that they weren’t vendors.
In the master bedroom was the shaking form of Mr Chike on his knees and in only his boxers.
 
“Please take all you want. My money is inside the wardrobe,” He pleaded, with a voice obviously not used to begging.
 
“Sharap! Who tell you say na money we dey find? Wey your briefcase?” Magic pointed the gun at his head as realisation of their true mission dawned on him.
Degbesco dragged a half nude figure from under the bed where she had been hiding, and Magic nearly lost his grip on the gun. Staring back at him was a pair of eyes equally shocked to see her boyfriend.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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Femi Eromosele lives and teaches in Lagos. He takes pleasure in reading and telling stories.
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Short Story: Danger | By: Sueddie Agema

His legs, as they would say, touched his head in full flight. He wished they could go farther. The Malo guys were fast on his trail and he had to put some distance between them. At this rate he could have won any Olympic race. He leapt over an upturned drum. He reeked of fuel. In a different situation, someone seeing him might have thought it was the fuel that gave him his speed. (So much for thinking only vehicles used it!) Despite his full adrenaline, drench and fear, a flash smile appeared:
 
“Fuel for his speed. Only vehicles, abi?” He looked to his eyes’ limit and noticed a deserted road. When would he get to anyone? He looked to the trees and buildings. Even they looked menacing and so, he continued farther. He looked forward and backward severally in order to be sure no one was following him. Though they were a distance from his sight he could hear their voices. A few days ago he had laughed at the story of a man whose buttocks had been slashed in full flight. It had seemed funny, then. A man in full flight, then, swoosh! No butt again.
 
“Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! O boy, you sabi lie o!” He had said. In the battlefield, the story seemed so real to him now. But which evil spirit had prompted him out? A million curses and more! If he had known he would meet those Malo guys… He had run, actually walked into them:
 
“Stop there!” the obvious leader had commanded, “Where I de go?” he asked, referring to Bem. Fear had seized the laughter that would have greeted this blunder.
 
“I de try reach school”
It was either the leader didn’t hear him or thought Bem meant he was a staff member in school. The order was given and tua!! A slap cut across his face.
“Aôndo!!” he cried, calling God.
Gbuum!! Kpaa!! Gbua!! The several slaps, blows and other forms of brutality not recorded in any written vocabulary kept flying at Bem:
 
“I am a student! I am a student! Wan ye makanta! Eh!! Yaron makaranta!! Dalibi… I be student! I be… ahhh! Ayoooo!! Aondo!!” English, Tiv, Hausa, Pidgin and the unmistakable language of pain! He kept the varying chant which now acted as some sort of background music to the men who increased their pace with each ‘drop.’
 
“M kpe ver o!! I am dead! Na mutu! I be student na!!” He kept on crying as he continued in cycles, in words and movement while the Malos changed their brutalities. A big plank with nails on it appeared from nowhere. A cutlass followed in quick succession. The wielders were swift and seemed professionals. From accounts, it took three seconds. Two in the air and swoosh!! You were… Bem knew this and despite his pains now, prayed all the recitals he had learnt from Youth. Up and…
 
“Stop!” It was the leader. Bem heaved a sigh of relief,
“I promise to go to mass each day and never miss tithes and offertory. No more girls and…” He kept making more fear instant promises.
 
“Student!” Finally, it seemed someone had heard him. The leader looked at him and smiled. He responded with blood stained teeth. The leader said something Bem didn’t understand. But then, the message wasn’t his though it seemed he was the subject. He caught a breather at his attackers’ break. He sat down on the ground, still continuing his promises. Voop!! A tire fell on his neck. The men shouted in glee as fuel was poured on him. Such a show was definitely to be enjoyed. The plan had been to weaken him, then in that state, burn him.
 
Thump! Someone fell with a loud crash and with it, the attention of the remaining eight. The jet took off without any ceremony and shot into full flight. Adrenaline was an amazing human component and at the moment Bem praised God for it. He now knew why their goat had disappeared last Christmas after seeing a knife. Danger sure made man and other animals alike.
 
“Heyaaaa! Ayaaaaa!” Bem heard the sounds in the distance as his thoughts darted back to the present. He ran with renewed vigur and ‘blissfully’ into the arms of another Malo group.
 
“Stop here!” He tried to run but at that instant, a weakened and fearful heart coupled with tired legs, emptied him of all his strength, and adrenaline. The group seized him as he readied himself for death, the promises still on the tongue of his heart.
 
“I will never cheat in my exams…nor lie, ever… I will love you more…”
 
“Release him!” The Leader barked as Bem fell to the floor. His tone became softer “You are a student, ko?” Bem affirmed with a nod of the head. “In that case, I would let…”
 
The first attacking group arrived at this moment, and asked for their prisoner. There were some negotiations and the second leader with a resigned look on his face gave way to the verdict. It was three seconds. The cutlass was raised. With tears and a combination of sweat, fuel and urine, Bem perfectly understood the smell of a he-goat, especially a dead one. He passed out.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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Su’eddie Vershima AGEMA is a poet, short story writer and publisher. He is the Chairman of the Association of Nigerian Authors (ANA Benue Chapter) and author of Bring our casket home: tales one shouldn’t tell. He blogs at http://suddie.wordpress.com, @sueddieagema on Twitter and can be reached at [email protected]
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Short Story: Green Eyed By: Morountodun

“You’re not seeing Josh, are you?”
“Josh? Didn’t we just leave him at Ty’s place some minutes ago?”
“Yeah, it’s just…it’s weird, but I suddenly feel like you and him have a thing going on
 
“What?! We’ll, we do, actually. He’s the team leader of our dance group and I’m the only female there.
 
But surely you know that already.”
 
“No….yeah. Forget it.”
 
“You want some more spread on that slice?”
 
“Yes please, pass the Nutella.”
 
“Here.”
 
“Thanks. Peejay?”
 
“What’s it? Why’re u calling me like that?”
 
“All the delivery reports on your phone are of your messages to him. I checked.”
 
“You went through my phone?! Jeez, Temi, you know how much I value my privacy.”
 
“Sorry. Remember I asked if I could send a text to my sis on your phone last night? I was only going to see if it had been delivered this morning before u woke up, not like I set out to read your chats. Twenty texts between last night and this morning seems rather too much for comfort, considering his girlfriend is one of your best friends and how late in the night it was.”
 
“Oh, that. Yeah, we had a sort of disagreement over routine at the last rehearsal. We talked about it last night and it’s been resolved now.”
 
“Really? One would think you two weren’t talking though, with your attitude towards him when he met us at Ty’s this afternoon. You barely said hi, and then you suddenly said we had to leave.”
 
“Well, he was there to see her, not me.”
 
“And you had a problem with that, didn’t you?”
 
“What? Don’t be silly.”
 
“Look, it’s alright to admit it. I remember you had a crush on him when we all first met him, only that he was more smitten by Ty. I just hope you know nothing good can come out from you making moves on him behind her back.”
 
“Tell me you’re not for real. When we both know he’s not the only guy she’s seeing, the slimy two-timer?”
 
“Well, we’re girlfriends, and we don’t snatch each other’s boyfriends, no matter what–“
 
“‘Snatch.’ You make it seem like I’m trying to take what’s not willing to be taken.”
 
“Oh come on, the guy clearly adores Ty.”
 
“And that’s it? He’s just meant to adore and not be adored in return? That doesn’t even make sense.”
 
“When was the first time this ugly thought ever crossed your mind?”
 
“You said it yourself, I’ve always liked him.”
 
“Okay, so you’re thinking he’s going to leave her for you?”
 
“And what if he decides to?”
 
“I seriously doubt that leaving her for you since you’re available as an option is what you’d want for yourself. There are so many great untaken guys out there you could have, and you know it!”
 
 
“No, I don’t. Why does she get to have the best things all the time anyway? The money, the car, the guy…. Life doesn’t revolve around her, so I realized.”
 
“Well, you’ve got the looks and the moves, and ain’t nobody complaining about that. I can’t believe we’ve been friends with Ty since forever and you’ve been jealous of her!”
 
“Whatever.”
 
“Chill, you’ve obviously been flirting with him. I hate to think he’s been responding… Has he?”
 
“Not verbally, but we dance together and it’s all in the gentle way he holds me…the look he gives when I’ve done a great job….”
 
“Peejay.”
 
“Sooner or later, he’ll realize he loves me. I know this.”
 
“Could you just snap out of it? Usually, when a guy is into you, it’s as clear as day. You definitely won’t need a diviner, neither would you have to keep reading meanings into meaningless things. The way he holds you? You guys are in a team, he isn’t meant to scratch or attack you, is he? And everybody gets excited when you move your body, in case you haven’t noticed, simply because you’re a terrific dancer! Not to burst your bubble or anything, but Josh is a sweet guy to everyone, not only you. So whatever fantasy you have in your head, you need to head back to reality now.”
“God, Temi, what do I do now?”
 
“Take a break, definitely.”
 
“From?”
 
“Him, the dance group, her. You certainly have lots of negative feelings to purge yourself of. It should help not to have them both around you all the time, I think.”
 
“You must be thing I’m pretty messed up, right?”
 
“Far from it. You’ve made a mistake and I admire you for wanting to change for good. It’s a sign of strength.”
 
“You don’t get it, do you?”
 
“Get what?”
 
“I love him. I’m in love with Josh and I don’t ever wanna stop.”
 
“What?”

“I want him, and I’m going to have him.”
 
“You make him sound like some dress you see displayed in a shop. It takes two to tango, remember?”
 
“He’s going to. I’ll make him. He has to.”
 
“Stop it, Peejay, please. Now you sound like that crazy White girl in ‘Obsessed’.”
 
“The movie? I never saw it. How’d it end? The one with Beyoncé and Idris Elba, right?”
 
“Yeah. And you might wanna know, B had her man to herself eventually. The crazy girl died, and what a pointless death–the man was never hers in the first place
 
“What a pity. I assure you though, I’m much more determined. You just watch.”
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Morountodun is a writer and a microbiology graduate of University of Ilorin.
Twitter: @Morountosweet
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Short Story: Deception is the Game, Let’s play! | By: Ticia Towns

I had always looked at him with admiration in my eyes; Gboyega was the perfect definition of charming which the dictionary failed to get. Yegs as I loved to playfully call him was a guy perfectly tailored for me…just me. And who was I?
Moving to a new neighbourhood as an adult was something I had dreaded for a long while and like they say, the thing you fear the most shall befall you.
 
Well it did befall me, sooner than I thought for dad had lost his job and we couldn’t afford the massive 5 bedrooms all ensuite, 2 palours and a large backyard home we owned in the heart of Maitama, Abuja. As our car pulled up in the rugged streets of Mararaba, I still couldn’t believe we were going to be living here, with all the ruggedity that I wasn’t accustomed to going on around me. Pikins playing football in the street, all the business owners running their noisy ‘I pass my neighbour generators’ as I would get to learn that phcn was a luxury in this junk and on arriving our front yard dad couldn’t even park the golf he had acquired after losing his E-class to the bank because an ‘aboki’ had occupied the space with his truck filled with jerry cans of water…hmm, we were really in for it.
Yet in the midst of all the disgust that was clouding my judgment, something about his young sweaty athletic body appealed to me, at 22 I was well in touch with my sexuality. He had control of the ball and the zeal with which he protected it and aimed for the goal post made the edges of my mouth twitch forming a smile, in that brief second I knew the environs of Mararaba would not be as bad if only I would get Gboyega to be my friend but I was still the spoilt, proud rich kid who was unwilling to belittle herself with a bunch of sexy nobodies. That reminder quickly erased the smile that had started to form.
5 years later the story was entirely different, in a not so good way. As I left yegs’ apartment in lakeview estate jabi that evening everything around seemed to be normal, the streets were a little quiet as the rain that threatened to fall earlier had chased people indoors and the street lights as bright as ever; giving the area a beautiful yet serene look and the chilly breeze was just what I needed to relax except I couldn’t as my heart kept racing 1st from disbelief and then hurt.
 
 
My eyes were blurry from the tears I was trying to hold back that I walked past my car without realising it. How could the man I had believed so much in be gay? Looking back now I wonder how I missed the signs; but were there even any signs? Yegs had made me a better person, changed my snobbish and pompous character and I became more homely and accommodating for the man I loved.
I remember how thankful I was the day he walked up to me in the neighbourhood of mararaba a few weeks after we had moved because I was starting to fear that I would have no friends as no one could see past the mean and snobbish wall I had built around me. I even learnt to cook and keep a job, wasn’t that enough wife material to even make 2 pairs of agbada for the most robust man?
Flashes of Yegs and Micheal kept taunting me, Micheal of all people whom we had known to be like a brother to Yegs, at least now I knew where the brotherly bond was coming from. I should have stayed away since he said he wasn’t home but in my always romantic mood I wanted to surprise my boo when he got back home dressed in my sexy lasenza lingerie I got especially for him “oops! I even dropped that in the doorway” I said out loud now realising he hadn’t even run after me to beg, even if he didn’t mean it the effort might have appeased me a little.
 
Yegs had really hurt me, wasn’t he aware that hell hath no fury like a scorned Chidimma? Even though my love for him had made me softer, there was still a mean alter ego somewhere inside and I was going to pull her out tonight. I was heading straight to General Aminu’s house. I had known General for about 4 years now, he was my “helper” after Dad had lost his job and he was also the one I begged to give Yegs the job that came with an official car and the same house he used for his backstabbing scenario.
General would be glad to strip the riff-raff of everything considering he wanted to marry me as wife number 5 but thought my relationship with Yegs was a stumbling block, I’m glad I hadn’t completely cut off all ties with General as I had decided not to put all my eggs in one basket until I had a logo on my left finger. Eventually that would be the card I was going to play against yegs and then would be the right time to say CHECKMATE.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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Ticiatowns is a writer extraordinaire with a passion for entertaining and that she does through her vast imaginative ability touching fiction, lifestyle, inspirational and humor.
Follow @ticiatowns on twitter
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Short Story: What Goes Around | By: Damore Ali

It’s the 12th of July today, chilly and lonely like everyone of its kind. I’ll be different today, It’s a special day, I tell myself as I walk into my room in measured steps. Unsure of myself, I hold on tight to my body to keep from throwing things apart and turning the room upside down as I am so used to.
‘You’re beautiful today. I love you’. The words re- echo in my head.
If I had heard those words seven years ago, maybe things would have been very different today, I thought scornfully.. No, I can’t stop this one.. I yank my wig off my head, rush to the bathroom to wash off my brown powder and mascara. I grab a towel and mop my lips thoroughly too. Then I march to the mirror in one quick stride.. Seeing the ghost I have become over the years, I throw the mirror to the ground. The sound of it shattering reminds me of my own crumbling soul.
‘NO!!!‘ I scream. This isn’t how I thought it would be. It’s raining now.. I smile for a minute as I listen to the heavens paying tribute to something beautiful that once was- us. The thunder a roaring murmur seething through the skies. The sound. That sound of the thunder reminds me of the voice of my own raging heart screaming why?! Not from hate or disappointment, but from fury, about how I never got to understand the stranger you became overnight. Maybe if I had understood you.. Maybe..
You see, you wudda been the perfect guy, The one to whom I wouldn’t mind giving all I have. I shudda loved you all the way, and forgiven you quickly each time your words hurt me. Truth be told, I wanted to; until you said those words that made me look back no more. They were your last. Not to the world, but to me. And not because you died, but because I let you be. You said I was mad, yes mad for you. You said I was a fool, but that’s what your love made me. Each time they asked me what it was about you, I couldn’t tell; because I didn’t know too.. It could never be your hair, a brown mass of thickery. Not your face either, lined with daunting scars, dealt to you by life as a growing child. No, it was nothing physical, You were tall and black, But handsome? Far from that. Maybe it was your eyes that seemed to hold a thousand secrets; like how much you loved me, but your ego never let you see..  I was a waitress at Bucks and Bar when I met you.
 
You are new here, aren’t you?’ I am Adams and you’re welcome to my home.’ You had said. Home? Weird, I thought. Somehow, from the ‘very good customer’, you became the chronic debtor whose bills became mine to pay after you lost your job. You see, none of these mattered. Even when you kissed me for the first time, on your first or maybe second sober night and I knew I had fallen in love with a man who only said ‘I love you’ when drunk, and who had nothing to offer but a warm big smile and a graceful belch, an appreciation for letting him have thousands of beer to consume, I didn’t care.
My love was big enough for us, I was sure; and so I moved in with you even before you asked because I needed to take care of you. Even when the smiles reduced before eventually seizing, and when you started to hit me night after night, and your big hands graced my cheeks with many beautiful scars, I promised myself you’ll come back around.. I promised myself I’ll be patient till that night,. That night on the 12th of July. Oh that night I hate to remember. It was your birthday, and I awaited you in smiles even when the sheer effort caused my head to throb in pain.
 
 
You reeked as usual, of regret washed down with cheap wine.. But I fixed your meal still and watched you eat. Then the next thing was me. Yes, my body was your dessert for many months. I wudda let you like I used to, but I was heavy with your child, which could anytime be due. So I begged you, but you wouldn’t listen. One scar, a price for each plea. When it was over, I was wretched in pain but I picked myself up to nurse my wounds with some hot water.. That was when you blurted the words, ‘Damn you and that bastard child!’
Bastard child? And all came pouring forth like rainfall in hell! My time, my money; my sacrifice, my body. Every freaking hour I spent tending to the misery you had become over the years.. No. I could take all things, but not you doubting my faithfulness! Did you know there was Ifeanyi when we were dating? That rich accountant who used to come to our bar every other day, just to see me. He would buy fruits, and wines and he’ll pay double his bill just to impress me. He promised to take me to America to complete my studies.. But I turned him down every one time; and Chucks who was ready to put a ring through my finger the instant I said yes to his propositions,and although he seemed to have more to offer than Tobe or Michael or Eedris and the lot of the others, I turned them all down … Not because you were rich or smart or handsome or ambitious.. No, you were nothing close! It was all because I loved you and I believed in you and for the life of me, I don’t know what you did to deserve my loving!
All those years amidst the daunting temptations, through thick and thin, and for better and even worse, I stayed chaste for you, prayed for you, fought with you and fought for you. I washed your smelly clothes and did the chores like a wife that I never was. I didn’t mind that you had no money to buy me a ring, how much more the beautiful things I craved for in life.. I stayed the nights murdering mosquitoes just so I could be sure you got in safe.. Yet, you called the child your endless nights of sex escapades caused to be, a bastard?? Forgetting my wounds, I emptied the bowl of hot water on you. Yes, you yelled but I didn’t care. I stooped to the floor and cried.. With you and for you. I loved you. I hated seeing you in pain.. But I needed you to feel the hurt your words and actions inflicted on me day by day. Couldn’t you see? That I wasn’t the woman you fell in love with? My hair, withered; my face, sunken, my nails had grown too short from years of serving you non- stop..
Somehow we lost ourselves and the youthful love we shared.. Amidst your pain, I could hear you say ‘I’m sorry’. You know on any other day, it would have meant so much. I would have run to you, hugged you and told you you’ve been forgiven.. But not that day, it even infuriated me more. The one phrase that would have pulled me into your arms, pushed me out of your life. So I walked out forever.. Without looking back. You could have died, but it didn’t matter, it wouldn’t have changed the way I feel about you. Though my sense of reason was obscured by hurt, so that I wasn’t thinking right when I did it, I am glad I did. Because I know somehow now, wherever you are, each time the burns sting, you’ll remember a woman who loved you like no one else ever would.
I don’t know where you are now but I hope you are happy. I miss you, and I keep thinking to myself, maybe if you hadn’t been foolish enough to blurt out those words that night, we’ll still be together, deeply in love.. A kind of love that noone understands but us. The rain has seized now.. I think heavens must have been thinking with me. The door to the house opens and I rush to pick my wig so I can meet him outside. He mustn’t see me like this. He mustn’t see my room like this.
On opening the door, he falls into my arms wet all over. ‘I missed you’ he says. Tears well up in my eyes again. Tears of joy. I pat his head tenderly as I whisper back ‘I missed you too honey. Happy Birthday’. He looks up at my face and sees the streaks of red in my eye. Ignoring the scars he must have seen vividly for the very first time, he says ‘mum you’ve been crying. Why?’. I smile at him as I shake my head ‘no son, I haven’t. My eyes have only been raining’. He smiles and hugs me tighter. I am happy whenever I’m with him. I hug him back, even tighter.
Just about then, we hear a knock. ‘Mum who’s that?’ Chizoba asks, surprised. We hardly have visitors in our house. But like I said, today is a special day.
‘Shhh! Close your eyes, It’s a surprise’ I respond with my biggest smile yet as I walk to the door. It has to be Aunty Sandra and the other kids from Chizoba’s school whom I invited for his first birthday party ever. On opening the door, the sight that meets mine throws me aback.
It’s You, after all these years. I don’t know how and when a smile forms on my lips.
‘Good afternoon’, you say..
I can’t say nothing. I can only just stare at you.
‘Mum, ‘m waiting?‘ I hear Chizoba call in from the sitting room. Quickly, I awaken from my reverie.
‘Wh– ho–‘
‘Mum? Who’s that?’ You ask, trying hard to peer in through the cotton at the doorway. I take in your sight afresh as your words filter through my ears. You look different. Fine kind of different. Your once brown haggard hair, levelled and black. You look princely in your fine brown coat, white t- shirt and jeans too. When did you get these clothes? Oh yes, it’s been seven years since we last saw each other. A lot must have happened. And maybe that change I so craved for those days has finally come.
‘It’s no one.‘ I respond with a slight frown. ‘What do you want?’
You smile. That heavenly smile you somehow lost along the line back in those days. Damn, where have you been all this time! I feel like running into your arms. Yes, I’ve missed you so badly.
‘I’ve been looking for you Amaka.’ What for? What the hell for? ‘Is that our son?’
‘Our son? Oh the bastard child, you mean.’ I snort!
 
Your eyes are misty. Those eyes won’t pull me into your arms this time.
 
‘I’m sorry Amaka’ I hear you say. Sorry? Would that heal me? Would that make up for Chizoba’s 7 years without a father? Would that rid my face of it’s scars? Would it really make things right?
You fall to your knees now and bring out a ring. ‘Please marry me.’
 
‘Mu..’ Chizoba is about to call out before he sees you, the kneeling stranger with a ring. I pull my son back as you stretch your arms to pull him close to you.
 
‘No, he is not your son..‘ I was saying before Chizoba’s voice calling ‘Daddy? Rings out loud ‘Mum, is this my surprise?‘ He finishes off excitedly. I don’t need to ask how he knew. The semblance is almost unmistakable. Plus there’s just something about the blood.. It draws people to their own. Having no choice left, I introduce you both. ‘Happy birthday Adams, this is your son’.
 
The immediacy with which you take him into your arms makes me laugh till my ribs hurt. And then, like on cue, Aunt Sandra and the other kids walk into the compound chattering away. I watch Chizoba’s eyes light up like it has never before as he rushes to welcome them. I call after him ‘now son, though this was the surprise I actually planned for you, take it that you have yourself a double surprise and maybe even more, who knows?’ I tease; knowing full well that I had ordered for some soft drinks, sweets and cake from the Aboki in the next compound which should be delivered anytime soon. Watching father and son get to know each other gives me the greatest joy of my life. Just as I usher the visitors in and make to enter the sitting room after Chizoba, you stop me and offer the ring again.
 
‘Will you marry me?’ You say.
”No. I’m sorry’ I respond. Yes, try that for effect. Now you know what it felt like those days when you’ll beat me to a pulp and then tell me you’re sorry the next day. It doesn’t heal. It never will. It’s like breaking a wall and rubbing it’s surface hoping it’ll come back into a whole. I watch light leave your eyes. I see the shadow that was once there coming back. Yes, that’s just how I used to feel back then.
 
And though, I still love you; yes, I still care and I’d love to hold you in my arms and have you make love to me every night no, you can’t lose a good woman twice.
‘Errm.. You can join the party if you want. There’s enough food for august visitors.’ I say before letting myself inside. If you made it without me for 7 years, you’ll do just fine even now. And me? Don’t worry, I’ll catch up now that I know you’re happy.
 
 
 
 
 
 
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Damore Ali is a poet, short story writer and blogger. She has been published on several online forums including Naija Stories. She is an accountant by training and a lover of good music. Damore also goes by the name Dr. 2103. She blogs at http://dr2103.wordpress.com.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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Short Story: A Lust Intervention | By: Su'eddie Agema

Tarlumun gazed at Amina. He tried to pick out what it was about her that held him most captive. It wasn’t much of a successful exercise. Not with her so close; not with her scent in his nose. She concentrated on the portable DVD player. He had given it to her just yesterday and was glad she loved it. Glad he could do something for her. He had come to Mbanor where he had finished an assignment some two months ago. It was during the assignment – the construction of the new hospital, that he had met her.
“Have you eaten anything?” she asked breaking into his thoughts.
“Eh-“
“You want to kill yourself?” She headed for the kitchen.
No, you don’t have to…” It was just formality. He had come to relish her meals. It was one of the things that had drawn him to her. It was what had endeared her to him first. She had come to the site to inquire if she could get a contract to supply some building materials. She had walked straight to him and stated her mission without any fear or preamble, almost rudely.
He did not have time for such girls; he did not have time at all. He had told her that there was no room for such and that she should not bother coming again. He was sure he wouldn’t see her again. He had a voice that could send a platoon running. The hunger of that afternoon added a coarseness that he knew would chase a legion of demons away. He had forgotten about her till the evening when she came with a flask of food. It was near perfect timing for he had planned to stay four more hours on the site. Still, he had to ask a few questions:

“What is this?”
“You sounded like someone who would need a meal at the end of each day.”
Ignoring his instincts, he had smiled and eaten the food with bliss. She became a near regular visitor to the site. It wasn’t long before he became a regular visitor to her house.
“Ohh!” Again, her voice brought him back to her present. The DVD battery had gone out. “And I don’t know when this PHCN would bring light!” After a while, she added “The room is stuffy, maybe we should go out for some air. I am taking your food out for you.” They stepped out to the veranda and sat under the almond tree that stood in the middle of the compound. He ate his meal very quickly and as she carried the plates back to the room, he took the opportunity to assess her figure or rather, her backside properly. The buttocks were just alright – alluring.
She came back. He used the light of the full moon to assess her face as she spoke. He took her hand in one of his and with the other, stroked her face gently. She continued talking as if she wasn’t the one being stroked so. He tickled her in the ribs, the ear and she did same too. They giggled lightly. He started feeling the cold. Then, it was her buttocks he was feeling. He had several ideas… His instincts warned him. His ethics and faith shouted.
He remembered his fiancée, Nnena at home. Wouldn’t it be a betrayal? Several thoughts came to his mind… He stood up and told her he was leaving. She objected and they played a bit more… Then, he stood up and headed for the main road. He knew he had to get a bike or taxi back home and fast. He was losing his strength, and resistance. ‘Nnena’ the name kept jumping to his thoughts. A bike came at full speed. She tried flagging it down but he told her not to waste her time as the bike man wouldn’t stop. She persisted and true to his words, the bike passed. She was amazed:
“How did you know?”
“I feel.” He answered lightly and moved to grab her in a bear hug. She was glowing.
“What else do you feel?”
“Warmth.”
She sounded a bit confused: “Warmth?” The twinkle in her eyes said something else, showed an understanding “It is cold!”
He flagged down an oncoming vehicle and turned to her: “I mean you are warm, and open.” She was smiling.
He called his destination and the driver called an outrageous amount. He haggled the fare with the driver. There were hardly any passengers around. Having the premonition it might take some time to reach an agreement, the driver killed the engine to push for a proper bargain. He wasn’t in a hurry. Amina tried to discourage Tarlumun’s leaving. He tried to discourage himself too but felt a force pulling him into the vehicle. The name ‘Nnena’ played on in his heart. Between pleading with Amina that he had to leave and haggling further, his brain played ‘to be’ or ‘not to be’ games. The engine came alive; no time. He stepped away from the car and hugged her. She hugged tight, trying to draw him back.
“It seems you might be staying a while.” She hugged him to her chest and he felt the stiffness that her berries had come to be. He clung on to her till something deep shouted into his ears – Nnena! He pushed her and rushed after and into the car:
“Drive, fast!”
It was a cold night and he was going to regret not taking the extra meal but, it was worth it. As his body lashed him, his conscience patted him.
As the taillights of the car darkened away to the night, a demon whispered:
What happened? How could you let him go? We made everything perfect. All it took was for you to insist!”
“I tried. I used all the powers. I even put the final potent love powder in his meal today!”
“It is too bad. He is taking his prosperity and a lot of more blessings that could easily have been yours – the merging of two into one. He could have been your slave. Too bad Amina. You know the repercussions of your failure, don’t you?”
She shivered.
In a distant place: “Amen.” Nnena said, crossing herself and concluding her intercessory prayer for Tarlumun.
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Su’eddie Vershima AGEMA is a poet, short story writer and publisher. He is the Chairman of the Association of Nigerian Authors (ANA Benue Chapter) and author of Bring our casket home: tales one shouldn’t tell. He blogs at http://suddie.wordpress.com, @sueddieagema on Twitter and can be reached at [email protected]
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Short Story: Principal No-Nonsense Gagol | By: Morenikeji Olatunji

‘NOW, this is all i want, Facts. Teach these boys and girls nothing but Facts. Facts alone are wanted in life. Plant nothing else, and root out everything else. You can only form the minds of reasoning animals upon Facts: nothing else will ever be of any service to them. This is the principle on which I bring up my own children, and this is the principle on which I bring up these children. Stick to Facts’
These were the words of Mr Tochukwu Afukwere, Principal of the great Solid Foundation College as he addressed his teachers in front of his student on the assembly ground.
Mr Tochukwu Afukwere a man of realities. A man of facts and calculations. A man who proceeds upon the principle that two and two are four, and nothing over, and who is not to be talked into allowing anything else and this was why he was nicknamed NO-NONSENSE GAGOL by teachers and students.
Despite his thin mouth and wide range of teeth, tiny legs filled with hairs, pot bellied stomach and bald head Mr No-Nonsense Gagol was always ready to pick on someone, anytime, anywhere, anyhow and for any reason. As he walked past the students, he noticed a girl in the Jss 2 row.
‘The tall fair girl on row Jss 2’. He pointed with his square finger. ‘I don’t know that girl, who is she?’
‘Lizzy Bodunrin, sir’ The young girl said blushing and stepping out of line ‘ I just got a transfer to this school, sir’
‘Lizzy is not a name’. He barked. ‘Don’t call yourself Lizzy, call yourself Elizabeth’
‘That’s what my father calls me, sir’ retorted the young girl in a trembling voice, the other students burst into roaring laughter.
‘Your father shouldn’t call you that’. His voice was louder. ‘Tell him he mustn’t. Am i clear Miss Elizabeth Bodunrin and please I would like to know, what does he do for a living?’
‘He works at the zoo, sir.‘ The young girl said with pride. A smile lit on her face. The other students burst into another session of laughter
Mr. Afukwere frowned, and flagged his hand down.
‘We don’t want to know anything about that, here. You mustn’t tell us that. Your father is a zoo keeper, a zoo keeper and nothing but a zoo keeper.’
‘For how long will he be keeping the zoo? He asked
Lizzy apparently embarrassed by the question still managed a weak smile, “Till he gets a better job sir. Sir, I also want to say anytime your pupils want to go on excursion, my father will treat them well and ensure they have a worthwhile experience.’ The students murmur among themselves
‘Stories! That’s what you are telling me. Back to my point. You mustn’t tell us about the zoo. Your father is a zoo keeper but that doesn’t give him the right to call you Lizzy, you must agree with me?’
‘True sir’
‘ And when I discover he still calls you by that name. There will be war between me and him. He doesn’t have the right to spoil a beautiful name like that. Very well then, i hereby dismiss you all. Back to your classes and don’t forget to keep hold of the facts firmly. He walked into his office with hands at his back.
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Olatunji Morenikeji is studying Marketing at Lagos State Polytechnic. She works as a freelance production manager, loves writing, singing, reading and cooking
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Short Story: Helpless | By: Oluwafunminiyi Omojola

She sat on the edge of the bed and watched him snore. He had had a long journey back home from America where he lived with his wife of two years. She had not seen him in the last fifteen years, not since they left high school and he had left with his mother. She did not even attend his wedding; she had been too mad, too sad.
 
She looked at him and smiled. He hadn’t changed much; and as she packed her hair into the wispy bun that he favored, the one that made her feel ten and innocent all over again, she thought how funny a little thing like a hairstyle could help wipe away a truck load of guilt, even if only for a while. She listened to the hum of his snore, and images from minutes ago flashed through her mind once again.
She could not explain what had happened. She did not even want to try. It had felt oddly exciting being alone with him after so many years, and when he had asked her to hug him, she had been too scared to, too afraid they might travel back fifteen years in time with just that simple gesture. Yet when minutes later, she had found herself allowing him drown himself in the pools of pleasure which she unquestioningly opened up to him, her fears had been eternally confirmed by the intensity of their passion.
 
“Why are you shy? Look at me joo,” he had joked afterwards, trying to make her face him. She wanted to tell him to stop, and allow her develop the confusing blueprints flying about in her head, but she did not say anything. Instead, she stuck to the bed sheets and refused to be drawn away. And after he had curled up to her and whispered to her how she had been sweeter than he remembered, and a hundred times more passionate than the cold fish that their father had made him marry in the name of cementing a ‘lifelong family friendship’ and retaining his pride of place as the ‘scion of the dynasty’, (a termed he scoffed at only in theory), he had dozed off; and she had jumped out of the bed, picked up her clothes, locked herself in the sanctuary of the bathroom and cried her soul out.
And this was how she emerged: decided, stronger, and more confident.
As wrong as he was for her, as much as he was her younger brother even if only from the same father, she knew now for certain that she was in love with him still, as much as he had always been with her.
She knew now that she was his apple, that she would never be able to help being devoured in secret until the wells of their passion ran dry – if it ever could.
All she needed to do was afterwards, tie her hair up in the wispy bun he always admired when they were still children – and everything would be just fine again.
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Oluwafunminiyi is a writer
Twitter: @ooluwafunminiyi
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Short Story: Fool's Gold | By: Victor Olugbemiro

‘Hello!‘ Effy, (Oghenekemvefe), looked up from her computer and her jaw almost dropped. The definition of ugly had shifted to the dude standing in front of her. In complexion, he wasn’t dark, he was black, crisp black; like a malicious burnt offering to the gods from disgruntled worshippers.
Not only was he black, he had a mouth that always curved into an ‘O’ no matter what he said. That and so many other things that could go wrong with a guy were wrong with this guy and Effy couldn’t help but wonder why she had to be the one stuck with such a horrendous site as her first customer on a Monday morning. But pushing all that behind her, she attended to him robotically, wearing her plastic smile like she was paid to do
‘Good morning sir, please take a seat, My name is Effy, how may I help you?’
He took his seat and stated his business; he wanted to open an account. After walking him through the procedure, she gave him the necessary forms to fill out and buried her head behind her computer, hoping that would be the end of the encounter. She wanted to make his stay as brief as possible, but no way, he wouldn’t fill his form in silence, he started a conversation;
‘Your face looks pretty familiar you know’
Oh no was he trying to chat her up and with that line? Aargh! It didn’t help that the sadist head office sent to carry out a Customer Satisfaction Survey was prancing round the banking hall like he owned the place and she had to maintain the plastic smile that was already beginning to hurt.
This was not the beginning of the bright and cheery week she had pictured in her mind in church yesterday when the handsome Pastor Moses was prophesying good things for the coming week. Hmm, Pastor Moses… tall, dreamy eyes, thick hair, sharp dresser, hunk of a…
‘So when will you be free for dinner?‘ His last statement snapped her out of her reverie.
‘Huh?‘ she replied, looking up in time to catch his ‘O’ mouth close, blinking at him, clueless. How on earth could he have moved so quickly from ‘familiar face’ to ‘free for dinner?’ He repeated himself. Hia, Pastor James said it o, that enemies of progress would come disguised in various forms; this one did not even bother disguising himself.
If not for where she was, she would have unleashed her arsenal of insults that she reserved for people like him. Instead, still smiling, she said jokingly, ‘with the nature of this job, will I ever be free?’
Undaunted, he dropped his card on her table as he got up to leave and asked her to give him a call whenever she could find the time.
‘I sure will‘ she said as she flung the card into her drawer without even as much as a glance. She allowed him step out of the banking hall before she released her rattlesnake hiss, ‘thunder fire you, bad market.’
As ‘Debo stepped out of the banking hall, he began to whistle. He hadn’t felt so lightheaded in a long time. The pretty face that attended to him in the bank was dancing before his eyes and that cherubic smile that didn’t waver for a second was turning his insides to Jellyfish and making his heart melt into a million pieces like butter in a hot frying pan.
Surely, she must have enjoyed his little chit chat for though she didn’t contribute, she never stopped smiling. He could spend the rest of his life gazing into those hypnotic eyes that blinked innocently adding a certain quality to the smile, and those dimples…hmm. He had definitely encountered the definition of beauty today.
He was happy with himself that at least, he was able to overcome his usual shyness and start a conversation even though it was quite one-sided. At a point, he felt like he was babbling, good thing she seemed not to be listening, but asking her out to dinner sure caught her attention and the fact that she kept his card in her drawer, unlike many others who tossed it in the trash right in his presence, gave him hope. Even if she eventually wouldn’t call, he knew where to find her.
As far as he was concerned, judging from her body language, the stage was set for a romantic journey that he foresaw leading all the way to the altar. With these happy thoughts in mind, he got into his car and drove off to his other engagements, approaching his day with as much enthusiasm as Romeo approaching Juliet’s window.
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Victor Olugbemiro loves literature, music and photography, among several other interests. He currently teaches in Lagos and writes as a hobby.
Twitter: @oluvickie
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