Half empty or Half full???

The two friends sat under the mango tree in their usual spot watching as people went by. A baby could be heard crying in the distance as he sought some attention from his mother. Occasionally, a molue (bus) went by with passengers returning from the town..

“Did you hear what happened to the Ahmed?” asked the taller of the two.

“No I did not” replied the shorter one as he concentrated on peeling the mango that had just fallen into his lap

“He is in the hospital now. His wife almost killed him last night?”

What did she do?”

“She broke his instrument”

“I don’t understand how a broken instrument will land him in the hospital?” replied the shorter

“I mean she broke his instrument” said the taller as he moved his right arm to his crotch.

“oooooh!” exclaimed the shorter as realisation dawned on him. “How is he now?”

I hear he will live” he replied.

They sat in silence for about two minutes deep in thought. The shorter had thrown away the mango seed and was busy washing his hands with a sachet of pure water.

“Did you see the jeep bring Nkechi back last night?”

“Yes I did o!” replied Obi who was a good foot taller than his friend of about twenty years. “I hear Nkechi is now selling herself for money” he added.

“You cannot be serious” replied Chidi. He had finished washing his hands and was picking at pieces of mango stuck in his teeth. “What is Uche doing about it?”  he asked.

“That is what baffles me. I hear she and Uche are sharing the money” replied Obi.

“Ehen!!!” exclaimed Chidi. “What is our town turning into? Broken instruments and joint ventures”.

“Which one is joint ventures again? You and your big grammar. I was talking to Amaka this morning and she said she thought Uche must really love and understand his wife. According to her, their relationship must be really open for her to have told her husband about her sugar-daddy”

What manner of nonsense is that one? Are you sure your wife is not sniffing glue? Love ke. Uche is just reaping the benefits before he throws her to the curb. which man do you think in his right senses will let his wife be sleeping with another man and still say he loves her? Uche does not love her jo. He is just being practical. What sense is there in leaving her now when he can stay and join her in spending the sugardaddy’s money?” replied Chidi in a near shout.

“Take it easy na. You are acting like i am the one who got a sugardaddy. Amaka was just saying that there are two ways to look at the whole situation. You know they are owing practically everyone in the town and Papa Chuks has threatened to bring the police if they do not pay by the end of this month. Also, I hear their son was thrown out of school last week because they have not paid any fees this year. Things are very hard for them”

“Hmmm……Obi I am surprised at your wife o! So she thinks there is such a thing as a good enough reason for a woman to sell her body?”

 “That is exactly what I asked her this morning” replied Obi. “She just said she was not taking sides but that before I condemn both of them, I should look at both sides of the coin”

“Condemn both of them ke? The only person I am condemning is Nkechi jo. Uche is playing the smartest card he has. As soon as this spring runs dry he will take off” said Chidi as he burped loudly.

“Me i don’t know again o! I think it is very hard to judge what the motives are from a distance. You know how my wife is; always looking at the glass half full. I think it is possible that she is right but i don’t want to believe Uche will let his wife sell herself just to settle some debts. I’ve always seen him as a man”.

“Well I have said my own. Half full ke? That glass is half empty…in fact it is fully empty.They are just bidding their time before they throw away the glass.” replied Chidi. “Abeg you get cigga?” He asked as he eyed a mosquito that had just perched on his leg.

This Post was inspired by something someone i know said today. He was in the situation Chidi and Obi just spoke about and he both loved his girlfriend and enjoyed the things her sugar-daddy gave to her with her. According to him, it was an arrangement they both had and understood. What do you think? Is it possible to love someone and let the person sleep around? Half empty or Half full?

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This Christmas

Happy new year guys! Unfortunately things have been less than happy in the country recently but hopefully we’ll get a welcome result soon. So I’ve been in a terrible rut where writing is concerned and I stumbled on a writing competition on a friend’s blog in December last year that looked like just the thing to get me out of my rut. We were to write and submit a piece with the title “This Christmas”. I wrote two pieces and basically sent the piece with the smaller size seeing as the deadline was barely seconds away and we all know how naija internet is. Ok I’m rambling. Anyway, I don’t know if I sent in the right piece but what you are about to read is the piece I didn’t send in. I’d say “hope you have as much fun reading as I had writing” but to be honest, my head was killing me when I wrote the piece so the fun kinda got lost in-between. Ok I’ll shut up now……lol. PS: we had a 1000 word limit.

My name is Uche and this Christmas was like none other……

It all started many suns ago. My ancestors allowed themselves to be captured by the big ones. Rumour has it, they deceived us with food. Yes it is humiliating to even admit but we are a gluttonous race and because of gluttony, we now live in captivity and answer to them. They feed us and we in turn act like total imbeciles. Smiling and running whenever they go by. Why we have reduced ourselves to such dimwits is beyond me. Christmas for us is a period in time when a lot of us are released from captivity. I think Pa Alfred coined the word and gave it the definition but I think he stole it from somewhere. The guy is just a seasoned thief and besides, he is really not that intelligent. The word is too “fancy” for him to have thought of by himself. This Christmas started like any other. The big ones came for their usual inspection. Imagine disgusting creatures sliding their disfigured hands all over your body. Last time they came for inspection, one of them sexually harassed me. I cannot mention what was done in detail without being sick but I still have nightmares. It took all my willpower to stay still as they groped and fondled their way through my body. I had prayed to rooku the sun goddess that morning so I knew I was not going anywhere.

WRONG!! I was lifted out of the cage like a bag of dung. rooku had failed me. I struggled but my body was subdued effortlessly. I sometimes marveled at their incredible strength. I was a fighter but even I knew I was no match for the big ones. I decided to stop struggling and live to fight another day. I was also scared of breaking something. They threw me into a foreign cage. I was not alone. The smell hit me before I saw him. “flesh of rooku! Haven’t you heard of grooming?” I exclaimed. “What is the point? We are all going to die soon” he replied. I knew I was definitely going to die soon if I did not find fresh air. I stayed as far away as possible as if for some reason his stench could be controlled with distance. An act whose futility he was quick to point out. “What did you mean when you said we were all going to die soon?” I asked as the impact of the stench began to fade. “Exactly what the words imply. This is the last cage before the executioner’s knife. I have tried to make sense of everything but all I can come up with is that they are a sick and evil race that hold no regard for life.” he replied. “How do you know all these things?” I asked. “I made it all the way to the executioner’s knife yesterday before I was thrown back in here for reasons unknown to me. Everything we are told in the clan is a lie. There is no utopia after the cage; at least none that I know of” he replied.

That night was the longest night of my life. I thought of everything I had known to be true and how if my less than sanitary cage mate was right, my life was about to end. I cursed my ancestors that had let gluttony enslave their generation. I cursed rooku for forsaking me when I needed her the most. I cursed everything I could possible curse till Stench(my nickname for him seeing as I never got his real name), asked me in more colourful words to shut up . I was not surprised. His mouth was bound to be as dirty as his person. The next morning, I did not pray to rooku. The big ones came for us that morning. They bound our feet and carried us to where Stench called the place of death(very unoriginal). I looked around and for the first time in my life really saw what the big ones looked like. They were very strange creatures with features whose purpose I could not begin to imagine. They sounded strange and spoke gibberish. Stench went first and as I watched, his head was severed from his body as he twitched. I wondered why he did not put up a better fight. I was next. From nowhere, I felt a surge of energy as the big one came for me. Using every part of my body, I struggled. I felt myself break free as I heard a loud bang. Later, I would say I escaped because of my own strength but I know whatever caused that bang startled the big one. It saved my life. I fled amidst shouts of gibberish which sounded very much like “catch that cock”.

The outside world has been quite interesting. I have come to realize that almost everything I learnt in the clan was a lie. Apparently there are many other clans that look different from us and are bigger than us. There are also other members of our clan that walk free. I have tried approaching a couple of them but they all seem stuck up and claim to have never heard of our clan. I wonder if Christmas is still going on in the land of the big ones. I found utopia some days ago. It is as beautiful as I imagined it while in captivity. Someone needs to tell the clan that the big ones will not set them free. They need to break free to find utopia. I have contemplated being the one to go back and inform them but I do not think I know my way back. Even if I did manage to find my way back, I doubt I would succeed without being caught. I do not want to let my generation down by attempting chivalry in the face of obvious failure.

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Hey guys! How’s everyone been? Yea I know its been ages but I’m back at least for the holiday period. The piece I’m about to share was written by me for a series going on right now on a friend’s blog that featured some AMAZING writers. Its called “the 12 days of christmas” and u should check it out(www.thenakedconvos.com). My theme for the series was mystery which I must say I was elated to have gotten. I just love getting people confused lol! The piece is called TROIS(obviously) and its a mystery piece I must say I’m very proud of. Hope you have as much fun reading it as I had writing it. See you soon…..

The sisters stared at him as he moved toward them with the blade in his right hand. “I’m going to gut y’all like trouts. Ungrateful bitches”. “Please don’t hurt us” they cried in French. “We’ll be very good. We won’t tell anybody”. “When I’m done with y’all, you won’t be able to tell anyone anything” the man replied with a sneer. He lunged at them catching her in the arm with the blade. Blood was everywhere. “Make it stop please! Make it stop” she begged her sisters. He came at them again. Spittle flying as he giggled…..

“Angie is everything ok?” asked Amanda as she stared at her patient. It was happening again. Angie had come in about a year ago with severe multiple personality disorder. She’d had the same dream all three hundred and two nights she’d stayed at St Mary’s hospital, Iowa and she always woke up screaming. Amanda was very intrigued and worried by Angie’s case. Unlike other personality disorder cases she had, Angie’s personalities seemed to be somewhere else whenever they appeared. “Doc can’t you tell this isn’t Angie? What on earth are we paying you for?” she replied as her whole demeanor changed. “Hello Stephanie.  Good morning” Stephanie was the loud and sometimes violent one who usually came out when Angie felt threatened. “There isn’t anything good about the morning. I was in the middle of something before that stupid dream brought me here. Aren’t you guys supposed to be fixing us? Never mind. Soon it’ll be over and we can get out of here”. “Soon what will be over?” asked Amanda. “None of your fucking business” she replied with a hint of a smile.

It was the ninth day of Christmas and as usual, the queue for Santa’s lap could have made it into the Guinness book of records.  She envied their innocence. Hers had been taken away from her at a very tender age. Her heart beat faster as the queue moved forward. Everything was ready to go. She’d been planning this for as long as she could remember. Yea the details had changed countless times but the end goal was always the same; his slow and agonizing death. “Step right up Miss and tell Santa what you want for Christmas”. She froze at the voice. That voice that had haunted her dreams for so many nights. That voice…..”Come on up here and make Santa a very happy man” he crooned as the audience chuckled at his joke. It was now or never. She stepped onto the platform, sat on his lap, bent towards his ear and whispered “all I want for Christmas is to see you choke on your own spittle. This is Stephanie by the way. Fucking pedophile” she said as she pricked him with the rose yellow and white gold combination charm bracelet she’d had specially made to contain poison in one of the petals. She watched his eyes widen as he recognized who she was. “You have to understand I was a diff….” he began as she slowly shook her head. “I’m not interested in your excuses. Aurevoir old man” she whispered as she stood up and walked calmly out of the store.

Five minutes later, the poison began to shut down his system. They tried to help him but it was too late. His screams could be heard about a block away as he slowly and very painfully died. She watched through the store window as he took his last breath. Finally, it was over.

Maggie sat at the police station after being brought in for questioning. Apparently one of the other people in the queue had seen a lady matching her description do something to Santa whose real name was Isaiah Drew. “Ma’am do you know this man?” the detective asked. “No I do not” she replied. “He was just poisoned and many people can place you at the scene of the crime”. “I’m certain it was not me but before we proceed, I must tell you that there are three of me. I was born a triplet so it is entirely possible your on lookers saw one of my sisters or someone that looks like me” she replied. “How convenient. Where are your sisters now?” he asked. “I couldn’t say. We were separated after our parents died” she replied. The detective had never gotten a case like this. “Stay here. I’ll be right back” he instructed before leaving the room.

“I’m in trouble Doc” said Angie to her therapist. “What do you mean?” asked Amanda. “I mean I’ve been arrested” she replied. “Angie I don’t understand”. “Stephanie did a very bad thing but she did it for all of us and now they think I did it. This is Maggie by the way. Steph was right. By now you should know who is who” replied Maggie. Amanda was deeply puzzled. Were they really three different people? “Where are you now?” “I’m at the police station” she replied. Amanda was extremely intrigued and this made her drive down to the station with Angie. “I’m here to talk to the Detective in charge of Maggie Cook’s case” she told the first officer she saw. “Go in and ask for Detective Abrams. He can’t shut up about how complicated his case is. Like we don’t all have complicated cases” he replied.

Detective Abrams was a short man with a bald head and a very weird looking moustache. He’d been trying to check their less than up to date database with a prayer on his lips for the records of the three sisters if they did exist before he was called to see someone asking about his case. “Good evening Detective, I’m here to talk to you about the Cook case”. “How do you know about the Cook case?” asked the Detective. “Well, you’ll think this very strange but Maggie just called me to help her” she replied. “Ma’am did the boys on patrol send you up here? Tell them I’m way too busy for their charades” he replied. “I’m sorry if it seems like I’m joking but I am a therapist and I have a multiple personality disorder patient named Angie who happens to be in the lobby right now. Her other personalities; Maggie and Stephanie show up from time to time. Maggie showed up and told me she was at the station. She also said Stephanie committed whatever crime you have Maggie in here for”. The detective was so surprised; his expression was one of utter disbelief. He took a minute to gather his thoughts. “Please can you bring this Angie up?” he asked. “Yes I can. I left her downstairs” replied Amanda.

Both sisters were identical to the littlest detail. Amanda could not believe her eyes. So Maggie really existed. This must mean Stephanie did too. Detective Abrams sat down on his seat with a defeated look. They could never take this case to court and win unless they found the final sister or at least got some physical evidence from the crime scene which didn’t seem to exist. He had finally been able to pull up records of the three sisters from the database. He had no choice but to let both of them go. Maggie and Angie smiled knowingly to themselves as they walked out of the police station hand in hand. It’d been over a year……

In a little village somewhere in France, an old dame arranged white lilies in front of a tombstone. It was now twenty-one years since she’d lost her babies. Technically only one of them had died that day –She’d given up her life to save her sisters – but the other two had never been the same again. She cursed the sailor who’d taken her babies from her. Isaiah. She didn’t’ think she was ever going to forget the name. She said a little prayer for the soul of her dead child and for her other two wherever they were, picked up her basket and headed home. The name on the tombstone read Stephanie Dupont.

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Hey guys! Yea I know it feels like I’m on some kind of hiatus but really it’s not on purpose. I’m just mad busy and so tired at the end of the day, its really hard to think. Getting my MBA and for those of you that care, its been going great and I’m learning a lot about myself but like I said, its very intense. Enough about me though…. Let’s talk about this post. It was written by my brother Dexter(yea it runs in the family) and I found it weirdly different. Hopefully I’ll be able to churn out some interesting posts during the christmas break or sometime before that but till then, here’s Sparkle.


I fly towards the sun, hoping to remain in its rays for as long as possible. A hopeful feat, though I’m aware of its futility. The breeze blows me off course, and while I would’ve enjoyed riding in its currents, my feelings of apprehension for the night’s events sap all whimsical feelings. The red sky turns purple as, helplessly, I watch the sun fade away, taking my joy with it.


The howls of the wolves from the forest behind me usher in the night. Bats fly up ahead as if on cue, comfortable in their element, clearly oblivious to the terrors below. A cold wind blows and guttural growls seep from the forest. Goosebumps. My hairs stand. My hands quiver. My heart races.

It begins.

I fly towards the forest as my vision blurs and clears again, slowly. My world is now monochrome. Blood pounds in my ears. The thirst begins insidiously, and in minutes, I am consumed by it. All fear is blown away as my senses and primal urges heighten. The smells intoxicate me: the forest floor, the rotting wood, animal dung, ferns, leaves, mold. And fur. I seek out its source, flitting past the branches projecting into my path. The scent of urine. I must be close.
My prize appears, hidden in its tree hole. A young squirrel. I dash for it and a brush of sanity interrupts my movements. What am I doing? I don’t have to do this. When the sun rises, all will be well again. I drift away from the small beast and it begins to scratch, releasing its musk into the air. I am overpowered by its scent. I surrender to my thirst.
I pounce, digging my elongated nails into its tough flesh. A terrified squeal escapes as we fall to the forest floor. I revel in its pain as I clamp my teeth on its neck. The sweet taste of blood. The beast struggles as I tear into its flesh, ripping sinews of muscle, feeding my hunger for meat and blood. The smell of the blood and its quivering corpse drive me on as I rip, bite, drink all I can take from its body. After a few moments, it lays lifeless. I feed until I can take no more. Another squeal escapes, this time from my lips as I sink into the rapturous moment of my kill.


A female voice calls out, startling me out of my moment and I’m consumed with the desire to kill this intruder. I’m stopped by another moment of sanity: the voice spoke my name. I turn around, slowly. It’s Violet, fluttering above, looking forlorn yet euphoric, in a shredded blood-soaked dress. Blood drips from her petite mouth as she smiles slowly at me. I smile back, involuntarily.

I’m not alone.

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EPOCH: Episode 2: Reminiscing…

*the sound of a woman sobbing loudly can be heard a few blocks away*

Emem had been crying for about three hours now and walking aimlessly. Her landlord had thrown her out of her house that morning because a company wanted to rent the house for their staff and they were willing to pay the ridiculous amount he had increased the rent to. Their conversation came back to her:

Landlord: Madam please stop wasting my time. If you don’t have the new rent abeg pack your things and leave my house.
Emem: Oga I need more time. What you have just done is really unfair. You can’t raise the rent just like that and expect me to meet up. At least a month’s notice should have been given to me. This would never hold in a court of law.
Landlord: Court of law ke. This is my house madam and I can do with it as I please. Wo all this english is too much. If you no get my complete money abeg start to dey commot. Ahn ahn! Begging no be money. As you see me so, one company don already pay for this your house so abeg dey commot.

Her belongings had all been removed from the house by the boys that had under the landlord’s instruction, come back to evict her. All she needed right now was a place to sleep for the night while she tried to sort herself out. She stretched out her right arm to stop an approaching bike. Where she was going was still a mystery to her.

“Henry can you believe mother says I have to go with her to Nigeria? This is so unfair. No one asked me if I wanted to go. Yea I know grandpops is dead and all but what good would I be to anyone in Nigeria. I’m sure if he were alive he woulda told us not to come. Gosh! This is sooooo unfair. On tv the place looks like its still trying to figure out what civilisation is. OMG! Henry let’s run away together” said Precious as she stared at the screen of her ipad. She was skyping with her boyfriend of three years, Henry. She called him her husband but that was usually said when he was way out of earshot. Precious was Mr and Mrs Ephraim Bassey’s second daughter and she was none too pleased about the idea of her parents taking them to their village for their grandfather’s burial. None of the Bassey kids had been to Nigeria and it wasn’t because they hadn’t wanted to go but because grandfather had told them not to. He’d always visited them in the States. “When are you supposed to leave and when will you be back?” asked Henry. “Dunno…..they are all acting so mysterious. Ini asked mum and she just said we’ll be back when we’re back… whatever that means. Arrrgggghhhh! I feel like pulling her hair out. I CAN’T miss the prom and your football game. We’ve got so many plans for the summer. Let’s runaway. We’ll come back when they get back from Nigeria” replied Precious dejectedly. Just then, her door opened and Tracy came into the room. “Can’t you see I’m busy? What do you want?” Yelled Precious. “Sheesh! Cool your jets. I obviously couldn’t see through your door. Ud says to tell you dinner’s ready” replied Tracy sarcastically before slamming the door behind her. “Can you believe her? Calling my mother Ud. I’ve got half the mind of suffocating her while she’s sleeping. Ungrateful bitch. I’ll be back after dinner. Miss me ok!” said Precious as she stood up from her bed and blew a kiss into her ipad.

In a certain house a few miles from where Emem had stood to stop the motorcycle, a man stood in front of a long mirror. He admired his body in the black suit he wore. A hint of a smile could be seen as he approved of what he saw. He stared at his face for a few seconds, gave it a sound slap, grinned and left the house.

Mfon sat in the bus at the park waiting for it to move. In her hand she held her cousin, Matthew’s book, ‘The Way’. Frankly, she thought it was a load of crap but Matthew was going to ask her if she’d read it and she wasn’t ready for his drama. She was going to AkwaIbom for Papa’s burial. It’d been over three years since she’d seen him last. The guilt ate at her as she remembered their last conversation. It hadn’t been a good one….

Papa: Mfon aniewo unam mkpom?(who did this to you?) Answer me now before I add my own slap to all the ones you’ve already collected. Who beat you like this?
Mfon: Nobody.
Papa: I can’t help you if you lie to me
Mfon: Papa mkpong(leave me). I said nobody touched me. What is it? Ami ndogo etok eyin aba o(I am not a child anymore). I can see whoever and do whatever I want
Papa: *slap* watch your tone young lady. I am your father so you will always be a child to me. You have till tomorrow to tell me who did this to you.

She’d runaway that night after going to ask Etim to marry her and him refusing. She thought about the baby she’d had “removed” because she didn’t have the means to take care of “it”. At the time, she thought her father would kill her if he found out Etim had gotten her pregnant. Etim…the bastard. He’d pushed her around when she’d gone to tell him she was pregnant. That was the day she’d grown up. After watching the man who’d promised her the galaxy just so she would let him sleep with her beat her because she was carrying his child, she’d lost all her “fairy tale” notions. The world was a hard and terrible place and in a way, she envied Papa. She felt the bus start as the door was closed. She closed her eyes praying sleep would come her way. It was going to be a long journey and she meant that in more ways than one.

To be continued…

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Hello guys! I know my next post on my blog(AKA this post) is supposed to be my own version of the last SYTYC and fret not, you’ll still have it but alas EPOCH broke out of my medula first. Its a series that’ll last as long as I deem interestingly fit(my own way of saying your guess is as good as mine). Hope you enjoy reading as much as I’m sure I’m going to enjoy thinking. (For some reason I feel like signing my name here X_X). Just incase u didn’t know, its Nono(-_-).


Change is the law of life and those who look only to the past or present are certain to miss the future.
John F. Kennedy

He Is Gone….(1)

“Go Tracy, Go Tracy, Go Tracy, Go Tracy” chanted her friends as she moved her far from skinny body to the dance routine. As far as Tracy was concerned, her dance classes were the most important part of her day. This was the one place where her family couldn’t embarass her. Her very loud Nigerian family. The thought of them learning about and “infiltrating” her dance classes made her miss a few steps. “TRACY CONCENTRATE!” yelled Miss Blueberry. “Sorry Miss Blueberry” muttered Tracy as she huffed and puffed to the rhythm.

“Uwem go and make sure the car has been washed. The Senator will be going out very soon”. “Yes sir” replied Uwem. He was at the “bottom of the food chain” where assistants were concerned but he had that “power mentality”. As long as he was working out of the office of the Senator, he was ok. He could only go up. “Goddy u don wash motor?” He asked the gateman as he spotted him about to enter the gatehouse. “Te te” replied the gateman signalling with his right thumb pointing backwards. Uwem ran his finger over the side of the car. “Which kain dust be this? If you like yourself this morning you go come back wash this car. Te te ke. Te te wey fit be last week. Mscheewww ebod(goat in ibibio)” Shouted Uwem. Although he was only the assistant to the assistant to the assistant of the Senator, he took his job very seriously.

“Aunty Mfon I don’t understand. How did you get 20?” asked Zainab of her teacher. Mfon let out an exasperated sigh. She was tired of trying to explan how twenty subtracted from thirty and added to ten(30-20+10) gave twenty. She mentally gave NYSC the finger. This is the only job they saw fit to give her after she’d toiled and kept the candle burning to graduate with honours in Industrial Physics. When she’d gotten her place of primary assignment she hadn’t believed it. Great heights Nursery and Primary school indeed. She was yet to see anything great in the place. A school where primary two pupils still didn’t understand basic addition and subtraction wasn’t in the race to being great at all in her opinion. “Zainab what part don’t you understand?” She asked the young girl who looked like she was about to start chewing on what was left of a pencil. “Everything Ma” replied Zainab. Mfon mentally counted from one to ten. The day had barely started and she felt like putting a dent in something.

“If you are born to meet something a certain way, how do you know with certainty, it’s the right way?” Asked Matthew of the audience. There was a brief moment of silence as he let everyone ponder on what he’d just said. Being a “motivational” speaker, Matthew loved being the center of attention. “Think about it. Using the basic example of religion which is more common to us in Nigeria, how do you know that as a christian, your religion is the one true religion? What if you had been adopted at birth and raised in a muslim family? You would be none the wiser. At that point, Islam would be the one true religion to you. How do you differentiate from what really is and what you believe is because of maybe circumstance or your environment?”. Again, the crowd was silent. Matthew basked in the awe. He loved giving his little talks as he called it. “My book, ‘The Way’ answers all these questions and then some. Copies are being sold in the lobby” he said with a smile. “So back to what I was saying…”. As he spoke, a woman walked into the hall, stood for about a minute and left.

Mr and Mrs Ephraim Bassey lived with their family in Chicago, Illinois. Mrs Uduak Bassey was an anaesthetic with the Children’s Memorial Hospital while Mr Ephraim Bassey worked with at&t as one of their telecommunications engineers. Together, they made enough money to comfortably support and raise their four kids: Iniobong, Nsikakabasi, Precious and Tracy. Uduak had met Tracy for the first time in the Children’s Hospital when she’d come in for stitches after being involved in a fight at school. Apparently, another kid had called her fat and to put it in Tracy’s words, she’d not been having a good day. The altercation had earned her a month’s suspension and shortly after, Tracy had lost her only surviving relative which put her up in the foster care system. Uduak had grown to feel something maternal towards Tracy during her stay in the hospital and had immediately offered to legally adopt her -with her husband’s permission of course- which saw Tracy becoming a part of her family. The break-in period had been a bit rough with her kids refusing to accept Tracy but she felt they were all getting along just fine now. The sound of her phone vibrating drew her from her thoughts. The caller-id read Ima(love). Ephraim was on the line. “Hey baby sup?” She answered. A few seconds passed. ……“O My God! When did this happen?” The look on her face was one of pure shock and disbelief. “I can’t believe it. I’m so sorry dear. We’ll tell the kids together this evening. Be strong. Love you”. With shaky hands, she dropped the phone on the table. “Ud(pronounced youdee) what’s wrong?” asked Mrs Archer, one of the other anaesthetics on call with her. “My husband just lost his father” she replied with the look of disbelief still on her face. “We all spoke to him a few days ago. I still can’t believe it. Papa is….was one of the liveliest people I knew”. “My condolences. We all live and someday we must go. Be happy he lived a good life. Celebrate his life” Said Mrs Archer as she gave her a hug. “Yea…” replied Uduak as a tear fell down her face.

To be continued…..

Posted in Fiction | 8 Comments

So You Think You Can Think(4)

Heyyy guys!!!!!!!! I’m guessing by now we all know what SYTYCT is all about. Incase you don’t, its just a way to test your creative prowess. You’ll be given a random part of a story and its up to you to build something amazing around it. You’ll be writing your story in the comments section. This is our fourth episode and this round, we’ve got a writer I admire immensely giving us what we’ll be working with. Pemi or Betty as most of you know her by gave me what I’d call an extremely interesting CONCLUSION. Infact those of you as crazy about creative writing as I am might even go ahead and call it delicious lol!. Without much ado, let’s get to it.

…….Out of breath; she burst into her bedroom. Her chest heaving. Up. Down. Up. Down. Her left hand held on tightly to the gash higher up on her right arm. It was 5:00p.m. Was she too late? She lowered herself to the floor, pursing her lips, bearing the pain. She stretched out her bloody hand to pull out the metal box. It was out. She gently opened it.
It was empty. What? Empty?
Her lips stretched into an unbelieving, cynical smile even as tears fell from her eyes.

There you have it. Remember its the conclusion so your story has to END with the paragraph given. As always, let’s make thinking a fun process. See you in the comments section. I almost feel like adding goodluck lol!

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Posted in Fiction, SYTYCT | Tagged | 43 Comments