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Category Archives: Short Story

Ghosts of the Past

Ghosts of the Past

He woke up with his heart racing and his singlet drenched in sweat. The sweat was not because of the poorly ventilated one room apartment he stayed in, but because of the dream he had. It had been the same dream for the past two months and sleep had become a necessary evil. He however needed sleep if he wanted to get to work in time to remain the marketing manager of the 8-man company he had been working for the past five years.

He picked up his old, battered phone and sighed, it was 2:35am, the same time he had been getting up for the past 2 months. He sighed again as he took off his singlet and wiped the beads of sweat on his forehead. It was getting alarming. The same dream and waking up at the same time was something to be worried about. There was no one to talk to. His neighbours were not friendly. Even if they were, he did not want his business to be available for public consumption. Gossip was the local currency in the compound and it was traded for almost everything with reckless abandon.

Tunde stood up from his bed and walked towards the door of his room. The rumbles of the sky accompanied by flashes of lightning was getting intense with each passing moment. He picked up the bucket by the door of the room in anticipation of collecting water from the impending rainfall. The door creaked gently as it opened and he placed the empty bucket underneath the end of the roof.

The lightning struck once again, this time it looked like it struck just close to the rickety gate of the compound and at the end of it Tunde saw a lifelike person fall to the ground. He waved it aside and concluded it was his eyes playing tricks on him. Alas, he saw the lifelike figure walking towards the compound. With a gentle sway of the figure’s left hand, the gate flung open. Tunde did not wait to see what it was as he ran into his room, locking the door with such aggression that seemed to only make it more difficult for the door to lock. Eventually, he got it locked.

The thumping of his heart was loud enough to be heard in the next room. His mouth was dry and a lump developed in his throat. He did not understand what had just happened. What flung the gate of the compound with just a wave of its hand? He pinched himself to make sure he was not dreaming. What kind of dream could this be? His mind wandered. He looked to the window of his room and rushed to lock it. He was not ready to take any chance.

He stood quietly against the door and listened. Faintly but surely, he heard it from a distance. The drums. The last time Tunde heard a Bata drum was when he was a rebellious teen before he fled to Lagos. Even though it had been ages, there was no way he could miss the rhythmic sounds that the drum produced. It was playing softly outside his door now. He pinched himself once again. It was not a dream. The beating of the drum did not cease, instead, the intensity increased and with it were the sounds of footsteps, as if they were dancing. Fear had enveloped him in his room as he could not fathom what was going on. There was no explanation for why anyone will be beating drum at almost 3am.

The beating of the drum ceased and there was a soft knock on his door.

 

To be continued…

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Posted by on March 9, 2017 in Short Story

 

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Grasping at Straws – The Sequel

Seun woke up in the morning to find her bags packed.

“Where was she going?” he wondered as he made his way towards the kitchen. There she was, dressed in a short Azteca designed gown that hugged her curvy body. He could not make out any panty line which meant she had on a pair of thongs. Blood flowed to his loins.

“Why do you have your bags packed?” he asked.

She turned from the dishes she was doing to answer him.

“We are on a break remember” Peju replied.

The silence became awkward.

Seun tried to gather his thoughts and rally to a great defense, but he fell short. He could not find the words to say. He admitted defeat and sighed.

“When next do we see?” he queried. His question was to deflect from all the thinking he had to do.

“I don’t know. I really don’t” she said as tears welled in her eyes.

Her phone rang. It was the Uber driver letting her know he was outside.

“My Uber is here” she said as she hurried to finish the dishes.

“Did you plan on leaving without telling me?” Seun asked as he tried to make sense of the situation.

Peju explained she wanted to avoid the awkwardness they were experiencing and it was easier to leave when he was asleep. He was shell shocked. She finished the dishes and went to the room with him following behind her. He made one last attempt to stop her, but her mind was made up. She kissed him and dragged her box. She was happy he was not walking her out. It was hard enough to leave but him watching her go would break her heart.

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

“Hey you” she said.

“Hey” he replied.

It had been six months since Peju last saw or heard from Seun. She had ignored every call from him, aired his messages, and unfollowed him on all social media platforms. She was serious about the break. She needed the break and it was a well thought one. She felt at peace with herself. The truth was, she no longer knew how she felt about Seun. It had been six months.

Seun was surprised when his phone lit up and the caller was Peju. The last time he called her was three months ago on her birthday and she did not even pick. The continued ringing of the phone broke him out of his reverie.

After exchanging pleasantries, Peju explained why she had been distant and apologized for how she handled things but she needed the time alone. Seun accepted and they spoke like nothing had happened.

“The reason I called is because I need to talk to you” Peju said

“You can do that now” Seun replied.

“No, it is better said in person” she retorted as they set up a date for the following evening.

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

They met at the mall. It was their least favourite place, but it did it for the evening. He was seated at the food court, his love for food could not be denied. He was stunned as she approached him. She looked more beautiful than he remembered. He had missed her. She gave him a hug and he pulled out a chair for her to sit.

Peju explained how she had found herself and she felt good enough to build a relationship again with Seun. She was certain she wanted to be with him and all the issues they had in the past will not rear its head again.

Seun sighed.

“Are you going to pick that?” Peju asked.

“Nah, it’s fine” he replied.

“Sure?” she asked.

“Yeah. It is just my girlfriend trying to see how it’s going” he added.

******************************** TheEnd********************************

 
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Posted by on February 24, 2017 in Short Story

 

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Grasping at Straws

Grasping at Straws

” You are grasping at straws” he said in his husky voice.

It was the same argument. How he was keeping tabs on her and how she could not be herself around him. It seemed like there was no end to it. After every argument, Seun always felt he had done enough to show her he had freed the reins she felt constrained in. But every time, she reminded him of how futile his attempts were.

Peju was sprawled on the bed, wondering how a beautiful thing like theirs could have turned sour. Truthfully, she could not deal with the intensity of Seun. He was always fussing over her, worried about her wellbeing, wanting to solve her every problem when all she needed him to do at times was listen. It did not help that they cohabited. She could not just up and walk out. Seun would deem it rude. Sometimes, she just needed to get away from them to think and sort out her demons.

” Seun, we need a break” she said as she broke the silence in the room.

“We are not taking a break from this relationship” he replied as he raised his voice.

“I am not your ex. The fact that a break didn’t work with her doesn’t mean it is the same with me. You need to stop doing this” Peju replied with irritation. She had warned him endlessly about comparing their relationship with his ex anytime she asked for a break.

He felt like his world would collapse every time she asked for a break. He hated how desperate it made him feel. If only she cared about the relationship as much as he did. Seun sighed as he picked his car keys. She stood in front of the door. There was no way she was allowing him drive in the condition he was. This always confused him. Was she stopping him because she cared or because she did not want to live with the guilt if anything happened to him?

“Move out of the way” Seun shouted.

“You will have to beat me for me to do that!” she said, half-laughing.

He sighed as he sat on the bed.

It was exhausting and if she wanted a break, Seun was ready to give her one. She’s always talked about working on herself. She was not used to his kind of love she said. She needed to make peace with God, find a way to love Him, love herself and be ready for Seun’s kind of love. He was ready to give her all that.

“How long is this break for?” Seun asked.

“I don’t know Seun. I can’t say. It might take a while” Peju replied. She hoped today was the day he finally agreed to a break.

“What does this break mean for us? What are we?” he asked seeing as the last time, she had only wanted them to remove the tag from them. It was too confusing for him. She wanted to be with him but yet be without him. He could not wrap his head around it.

“We don’t have any tags. We are just there. I still want you in my life” she replied. She hoped she had done enough to convince him of her intentions.

He sighed as he did not understand what was going on any longer.

“Okay” he said as he laid on the bed ready to sleep.

She joined him in bed, her head on his chest, stroking his chest gently. It was soothing for him. At least they were at peace till the next time trouble reared its head.

I thought she wanted a break, why is she cozy with me? He thought as they drifted to sleep.

 

********************** to be continued**********************

 
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Posted by on February 15, 2017 in Short Story

 

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Grieve

Grieve

Hey folks. It has been a while. Work and work has been hectic. Today’s post was sent in some days back. If you are looking for some mind boggling piece, then this is it. Enjoy.

It’d been so long since Femi threw pebbles at her window, almost three months. She smiled.

She ran down to meet him, throwing herself on his neck, his arms around her driving all the months of loneliness away, something the soap operas, and the ice-cream and her friends had been failing to do.

She pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes. She leaned in to kiss him.

He pulled back.

Fear shot through her setting off her body on alarm systems,

“Do you have a girlfriend?” She asked him.

“No.” The question confused him. “Do you?”

She shook her head. “So why did you…?” she asked.

Femi smiled. “I just want to see you”

She laughed, an easy laugh, a farewell to the hell of the past 3 months.

“We can’t continue this way. How long will you be gone this time?”

She was lying down on the couch, her head in his lap as his hands played with her braids.

“About 4 months.”

Her heart sank.

“I can’t wait that long again.” She’s lying. She will. She knows she will.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Black. It’s curious how it’s called the color of death. The dead don’t see, can’t appreciate the solemnity of a funeral, the crowd of bodies arrayed in black, holding onto every bit of memory of the deceased, a glaring revelation of their own mortality.

She stood in the corner, trying her best to look inconspicuous. She probably shouldn’t have worn the peep-toe pumps though. Her yellow legs rode high, a sharp contrast to her black dress. Eyes glanced regularly her way. From experience, she knew where to place her eyes when people stared.

She couldn’t talk to anyone.

Femi’s mother stood in the corner, fighting back the tears, Femi’s sister lending her moral support. His friends and other family members filled out the room.

She caught someone looking at her, a man. He had the look in his eye, as if he maybe recognized her, however unlikely. Nobody could know her. She’d never met anyone of his family, never been introduced to anyone in his life even his friends. She’d been his best kept secret.

Strange thing about funerals. Grief and loss wear out the heart but company makes it a little bit bearable and these people were milking every ounce of respite from one another. A symbiotic gathering, if there ever was one. Her heart was the only one which stood out, unable to connect with the room of strangers, shattering and aching viciously in a looping vacuum.

When she finally decided she’d had as much as she could take, she headed for Femi’s mother to pay her respects.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said.

The mom blinked away tears.” Thank you my daughter. I don’t know you. Were you close friends with him?”

“Yes, I knew him,” she wasn’t sure how or if to proceed further. “He was an amazing person.”

The mother nodded solemnly, managing a smile.

She left immediately after.

When she got into her car, the noise of the outside world receded. And then as though in slow motion, her face broke its steely frame, her countenance finally yielding to her heart after so long, tears flowing liberally. The weight pressed down on her till she pressed her head against the steering, the car’s blaring horn in the background to her farewell ode to the love of her life.

Ibukun Taiwo is a Freelance Editor and Ghostwriter. He’s been on the hunt for the perfect sentence since he figured out how Word Processors works. A huge science fiction fan, he loves book recommendations. And fanta. 
 
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Posted by on December 8, 2014 in Short Story

 

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Of Love and Pain

Disclaimer: This post is purely fictional. Any resemblance to any real life situation or event is purely coincidental. It is just a work of my imagination.

He knew he loved her from the moment he saw her. The rain was heavy and there she stood at the bus stop all alone, lost. For a moment he hesitated as it was Lagos and one cannot be too sure, but he took the risk. She also hesitated, but had no choice. She had already flunked the job interview when she refused to show the manager her boobs. Adding to that experience was the rain that had started on her way to the bus stop, she was drenched by the time she got there. It seemed out of place for her to be all alone in a shed during such a heavy downpour, but it was the last thing on her mind.

It was definitely not the hard nipples prominent through her wet blouse that set his pulse racing nor was it the lips that seemed to beg to be dipped in caramel before being kissed. It was her innocent eyes and the way they shone when she said thank you. He could tell from her eyes that at every point in time, she would have something clever to say, but wouldn’t. He felt the earth move when he looked at her, her words held him in a trance when she spoke. He was lost in her presence and nothing could describe those 20 minutes they spent during that drive.
           ………………………………………………………

She gave birth to their daughter. It was a day he would never forget. Though she was born premature, he knew they will dote on her. They finally brought her home after she spent 3 weeks under intensive care, the home was filled with joy. They had a blessing for their union.

It was shocking when on the third day, she stopped breathing. They had left her in her cot and gone to bed. He woke up in the middle of the night just to check on that bundle of joy, but noticed she was not breathing. He woke his wife and like a maniac, he drove to the hospital not minding how many traffic laws he broke. All that mattered was his daughter. She was pronounced dead on arrival, there was nothing to be done. She threw herself on the floor, sprawled, rolled from left to right and cursed the day she was born. She was inconsolable.
             “Why would you let me have a child and take her away from me?” she asked.

He tried his best to hold the tears but they flowed out like a river. He could not bear to see her so distraught, sprawled on the floor and weeping like a baby who had just had their best toy taken away. Her screams could be heard from miles. She had to be sedated and kept under observation at the hospital. He drove home in silence, though he screamed on the inside.
            ………………………………………………………

It was a trial, something they would move on from. It had been six months since their daughter passed. Two months since she returned from the psychiatric hospital. The death had left her devastated. She could not cope but he stayed with her. She was back home but he could feel the distance between them.

She still looked out at the cot as if the baby would miraculously appear in it. She still held on to the clothes in the hope that she would feel her baby’s warmth. It was heart-breaking. She was emaciated. He tried his best to get her to eat but it seemed to make the situation worse. He appealed to her family, they all tried to talk to her but it fell on deaf ears.

He came back from work one day to find her naked on the floor of the kitchen. He feared the worst.

            ………………………………………………………

No news is good news he thought as he sat at the reception of the hospital. At least she had a weak pulse when she found her and there had been no suicide note. He felt relief even in that dire situation.  
    “She was just dehydrated but there will be more scans” the doctor told him.

She was out of danger, he sighed and felt an air of relief blow over him, and it calmed him. He walked into her private ward, and there she was, still with those beautiful eyes that had brought him so much joy and pain. He could remember how she brought tears to his eyes as she walked to him hand in hand with her father the day they got married. It had been a small ceremony with few friends and family.

She smiled weakly at him as she saw him enter. It was her first smile in months. His heart fluttered with joy. All he saw was his wife. The intravenous fluid hanging by her side was a blur, the tubes around her were non-existent to him. He just saw his wife.
           ………………………………………………………

She apologized. But every time she did, it annoyed him and made him die a little bit inside. It was not her fault. Yes, she could have handled it better, but how does one handle the death of an offspring? She cried. He hated to see her cry. Slowly but confidently, they made plans to try again. They would have that bundle of joy but he could tell she was still scarred. Who wouldn’t? He still had nightmares about the night but he had to stay strong for her. They felt reconnected and planned to renew their vows. They had been married for five years.

The phone lit up and her name appeared. He had just thought about her and she called. They were in sync. He would never forget the quivering in her voice that day.
             ………………………………………………………

The news left him numb. Just like that, without warning or premonition, they had to battle cancer. She had been feeling fatigued, bloated and the back pain had been unbearable. She had gone to get tested in the hope of being pregnant.

Stage ІІa ovarian cancer was what she had. The appointment with the doctor left them happy and sad. She was one in seventy-three women to have ovarian cancer, but she had a survival rate of 78%. It was the silver lining in their dark cloud. 78%. 78 became the number of hope and faith.

She started chemotherapy, and slowly, her hair began to fall off. Friends became few as they could not relate with their sufferings. She begged him to shave off her hair and save the torture of watching it fall off. He kissed her bald head when he was done. The tears streamed down their faces as they both whispered 78.
          ………………………………………………………

She had gone into remission for only 2 months before the cancer came back. Her survival rates dwindled has the cancer had spread to other parts of her system. They had weeks or months to spend together.

She had planned to visit Paris before her death, but now, it was not possible. They had depleted their funds, and she was even too weak to fly. He tried to bring Paris to her with the help of a recipe he found. Even though it was disastrous, she loved it. He tried for her. He made an effort for her. They spent each day knowing fully well it could be her last.
           ………………………………………………………

Five weeks after they renewed their vows, she passed on. The vow renewal had been another low key event, just both of them, the priest and their family. It was a preface to the funeral he thought as he stared at her lifeless body in the open casket. Her death was expected but still, he was unprepared for it.  It left him devastated. His wife was gone. His best friend was gone and had felt his world shattered. Words of encouragement flew around like airplanes at a RAF air show. Where were they when it was most needed? They did not choose the battle, it chose them. He buried her and life was never as he knew it. He struggled day in and out.

He knew what he had to do. It did not seem ideal but he had to. He had to feel the same pain she felt. It might not measure up to it, but he had to feel some pain. He went through the pictures of them as the fire he lit in the corner of the bedroom was getting wilder and closer to him. The flames engulfed him and he smiled as he felt the pain.

He was gone.

He would meet her and they would be together again.

 
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Posted by on September 29, 2014 in Short Story

 

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First Cut

She stood over the body, not feeling any iota of guilt. She felt at peace – Peace that had eluded her for the past three months since she found out. She had carefully planned and thought out every single step.

Her mother, God rest her soul, would be proud of her, for her constant nagging about paying more attention to details had finally been a blessing. She would be proud of her thought process in executing her grand plan.

It was exactly three months she found that text that had congratulated him on his engagement. Engagement! She had thought with loads of excitement. Was he going to propose that night? Had he told a friend who was too excited till he did it?

Alas, reading the text further, she found something she did not expect, and it brought along with it the heart-crunching moment she had experienced with Tobore. The only difference was this time, it felt like her body had been mangled by a heavy duty truck.

Hadiza? Who the hell was Hadiza?

Her investigation skills would have put her on the radar of the KGB, it was impressive. Hadiza was the long-lost friend that had called him on that weekend trip to Obudu. She was a fool. Once bitten, twice shy was what she said after Tobore. But not this time. This time, Frank was going to pay.

She could give a vivid description of Frank’s typical day. From leaving home at 7:30am and making that 15 minutes drive to his office to having Vegetable, Moin-Moin and Chicken for breakfast, to him closing at work by 6:00pm and jetting off to the gym afterwards. She knew it all, his routine.

9:00pm was the time to settle the score. Plans were in motion, execution was key. She sat in the chair that faced the door, eyes fixed on its knob. She watched until she heard the key-tumbler turn. That was her cue. With two long strides, she was at the door just as Frank opened it to let himself in. In the blink of an eye, she pushed the button on the Taser and as he convulsed on the floor, she laid down piles of black nylon that he had saved for garbage disposal, tied his hands, legs and mouth with duct tape.

Frank woke up to see her with a scalpel in her hand. She saw him blink back to consciousness and bending over him, showed him a picture of Hadiza on her phone.

“Who is she?” she asked as the yanked the duct tape from his mouth.

Frank gasped for breath and without savoring the sweetness of it, he let it out just as quickly as he’d taken it in. “J-Jesus! What has go- What the hell is going on? What has gotten into y-you? Are you cra-?”

“WHO IS SHE?” she screamed this time cutting him off. Her voice was laced with frustration and anger as she thrust her hand forward and pushed the scalpel against the skin under Frank’s jaws.

“M-my friend,” he replied as blood trickled down his neck and nestled on the collar of his favorite work shirt.

She replaced the duct tape, screamed wrong answer and drove the scalpel into his right knee. His blood gushed out like she’d broken a dam and hit her hand. She didn’t expect it, but the warmth of it delighted and comforted her. The more the blood gushed out, the more she felt at peace. She did not bother to clarify further. He had nailed the coffin when he lied.

That first cut into his knee felt so therapeutic she could not deny herself the pleasure of getting that high. His pain was her drug. It soothed her and she loved it.
She enjoyed every bit of cutting him open. Seeing his eyes pop out of their sockets in excruciating pain pleasured her. They bulged wider as she drove the scalpel deeper. He pleaded with his eyes for her to stop. But no, his pleads only brought more pleasure, and she cut wider.

His every wince and groan paid for the deceit, his eventual death – her salvation.
 

 
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Posted by on March 10, 2014 in Short Story

 

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The Blink

Good evening folks, today’s post was written by @mssyinkaa. Enjoy as you read and kindly leave your comments.

 

20/06/13; 8:55pm

The rain did not prevent her from leaving her house to drop the foodstuff and clothes for the children that depend solely on her. It was her usual practice every last Saturday of the month except November and December. She was always out of the country to spend Christmas with her parents in Johannesburg, South Africa. I was her neighbour for eight years; I knew almost all her routine if not all. The late night light in her room between 9:45pm and 10:00pm every night which signalled she was ready to study and the use of flash light around 2am for midnight study. I knew her schedule like the back of my hand. I never saw her study on her bed or well arranged desk which bore all sorts of hard cover textbooks. It always baffled me how she used to act all jumpy while reading and still aced her results. She graduated with a first class in Law. I was excited for her.

 

09/05/2013; 7:55pm.

After a long hectic day of celebration, I got home tired and met another party organised by my family. The joy that I finished with the ‘expected first class’ filled my home. The excitement was palpable even though all my siblings, except for the baby of the house who was just 12 years old, graduated with a first class degree.

“It runs in my blood”, my father’s usual line whenever any of us aced any exam. Mother noticed I was too tired for the after-party. She gathered the family, said some prayers and handed me the key to my new car. I was excited but I wanted to just get into my room to watch her…to celebrate her result with her from a distance. I just wanted to see her smile and giggle with her younger sister. I said thank you and prostrated to show my appreciation to my parents after which I rushed upstairs.

8:40pm

She was plugged.’ Not today again…’ I twisted my lips. I wanted to see her jump, throw her books from her study desk and just not act out her usual self. See her celebrate being free from books after years of hard-work. I did not move from my window until my brother turned on the light. I did not know when I shouted at him. He looked at me with a hurt what-did-I-do-wrong face. I smiled at him to let go of the hurt. He climbed my bed and said he wanted to sleep in my room.

‘”Why?!”

He was surprised at my sharp and cold response but I let him anyway on the condition that the light was switched off. He slept almost immediately. I assumed my position. She was typing again. I tried to figure out what she could be typing but I let my curiosity slide. A fence separated us.  We were two hearts apart. I did not feel so bad not seeing her in her jumpy mood, looking at her and knowing she was okay was enough for me.

 

20/06/13

The downpour was too heavy and she still did not turn back to her house.  I left my balcony, got my car and drove out of my compound before she walked out of the street. She had an umbrella but with the stuff she was carrying, it was difficult for her to walk without stopping to adjust. I decided to make use of the opportunity to talk to her by offering her a ride to wherever it is she wanted to go.  Getting anything I want was not a task, same with getting the attention of people but I guess Cecilia was not one of those people. She was the type of lady every good man would want to have. She was the brightest side of life though she barely laughed or smiled.  She was beautiful, smart and incomparable. She was the youngest but the most independent of all. Her family could be considered as the silent wealthy ones though I am sure they have their little struggles like every other family.

I continuously honked to get her attention but she ignored me. This lady sure is rigid. Even the rain and chills that came with it did not make her change her mind. I stepped out of the car despite the heavy rain. I had no umbrella with me. I called her by name, but the wind did not let her hear me. I walked up to her, stood in front of her, made to speak and then, nothing. I could not say anything. I was blank. The weather made her look more beautiful. She wore a sleeveless short gown with a black jacket that did not hang well on her shoulder revealing where the sleeve of the gown ended. She was cold. She knew me as her neighbour but we had never been an inch close to each other before. I smiled at her and she smiled back as her eyes brightened up and waited for me to find my tongue. I swallowed, hard.

“Can I drop you off? It’s cold you know.”

Those words came out without any conscious thought. Being so close to her felt like an out-of-body experience. She smiled at me and shook her head. I asked why. She smiled again.

“A friend is on his way to come pick me”, she said.

I did not want to leave so I stayed in the rain with her as she waited for her friend. She asked me to share the umbrella with her but I said no. She had enough items in hand to occupy the space. Deep down, I was really cold. I had never been out in the rain that long but it did not matter. Her presence and frequent ‘thank yous’ made me not think much about how I was going to catch a fever days after. Five minutes later, her friend came. She said her final thank you and I watched them leave.

I was soaked.

I drove the car back into the compound. I was cold. My body got pinched all over with my wet clothes. I rushed in to get into something dry and tried to sleep but I could not. I played the whole scene again in my head and smiled. She was more beautiful than I had thought.

 

She did not return until 10pm. I was worried. Her friend dropped her. The reflection of the car that passed made me see his face and then it all turned dark. The security light of her house was off but I could see her reflection because of the lights from my house. She banged her gate but no response. Her sister was probably out. Her shadow revealed how she struggled to get the key to her gate. I watched closely. She bent to pick something from the ground. I saw her raise her head up but this time, it was not only her shadow, it turned out to be three. I smiled. Her sister was back and probably with her friend too. I left the balcony and went into my room.

 

I took my position and waited for hours. Still, no light came from her room. I checked her compound again, it was dark. I turned on my light to check if there was power. It came on. I could not fathom why there was no light in her compound. I slept off till around 2am to the sound of blaring sirens.

 

 

She had been murdered.

 
38 Comments

Posted by on October 31, 2013 in Short Story

 

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