Tag Archives: death


Good evening folks, I trust you are looking forward to the long weekend. I know I am.

Today’s post is a poem I wrote with @goldenwura. She blogs here

Enjoy the poem.


It came back to me in a rush

Memories of deeds done

Can’t be spoken, mustn’t be muttered

Whispered, can only float in circles

In the streams of thoughts and subconscious

Sharp pain piercing like icicles on a stormy night

 Putrid smells of antiseptic and blood

assail my nostrils and I’m forced to open my eyes

something is blocking the light which is good

the hazy image clears and takes the shape of father’s head

Worry and fear lining his once beautiful eyes

a tug on my finger has me looking into the eyes of my 6 year old brother

mother is nowhere to be found which is just fine

memories are coming and I don’t want to remember

father answers the unspoken questions in my eyes

questions I have answers to

but what he says stops my blood from flowing for 7 seconds

mother is alive? What?

the relief in his voice and eyes as he says something I didn’t pay attention to

makes my blood boil again.

I’m sure it exists nowhere else but our house

Where the wife is the drunk and abuser

Reversed roles if you please and father would do nothing

Wouldn’t even tell his best friend or see someone

For shame, what they would think of him

I ask to go see mother

I pray that she’s sleeping or unconscious so I can

Finish what I started

Chike lied, the poison was ineffective

She should be dead

I creep into her room

Feels like I’ve hit full potential

In bed she lays, unwashed and unkempt

Her dark sunken eyes open

Chapped lips break into a wry smile

She knew.

Incoherent words follow

She winces in pain

Waves of pity ladened with disgust submerge me within

But it disappears as fast as it came

Like a broken dam, my head is flooded with images

Of every single time she hit us

How can you say you love us

Yet hurt us with in every drunken rage

Odd to say she’ll protect us

But the bruises say otherwise

Father walks in

Places his hand on my back

I burst out in tears

We are free, but still in bondage

For vegetable she’ll remain, the rest of her days.

1 Comment

Posted by on July 16, 2015 in Uncategorized


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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.


Posted by on September 29, 2014 in Short Story


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This post might be anything you make it out to be. 



Trickle after trickle,

Lump after lump,

You made your way out.

Like a chipped tooth,

They rejected you.

Like a leper,

They cast you away.

Deprived of playmates,

Starved of love,

Denied a chance.

They got rid of the bad apple

Before the barrel got rotten.

Making hay while sun shines,

They whispered to quench their guilt.

Not a soul was told,

Not a thought was spared.

You were gone.

Your blood tortured them,

Night was a curse,

Sleep, a chore,

You haunted their dreams.

You cried for justice,

You wept for redemption,

Your persistency tortured them.

The world never met you,

Maybe you were our saviour,

Maybe you were our doom,

We would never know.



Posted by on May 13, 2014 in Rants


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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.


Posted by on March 10, 2014 in Short Story


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Happy New Year folks … I know I am a bit late with my message and I have not been faithful to my blog, but kindly forgive. I have just had some major changes going on. Today’s post is the start of a series written by a good friend of mine. His name is Ibukunoluwa Taiwo (yeah, Taiwo is his surname). He blogs at and you can follow him on Twitter @DarrenIvanov

Enjoy the post.



August 16, 2026

This is Dr Stephen Akhide.

I have been in the west region of Africa for the past 3 months trying to decipher the nature of the OUTBREAK and locating GROUND ZERO. The intensity of the carnage and death in the region makes it almost impossible for proper and thorough investigation techniques. From what I hear about my other colleagues, they are having similar fortune in the other continents.

Recently I came across several survivors who seem not to have been infected. Preliminary interviews have indicated that they could either be immune to the infections or they know how to avoid being turned.

Today I will carry out a proper interview of the four subjects.

This is recording one.

[Begin Recording]

Please state your name for the record:

Michael. Michael Kuku.

Okay, Mr Kuku. What can you tell me about where you have been?

We just moved to our new house in Ikorodu. The place wasn’t what I was expecting. I know it couldn’t match up with paradise but I also didn’t expect the hellhole we found ourselves. For one, the place was too quiet. There was barely anyone on the streets and the few who we passed in the car didn’t even say hi or give us that look that country people give new comers into their town. They didn’t smile or even look up when we tried to stop and ask for directions. Mom had to call the caretaker, Baba Engineer as she always referred to him, to get road by road directions.

I was already feeling irritated from the long drive and the horrible road we took before getting here. My bones ached and my shirt was beginning to smell from all the dried up sweat. So was everybody else in the ride.

We were all really glad to arrive at the new house in Ikorodu – Agba Villa. Dad named it that. He always had the knack to indulge his dorky tendencies.

I wasn’t even in the mood to unpack anything that evening, I slept all through the little unpacking my mom did to get out some kitchen utensils to prepare the night meal. She had my little sister helping her. I wasn’t there to help my dad with the locks and setting up the security system that night. I slept on a Vitafoam mattress, in a room I had all to myself, and dreamt of falling into a hole that had no walls. Just a blue light at the bottom that seemed to call my name just before it swallowed me up.

If you would be kind sir, to keep on track. I would like to know what happened on the day of the outbreak.

Oh, I’m coming to that. It was 3 days after we moved to Ikorodu. Everybody was still adjusting and settling into the new place. I had a party I had been planning to attend for almost 2 months. My best friend’s birthday party. I had bought new clothes and everything. I guess we had a blast at the party. Thought it was the best party we’d ever had. That was really important to my friend because he really wanted to impress a girl.

It’s funny how silly all that seems now.

Anyways. I was heading back home in the family car when I remembered hearing over the radio that there was serious traffic on Ikorodu road, between Onipanu and Maryland. I thought if it’s that bad then I’d better take the alternate route through third mainland bridge. Apparently, so did every other driver on the Island. I must have been on that bridge for over 4 hours.

So I got home really late, like around 9pm. And I was tired. But as I pulled up into our street, I noticed the fires. Buildings were burning. There were dead people on the streets. The air… the air reeked of burning rubber. And blood. And smoke.

Immediately, I thought of my family. I got out of the car and ran to our gate. Tried to pull it open but it didn’t budge. There were people on the top, with spikes running through them. I had to jump the fence. Probably not a very good idea but I was scared. I really needed to see my family.

I got into the house and…

And what? What did you see?

I saw my mum. On the floor. Her hand was lying across the floor in a bad angle. And she was bleeding. She was bleeding really bad. I tried to stop it but it just kept coming out. Tried looking for my dad and sister but I couldn’t find them anywhere. I was in my room when I heard a small thump. It was coming from my box. I opened it and my sister was inside. She had blood on her but it wasn’t hers. Tried to ask her where dad was but she didn’t talk. She just closed her eyes and cried all through.

I knew I had to get us out of there. And that’s what I did.

Did you hear about the meteor?

Yeah. Much later.

Some reports claim that the asteroid was the cause of the outbreak. What do you have to say about that?

Huh, makes sense.


How so?

I remember hearing over the radio that the meteor landed right on Ikorodu road, crushing both lanes. And it was rush hour. The traffic was in bumper to fender mode. I think they said the impact killed about 700 people and wounded others. I hear everyone who came in contact with the site got infected.

So you didn’t?

Didn’t what?

Come in contact with the rock?

No I didn’t. If I did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I’d probably be trying to run you through with a weapon. You’ve seen what those things try to do when they see people.

Okay, what about your friends?

What about them?

The four of you arrived here last night in a space bus, bleeding and broken. But you all still seem sane. Do you know if any of the others are infected?

You mean five.

No, four. One of the old guys died. I believe his name was Celestine.


So, do you think any of the others are infected?

Honestly, I don’t know. I met them on the way here. The two old guys were in a jalopy and had gotten into an accident. Their ride was stuck. And we were running out of fuel. I had my sister in the ride and Mary. Mary is the one who we found near the stadium. I didn’t even want to stop but the fuel was going to run out any minute. So the old guys traded us for a ride. And here we are.

Okay. One last question. What can you tell us about the outbreak? Especially the people. Could you describe the nature of the infection?

All I can tell you is that they aren’t people anymore. Not when you look into their eyes. They don’t seem to have souls. All I could see was hate. Like sitting across the devil and looking at his eyes while beating him at a game of chess.

Could you be more specific with your description?

Their eyes are all black. No whites. They don’t seem to feel pain. They don’t get tired. They can run, jump and swim for hours without slowing down. And the hate. They just kill everybody in sight.

I’m sorry but I don’t think I can continue. Could I get a break?

Of course Mr Kuku.

[End of Recording.]


To be continued

1 Comment

Posted by on January 7, 2014 in Series


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Final Straw

Good Morning folks, thank God it’s Monday (hahahahaha). I hope your weekend was as good as mine. The post below is totally fiction so do not let your imaginations run wild. I hope you enjoy it and get a thing or two from it.

Happy reading and have a lovely week.


I wish we were,

So I would be oblivious,

Oblivious to your pains.


Front row,

My seat in this debacle.

First hand,

My experience.


Swollen red eyes,

Busted lips,

Dried tears on your cheeks,

Quivering in your voice,

No soothsayer needed,

He was at it again.


Started like a dream,

A nightmare you’d wake from,

A bad joke you’d laugh off,

A storm that will pass,

A tunnel with a light at its end,

You were wrong.




The walls you built.


Tore it down.


Your shoulders dropped,

Your poise drained,

Self-esteem washed away,

Washed away like an eroded plain.

You seemed to age,

Faster than peers.




How I feel.

Why you stay,

I’ll never understand.


Broken ribs,

Fractured limbs,

Your walls finally caved.


The final straw,

The Camel’s back was broken.


His heart,

You stabbed through,

The kitchen knife,

Weapon of choice.


Your motivation.


He was,

Your husband,

Father of your child,

My brother.


Tears we shed,

Laughter we shared,

He was gone,

Your demon was exorcised.


Posted by on October 7, 2013 in Rants


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Collide Episode 5

It is a cold morning, the sky is dark and gray with the rain coming down in drizzles. The grief in the air is hanging like a thick, wool blanket soaked in water and it is draping over everyone. The drizzles of the rain makes a splatter when it hits the closed golden casket that is suspending over the grave on a funeral liner. The priest in charge of the funeral is standing by the left-hand side of the casket, the guests are standing behind the widow and her children who are seating directly in front of the casket. The atmosphere in the cemetery is calm but sorrowful, the mourners are all wearing black and some of them also have black umbrellas to prevent the rain from getting them wet. There are no smiles from the mourners and most of them have their eyes hiding behind dark sunglasses. A void has been created, death has created that void.
Elizabeth refuses to be covered with an umbrella even as the rain starts to increase. Her sister is covering Elizabeth’s children who are seating beside their mother with an umbrella and even though they are young, they understand that their dad is gone, Austin is gone. The priest is talking about the life and times of Austin, emphasing on how short life is with Elizabeth’s mind drifting back to the events that happened 12 days ago.

Austin had found out about her infidelity in the most unorthodox of ways. The receptionist was just trying to be good but instead had succeeded in outing her to her real husband. He had gotten really upset especially after the hard time she had given him when she saw him with his concubine and was refusing to say a word to Elizabeth. She had followed him to his car with the hope of talking things out but Austin just wanted to get out of the place. He opened the door of the car and shut it and was about to start the engine of the car when Elizabeth ran over to the passenger side, opened the door and jumped in the car as Austin started the engine of the car. Austin drove out of the parking lot and Elizabeth pushed his buttons till they got into an argument which made Austin ask if she had any plans of telling him about her infidelity. They kept passing the blame to each other and he asked her who the man was, the man she cheated on him with. She told him it was her crush, a man she had promised him she had forgotten about. It hurt Austin and he hit the steering wheel in anger several times as Elizabeth’s tears started to flow. Austin was lost in his thoughts that he forgot to stop at the red light and a truck coming from his left-hand side crashed into the car.
Elizabeth who was in the passenger seat had minor injuries, just a bruise to her left hand, a cut on her hand and she sprained her left ankle. Austin on the other hand was not so lucky, he had multiple fractures on his left and right lower legs and feet. He also suffered severe injuries to his chest and left arm, and had suffered from internal bleeding. He was pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital. He had lost a lot of blood from the internal bleeding.
Elizabeth’s sister taps her gently on her shoulder to bring her out of her thoughts as the priest asks her to come forward to perform the dust to dust rites. The casket is lowered halfway into the grave as Elizabeth walks towards the grave. She faces everyone and she spots Eva at the back and asks herself “what is she doing here?”
She is wearing a black hat to conceal her face but Elizabeth still recognizes her. She cannot fathom why Eva will attend her husband’s funeral since she is one of the reasons why he is dead. The anger boils inside of Elizabeth but she calms herself and says a few words in honour of her late husband, performs the rite and goes back to her seat. The priest is saying the final prayer as Elizabeth looks at her children wondering if she will ever tell them the events that led to their father’s death. Will they forgive her if they find out about her role in it all?
The priest ends the prayer and as the casket is descending to the bottom of the grave, Elizabeth promises herself to take the secret behind Austin’s death to her grave.

The End.


Posted by on May 30, 2012 in Series


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