RICKYMARIO:
You spoke my mind, nice story tho.

Thank you, bro.

HelenBee:
wonder y dis mention ddnt show on my profile. Well...I'm here...following bumper to bumper

I'm glad you are following, ma'am. Stay with me, please.

blackmarya:
*peeping*

*Asks her in*
I'm accosting her presently.

dakkylove:
@OP nice story, i think you are on to something here ...

the story line is very strong, a deaf and dumb girl raped with a crippled mother but the only issue i have is that the first two parts of the story could have painted a better picture, i was a bit confused .

I would have liked to feel more for the victim as she walked home, felt her vulnerability when that man guessed what had happened to her, sensed his empathy for the girl, visualized her mothers helplessness when she heard what happened to her daughter, listened to her final thoughts as she grew weak in despair and finally died ....This would have prepared me for the next phase of the character , you can take the direction of this story now to a lot of places, you can either continue to build the story of tragedy that follows this young girl until she catches a break, or you can transform the story to how this situation strengthened her resolve and built this young victim into a fearless heroine or you can build this first parts to a background to the story of the child who eventually becomes someone powerful and traces his/her father.

Any which way it's a good story line as i said. Kudos to you.

I especially like the part of the young girl feeling special because of her disability, that's a nice one.

Thanks for your observations, ma'am. I'm very thankful. God bless!

OluwabuqqyYOLO:
I will, sir. Thanks very much.

uwc
still following.......

Niwdog:
uwc

still following.......

Thanks, bro.

OluwabuqqyYOLO:

*Asks her in*
I'm accosting her presently.

oh i'm sorry, never meant to...erm...erm(stutters)...but this update is small oh, anyways weldone

blackmarya:

oh i'm sorry, never meant to...erm...erm(stutters)...but this update is small oh, anyways weldone

Please, make do with it. I just had to write something to cross the block I met. I'll do something on the morrow, hopefully.

In between, you stay in Sambisa

OluwabuqqyYOLO:

Please, make do with it. I just had to write something to cross the block I met. I'll do something on the morrow, hopefully.

sorry 'bout that, take ur time and try to relax ur brain and u'll have something to write soon

In between, you stay in Sambisa[/quote]
oh yea! u stay around that area too?

.

Why do the updates take so long...

Enjoying this piece of art...but take it easy on words usage so as not to sound blurry and confusing. I also feel you should go over the work as there are examples of weak sentence construction.

Also you really good a nice story line.

Nice story, will surely keep reading.

****Continued****

---

Aunt Isoka drove carefully as she rode the streets. Her headlights were on and Omole was wondering why. Her eyes were glued to the side glasses as Aunt Isoka maneuvered. It was minutes to seven already and the dirty sun was putting on his smiling regalia already. The road had been perched on by cold through the night and tyres shivered along the way. Foggy clouds hid and sought on invincible poles across the still damp sky. A goat bleated alongside a fellow and both chased off. A street hawker lamprophonised her voice to her hearing and she turned her attention to her. Tires screeched and revved off. And birds danced all through.

She heard borborygmus in her stomach and she rubbed her hands over the protruding object. She was grateful Aunt Isoka had a car to go with. Fellows at school, too, were not really understanding and the gazes the belly had well earned perturbed her. She knew the holidays couldn't have came at a better time.

Aunt Isoka alighted the car and she did, too, with little difficulties, her somehow wide eyes taking a pinch. A habit. She gazed at the monstrous St Rebecca and took small strides towards it. She thought she was getting used to it. Her legs felt weak soon after and she slowed pace.

The antiseptic smell that St Rebecca loved being basked in hit her nostrils and she cursed under her breath. Her imaginations ran wild on the person that created antiseptics for a while and she shrugged off. She would read about it later. She looked around the waiting room and grunted. She knew they weren't supposed to have gone so early. Aunt Isoka. The only person waiting already was a grubby old woman whose head was striving to keep a ragged head gear in place. She coined a name that came to her head first and smiled. Grubbyberg. She hoped she would get to call her. She took a seat adjacent to Grubbyberg after much mooting. And rubbed hands over her stomach. She saw Aunt Isoka exchange words with the nurse on counter and creased her face. She wished Aunt Isoka would just stay. She wished she didn't bid her bye.

Fellow fraught women had begun arriving minutes later and inaniloquency was setting in. She pursed her eyes and shut her lips like special people needed to. She wasn't conceiving thoughts of joining the discussion. The gazes she had been getting were not really the best she would have wished for.

Her talcum skin half glowed under the soft fluorescent bulb and her face prettier. Maybe being a recluse was really a doozy thing. She could feel gazes on her and knew precisely what each bench would be ruminating over. Infidelity. Bad parenting. Abominable generation. She felt none would have given thoughts to assault and victims. She shed a tear, almost. But she knew she didn't plan on blubbing over the issue anymore.

She opened her eyes instinctively and met Grubbyberg's scornful stare all over her. She frowned and wished she could scream the dirty name all over the hospital's corridor clarionly. She pouted her lips offensively at Grubbyberg and rolled her eyes clockwise. She saw Grubbyberg eyed her, too, and she smiled in her subconscious. Her text was delivered well and she basked in the euphoria.

She hoped for when pokenosing would be a crime in the country. That would serve plethora of Grubbybergs well.

She knew a month was all that separated from the unnecessarily Ante-natals. She hoped for the day well enough.

A hand tapped her into life and she frowned more. It was her turn.

Richie0974:
Why do the updates take so long...

I'm sorry, sir. I promise they wouldn't be anymore. Please.

Akposb:
Enjoying this piece of art...but take it easy on words usage so as not to sound blurry and confusing. I also feel you should go over the work as there are examples of weak sentence construction.

Also you really good a nice story line.

Okay, sir. Thanks for the corrections.

NeoVictory:
Nice story, will surely keep reading.

Thank you, sir. God bless.

There are too many praises so I ain't going to praise you. I think the punctuations are quite not near good enough. Too many full stops makes it look as tho you are not narrating.

Single word is no sentence bro. I think there is something in literature called polysyndeton and one other literary device(I don't now remember) - which would really add sense to your sentence construction than just full-stops at every words. If they are for emphasis, commas or semi-colon and other punctuations would do than the 'too much' use of full-stops.





This is just my observation. Praises will come when due.





Yours_in_pen.

OluwabuqqyYOLO:
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many tankz

Nice story...

Great work

****Continued****

---

Aunt Isoka wasn't sitting on the cold piece of furniture that stared lazily at her as she acted dicky about. Her heat eyes weren't blazing cigars and her pretty face wasn't being pretty, then. She gaded across the little space St Rebecca's waiting room allowed her and gaded down the corridor, too. A nurse came out abruptly and could have ran into her had they a fray and she muttered incoherent adjectives. The nurse walked her back to the empty waiting room and assured her the situation was under control.

Omole pushed as she had seen in the instructional clips she had collected and grunted under her voice; Aunt Isoka had made sure she saw the clips too well and, so, wasn't seeing the reason for the gruesome plight she was finding herself. She pushed again, again and again but she felt no relief and the guilt caressing her heart's sides augmented. Her eyes pulsated and her heat contracted as she felt a sword bore through her stomach. She pushed and grasped the cold metal bed by sides and assymetrically dilated her eyes in between throes of stings. She felt a glove on her heat and attempted to open her eyes but couldn't. Pain surged wickedly through her and she swore violently in her heart. She was never going to forgive her rapist. She passed out.

Tears streamed down her face in quick succession and the faint cries of a baby reached her ears. A daughter.

The trail to her rapist. Her link to him. She hated him.

***End Of Chapter***

Chapter 3: A Crying Baby

---

Omole watched from her bed without much interest how Aunt Isoka scooped water and gave her baby a bath. It was still day and the sun provided a great view from any horizon. The curtains were in place but they didn't preclude mild sun rays from caressing her skin. She watched Aunt Isoka's hand mould into a cup-like shape and scooped water from the black basin beside her and she shook her head in fascinating pity - the woman was definitely something else. The brown gown she had on smiled as though it was amused. The warm water Aunt Isoka was using sprinkled on her legs and she recoiled a bit but rubbed her hands affectionately on the splattered pieces of water on the spot. She wished the baby understood how gracious she was still held and shook her head encore, a bit sad this time. She continued watching Baby Omole's mild reddish legs gad about and her little fingers squeezing and screwing any object she seemed to touch. The baby's hands got lucky then and she caught Aunt Isoka's happy face between her fingers and Omole smiled within, purely amused by the minutiae drama. The drama got a bit intense as the baby wasn't ready to release the portion of Aunt Isoka's flesh she had as she relished the moment with pulling and screwing the chunk. Omole saw the baby's face get more tensed and she wished more than ever she could hear the probably dicky voice of her baby, even if for a fleeting millisecond as the laughing demeanor she had on her face wore into a sad one like the faded Ankara her mom used to wear.

She turned over and faced the wall; hot tormenting tears blurring her vision with zeal. She felt a burning vein in her heart as though she was suffering from tuberculosis and her entire body shook emotionally in the bed she laid on. She let the tears run with gusto and did nothing to check them even when they burned her mute cheeks like hot iron. She wondered what they were useful for if talking was out of reach. What she was useful for if hearing was never a possibility. She let the emotions run freely and poured out all she had held for months - the rape; the death; the new life; the lost school year; the pains and evils; the existence she wished she wasn't having. Why was she living that life! She had always not being the failure-inclined type. She was going to be labelled a neer-do-well like the Britain lady would say even by those who didn't know her.

A neer-do-well!

But as she passed through it all, Baby Omole seemed not to realise. Her hearing faculty was most definitely not tall, yet, and picking sounds from an ordinary person must have been difficult much more a special person's. Or maybe she did but showed no signs, maybe Aunt Isoka was all that mattered. Omole knew Aunt Isoka knew whatever was happening but had decided to let her and she was glad she let her. She needed the moment.

Baby Omole would certainly cause aches for her mom's heart. Labelled.
****To Be Continued****

Hi, guys. I'm sorry I just left like so, I truly am. My reason might sound asinine, so, I won't bore you with it. But know, one would never be able to write when you are quite anxious about your future, it's practically impossible.

To readers who's un-followed, I'm sorry and implore you to benign re-follow whenever you take a visit. To those who decided to act like the proverbial dog, I'm very grateful and glad that you did. I am! Very!

I'm not writing this story for fun, hence, it seems this boring. You can get entertained at times but most times, the story wears a serious mien. I hope you get to know, in due time, why I am on it.

And yes, I was Thronekid. I say a gorgon contrite to my E-family. Pardon my gaffe, please. Let's jolly and party! But this time around, I'm breaking the jinx (I'm sure you know what I mean).

Updates would resume more frequently now, I assure you. A bro once talked about a sexual story, I'm pleased to let you know I'll start one in two weeks time.

God bless! Cheers!

OluwabuqqyYOLO:
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Am here

the story is back...i thought that's the end.


and yea i knew u are thronekid...anyways welcome back

OluwabuqqyYOLO:
You guys could, please, help mend me up:
Niftyrules, emilygold, dakkylove, prettytinah, mhiztee, HDoc, remiseyi, successismine, mamziii, MzEspoir, hardeyshinor, tigar007, D9ty7, Skimpledawg, Bryan812, dimssy, hibeekay2015, sammyT6631, lumiaphone, alesey, and other literati lander.

....

thanks for the mention I am much of a reader than a writer... i'll follow and see where to comment.... more grease to your elbow...

Still reading....

Just got d call.... Lemme call ma goons.... @slimzjoe, stuff46, onemansquad (if e neva die yet), kenwins, harjibolar10,, hennyhorlah...


OP, if dz niqqas Grace ya thread den hia is gon b lively. Just make d tori sweet wella

Yawns

Skimpledawg:
onemansquad (if e neva die yet),

Abeg this guy still de alive?

Skimpledawg:
Just got d call.... Lemme call ma goons.... @slimzjoe, stuff46, onemansquad (if e neva die yet), kenwins, harjibolar10,, hennyhorlah...


OP, if dz niqqas Grace ya thread den hia is gon b lively. Just make d tori sweet wella

ogbeni skimpledawg


i reserve ma comment for now till wen i wil be back

stuff46:
Yawns


Abeg this guy still de alive?

guy who resurrect u na
abg go bak to wia u ar cumin frm