So i've finally started a new fiction series on my blog.

you should check it out in the near future for the continued part of this series.

www.dakkylove.com


Kindly provide feedback, i appreciate.

Prologue[center][/center]

Ajasa swerved sideways using his left hand to pin the head of the man sitting to his left, with brute force he rammed his head into the car window, gripping the gun the man held with his right hand to avoid him firing, he turned his head as broken glass flew destructively into the vehicle The surprise move took his captors unawares, the car swerved uncontrollably as a shard of glass slashed the back of drivers neck forcing to hit the car brakes.

Smartly angling his body over that of his captor, he forced open the car door and flung himself and the man sideways out of the moving vehicle, a sharp sound was heard as his captors head hit the hard pavement, by his calculation the move had either killed the man on the spot or incapacitated him for the moment, without pausing he ran headlong into the forest as they were three more men armed with guns coming for him, he jumped over scrubs and bushes agilely maneuvering in the dense forest to avoid a direct hit from a gunshot, he could hear the gun shots become fainter as he increased the distance between him and his abductors, he ran faster into the thick forest his mind intent on one thing To survive. He stopped only when he saw mounds on the earth indicating he had now entered a farm Land and calculated that he may now be in another village.


He leaned against a tree as he caught his breath. his plain white T shirt was soaked with sweat and his hands were still shaking from the attack.this was the third attempt on his life this month, he knew these signs he had seen them play out time after time, his time was up, He would have to step down as an executive of the NURTW, he knew he may not survive a fourth attempt on his life.


[center]CHAPTER 1 A MOTHER AND A LovePeddler[/center]

Donald threw stones at the frogs croaking loudly in the gutter in front of him, he ignored the pitiful looks passersby gave him as he sat alone on the sidewalk in his dirty pair of shorts and shirt, he had not had his bath for three days, he was accustomed to the smell of his own stench but the dirt was beginning to stick to his face and cause him to scratch repeatedly every ten minutes. He could hear his mother’s voice in the background, he was only Five years old but he knew she was fighting in the streets again.

“Ashawo kobo kobo, witch leave my husband alone, I reject you in Jesus name” a woman screamed in the ensuing commotion as the crowd held his mother back from doing more damage to the woman’s clothes.
Without turning his neck at the direction of the commotion he knew his mother had probably torn part of the woman’s attire to shreds, he had overheard Ade’s mum say to one of their neighbors one day that to survive around here you must learn the rules of Sheila, the first rule was that never attack Sheila because she could fight like a man, the second rule was never advise Sheila because she would fight you like a man, the third rule should have been never allow your man within five yards of Sheila because her one weakness was men.

He may be young but he knew there was something fundamentally wrong with his mother Sheila, She dragged him from door post to door post, from under one bridge to another, she did not care that he was left out in the cold at odd hours of the night whilst she “discussed” with uncle.
Every day they were different uncles and some days they were even more than three uncle’s to “discuss” with, but he was always happy after those discussions because he knew he would finally be able to eat something for the day. It may be 2.00 a.m or 7.00 a.m but after her nightly discussions she would carry him happily on her arms as they went to look for something to eat, it may be fried yam or yam and beans or his personal favorite rice with suya but there could always find something to eat in the slums of Lagos Island.

Days like this were his worst, when his mother fought on the street they were no discussions, she would rant and curse and attempt to fight everybody for hours until when she finally exhausts her energy she would crawl into one of the empty stalls and sleep off, days like this his mother did not remember she had a son, her temper was so hot and volatile that any attempt to go near her when she was in a fighting mood would get him a serious beating.

So Donald played with the frogs, he threw stones and copied their stances as they tried to run away from him, he had learnt early on life to always try and make himself happy, maybe tonight he would find left over food from the dust bin of the beer parlor near their make shift tent under the Bridge, for now he would not think of his empty stomach or think of the rashes on his skin growing worse by the day because of dirt , for now he would play with the frogs whilst Sheila fought yet another woman on the streets . This was the only coping mechanism he knew.

Passersby who recognized him looked at him with pity, “poor boy” some mumbled, “Father unknown, Mother a dirty LovePeddler all he had in this world were the frogs and lizards to play with in the gutter, maybe someday he would find some respite but for now this was his own slice of heaven, mimicking frogs in the gutter and chasing down lizards on the roads.”

This one is strong.. keep it coming

Thanks @Divepen however i may not post the complete stoyhere unless i get good feedback, i post them on my blog. shout out to Nairaland and their spell check i see you guys tweaked my heading and words a bit, a bit too strong for this site huh? Ok i don't write with filters but i understand your policy.

I will try and post the second part before the week ends at least that i can do.

STREET DOGS VOLUME 1: (The Rise of Ajasa.) Chapter 2 In search of Daddy dearest.

Donald listened ardently as Ikenna taught him the rules of grammar from his English text book, he was now twelve years old. Gone was the skinny dirty looking boy that played with lizards and frogs by the gutter side, he had filled up a bit thanks to the free meals he got from Ikenna’s mum who owned a beer parlor under the bridge near the shanty he called home.

He spent his days helping out Ikenna’s mum as she prepared for her customers who stopped by in the evening. They would prepare meat pepper soup and mix up delicacies that the customers would take with their beer in the evenings, later in the day Ikenna would bring his school books and they would do his assignments together.
Going to school was out of the question for Donald, his mother did not care for education,


“The devil’s playground” she had called it one day, spitting out the words with venom when he mentioned that he wanted to go to school.
“Everything you want to know about Life, I will teach you jare. Those agents of darkness will poison your mind against me.”
Donald did not bring it up again, he knew the next time he did would get him a serious whooping, his mother was wary about everything formal,

“dem start Church to poison us against our ancestors “ she would say in pidgin,
“hospitals na weapon of death by government to kill us and control southerners” She did not even allow him watch television, even though they could not afford one, “That box na devil phone, it will make us run mad” she would announce, dragging him off screaming and wailing from the market place when she got wind that he perched on the side of the road to watch television from the few stalls that sold them.
So instead he picked up what he knew from Ikenna, he learnt how to read and write, using a candle to go over Ikenna’ s old text books when they closed for the day, and repeating English sentences until he could speak passable English unlike the pidgin English that was common with children in the shanties.

If Sheila had issues with his relationship with Ikenna and his family thankfully she never mentioned it, these days she could barely form comprehensible sentences, she indulged more in taking “Rizzla” a concoction of cocaine and marijuana that left the user disoriented, aggressive and senile.

He could go for days without seeing his mother return home, she had literally washed her hands of taking care of him, he knew that he had to fend for himself like countless kids on the streets just like him but he swore he would do better. He would not end up being an ordinary street urchin “Agbero” he had bigger plans.

He was surprised one day to meet Sheila in high spirits at the shanty when he decided to stop over to change his slippers early in the afternoon, she was hardly ever home these days, she was with a man but this one appeared a little different from her regular customers. His clothes looked more expensive but his face appeared more hardened. He had a deep scar on the side of his face and he was built like one of those bouncers he saw at the doors in the motels around town. As he was trained he bolted out of the room but his mum called him back.

“Donald come here!” he was shocked, she never allowed him come in when she was entertaining me. “come jare where you wan run go?” “come sidon”
Reluctantly he came in, he knew his mother was a prostitute and he hated the men she slept with.he wondered what had changed with this one.

“Okiri na the boy be dis?” Sheila offered by way of introduction smiling from ear to ear.
“wetin be your name!” the man barked, his voice was rougher than his looks, Donald almost jumped with fright.
“Donald sir, my name is Donald”
“Shuo Sheila this one dey speak grammar o” “you send am go school ni?”
“School ke, God forbid, na sharp boy, I no tell you say na sharp boy.”
“erm Donald” “Oya come show your papa that book wey you dey read?”
“Papa ke?” Donald queried, shock written all over his face.
“I don warn you no dey ask me too much question, bring the book come jor”

That was the end of that conversation, Donald did as he was told, bringing a slightly torn English text book that Ikenna gave him, he read out a few paragraphs and spied at his so called Father under his breath.
The man his mother called Okiri remained expressionless, he kept on staring at Donald as if sizing him up for something, when he was done Sheila sent him back out and he sat outside their shanty bewildered.
“so this was his father?” he queried, he had so many questions but he knew Sheila would not entertain his curiosity and from the look of his father he may be worse in temperament than his mother.

Three hours later his so called parents came out of the shanty, Okiri adjusted his buckle making it extremely clear what he had been doing inside with his mother, she on the other hand was the happiest he had ever seen her in years.
“Donald!” the man barked, giving him that scary look,
“make we waka go bus stop”
He obeyed timidly, a thousand questions burning through his mind, his giant of a father seemed to take up all the space as they walked and people crossed the other way when they saw him coming,he exuded a fierceness that even the roughest agbero's in his neighborhood did not possess.

After about five minutes of walking in silence his father finally spoke.
“Sheila for send you go school now, you no book well well ” the comment did not require a response and he didn’t offer any,
“wetin be your age sef?”
“I just turn twelve sir” he responded,
“Twelve eh, you don big o”
“This English wey you dey learn you go learn am well, very soon I go come carry you, your mama no well na only smokes she know”
He nodded.

They got to the bus stop and he saw three huge looking men standing by a Toyota Camry waiting for his father , suddenly he became excited ,his father must be a rich man if he had a car, he had never known anyone that had a car before.
Okiri turned and looked him up and down, for the first time sharing a smile,
“You resemble my papa small this boy, but this your name you go change am. think of name you go answer before I come back.”
" Yes Sir" he responded hapilly,with one quick tap on the shoulder his father was gone.

That was the last thing his father said as he left him standing at the bus stop, suddenly he felt something stir within him, hope that this hard life he had only known would get better, he would find a name and soon.

[size=13pt]Ma'am, good morning, kindly share a link to your blog where I can finish the piece. Thanks[/size]

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