http://penastory.com/2016/01/13/dont-say-jesus-18/

I was angry with myself, I had fumbled at choir rehearsals today and I couldn’t understand why. If we were to win the Singers Of Glory Regional Championship, I couldn’t afford to be singing like a baby who was just learning to talk. Our choir master, Brother Tunde had also noticed that and after rehearsals, he told me to make sure I report at his house by 4:00pm to continue our rehearsals. I could not say anything as I saw my chances of going to play football with the guys going out the window. Damn this talent of singing, I thought to myself as I knocked on Brother Tunde’s door. I wasn’t really happy that I was going to be spending the rest of the Sunday rehearsing for the singing regionals. As the lead singer, everyone just expected so much of me and my less than excellent performance was not acceptable. The regionals was on Tuesday and I could still see everyone in the congregation beaming with pride as Brother Tunde had announced during announcements that we had made it to the regionals thanks to the powerful voice of Kunle.

“Kunle, you are here already, please come inside.” I realized that Brother Tunde’s daughter Blessing was standing at the door. I had not even heard her open the door and I thanked God that it wasn’t Brother Tunde himself that opened the door or I might have had to explain the scowl on my face. I didn’t like the way everybody treated me like a baby at church, at eighteen, one would expect that they would start treating me more like an adult. They had even refused to allow me join the adults’ class saying I had to wait till I was twenty-one.

“Good afternoon aunty Blessing,” I said as I made my way into the two bedroom apartment that Blessing shared with her widower father. Aunty Blessing also attended the same church with us but her face had become less frequent since she gained admission into the university although she was always around whenever she was home for holidays like now. Brother Tunde never failed to tell anybody how his twenty-two year old daughter was already the head of a campus fellowship while just being in her second year and how he knew she would become a great minister of God in the nearest future.

“Stop calling me aunty Blessing jare, do you want to make me feel like one old woman? It seems just like yesterday that we were in the same teenager’s class. You have grown into a big boy now oh and it is good to see that your voice is really working wonders. You people must win.”

“It is all thanks to God aunty Blessing,” I said taking my seat.

“You would have to wait for daddy, he said he wants to get his car fixed at the mechanic but that you should make sure you wait for him.” I sighed inwardly and resigned myelf to the fact that I was going to be spending even more time than I had thought at this private rehearsal.

“No problem, aunty Blessing.” She laughed and repeated that I should stop calling her aunty Blessing.

“Make yourself comfortable, I would be with you shortly, need to finish something I am doing inside.”

I don’t know how long I was alone in the sitting room before I dozed off but I awakened when I felt a hand on my cock.

“Jesus,” Blessing had her had on my cock and her face was close to mine. She had changed from into a wrapper that was loosely around her chest and ending just by her thighs.

“What are you doing?” I said even as my eyes took in her naked thighs and although I had never seen a naked woman standing so close to me before being the church virgin that I was, I knew that it was not every day a man saw this kind of freshness in a woman.

“Don’t say Jesus,” she said with a short laugh and I noticed that my cock was swelling from her hands movement. “Have you never been touched by a girl before?” Her voice sounded like she was teasing me and she expertly pulled down my zipper. She was still leaning into me and I could see the mounds of her breasts heaving with her every breath. I was excited and confused at the same time but she didn’t need any invitation as my rising cock seemed to be all the invitation that she needed. “I can see you like it.”

“We shouldn’t, Jesus would not like this.” My own voice sounded alien to even me and she laughed again as she expertly drew down my chinos trouser zipper and her fingers moved onto my cock through my boxers.

“Jesus? Don’t worry, we will ask Jesus for forgiveness when we are done? Don’t be such a baby, I thought you would have grown into an adult by now.” She was stroking my now erect cock through my boxer as she spoke and as she uttered the last word, she pushed herself back with the chair and untied her loose wrapper.

“Jesus,” I heard myself repeat weakly as my eyes took in her breasts standing like twin mountains with her nipples jutting straight at me as if they were inviting me to touch them. I was unsure of what to do and I could see she was enjoying my discomfort as she smiled and sucking her left middle finger, she began to rub her nipples. I stood as if I was enthralled in a trance and then her finger began to slowly slide down her flat stomach and my eyes involuntarily followed her finger. I willed myself not to look further as it passed her navel but found I could not resist as it passed there and travelled even downwards till she reached her womanhood.

“Are you going to have you some of this good pussy or are you going to stand there and keep watching me like you have seen a demon?” I knew whatever it was that I was seeing, it was no demon as I felt my cock twitch in response and she moved closer bending my head to her nipples. I took to her nipples like a new borne would take to its mother breasts. I lapped eagerly at her dark nipples before closing my mouth around it and sucked gently.

I heard her inhale as she guided me back to a sitting position and sat on my laps so that she was facing me. As she did this, she held my head to her nipples so that I continued sucking even as she began to move slowly in my laps. Whatever inhibitions I had had earlier were out the door as I sucked on her breasts as if my life depended. She was playing with her second breasts with her hand as I lavished my attention on the one that I had been guided to.

“Suck harder, make me your bitch!”

“Jesus,” I gasped as I heard her use the word bitch. Who would think that Brother’s Tunde perfect campus fellowship leader used words like bitch? She stood up in annoyance and looked at me in her full unclothedness unabashed that I was fully clothed except for my throbbing dick which had somehow found its way out through my unzipped trousers.

“Stop saying Jesus! What is it with you and Jesus? If you say Jesus one more time, we are going to end this right now.” I felt ashamed and mumbled my apology and she signaled that I pull off my trouser, an instruction I complied with quickly. She took my cock in her hand and rubbed my pre-cum over the tip making me gasp again. This time, my gasp of shock was more of pleasure than surprise and she smiled that smile again.

“Stand up,” she said and I complied. She then went on her knees and closed her mouth around my cock. I had never been sucked before so this feeling was totally alien. It was like my dick was encased in a warm-hot wetness that sent sensations of pleasure all over my body and I didn’t want it to stop. I felt myself begin to thrust awkwardly when her hands on my naked buttocks seemed to be trying to cram every inch of my manhood into her mouth. It was clear that this was not her first time of giving a guy a Mouth Gig as she kept on bobbing and slurping like one who knew what she was doing.

After sucking for me for what seemed like forever, I felt my pleasure increase and I began to moan softly. I knew I was about to burst and as I felt the first spurt of cum jet out of my cock even as my legs buckled but she her hands held on tight to keep me from falling. Just then, the sound of a knock came on the door and Brother Tunde’s voice came booming

“Blessing come and open this door.”

“Jesus,” we both said in unison.

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http://penastory.com/2016/01/12/the-day-i-died/

I remember the day I died clearly like it was just yesterday although it happened many years ago. It was on a sunny day in the month of October, I was on my way back from school; a young boy in his first year of secondary school when the enveloping mist of death darkened it my sun, trapping my world in darkness and silence.

I was just a street away from home when I saw that familiar welcoming sight of boli across the road. I had saved my break-time money earlier in school just so that I could buy my favourite snack of roasted plantain. With a watery mouth and no hesitation in my footsteps, I allowed the sweet smell wafting from Iya Kudi’s stall draw me to my death. I didn’t see it coming; no hint to the lurking danger in my path. A car came out of the bend on high speed and hit me. All I remember before the silence was that split second scream from Iya Kudi and then the sickening crunch of metal against flesh, my flesh. Death came swiftly and embraced me in a cold passionless. The sunny brightness of the day ceased to exist as darkness became lord.

Death came dark and fearful in appearance to announce to me that I belonged no more to the world of the living. It’s calm tone suggested that it was used to telling people of their death every day. I couldn’t believe my ears and I did not hesitate to yell my disbelief. Death smiled at me, a cold remorseless grin that showed the ugly fangs dripping maggot and slime. I shivered and lowered my eyes in fear as it took my hand and we soared across the skies together on a wingless flight. I was too scared to protest and I allowed myself to be led away like a lamb being led to the slaughter. The scene of the accident grew distant and the images of people wailing over my lifeless body soon vanished out of sight. I remember thinking how horrified mum would be to see my school uniform bloodied my body mauled by the raging metallic monster that had robbed me of my life. Mom would every night painstakingly wash my uniform while scolding me about how dirty and playful I was and despite the gravity of death being too heavy for my young mind, I knew I was not going to be seeing mum anytime soon. At least not while I was airborne with this monster.

We floated across our compound and I saw my little sister Anu playing with her friend Shade. I tried calling out to her but she didn’t seem to hear me. My screams were locked in my head and that was when I decided to ask where we were going. Death looked at me with its dark eyes that made one feel like he was staring into a bottomless pit and without its lips moving answered that we were on a journey that was never going to end. I didn’t understand this either and all I knew was that I wanted to go home. I don’t know for how long but suddenly the darkness faded and we were earth bound once again and the place looked familiar. It was the road leading to Atan Cemetery by Yaba. I recognized the road because I had passed there countless times to visit my brother at the University of Lagos. There was a little crowd standing over a grave and I recognized mum immediately. Her regal carriage was bent over with grief and her wails seemed to echo the sadness of the birds as they chirped nosily every time she let out a wail like a person in pain.

“Te mi ti baje, where do I start from? My poor baby! Bring back my baby? Where is my baby oh, omo mi da. Ina omo jomi.” I wanted to tell her I was right there but again she like Anu didnt hear my words. Anu was clinging to her and together they were sobbing while dad stood there in the frigid stance of a soldier with his face expressionless. Why were they all dressed in black and with so much sorrow in the air that it was palpable? There was too much grief and sadness over my not being there and I tried to wave at them that I was right there with them but nobody seemed to see me.

Then I saw the box. A small rectangular thing that seemed to have something of interest inside it. It was from this box that all the sadness was emanating as each person that went and peeked into it would shake their head, sigh in despair or let out a wail similar to that of mum’s. I saw Pastor Tade talking and then I faced my companion what was going on and he pointed its gnarled finger towards

“What is going on? Why are all these people so sad? Why haven’t you taken me to see Jesus yet? I want to see grandma? Please can I see what is inside the box that they are all looking at?” I felt a release then as Death signaled I go over to the box. I hurried to the open box and reeled back in shock as I came face to face with myself. There I was in my best Sunday suit, my eyes closed in sleep with my complexion slightly ashen.

Why couldn’t they just wake me up? Why were they all crying that I was asleep? The answer came from my dark companion who had also descended to stand by me, “That is because you are dead. I own you now.”

I cried out and fell on my knees, My cries mixed with those around me and when I felt that wasn’t enough, I turned around to look at the crying faces. Then I ran. I don’t know where the energy came from but I knew somehow that if I could get away from my dark companion, everything would be alright. I could feel it behind me but I wasn’t going to turn around; I was determined it wasn’t going to catch me again. I didn’t know where I was running to but I knew I could not let this darkness take over me again. I didn’t know where I was running to but I knew what I was running for, I was running for dear life.

I saw the hole looming in front of me and somehow one of the action movies I had watched came flashing back to me. That moment when Wolverine had jumped into a well before a bomb went off in one of the “X-Men” movies. I believed if I jumped into this hole too, I would be safe. Safe from harm. I tumbled into it headlong and felt the refreshing respite of water against my skin.

“Jesus you have wee-wee on yourself again!” The voice woke me up just and my little sister was standing above me with a grin on her face. “I will tell Mommy that you wee-wee on yourself,” with that she bounced away with her laughter ringing in my ears. I looked down at my soaked pajamas and I must say I had never heard a more welcomed sound than her laughter.

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http://penastory.com/2016/01/11/a-little-drizzle-temilade-ladejobi/

This was the fifth day and the rain showed no signs of stopping. Baby had developed a cold from the chilly weather and the lack of heat. I watched as Papa adjusted the tarpaulin cover on the ceiling causing water that had gathered on it to spill on the already wet floor. Mama rubbed Robb on Baby’s chest and covered him up with her best church wrapper.

“Lord of Host! What kind of rain is this? Ehn?” She exclaimed loudly as she lay down to sleep beside Baby. I remember the first day the rain came. It started as a drizzle and we were sure it would soon pass so none of us prepared for heavy rain. Eventually the downpour increased and before we knew it, it was heavier than a drizzle. I remember running outside to join mama in removing our clothes from the line where they were spread to dry earlier that afternoon. Papa wasn’t at home when the rain started and he came home that day wet as if he had had a swim in the river with his clothes on. Now five days later, the rain showed no signs of stopping.
The next day, Mama was in the kitchen trying to fix something for lunch when we heard the screams. Papa took an umbrella and rushed out to see what the noise was about. He came back and informed mama that the river had overflown it’s banks. Water was covering the whole village. Quickly, Mama started scrambling to save the most important items she could lay her hands on. She and Paper kept transferring the suitcases and boxes on the floor to the bed and in her haste Mama dropped a heavy suitcase of clothes on Baby’s leg. Baby screamed out in pain and Papa quickly lifted off the suitcase from his leg while cautioning Mama to be more careful.

Mama paused to pet Baby and he was just beginning to abate the cries when I saw water seeping into the house from the door. I never got to raise the alarm as the torrents came rushing into the house through the cracks and every opening available. Mama screamed and I saw the look of dread on my parents’ faces even as Mama started crying and praying in our native dialect. Papa swiftly began his rescue attempt of blocking the water from entering any further. He used the excess rags in the kitchen to block the main path the water was entering from and even used the last tarpaulin we had to block the water. It worked! Papa sighed in relief and stretched his back. “Oh thank you Lord” Mama exclaimed amidst sobs and tears. Papa sat on the bed next to Mama who clutched Baby tightly to herself like she was afraid the water would suddenly come in and snatch him from her.

Later that evening, after we had succeeded in mopping off all the water from the room, Mama cooked rice and stew with boiled egg. Papa was not happy that he was being served egg instead of meat, his favourite but Mama reminded him that no one had stepped out of the house due to the rain and that she had exhausted the meat in the house. After the meal, Papa and I put all the suitcases and boxes that were on the bed back on to their right positions on the floor while Mama tried her hands at cleaning. Baby was not the only one that fell asleep as Mama sang lullabies and hours later Papa woke me up to prepare my bed on the floor and sleep. It took me a few moments to get my thoughts together and stand up from the bed. I hastily prepared my bed and as I laid down, I said my night prayers. I looked at the flickering lantern flame as I felt myself slowly drifting off to the sound of the rain still pouring.

That night, I had a dream. I dream’t I was in the river swimming. I was doing every trick I knew and I was doing it well when I suddenly felt myself getting heavy and unable to swim anymore. It felt like I had reached the bottom of the river and I started drowning. Immediately I woke up and everything was wet. I tried to stand and I realized my whole bed was soaked with water.

“Papa!” I screamed and he woke up immediately. He switched on the flashlight and woke Mama as well as he told me to get on the bed. As I climbed on the bed, papa opened the window And I saw that it was nearly dawn. Papa and Mama were talking about what they were going to do to try stop the waters when it was fully daylight when we heard the sound of water crashing our door down. The water came in heavy torrents and it didn’t swept everything in its path. Within a matter of seconds, it covered everything and the water level was rising to our 24-inches bed. Mama began to get hysterical while Papa told us we had to vacate the house. Mama carried Baby in her arms and looked at Papa from her position on the bed as he stepped into the water. The water got to Papa’s thighs. He held out his arm to support Mama who was clinging to Baby again. I joined them in the water and I was almost out of the door when I struck my foot on something. I shouted in pain and Papa shouted at me to be careful and watch my steps. Steps I can never retrace back to a house that was destroyed by the flood.

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http://penastory.com/2016/01/09/that-night-in-my-best-friends-bed-seducing-the-seductress-oluwalolope-osidipe/

Excerpt From Part 1:
My eyes flew open and I saw myself on the bed dressed in a camisole and my lace panties. I saw he was the one that had woken me up. “What is wrong? You screamed my name in your sleep.” he said with concern on his face. I replied I was dreaming and he sat up with interest on his face as he asked what it was about. I turned to him and leaned in for a kiss, intending to show him what I had just dream’t about. Read Part via www.penastory.com

He allowed me kiss him but I could tell that he felt a bit awkward about it and then he quickly drew back and muttered something about checking something in the kitchen. Following the dream I had had about my best friend, I knew I wanted to make it real, I needed to know if it would feel just as great in reality as it had seemed in the dream so i began to plan the seduction of my best friend. It was also a good way of getting my mind off being heartbroken so I felt I was dealing with my heartbreak in the best way possible.

I was home one morning getting bored out of my mind and decided to go to his house. It was like the Heavens themselves had planned with me. I had debated going out all morning because of the heavy clouds that was indicating an impending rain but you would understand if you have ever been caught in my situation. It threatens to rain all morning but never does until you have left your house then it begins to rain. Since my plan was a seduction from the onset, I can’t say that I was particularly upset that the rain drenched me in my short gown that barely covered my thighs. Being wet now made the gown cling to me like second skin and had turned the fabric transparent and his expression of concern turned to something darker when he opened the door to find me shivering there. He had apparently not been expecting any visitor and he was complaining about my outfit and the heavy rain fall at the same time that every time he threw a glance at me, I didn’t know which upset him more.

“All your goodies are out in this thing that you are wearing, do you want to kill yourself or catch a cold? If boys kidnap you and use you to warm themselves in this kind of cold weather now, you would come crying to me. Just look at how you are shivering.” I smirked in this non-repentant way and began to get rid of my wet clothing while telling him to calm down at the same time.

“Well I am already here and it is very cold as it is. You should be a gentleman and offer a poor girl that you saved from the some warmth you know.” There was no mistaking the invitation in my voice and I felt a twitch in his boxer shorts as he quickly turned away from me so that I don’t catch the movement.

“What do you think you are doing? You are soaking the entire living room. I am going to the bathroom to have some shower. I will leave some hot water for you so you can also have a bath when I am out,” he said and walked away but I was very sure I had caught glimpse of a boner.

I quickly stripped out of my remaining wet clothes and for a minute or two, I allowed myself to shiver with the cold before realizing that I needed to dry my hair as well. From past visits, I knew kept his towels in the bathroom so it was a good excuse to walk him on him bathing. Some hot bathroom Bleep in this cold weather wasn’t going to be such a bad idea since he was apparently Hot and I knew I wanted him as well.

I tiptoed to the bathroom and pushed the door open a bit and peeked in. His eyes were closed and he was leaning against the wall, stroking his dick. He looked long and I knew I wanted to wrap my hands around his long dick as I could see the veins and the biting on his lips as he jerked. It would be a shame to have him cum without me joining in the fun. I pushed the door fully open and his eyes flew open. He looked at me standing there naked and his eyes roved over my body appreciatively and I could tell he was far gone to have been his usual shy self that I had caught him masturbating. My eyes left his face to go back to his dick which I could have sworn looked like it had gotten bigger and harder just by looking at me and I concluded he must have been thinking of me while he jerked on his cock.

I didn’t say anything as I entered the bathroom and went to him, removing his hand from his dick and taking things into my own hands. He tried to tell me to stop but it sounded more like a squeal of pleasure and since he made no attempt at stopping me, I just stroked his dick with my hand like one who have been hearing of gold and finally had one in her hands. He was hooked. I looked at him and saw that his eyes were closed again and then I did something he was not expecting, I took him in my mouth. He gasped as my mouth closed over his shaft and I felt him throb in my mouth even as he let out a string of curses and profanities. He tasted salty and a bit of soap but I knew I wanted all of him in my mouth. My mouth began to go up and down on his dick and his hands went to the back of my head he began to face Bleep me. I wanted to take all of his dick in my mouth but he was too big for him to fit so I concentrated on taking as much of his dick that I could. I then cupped his balls with my right hand and began playing with them while still going up and down his shaft with my mouth before moving to suck on his balls which brought out a growl from him like an animal in pain. He pushed my head away from him and the next thing I knew, he scooped me into his arms and carried me out of the bathroom.

He took me to his bedroom and and dumped me on the bed. I began to protest that our wet bodies would stain the bed sheets but he didn’t act like he heard me as he went to the closet and took a tie and one of my scarves that I must have left there in times past. He made no answer when I asked him what he was doing instead he tied both my hands together with the tie then he proceeded to blindfold me with the scarf. I was damn Hot and ready for any game he was willing to play so I shut up ad allowed him take control of things. I felt something feathery trailing my skin and I arched my back in pleasure but then it stopped just as suddenly as it had happened. I grumbled and it came again, this time on my boobs and I whimpered in pleasure even as I began to feel another sort of wetness between my legs. He was apparently punishing me for my bathroom escapade and he whispered in my ears “Who is the daddy now? Say sorry and I would give you the pleasure you crave.” I wasn’t going to give in so easily so I kept my my mouth firmly shut and the pleasurable torture continued.

I felt the bed dip as he came fully on it and he parted my legs before applying the feather on my clitoris. I thrashed wildly but he held me down firmly with one hand and he whispered his need for me to acknowledge him as the daddy and say sorry. I was feeling like I was going to die from the torture of not having this ecstasy which seemed so close and so near and the fact I couldn’t see him or touch him made it more exciting and frustrating at the same time. I then felt his hot breath began to fan my clitoris with his mouth teasing like he was about to go down on me and when I arched my back so that his mouth could touch, I would feel him quickly withdraw. I felt like a petulant child that was getting a scolding and I knew I was wet all over and couldn’t possibly take another minute of this torture.

“You are the daddy. I am sorry, now pleasure me.” I drawled out and I heard him laugh.

“Open your mouth,” he said and I obeyed quickly to show my submission and I felt him shove his dick back in my mouth. He kept his dick in my mouth without moving and I began to lap at it even as I felt him inhale before he began face fucking me on the bed. I sucked and sucked until my jaws started hurting but I kept on sucking as I knew I needed to please him now that I had made him the master. He abruptly removed his dick from my mouth and I felt his mouth on my aching clitoris. He nipped gently and lapped with his tongue. His tongue then moved lower to my crack and I could feel his tongue inside me. I moaned loudly and tried to raise my hips so I could get as much of his tongue inside of me as possible but to my dismay he pulled back.

He untied me and also removed the blindfold before telling me to get dressed as he was going to drop me at home. I didn’t know when the tears dropped from my eyes and I told him in a very small and broken voice “I never knew you to be this hurtful and your need for revenge or punishment this much.” I was hurting that the table had been turned on me and I that had planned to be the seductress had been the seduced instead. He didn’t say anything as I stood up and bent down to pick my pant which was on the floor. My fingers were just closing around the pants when I felt him grab me from behind and he slammed into me from behind in one swift stroke.

“I would never hurt you. I just wanted to get you in this position. You don’t know how I’ve stayed awake all night dreaming of having you in my arms.” He began to thrust hard and fast and I tried to keep up with pace as he rode me to the edge. At long last, he whispered that he was close to releasing and I said I was ready as well. He turned me to face him and began pinching my nipples as he started fucking me with his eyes looking at me like he was trying to read my soul. Finally, I felt him jerk violently as he spurted cum and his climax triggered mine as I also began to climax and we both collapsed on the bed in a tired heap.

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Are you a poet? If yes, then you have to participate in poetry play. But wait, what’s poetry play?

Poetry play is a game in form of poetic dialogue on BBM. It is played by two poets: one drops a line or more, and the other replies, flowing along until one of them gives up. Every poem formed from this game will be published on penastory.com every Friday.

If you want to play, contact Samuel on BBM: 7f5210ec

So Poets, are you ready to play?

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The World Through Our Pen

http://penastory.com/2016/01/07/but-then-i-die/

I want to be a lawyer
No a doctor is richer
I will rather be an engineer
Maybe a carpenter?
Good education I must get
Books upon books I must read not to forget
Certificates and accolades I have taken home
The cities of the world I have seen, even Rome
But then I die

Bright red lipstick here
A dab of powder there
Don’t I look just pretty?
Not just a beauty I pray thee, smart and witty
Men always at my heels
All heads over heels
They call me sex on wheels
Oh how I live such lofty dreams
But then I die

All the money I must have
Who cares let the people starve?
Vacation trips? First class!
No okada, I must to buy motor
Wealth is all I seek to amass
Maybe even play a little lotto
Would you stand in my way, I am a senator?
Keep talking of corruption worthless janitor
But then I die

I am running around
Faster and faster than I ever thought I could
To avoid death’s blow; that never to heal wound
Death mocks me still; it’s not yet in the mood
I want to escape this inevitable fate
I am but human; I must go like my mates
Tarry a bit oh merciless servant
I am defeated in this battle though my fight was gallant
And then I die

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http://penastory.com/2016/01/04/a-strangers-youth/

He had the gait of a child, a happy one. It was apparent that he had never had to face any of life’s many troubles. Zoe looked at him from her work station and tried to figure how old the new boy could be. “Eighteen, maybe nineteen,” she thought to herself “twenty-one at most” she added, taking another look at him and noticing he had a little mustache. She shrugged, “They grow fast these days,” she muttered to herself as she dismissed his being twenty-one from her head. “He could not be that old. Looks fresh out of high school or first year in college so eighteen or nineteen it should be.” He was roaring the lyrics of Justin Beiber’s “Love Yourself” along with his phone. He was loud and carefree and did not look like he gave two cents that he was at work or in public. “He sings like he is in his shower and dances like no one is watching. He has to be nineteen.” She said again, this time a little bit louder as if she was talking to somebody and not her computer screen which was her only companion.

She envied him. It was a warehouse job; boring. She did it because she needed the money to survive not that she relished the eight hours she had to spend in what she had now come to refer to as a hell hole. She envied the attitude with which he went about his work, This “I might as well mix pleasure and business, get as much done as possible while listening to my favorite songs. I will pretend I am Justin in one of his music videos and I do not care who laugh” attitude. The mindset would probably make him never see the warehouse as the hell house that it was.

She sighed and looked up from her computer screen as Emeka began singing Soldier Boy and Nicki Minaj’s “Yas Bitch” all the while bumping his head invigoratingly and moving energetically. Zoe looked at him wistfully as he mimed the lyrics and made video impressions. He walked past her and flashed her a smile as he walked down to end of the line, scanned the items he was about to pack and danced for a second before grabbing another label. “He is actually working and having fun,” she thought to herself and she realised the wanted that. A part of her wanted to join him in the music video, become Nicki Minaj and rap alongside to his Solider Boy A part of her wished he was not that young and free but she knew that was never going to happen.

She was forty two, old and saddled, imprisoned in decorum, strangled by responsibility and caged by perception. Not too long ago, she had been him in a different life. Cheerleader for the Basketball team in high school, won the Oregon State Cheerleading Championship, lost in the quarter finals of Nationals. At senior year homecoming party, stripped in front of a crowd after five shots of tequila, made out with a boy right there and there, followed him home that night. Young, stupid, and free but now she was this woman clicking away at her computer, recording inventories and envying a stranger’s youth.

Read more interesting stuff on www.penastory.com[i][/i]

http://penastory.com/2016/01/04/my-love-begotten/

That sound was not what I hoped to be hearing at this time of the night when I am finding it difficult to answer nature’s call. Lying down too long on the sofa had put me into a sort of lazy mood, so lazy as to even push out anything. Nonetheless, I wanted to stop the dripping sound of water from the tap in my bathroom. From my position on the toilet seat I stared at the offending tap and felt too lazy to reach out to turn it completely, it seemed the disturbance didn’t annoy me as much as I thought. I wanted that sound to continue, it was better than the complete silence and my mind concentrated on the sound rather than Bare.

Few hours ago, I had gone to Bare’s apartment to pay him a surprise visit only to find him in tears. It was too early in the new year for anybody to be in sad, I had not even been aware of when the groceries I bought on my way to make us some nice meal dropped out of my hands. I rushed to his side and asked

“Baby, what’s wrong?” At first he did not respond. He sniffed and looked at me through tear filled eyes and when I repeated the question a second time, he patted the mattress beside him, indicating I sit down.

“Why should a grown man like you be crying?” I asked as I took his hands in mine, looking into his eyes searchingly. He stared back at me and then smiled. Does he want us to do it? I thought. But sex was the farthest thing from Bare’s mind when he opened his mouth and said

“You know I’m scared of losing you. I was only thinking of what it would be like if you were to ever leave me. You staying with me is still like a surprise.” He squeezed my hands like I was going to pull my hands away. I continued to look at him closely and he continued “Do you love me?”

Bare and I have been dating for only a week. Before then, he had been wooing me for two years during which he never stopped calling or sending messages to me. He gave all that he had. We were friends or should I say best friends; he listened to me even when I sounded stupid. Sometimes, I was tempted to say yes to him just because of how good he was to me but this was not about accepting him or not. This was about choosing right. I always saw myself as a jewel that didn’t want to suffer in any situation. I didn’t want a mere secondary school certificate holder with a job as bag maker. These bags weren’t Versaces, Guccis, Chanels or Daniel Jones, they were mere paper bags.

When Bare and I first met, the look I gave him gave the impression I was staring at dirt; flirty dirt. Whenever he came to my Aunty’s shop I never ignored him, neither did I show him any particular affection. He walked like he had three left legs and each time I picked his calls, his voice made me itch my ears afterwards. I always told him that his voice grated on my nerves. I thought he stunk of too much sweat but as time went by, our friendship grew. He began to change or maybe I was the one that changed as a result of what I was feeling. The change that was coming over me at that time wasn’t what I needed. I tried avoiding him and threw myself into school activities just to keep busy. “I don’t want him” I would say to myself.

I made several attempts to get a stable boyfriend. First, it was Fola, then came Dayo and the final one Fredrick. Though, Fredrick and I dated during the second year of my friendship with Bare. Most times, I weighed the impossibility of it all with its possibility, it always surpassed it all. Our friendship continued to grow and we became closer and closer with him constantly begging me “When will we stop being just friends?” I would make no response, smile and then change the subject.

Weeks passed and my secret feelings for Bare grew but I was sure nothing was ever going to come out of it until he kissed me last week. That kiss came as a surprise but it was the best I have ever had. I didn’t want to stop kissing him and when we eventually did, I found myself whispering “I love you.” That signified the beginning of refreshed self in happiness

Since we started our whirlwind romance, Bare had asked this question and in my usual manner I would quickly respond “I cannot live without you baby.” There was something different about the way he asked this time around. It was like he wanted some sort of reassurance, an everlasting reassurance that would mean he never had to ask again. The kind of reassurance I was sure I was not capable of giving him. Deep down I had answered the question but I couldn’t let that come out of my mouth. I began to cry myself. While I cried, I looked round the whole room. It was a shabby room of 8 by 12 meter. He had his bath right outside. Though he had saving, it wasn’t enough to set up a wedding and he said it still remained a little amount. I cooked in a corner of the room each time I came. Bare had assured me that in a couple of months he would have gathered enough to get a proper apartment. I continued to look around, the TV that seemed like it would look better at some antique store, the threadbare mattress we were sitting on not to mention the badly accented way he spoke English. How was I to tell my family about this man? How could I tell father that after all my education, I am choosing to spend the rest of my life with a paper bag maker? Mother would disown me without thinking twice no doubt and before doing so would be sure to remind me of how other people’s children were getting married to Lawyers, Engineers and Doctors. I would be twenty-three in two months and although my lover had a good seven years start in life ahead of me, I have a better life than him. A Bsc. in Mass Communications, a good job, a good apartment and I had just recently bought my first car. There were other guys waiting for my yes but none of them knew me as much as he did. He saw through me to bring out the best. Neither father nor father would ever understand that or want to understand.

I knew what I had to do, this madness had to stop. I jumped to my feet and walked to the door. He stood up too, unsure of what I was doing. It broke my heart to see him that way and I ran back and with all the love I could muster, I hugged him. The tears ran down my face as I hurriedly said “I can’t stay. Let’s call it a day.” Bare raised his head and gave me a goodbye kiss. At least that was how I saw it, “a goodbye kiss.” I walked out of that place knowing I was never going to go back. His eyes followed me and although I didn’t look back, I could see it as I pushed aside the dirty curtain and made my escape. I knew I was walking away from the only man that gave my soul a reason to live and that part of me was left behind in that shabby room.

I cried all the way home with the car stereo blasting something I wasn’t listening to. Getting home, a part of me still wanted to find him. Sitting on this toilet seat and listening to the drip-drop sound of the dripping tap oddly brought comfort to my aching heart.

Read more interesting stuffs on www.penastory.com

http://penastory.com/2015/12/30/twenty-episode-four/

Excerpt From Episode 3:

Chioma sat gingerly on the bed and stared at the red light of her Blackberry phone that was blinking. She picked it up distractedly till she saw it was a text message from David. She sat upright as she shakily opened the message and read

“Hey Chi, miss me? I got my eyes on you babe.”[i][/i]

Chioma dropped the phone as if it was a piece of hot coal that had just burnt her. Her mother hurried to her believing it was part of the grief that was making her act that way. Mrs. Ugochukwu tried to embrace her daughter but Chioma rebuffed her.

“I need to be alone mother, I need to think. I need to let all of this sink in. Please mother.”

“We need to stand strong my dear, I know you are hurting. Let me help you, Matthew’s death is equally as painful to me as well.” There were tears rolling down Mrs. Ugochukwu’s cheeks as she pleaded with her daughter who was now holding her temple like someone suffering from a headache.

“Mother please I will be fine. Just need some time alone. I will see you in the morning.” Mrs. Ugochukwu sighed resignedly and left the room reluctantly muttering something about if she was needed, she would be right on call.

Chioma dropped to the floor and sobbed silently as she read the text over and over again. It was like every time she read, a flood gate of tears was opened as she would resume her crying and mutter “I’m finished.

Her mother might think she was grieving for Matthew but receiving a text from a man she thought she had killed off set the grief for a dead boyfriend. What she felt now was fear of the unknown. “Is he really alive?” This was the million dollar question that kept rolling around in her brain. She stood up and began pacing around. She resisted the urge to hit or break something, instead she took to wringing her hands together. She felt tempted to call the number while also resisting the pressing urge to confide in her mother.

Chioma remained locked up in her room although Mrs. Ugochukwu made sure to check on her at intervals. At around midday, she came running to the room with an excited animation on her face as she said quickly,

“Chi, it’s David, I just got a call from a hospital. Someone tried to kill him!”

“Did they say who?” Chioma asked with an intake of breath.

“Who what?” Her mother asked distractedly but didn’t wait for a response as she was already on her way out of the room and saying something about having to visit immediately. Chioma sat on the edge of the bed and soaked in the silence of the house even as she heard her mother’s car starting and the sound slowly fading away as her mother raced towards her survivor boyfriend.

“What exactly is going on?”She was whispered into the air and she sat there staring into nothingness till the hands of sleep slowly lured her into sleep. It was a fitful dream as she dream’t of David. He was hiding in the shadows of her room, it seemed as though she was there but wasn’t. She tried to say something but couldn’t and then Matthew came into the picture as well with a broad smile. She was about to hug Matthew in relief when David pulled out a knife and stepped out from the shadows. She tried to scream and warn Matthew but no sound came out and the knife was just inches away from Matthew’s unsuspecting back when she was jerked awake. She stared groggily at her best friend Maryam.

Chioma had known Maryam since they moved to Lagos and although Maryam was Yoruba and from a Muslim family in Edmund Crescent, they had hit it off quite well despite Maryam’s parents’ disapproval. First, Maryam’s father’s didn’t like Igbo people while Maryam’s mother felt a single mother was a bad influence on her child despite Maryam’s explanations that Mrs. Ugochukwu was not a single mother but a widow.

“I have been calling you for like ever” Maryam said with annoyance on her face. Whatever it was she was saying was lost on Chioma who still had her mind on the dream.

“Matthew is dead” Chioma blurted, cutting Maryam shut. Maryam gasped in shock and looked at Chioma to see if she was joking. When she found no trace of humour on her face, she asked

“What happened? When? How? What killed him?” This was all the prompting that Chioma needed for all the things she had been bottling inside and she began to tell her best friend all that had been going on. Maryam listened without saying a word, a surprising thing for someone who usually talked nineteen to the dozen.

“Let’s go to the hospital,” Maryam suggested when Chioma was done talking. Chioma looked at her as if she had gone mad but she smiled and explained “it is better you know what you are dealing with than living in this fear of the unknown?” Chioma didn’t say anything as she quickly threw on a black Jean trouser and a white blouse. She tied a black scarf to avoid worrying about her hair while covering her eyes with dark sunglasses.

His Hands Hospital wasn’t too far away from Edmund Crescent so the girls decided to walk rather than take a bus. The hospital was a private one and when they explained that they were relatives to the patient who had been brought in last night with knife wounds, the receptionist directed them to the Accident Block, telling them he was in Ward 128. It was a big ward and there were many beds covered with hospital curtains, separating one patient from the other. After checking about two rows, they found who they were looking for. There were tubes and bandages and a machine that seemed to be helping him breathe. Chioma took in a deep breathe as she stared at the man that had tried to rape her and a feeling of repulsion ripped through her. So she had turned him to this?

“You decided to come Chioma, I see you’re becoming more matured.” Mrs. Ugochukwu’s voice cut through her train of thoughts and she looked up to see her mother approaching with a tray of snacks and a drink. Mrs. Ugochukwu exchanged greetings with Maryam before checking to see that David was alright and nothing was out of place.

“Yes I came.” Chioma replied dryly, trying not to let her disgust show.

“But people are wicked sha, why would they do this to him? He is an easy going person and does not fight. The people that did this must be brought to justice.” Mrs Ugochukwu was saying as she took a sip of her Fanta and bit into a doughnut. Maryam and Chioma exchanged looks and Maryam was about to say something when David’s hands moved feebly on the bed. Mrs. Ugochukwu’s eagles eyes cuaght the movement and she was out of her seat in a flash.

“He is awake!” She was by his side quickly with Maryam also moving closer, only Chioma took a step back. “What is it dear, what are you saying? Chioma…Chioma is here too,” Mrs. Ugochukwu turned around and beckoned, “come here Chioma, David is asking of you.”

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http://penastory.com/2015/12/30/the-marathon/

In the New Year of 2013, I decided I was going to run in the 25 kilometers Abiriba Marathon. I did not just decide that day, I had been saying I would since I saw the runners arrive at the finish line at Okpu Achi the previous year and I was particularly pleased when my cousins UK and David said they were going to run too. We had not trained at all, not once but we were sure we were going to come in among the first ten. After all, it is just 25 kilometers and it wasn’t as if we were going to be running all through not to mention we are young and able bodied.

We were up by 5.30 am the next morning all dressed in our clean shorts and sneakers. Every one else in the house was awake too; mum, dad, Uncle Jerry, Uncle Dike, Ola, ND, UG. Everybody was just as excited as we were even though none of them expected us to win or even run the race to the end. Mum said she was going to sit outside and wait to see us run past towards the finish. We left the house and trekked down to Oriekwa to register. At Oriekwa, there were hundreds of people waiting, strong young men and women like us, children who I was sure were not going to run and old people who could hardly trek a kilometer. I could see many were stretching and jogging around.

“It’s not by stretching oh or wasting all your strength jogging around,” UK said

“Ehee, true,” I agreed and nodded my head as if to reinforce that belief.

“So all these kids here want to win a 100 thousand too?” There was mockery in UK’s voice and I couldn’t help feeling a bit condescending myself as I said

“I wonder oo, they’ll just reach Ugwuezi and faint”.

We registered with 200 Naira which made UK very furious

“This is supposed to be free,” he told the woman sitting behind a plastic table in a shade at the registration point. She made no response and continued with what she was doing, ignoring UK.

“I za gini?” She asked looking at him like she was praying inwards that her eyes could shoot daggers.

“Ukuku Dike,” he answered and he swallowed his anger as she hissed and penned down his name. He made sure he got the last word as he repeated “It was free last year.”

“Your number is 065, pick the label with that exact number there,” she pointed to a heap of number tags beside her “find a way to pin it to ur polo”

“It was free last year” UK repeated adamantly, his anger mounting at being ignored.

“Next?!” She bellowed in response. UK returned the dagger look and moved away,

I took my place and registered. An hour and a half later of waiting and taking a hundred useless selfies and we were standing on the road waiting for the word ‘Go!’ I squeezed my way through the crowd, trying to maneuver myself to the front of the throng.

“Oh boy, it does not matter where you are when the race starts, just calm down”. I looked over my shoulders at the person who had just called me ‘boy’. It was a small sized man, several inches shorter than myself. His face told the tale a hard life. I allowed the insult pass and turned around.

“Go!” the official thundered and we were off, running with all our strength. Anyone looking from above must seen a scene that looked like buffaloes running in the Savannah. Unlike the buffaloes though, most of us were out of breath several metres in, I know I was.

As we turned into Ugwuezi, behind the Assemblies of God Church, Okpi, I stopped to catch my breath. I was panting like I had run the entire 25 kilometres already when I had not even run up to a kilometre at all. I began walking, I would continue running when strength crawled back into my legs or so I told myself.

“Don’t stop,” a lady said to me as she jogged pass “if you stop, you won’t be able to start again”

“Yes, I know”, I told her. I did not know her and I did not believe her. Many people had stopped running and were walking too so I was not the only one. Those jogging seemed to be doing very well, they had not stopped at all to catch their breath so I decided to jog too. I jogged successfully for a few seconds before hitting a wall, I had never felt so stupid in my life; standing there, hands akimbo and panting.

“Nduka, you are tired already?” David’s voice was a welcomed sound to my ears and I looked around to see him walking up to me.

“I am not. Why are you not running?” I asked.

“I am tired, I want to go back home”

“We have not even started, you cannot go home.” He was by my side now and we continued walking.

“Where’s UK?”

“I don’t know”

We continued the trek in silence, runners continued to run past us. Spectators from their house shouted to us, telling us to run

“Gbapunu nu oso, ndi ibe unu nolari ebe enya,” a woman screamed at me from her kiosk. I didn’t really care where the rest were, I was sure that when I had gathered my strength, I would run past them all. We met UK at Okagwe Agborji, he was staring at the steep hill in front of him.

“You guys are far behind oo”, he said to us as we walked up to him.

“Let’s gather strength first, we will run”

“If you stop, you won’t be able to run again”

“Eh, why did you stop then?” David asked

“This hill is steep, a girl fell here just now, serious fall o,” UK informed us, “the ambulance took her.”

“I hope she didn’t wound herself” I chuckled

“She did oo,” a girl’s voice answered. She was fair and had bushy hair, her face looked like it was usually buried under layers of makeup and looked weird without it.

“Hmm, let’s go up please,” UK said. We began the hard climb. My legs shook as I climbed and I began panting like I was dying. I remembered another hill my mum talked about, Ejim Okpo Eme Gini – What am I doing with money? It was so named by a woman who sold yams in the nearby town. She would carry the yams up a steep hill into the town to sell. One day, she carried yams larger than usual and almost fainted climbing the hill, she abandoned the yams there and went home, asking herself ‘Ejim okpo eme gini?’

That was the question in my head as I climbed the hill. At the top, UK, did not wait to catch his breath like I did, he jogged off.

“That hill is too much,” the weird faced girl said as she caught her breath. As we stood there, the children I had seen back at Oriekwa climbed up the hill and jogged past us.

“Children just passed us oo, let us go,” David said and walked off. I followed behind him with the girl tagged along. We did not run, we trekked.

At Ihungwu, there was an official with water. We drank like we had just survived a decade old drought before continuing towards Amanta, then Umuoboro through Udanta into Omaghuzo Amaogudu. Our legs were trembling and we had only gone half way.

“I stay in Cotonou,” the weird faced girl was saying to me as we climbed down the very steep Usumani valley.

“Ok”

“You?”

“Aba”

“That Aba sef, filled with kidnappers”

“Have you been there before?”

“My uncle lives there, I don’t like it”

“Ok”

I was too tired to be interested in a conversation. We climbed the other side of the valley, we had not seen another runner since the hill at Agborji so we were sure we were in last place. The few spectators we passed told us that we were probably in last position and should go home if we were tired.

“Let’s enter Mama Ochuru’s house and rest biko na”, David begged as we crossed the road leading to our Aunty’s house.

“No, we must finish,” I insisted “we have already gotten here, we can finish”

“ Let’s enter Okada and go home, my legs want to fall off” David said 30 minutes later as a motorcycle rode past us.

“Instead of going back home without finishing, it is better we enter the ambulance and say our legs are broken. They will take us to the finish”.

A few minutes later, we were at the Amaogudu roundabout, an official was there. He was parking a bag of water into an ambulance.

“Ah ah, you people have not finished?” he asked as he passed us sachets of water.

“No”, the weird faced girl answered.

“I was about to go oo, I thought all the runners had passed”

We drank the water and continued into the expressway. The trek was done mostly in silence except for the squeak from David’s shoes as he walked. When we re entered Abiriba at the Amaeke roundabout, a smile tore across my face. This was our final lap. We trekked and soon we crossed our house. Mum wasn’t there waiting, neither was Dad, or Uncle Jerry, There was nobody.

“That’s our house”, I told the weird faced girl and she looked at the white building before squeezing her face like a person expecting a blow to the face.

“It is nice” she finally said.

When we arrived the finish at Okpu Achi, the first three positions had already been awarded their prices. The first ten were now being called and given their 10,000 Naira price. We saw UK and walked up to him.

“You guys are just coming?” He asked. “Go inside that office and write your name, they’ll give you malt to drink”.

We obeyed and went into the office, wrote our names and picked our cans of malt. A boy whom I had seen run past us at Ugwuezi, came up to me.

“Where did you get that malt, I am so thirsty I need to drink something?” he asked.

“Go in there,” I pointed to the office “register your name and they will give you malt.” He turned around to a group of five boys sitting on the ground close by. They had run the race too.

“Come oo, we didn’t register our names when we entered here” he said to them

“Is it important?” one of them asked.

We left the boys and walked back to where UK sat. We sipped our malt slowly. I wondered if they all felt the way I did, like I had been beaten severely all over with a very large stick. My legs vibrated every few seconds.

The officials began calling the names of the rest of us and handing out a thousand naira to each of us as soon as they were done with the first ten. UK was called, and he slowly made his way to the podium and took his money. After him came several names and something in me told me the money might not be enough to get to me.

“David Dike,” the official called. David smiled as he walked to the podium to collect his money.

“Imagine if we had entered Okada that time eh and gone home” I said to him as he returned

“Blessing Agwu”, the weird faced girl stood and went to pick her own money. Her legs were shaking visibly.

“Nduka Dike,” I stood and went up the podium and collected the last note.

When I returned to our seat, the official came up to talk.

“We have about six remaining names here but we have run out of money. We are sorry but these six people who came last will have to bear with us”

“We didn’t come last!” the boy I had directed to register his name shouted furiously. “They came last” he pointed at us

“Let’s go home,” UK suggested. We stood and slowly left the place with the boy still insisting “they came last!”

“I will wait for my uncle to come and pick me up with his driver,” our weird faced companion said and I nodded before walking off.

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http://penastory.com/2015/12/28/when-kids-play-adult-games/

“If you want to keep this baby, that’s okay. If you want to give your baby up for adoption when he is born, that’s an option too. If you are considering abortion, it is against what I believe and how I raised you but then it is your choice. I am here. I am your mother and I am asking you to think about all these options and tell me what you want” Iya Bimbo said in a gentle yet firm voice. Bimbo was only half listening as her mind kept flashing to the events of the past.

She could still hear the sound of the wall clock, the ticks and chimes. She could still see the moon through the window, full and sad, unreachable and dancing alone amidst dark clouds and twinkling stars. She could see herself, on his small twin bed looking at his blue boxers, Bayo’s manhood lurking just underneath, inches away while her body yearned for his flesh, his eyes focused on her breasts. Tears formed in the corner of her eyes.

“Why are you crying now? You don’t get to cry, you have to hold yourself together and think about the future you want for yourself before we tell your father or go to Bayo’s parents.” Iya Bimbo said with scorn in her voice.

“Mom, I will think about it. I will. Just give me till the morning” Bimbo replied.

“Okay. I am going to bed but I will be the first person you see in the morning. When I knock on your door, you had better have a decision. I cannot keep quiet about this for too long” Iya Bimbo declared.

“I understand Mummy. Thank you.” Bimbo replied with a smile.

Then again, she felt the things she felt when he was in her, his black skin against her brown body, soft kisses from her neck down to her toes, feather touches making her moan. The thrill of excitement as he fondled her breasts, a mix of pain and pleasure as he delved into her body and entered in one swift stroke. The ride a blend of slow and fast strokes, temperatures high with the sonorous blends of excited squeals. Then it was all over, his seed was planted and even as she with a satiated smile on her face allowed him cuddle her to sleep unaware of the gravity of what had just taken place.

“I am keeping the baby, a product of our love” she sad out aloud and grabbed her phone. Bayo’s response was fast as it was like he was by his phone waiting for her text.

“You are being naïve, impractical and unrealistic. Keeping the baby is the worst thing you could do to us, to yourself. Believe it or not I want you to keep the baby but it is just so insane that we are going to be parents at eighteen.” Bayo replied back tersely.

“How do you mean, we are not the first of our kind?” Bimbo replied, the tears welling in her eyes in shock.

“You have more to lose. You will carry our baby for nine months and blame me for dropping out of school. You will be at home breast feeding while I continue school and you will look back at your life and say I am the reason you never got that education. You will miss childhood and being just a girl with no worries because you would have to be a woman too early and mummy to our son and say it is my fault. You will not remember you made a sacrifice for love, you will say that I destroyed you and your chances at the many things could have been.” Bayo explained back with another text.

“You are to blame. You said you will pull out but you did not. And you promised that the pills we got from the store the next morning would work. It did not. But I want to keep the baby because it’s a decision I would someday wish I made and if you make me abort it I will always blame you.”

“You will always blame me. It will always be my fault, either you keep the baby or you abort it. I will always be the bad guy and I have to be okay with being the bad guy because we had amazing sex and enjoyed it so much that I forgot to pull out. I am the bad guy and you are the pregnant girl, you get to play victim.” Bayo fired back.

“Oh. You talk of victim. I will be ridiculed among other girls and if we do not end up together no man wants a girl that already has a baby, I will become damaged goods. My father, when I tell him will declare me a disgrace to the entire family. Your father when you tell him might be mad for a few days and you guys will be okay. Or he might even praise you. As for me, I will always be a black sheep. They will always look at me like that, because I am the girl that had sex with her boyfriend and have to be the one walking around pregnant. I am not playing victim, I am in trouble” Her reply this time was filled with crying emojis.

“You will not have to deal with that if you listen and just abort the baby. I know it’s harder on you, on any girl in this situation. I have seen my cousin lose her self esteem and eventually gave in to the low expectations and now all she is just a girl with two kids from different fathers. I don’t want you to suffer, or our baby to suffer because we are not ready. Babe, please abort the baby and move on with your life”

“No. I am keeping it. You and I are raising our child prepare your mind towards that. If it gets hard and I need someone to blame for the failures of my life, I will blame you as much as I blame myself and then I will remember I enjoyed the sex and blame it on love” There was no response this time around and after aboout ten minutes of waiting she typed slowly “KEEPING THE BABY!!!”

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http://penastory.com/2015/12/24/twenty-episode-3/

Excerpt From Episode 2:

“I saw you, the corpse you buried last night. Check, where you hid it, dead men don’t walk.” The line went dead and she dropped the phone with a bang as she ran out to the backyard. The shallow grave had been dug out by somebody and the body was gone. She stumbled back in fear just as the door bell went off. Read Episode 2: www.penastory.com

She stood rooted to the spot listening to the ringing door bell. Whoever it was should just go, she thought to herself as she sat on the floor and began drawing patterns in the dirt with her fingers. The visitor didn’t seem like he or she wanted to leave as the peeling doorbell was now accompanied by banging. She stood up hesitantly and went inside, looking at the door as if some horror was going to walk in through the door.

“Chioma are you in there? Open the door.” Her mother’s voice sent a wave of relief washing over her and she hurriedly opened the door. She embraced her mother tightly as if her life depended on it and Mrs. Ugochukwu had to disengage herself when she felt the hug had gone on for too long.

“It seems like somebody missed me.” Mrs. Ugochukwu said with a laugh. At thirty-eight, she bore a striking resemblance to her twenty year old daughter whom she birthed at eighteen years. They looked more like sisters than mother and daughter but that was a situation beyond her control as she was a victim of rape. Her parents disowned her when they found at she was pregnant and she was going through so much pain and shame she didn’t bother to tell them she was raped. At an early stage of her life, she was forced to be responsible for another life and she managed on her own sufficiently till she met Harry. Harry was willing to marry her and take care of the baby and though she didn’t like the fact that he was about twenty seven years her senior, she married him for his riches to secure a better life for her daughter. Now in her late thirties, she was still very much the head turner she had been as a teenager and one look at her explained where Chioma got her good looks from.

Mrs. Ugochukwu didn’t look like one who lost a husband two years ago. Following her husband’s death, she began to have problems with her brother-in-law who was after his brother’s money and he began to torment her calling her a witch who bewitched his brother into marrying her. Chioma was after all not his brother’s daughter and what right had she to his wealth when she has no son for him. She didn’t argue, her husband left most of his properties to her and she simply sold everything and with the money disappeared from their Abuja residence to relocate to Lagos. She bought an apartment in Edmund Crescent and started an interior decorating business which flourished rapidly. A year after saw her venturing into modelling as established an agency, it was at the agency she met David.

The handsome twenty-four year old woke all her femininity and womanly needs and she began to crave for him. She was the beautiful rich widow and he was the young blood that could satisfy her needs. Against her better judgement, she kick started a relationship with him and they had been together about three months before the rape incident with Chioma.

“Yes I missed you mom. I have been at home all day since yesterday that you have left. A lot has happened that I need to tell you about and Matthew didn’t show up as earlier planned.” At the mention of Matthew’s name, a cloud passed across Mrs. Ugochukwu’s face. She was well aware of the romantic relationship between Matthew one of her models and her duaghter. She took her daughter’s hand and squeezed gently before replying

“About Matthew. I need to tell you something about that and I think it’s best I go first.” They both sat at the sofa slowly tears began to trickle out of Mrs. Ugochukwu’s eyes. Chioma stood up alarmed and asked

“What is it mom? Why are you crying?” There was fear in her eyes and voice as she questioned her mother. Could her mother have found out about David so quickly? Hadn’t she just said she wanted to say something about Matthew? Why was she crying then?

“Matthew, last night…Matthew, Matthew is dead…” Mrs. Ugochukwu choked out between sobs, her eye sad as she looked at her daughter’s distraught face.

“Matthew dead?” Chioma’s voice came in a whisper as if she was in some far away land and she shook her head in disbelief.

“His body was found last night, I tried to call David but couldn’t reach him.” Her mother was saying and the mention of David jolted Chioma.

“David, David…” her voice was still faint and she was sitting by her mother now as she didn’t trust her legs to carry her. She stood up and walked to her room as if in a trance and her mother trailed behind her afraid she was going to hurt herself. Chioma sat gingerly on the bed and stared at the red light of her Blackberry phone that was blinking. She picked it up distractedly till she saw it was a text message from David. She sat upright as she shakily opened the message and read

“Hey Chi, miss me? I got my eyes on you babe.”

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I have always had a crush on him, for as long as I have known him. I always loved him secretly but he was off limits; my best friend since childhood. He is the guy that we have been there for each other through thick and thin; my parents divorce, his sister’s death, stupid and crazy exes, drunken nights and so many more memories. Then all that changed in just one night.

I remember the incident vividly like it happened yesterday. My boyfriend had just called it quits saying he was in love with a close friend; does that really still happen because I think it is so cliche. I was hurting and needed a friend so I called my best friend and he asked me to come over to his apartment when I hinted him of the trouble over the phone. He hugged me immediately he saw me and I allowed myself cry the way I am not sure I can ever do in front of any other person. He was stroking my hair and saying something about how he was going to beat my douche bag of an ex. I kept crying and he didn’t seem to mind that my makeup was ruining his shirt. He just kept stroking and kissing my hair, murmuring sweet nothings in my ear. Soon enough I was dehydrated and couldn’t cry anymore and after he had made sure I was comfortably settled in the living room, he proceeded to cook my favourite meal and made it even sweeter when he started to feed me the grilled fresh fish and chips saying he couldn’t let any of it go to waste so I must finish every piece of it. After food, I curled up next to him as we tried watching a television programme but I soon dozed off.

It was around 1:35 a.m. when I woke up to find him staring at me topless and with a boner. Something in me wanted to reach out and kiss him but then I realized I was wearing just a camisole and my lace panties. “You perv” I laughed, trying not to let my brain process what I was thinking. He smiled slyly and said “I had a nice time undressing you besides you told me not to stop.” “Taking advantage of vulnerable heartbroken women while they sleep now are we?” He didn’t make a response as he leaned in and kissed me, I let out a moan like someone starved and had just tasted the most delicious food in the world. My moan was an encouragement and things got intense as his hands started roving my body as if he was in search for something. He hands cupped my ass, touched my hips, fondled my stomach and grazed my boobs slightly. Suddenly he withdrew and said “You need your sleep.” I felt like I had just been dealt a slap and tried to clear my head even as he tried to cover up erect dick which was clear indication of his desire. I pulled him back to me and planted another kiss on his lips before standing up from the bed and began to remove my camisole strap by strap, allowing it fall at my feet. I then bent over,showing him my ass, then removed my panties inch by inch. He whispered my name faintly in but I wanted it so this so bad so I ignored him. When I was done stripping, I stood in front of him with a shy smile on my face and he said “Are you sure you are ready for this?” I looked him squarely in the eye and replied “I have never been readier than this.” He motioned for me t sit on the bed and squatting behind me, began to plait my hair into a French braid. As he plaited, he breathed softly down my neck and I found myself trembling as his hot breath fanned my skin. Every time I trembled, he would chuckle softy and say “Patience little one, you will get what you want soon.”

When he was done plaiting my hair, he turned me to face him and I could see his eyes was darkened with desire. He told me to lie down on the bed and I complied, watching him stare at me hungrily. I began to feel shy and turned my face away but he titled my head up and kissed me. The kiss was even fiercer than the first and I felt my body grow hot. I wanted him. Badly. I wanted him deep inside of me so I reached for him but he stopped my hand and asked I allow him be in control. He then proceeded to trail tiny kisses over my stomach, thighs, back and eve my nose. I was practically shaking by now and had to beg him to touch me. His mouth went to my nipples and I felt faint when I felt his hand on my other breast as he sucked on the one in his mouth. I was writhing under him by now and moaning so loudly that I was sure the entire building was going to wake up. It felt like he was everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

His mouth suddenly left my breasts and I felt cold but he spread my legs and kissed me at the heart of my womanhood. I turned into liquid and felt like I was going to melt on the bed as he started sucking and lapping. I have always heard my roommates talk about getting MouthAction but I had never gotten one. It felt like I was in cloud nine and I knew I didn’t want it to stop. Then he slipped two fingers inside my vagina and I begged God not to let this ecstasy stop. He was teasing me with his fingers that when I suddenly felt something heavier at my entrance, I knew I was ready. I nodded my head in confirmation as I saw the question in his eyes. He entered slowly and I felt complete then. I was filled with him even though he wasn’t moving. He looked at me and whispered “I love you” before he turned into an animal as he began to move inside of me. His thrusts were deep, long and fast and I held onto him for the ride even as I urged him in, wanting him to go even faster. We were like two animals as we moved from the floor to the bed and I rode him against the wall. We somehow found our way back to the bed as he took me reverse cowgirl style and I must have had multiple orgasms that night. His breath began to come in short gasps as he got close and my own movements became even more frenzied. He was fondly my breasts roughly as he banged into me and then I felt him jerk once before he quickly pulled out and allowed his seed spill all over my chest.

It was the best night of my life and as he held me, I allowed myself drift off with a smile on my face. We had sex again when we woke up and we were about to go the third one when I felt someone calling my name. My eyes flew open and I saw myself on the bed dressed in a camisole and my lace panties. I checked the time saw he was the one that had woken me up. “What is wrong? You screamed my name in your sleep.” he said with concern on his face. I replied I was dreaming and he sat up with interest on his face as he asked what it was about. I turned to him and leaned in for a kiss, intending to show him what I had just dream’t about.

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[Excerpt From Episode 1:

Labimpe was about to reply her when the sound of a gun went off, for a minute everybody paused as if spellbound by some magic. The second booming of the gun, this time followed by a piercing scream sent everyone scampering in different directions. To read Episode 1: CLICK HERE]

“Have you heard that Fagbuyi is returning to the village?” Labimpe asked as she and Asake made their way to the river. Asake shook her head and laughed, trying to avoid her pot of water from slipping from her grasp.

“Of course I have heard? Who hasn’t heard the news, I am very sure if they have not heard, you asking the entire village would surely have spread the news faster than Alamu and his gong.”

“Are you trying to insult me Asake. So now I am the village parrot that is always talking ehen? Me amebo? It is not your fault, after all I was only trying to be a good friend and make sure that you are not left out in the things that go on in this village.” Asake laughed again and pushed her friend lightly.

“Hanhan, so someone cannot play with you again. I was only joking with you jare.” Labimpe’s mood brightened up and she continued

“Who do you think he would want to choose as bride, you know we have quite some pretty girls. If not that I love my Akanni so much, I won’t mind him picking me.”

“Haba! Labimpe! This your mouth that won’t stop dancing till it puts you into trouble one of these days. Did they tell you he is coming home to pick a wife ni? How can you even be thinking of such a thing when his father was recently murdered in this very village?” Labimpe stopped in her tracks and shook her fist at Asake threateningly, obviously provoked.

“Warn yourself this morning Asake, warn yourself, if you have a fight you want to settle with me before, just let me know, abi which one is all this style style insult. I said someone will choose a bride you are saying nonsense. Don’t you know that he is set to replace his father and he can’t take that position without a wife in his hut?”

“Oya ma binu ore mi. I didn’t know you have so much information as to the matter already. You know I am not trying to insult you.” Asake replied with a sly smile and teased the other girl till Labimpe also laughed and they continued on their way to the river.

Later that evening, as Asake sat outside the house picking beans for their dinner, her mother came out of the house and sat beside her on the mat, joining her in the picking of the beans.

“Asake this your hairdo needs changing, don’t you want to leave this house? How will good men from good homes look at you when you are looking this tattered?” Asake looked at her mother and sighed inwardly. Here we go again on this issue of marriage she thought to herself as she replied her mother

“Maami, anybody hearing you now would think I am one old maiden that has refused to marry. And I have told you, I have a fiancée and you would soon know him.”

“Fiancée? I have always told your father that you are not alright because if you are alright, you would know that any man that is serious about a girl goes to seek the consent of her parents first.

“But you were the one just talking about how I should find a husband.”

“I said attract the men, I didn’t say find a husband or you want to say I don’t know what I am saying again? When you attract them, they would come home to us for your hand. Though from what I heard, they said Prince Adelaja has been chasing you.”

“That one? He is only wasting his time because he is not my type.” Asake said with a hiss and a clearly disgusted look on her face.

“Egbami,” her mother replied with a jolt and jumped up from the mat they were sitting on “repeat that nonsense you just said, not your type? What do you know about type? The prince is interested in you and you say not your type. I have always know you this girl did not take after me, all the brain you are supposed to have, you have given out to the fishes. The king owns all that is in the land so when he is ready, he will take you. Just make sure you don’t bring shame upon yourself and this family by doing anything that would affect your dignity. Make sure he meets you at home! ”

“Me I cannot marry Prince Adelaja,” Asake grumbled and stood up from the mat making to enter the house. Her mother blocked the entrance of the house and readjusted her wrapper in the manner of one ready for a fight.

“Where do you think you are going? Listen to me and listen well. I mean you should open those your ears that are meant for decoration like the wings of a butterfly, this is my own husband’s house. When you have sense in you, you will know that it is time you pack your load and go to your own husband’s house.”

Asake stared at her mother as if she had gone mad and was about to say something when Labimpe came into view, running like one who had the hounds of hell after her. She drew to a halt and collapsed on the mat, panting like a dog that just escaped the jaws of a lion. Mother and daughter forgot their argument for a minute and hurried to her.

“What is it Labimpe? Is all well with you and your family?”

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He closed the door carefully behind him and twisted the key till he heard a reassuring clicking sound. He was glad to be finally alone as he walked excitedly towards his mother’s wardrobe and like one who just discovered a pot of gold. He rummaged in the wardrobe full of large skirts, blouses and dresses till he found what he was looking for. He pulled out the smaller sized skirt and a silk scarf which he stared at with the desire a man would stare at a woman. He slipped into the skirt and tied the scarf around his skinny chest before proceeding to the mirror to inspect himself. He felt excited as he stared at his reflection and smiled gleefully to himself.

Olamide’s twelve years old eyes roved over his own body as he preened and pruned in front of the mirror turning this way and that way like a beauty queen posing for the cameras on a red carpet. At Junior Secondary School Two (JSS2), Olamide did not need to be told that he was different. From an average family, the type that was neither rich nor poor, he felt closer to his mother than his pastor father. His father was too conservative, the type of parent that believed a man should wear his hair low and trim his beard while a woman should be modest in her appearance. In church, he was the perfect man of God. Pastor would smile from ear to ear as he preached to his congregation but his family knew better. Pastor’s wife, Ajoke was one of those quiet women who held on to her husband’s every word, she hated to disappoint him. She had had a rather wild past and her husband appeared to be her one shot at redemption. It didn’t matter how many times pastor shouted or hit her, “I’ll make heaven” she would whisper to herself.

Olamide dared not voice out the things he was experiencing to any of his parents. He had no one to talk to about the strange things he thought and felt. He had always been like this for as long as he culd remember. Since turning 5, he started trying out his mother’s clothes when she wasn’t around, catwalking through the room singing Shakira’s “Hips Don’t Lie” aloud while trying to gyrate his hips the way the Colombian pop singer moved hers as much as he could. He felt happy and alive in those moments. His gestures were different, there was something feminine about his demeanour, pastor would see Olamide swaying his hips as he walked and turn to Ajoke “This cannot be my son.”

“He is but a boy, he would outgrow it, he’s still young” she would reply timidly. He never outgrew it, rather it became worse. At 12 years, Olamide knew he wasn’t like others, he was never going to be as macho as Damilola, the boy who lived next door or as manly as Idris. He knew he liked it when boys touched him, he felt things he probably shouldn’t feel.

“There’s nothing wrong with me, this is how God made me” he would tel himself.

Just as he slipped into his mother’s bra and was cupping his breast in front of the mirror, he heard his father’s voice.

“Why didn’t this boy lock the door.” Olamide stood rooted to the spot in fear and looked at the door to his parent’s room like a rabbit would look at it’s hole after being caught out in the garden. Should he dock under the bed? It was too late, his father’s footsteps were already approaching the room. He bagan to tug at the bra trying to undo the hook when his father opened the door. Pastor stared at his only son in his wife’s bra and the rage burned in him like a mad man possessed. He lunged at his son and Olamide tried to run but his father’s sturdy hands grabbed and jerked him back. They both landed on the floor and the pastor quickly sat astride him as he started punching him and hitting his head on the floor simultaneously.

“You are not my child, your mother is a prostitute, I will kill you today! “

“Papa, I’m sorry, papa please” he wailed as the tears poured out of his eyes before clouding over in fear as the punches and blows became heavier. His tears didn’t move his father as he hit his head repeatedly against the floor blinded by his rage. He didn’t even see the boy’s body had gone limp underneath him till he heard his wife’s scream.

“You have killed him, Jesus!” Ajoke screamed as she rushed into the room and saw the blood on the floor. Pastor stood up then and looked at the limp body in disgust.

“Devil’s child, he is not mine, let him go back to the devil he came from” he muttered and walked out fo the room.

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[Excerpt From Episode 1:

I remember my first outfit to the club, it was a little black dress with cut outs in the front chest region that showed peeks of my breasts. I am naturally more endowed than Lily so I fit into the cloth very well and all the other girls complimented my look…To Read Episode 1: www.penastory.com]

As we drove in the car, the other girls chattered nineteen to the dozen as they recalled some of their past experiences.

“And I asked him, did you just tap my butt?” Kiki was saying “And he had this look of ‘yeah I did and I ain’t sorry on his face,’ so I turned fully around to face him. I walked up to him and was so close to him that he could feel my breath on his face as I leaned into him. The funny part is I am even taller than this slowpoke and he had his eyes glued to my breast.” With that she cupped both her breasts in her hands and gave it a gentle squeeze which sent Shady and Lola laughing. Lily and I were listening to the whole narrative with rapt attention as if our very lives depended on it.

“I could see that he was getting Hot just looking at my boobs and I slowly slid my finger from his head down to his stomach, pausing by where his belt was and asked in my most sultry manner, ‘so you like you some of these goodie huh? I then let my finger slid into his waistband and I felt some hair there.’”

“I trust you, you are such a crazy girl, what if he had grabbed your boobs right then and there?” Shady asked between laughs.

“I didn’t really know what I was thinking, I was just really mad that he had the audacity to tap my butt. Like darling, these goodies don’t come cheap! Anyway, he nodded and licked his dry lips and I pulled out my finger and this time around I grabbed his dick through his trouser..”

“Was he big?” Lola asked.

“You and big things ehen, you this girl, they will not use big things and kill you oh.” Shady quipped. Lily and I exchanged glances at this as Lola shrugged and replied

“Well you know what they say that if you are going to eat something, you should eat the better one. I just can’t stand those guys with puny little toothpicks that they call cock. I mean I don’t even feel anything, I just lie there and let them pump, already waiting for them to get off me.” Lola fired back.

“Well I think he carry small sha but as I started feeling him get hard in my hand, I gave him a kick in the balls and ran back to them Alhaji, if not for the bodyguards that day, that guy was going to have my blood.”

“Well that should serve him right for tapping your butt in the first place.”

“At least your grabbed his package back.” Lola said with a wink.

“”Why are you two so quiet like you are being taken to a funeral?” It was Shady asking as she noticed that Lily and I have been quiet.

“Oh I was simply listening to what you guys were saying. You seem to have had quite some nasty encounters.” Lily said with a bit of trepidation in her voice. The older girls looked at one another and burst out laughing.

“Sweetie, call it the hazards of the job. You will meet some really great guys and at the same time, you will meet some low life bastards.” Kiki said as she squeezed our shoulders affectionately.

“Looks like we are here.” Lola said gaily and I looked out the window. The neon signboard that met my eyes told me we were at some club named “Dirty Saint” and I smiled at the paradox of the name of the place. The stories of the other girls had had more effect on me than they would ever know and I was ready to show them that I could be every bit of a bad girl as they could be.

Lola got down first followed closely by Shady then Lily, as I was about to follow next, Kiki whispered

“Ruby, just a second.” I turned around and she looked me in the face and continued “I can see you have a lot of potential girl, if you play your cards right, you will be great at this.” With that she at my dress so that the dress came down a bit making the neckline come a little lower. More of my boobs became exposed in the cut out design in front of the dress and she smiled at me and nodded that I was ready to go.

Let the games begin.

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For the sake of this narrative, let us call me Ruby but that is not my real name I must warn you. It is simply a name I adopted when I began my journey into being an erotic expert. Many of you call us prostitutes but in truth we are not, we are simply sensual service providers.

I remember when I first started, I had just finished my secondary school education and needed money for my university admission. While it is true that most women go into our line of business because of poverty, I have to tell you that most women do it just for the fun of it. There is that thrill knowing that you have so much power of a man and you can do a lot of things to him when his dick is erect. Let me tell you all it all started. I am one of those that do it just for the fun of it because I love being a cock tease.

I had gone to my uncle’s house to inform him that I have been offered admission into the prestigious University of Lagos to study Political Science and while he talked about how proud of me he was, there was no money for him to assist me to process my admission. I was really devastated as I knew there is no way I can raise the required funds needed to process my admission. I don’t want to bore you with the unnecessary details of the many sufferings that I have had to go through with my mother so I am going to stick to just what I know you came here to read. My sex life.

I went over to a friend’s house, for the sake of this narrative again I would have to give her the fictional name of Lily. Lily was in high spirits as she said she was going to the night club for the first time that night. Some girls from University of Lagos had invited her to go clubbing with them as part of the initiation process to join their club when she resumed as fresher with them. I told Lily of my predicament and she felt sorry for me and invited me to go along with the girls to the club. According to her, they said if she was good, they might teach her how to make some money and she felt the club might do me some much needed cheering up. I am not going to pretend that I am some good girl who didn’t want to go but there was the challenge of what to wear which was quickly resolved by Lily as she called up one of the girls to inform one of the girls to inform her that she want to bring another girl along.

I remember my first outfit to the club, it was a little black dress with cut outs in the front chest region that showed peeks of my breasts. I am naturally more endowed than Lily so I fit into the cloth very well and all the other girls complimented my look. They were three in number, the one we call Shady is like the leader followed by Kiki who I must say was the pretties of the trio and then there is Lola.

I lied to my mother that I was going to be attending a vigil with one of my friends and since I have never given mother any reason to doubt me before, she didn’t object. At around 12.30am, a car came to pick us up for the outing and that is how y journey into the world of erotic services began. In my next episode I would tell you of all that went down at the club and how I became an instant star among the girls.

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It was 6:00pm, an hour since Matthew had said he would be coming over when she had called him. Her agitation wouldn’t let her sit still by the window where she kept peeping, hoping for the welcomed sight of Matthew. She became restless and stood up from her window watch and began to pace the room, her pacing was like that of a person in a trance. She would walk to the window and gaze out before walking the entire length of the room again, her lips were moving but no words came out as all the words were running through her dazed mind.

“What will I do with the body?” That was the million dollar question that kept haunting her mind as she waited for Matthew. She wasn’t bothered about the life of the twenty-six year old that she had just ended abruptly. There was no trace of remorse in her features as she stood over the lifeless body. She moved away from the body and huddled in a corner, drawing her knees close to her chin, letting her hair fall in loose waves about her face. Her twenty year old face had that confused feature that most young people bore in those moments when they were confronted with the harsh realities of adulthood and the innocence of their childhood fights not to be done away with.

She checked her Rolex wristwatch, another two hours had passed and there was still no sign of Matthew. She stood up and stretched her leg which had gone numb from the lack of blood circulation to it due to her sitting position which she had maintained for well over an hour. She went to the window and peered outside, it was pitch dark. Edmund Crescent was one of those places that activities halted quickly and by 8:00pm, everywhere was as silent as a graveyard.

Two hours later, she decided it was time to make a move with or without Matthew. With a strength that surprised even she herself, she managed to drag the body to the backyard. The moon looked like it was brighter than usual that night as it sat comfortably in the starless sky, it seemed to be mocking her with its rays and she shivered a bit from the cold as she felt the wind also tease her skin with a cold gust.

“Lord I know I’ve killed a man, I don’t ask for your mercy, I ask for you to forgive this idiot and my only wish for him is to rot in hell.” These were the last words that accompanied the body to its shallow grave about two hour later and as she made her way back into the house, her thought went to Matthew. She felt too tired to want to try call him again that night and she made a mental note to let him know her displeasure at his disappointment. She headed straight for the kitchen where she sat down and lit a cigarette before stripping off her clothes to head off into the bathroom. She took a bottle of wine with her as she ran the bath and continued smoking, listening to a radio presenter talk about relationships and family life on a late night radio show.

She must have fallen asleep in the tub as she was suddenly startled back into consciousness with the shrill ring of the telephone. Naked, she quickly ran into the kitchen to pick up the phone, her sleep befuddled mind assuming it must be Matthew.

“You better have a good explanation for your standing up last night Matthew,” she barked into the phone but the voice from the other end startled. It wasn’t Matthew’s voice.

“Hello am I on to Miss Parker please?” The voice waited for her to confirm her identity before continuing “I’m Detective Chids from Sabo Police Station.”

“Okay? How may I help you?”

“I am afraid I would need you to come in to identify a body. We think it might be someone you know.” She laughed derisively and hung up without another word. Two deaths in one!

“What is Edmund Crescent turning into?” she yelled into the silent night.

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My mother is feeling very ill Audu, I promise we will pay back. Just give me the panadol, she is really in pain.”

“Walai me no give credit again,” Audu replied angrily “if you no commot for here, walai me cut your leg.” Aisha turned her to leave with a dejected expression on her face. Her mother was still not feeling better, her headache was now so severe she had started moaning in pain and her temperature had also risen. The young girl felt at a loss as to what to do as the aboki that had been her only hope of getting her mother drug for relief was obstinate about selling on credit. Who would the poor guy, they still after all owed him some unsettled debt and he was beginning to feel like he was being taken for a fool. She dragged herself back into their compound and went inside to her ill mother with tears welled up in her eyes.

“Mama, Audu has refused to give me anything on credit again. I don’t know what to do again.” Bukola turned her head painfully to peek at her daughter from half closed eyes and weakly beckoned her to come closer. Aisha went to her mother’s side and looked at her with pity; the alcohol was beginning to take its effect on her. She was looking older than her age but one could tell she was a pretty woman. There were sorrow lines on her face that told the story of a woman who has known pain and lived a hard life. Seeing her vibrant mother in this state tore at Aisha’s young heart and she squeezed her mother’s hand gently before trying to cool her head with a towel earlier soaked in water.

As she cooled Bukola’s head with the soaked towel, the moans abated a bit and she finally dosed off. When she was sure that her mother was asleep, Aisha’s little twelve years old feet tiptoed out of the room as she headed for her best friend’s house.

Tricia was the only person that knew of all the things Aisha had to endure and although the two girls were as different as chalk and cheese, they had formed a friendship so strong that they were inseparable. On countless occasions, Tricia would share her meals and pocket money with Aisha and although splitting the money meant both of them didn’t have enough, Tricia was always quick to point out that she could always go home to her parents while Aisha really was going to be left with nothing. Her mother who was supposed to take care of her was too busy drinking at the beer parlours to get a stable job and whenever she did get something, she wasted it on alcohol.

Aisha arrived at Tricia’s compound and met her best friend fetching water from the borehole in the compound. She quickly went inside and greeted Tricia’s parents as she requested for an extra bucket to help her friend out with her chore. As the two girls went to and fro with the buckets balanced firmly on their heads, Aisha explained the situation at home to her.

“Are you sick as well; you say she is moaning terribly and has a fever yet you think panadol is all she needs. Even if you can’t afford the bills of a hospital, you can at least go to Nurse Titi who can give a bit of professional help.” Tricia said in annoyance. Aisha looked at Tricia as if she had suddenly developed horns on her head and replied

“Is it stone or paper that I will use to pay Nurse Titi for her services ni? You know how that woman can be rude and we really do not have any money at home...”

“Nurse Titi is a nice woman Aisha, you just don’t know how to get along with her,” Tricia cut in “here is what we will do. Once we fetch this last bucket, I will go tell my father that you came to remind me of the text book we were told to pay for. Once he gives me the money, we would go to Nurse Titi and explain the situation to her so she can attend to your mother.”

For the first time that day Aisha let herself smile as she choked back the tears that threatened to spill and said a weak thank you to her friend. Tricia had always helped her on numerous occasions and she only wished someday she would be able to repay her friend for all her kindness.


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She was sprawled on the sofa with her mouth gaping open like a fish out water with her hand dropping to the floor as if there was no life in her. Spittle trickled out of her mouth with the consistency of a waterfall gushing water. Her snores came in broken gasp like sounds like that of an exhaust engine choking on its smoke. She was lying with her chest on the sofa and her buttocks which shot into the air like a mountain heaved with every snore.
Three bottles of vodka and four bottles of beer lay scattered all over the floor, with the rug boasting of alcohol stains in some corner while other parts of the rug had scars from cigarette burns to tell another story.


Aisha stepped cautiously into the room and took in the scene. The twelve year old sighed resignedly as she tiptoed gingerly trying to avoid the splinters of glass from the broken mug which must have shattered on the floor. She began to arrange the room methodically as she hummed under her breath softly. Scenes like this were no longer surprising to her as her mother; Bukola had continued to sink deeper and deeper into the arms of alcohol and men ever since her father left them four years ago.

She was eight then and she had come back from school that day to see her father and mother arguing in their two-room apartment. The argument became heated as the day went on and by evening time, her father began to beat her mother. He beat her senselessly till she fainted and then he left the house never to come back again. Perhaps if there had not been neighbours to quickly revive the fainted woman, she might have lost her life that evening. Although she didn’t lose her life, she lost another thing, her husband and father to her child. Bukola at first was worried when Kunle did not come back the next day and her worries intensified when after three days he was yet to return. She went to his place of work and that was when she was told that he had tendered his resignation. She was leaving the place with dejection when one of his friends had hinted to her that he was out of the country with a white woman he had fallen in love with. Bukola wept bitterly as her heart shattered into a million pieces and she was just a mile away from the doorstep of madness.

She found comfort in alcohol and at first she would go to the bars to drink just so that little Aisha wouldn’t see her drinking but more often than not, she always came home dead drunk to meet the little girl fast asleep after being fed by concerned neigbours. Her visits to the bar drew men to her and to drown her sorrows, she fell into the arms of any of them found attractive enough and they usually ended up with her at home. It was also another good way of making money to fend for her and her little daughter.

Aisha on the other hand had to grow up quickly, from a runaway father to an absentee mother; the little girl realized she was all she had to survive. She began to do menial jobs like fetching water or helping to sweep for the neigbours just so they could feed her while her mother was passed out drunk or didn’t even bother to show up at home. At twelve now, Aisha was wiser than her years and she took comfort only in her education after all she kept hearing that it is the passport from poverty.

She turned her head as she heard her mother shift on the sofa and she watched with an alarmed expression as her mother tottered on the edge of the sofa before crashing to the floor. Aisha rushed to her side to make sure she was not injured but the drunken woman took no notice of the floor as she snored on in her sleep as if she was on the most comfortable bed in the world. Aisha hissed with disgust as she went on with her arrangement and began humming to herself softly again.

It was not until the next morning that Bukola came to and the first thing that hit her was that she was having a pounding headache and her back also ached from her uncomfortable sleeping position on the floor. She rubbed her eyes with her hand and winced in pain as the action caused her head to feel like it was about to explode. Using the sofa as help, she managed to drag herself from the floor and go into the other room where Aisha lay fast asleep.

“Get up stupid girl,” she bellowed as she landed two heavy slaps on the sleeping girl’s back. Aisha woke up with a start and held her stinging back as she stared at her mother with sleep befuddled eyes. “Are you deaf or we are now mates that you have to count my voice before you answer me?” Bukola thundered angrily. The shout was too much for her pounding head and she winced as she felt painful throb in her head. Aisha noticed the painful wince and quickly went to her mother “What is it mama? Are you alright?” Bukola pushed her away and replied weakly “Just get me panadol, I am having a terrible headache and you have stressed me so.”

Aisha looked at her mother and sighed “But we have no money in the house mama. You used all I had saved up from scrubbing Mama Adura’s kitchen and washing her husband’s car to buy alcohol last night.”
“
Shut up will you? All these nonsense talk is making my head worse. Just go to aboki Audu and tell him that I said I would pay him.”

“He has refused to give me anything on credit again, as it is we still owe him six hundred and twenty naira.”

“Oh for Heaven’s sake, you devil’s child, will you shut that your hell mouth. I did not kill my mother so you cannot kill me you hear? You would rather leave this house like your useless father.” With that, she stormed out of the room to go curl up on the sofa as she tried to sleep with hopes that the headache would be gone when she woke up again.



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