"Do you believe in love?"Asked Ngozi for the second time .No denying the fact,he had heard her ask the question at first.He believed in love and wanted to tell this to her.He also hated the fact that love was unfair and he wanted to let her in on this too;but how could he do this without compromising his emotions?
He had lost to the game of love in the ages past and now it was happening again. Love was about to rob him of a pearl for the second time.The first time,"love" had come disguised in black robes as "death" and stolen away his mum.He had fought helplessly at a loss.He had thought he was going to die but had managed to pull through.He had then locked the seat of his emotions and had thrown the keys to sea.He swore never to get so emotionally attached again.Love had had its last laugh ,or so he thought and as the years went by,he continued in strength .Triumphant and relentless he had felt:But then nature in its cruelty ,ushered her into the picture. . ...
Their friendship was built on platonic basis.They had turned out to be very fond of themselves overtime,hardly ever letting a day go by without hanging out together.Mornings and evenings met them trading stories about each other.They shared their deepest secrets.
Often at times they laid on the mat in the moonlight counting the stars and deliberating on the mysteries of astrolatry.They could argue for long hours about things of little importance. He knew he had fallen for her.He also wanted her as his girlfriend but was afraid to ask. He feared the relationship would loose its savory if she didn't feel the same way and turned him down.
Often he found himself mumbling a few words of prayers for her.He spent long hours into the night writing love notes describing how soft her body felt against his and how her skin glowed like finely polished clay beneath the moonlight and of how he craved to kiss her ruby red lips.These letters however, always ended up beneath his pillow.The thought of showing them to her left him emasculated.Nonetheless this particular evening,he was letting the cat out of the bag."Am a man and I can do it"were the words he mumbled as he laid besides her.
The moon was unusually thinned out this evening,casting upon them shadows of light.They both wanted to acknowledge this but somehow let the topic slide.He started to say something and she also opened her mouth spontaneously too."Okay you go first"he suggested."My boyfriend and I are back together "she said in a low and happy tone.
The words sank into him with the speed with which a stone sank into a shallow lake.Nonetheless their effect lingered on in latency for a few seconds.To him the earth had come to a stand still.He knew he had lost again;but this time to armageddon.He felt his mouth go dry and his throat burn.His intestines were filled with gas.He tried adjusting his buttocks as they felt sweaty. He passed out flatus in silence to relieve his insides of the tension.At this moment ,he appreciated the moon for its epileptic illuminance and appreciated the act of "Astrolatry"for he thought the dim light prevented her from seeing the emotions etched on his face.He was lost in the oblivion of his thoughts and didn't notice her wipe the tears streaming down his checks . .....culled from"My deepest thoughts". ..... Frank Bambam

Andibanbangfranklin@gmail.com.I have some nice stories too.This below could be regarded as a prototype .

The city was calabar ,it was around dusk and the clouds were staring at the face of the earth, pregnant beyound bounds with rain:the pattern which a geographer would call the "nimbus" ,bestowing an apparent timing on nature, one which seemed hours ahead of the present .
One could feel from the ground thousands of feet below the clouds, the impulse generated as millions of formed droplets struggled to break free aiming for the earth ,as though the rate of their being evaporated back into the clouds ,depended on the velocity at which each droplet coursed its way down to the ground.Since nature has always had a great say,in the pattern with which the human race ran their lives,this particular day was no exception as people flooded the motor park enmasse to join the other commuters struggling to carve a niche for themselves in the almost overpopulated vehicles which were already finding their way towards the exit of the park .Closely following the vehicles in hot pursuit were traders hawking a wide range of commodities which mostly constituted goods patronised by people from the slums and suburbs ,like locally baked loaves of bread ,Bannanas and groundnuts ,and also over the counter drugs carried in bundles on trays ;The appearance of the trays on which the medicines were carried,gave away the abysmal nature of the products. Passengers of already moving vehicles were seen struggling to finish transactions with these hawkers as they screamed at the drivers of the moving vehicles to slow their pace so as to buy more time to end their deals.The driver on the other hand, threw a deaf ear on the appeal made by these passengers ;This pattern of response was not unconnected to their trying to escape the routine one hundred naira commission which they had to pay to the motor park boys each time they made a trip and feeling as if they were overcharged and didn't see any need to pay such a sum at very short intervals,were at Anathema to the policy and tried as much to meander away at any given opportunity. Blessfully ,today presented with the best odds as barricades mounted by the vagabonds to prevent the drivers had been blown away by the pre downpour winds ,hence the buses hurried off speedily. ,,,,,,,,,,,Amongst these fleets of buses leaving the motor park was one ;which asides been frowsy ,and frumpish had this extra effect of a body ,which had seen years of several long episodes of panel beatings ,with an already rusting combo of paint colours which in earlier years would have given easily as been called green and yellow :painted on the back screen of the bus were the words "GOD NA POORMAN FRIEND".The driver of the bus ,a stout man of about 50years of age with a broad but expressionless face ,narrow shoulders,small twisted mouth adorned with large tobacco stained teeth which seemed as though they were sparsely arranged and rooted feebly to their sockets and could fall off readily if triggered by any external force of so little an intensity as a heavy wind .As he spoke,it seemed as though the air entering his mouth caused a blowout of his buccal muscles given his wornout face ,a funny looking appearance like that of the the cartoons featured on the "graffiti "column of the "Tell magazine".
He was wearing a brown bowler hat on top of a loosely buttoned black,dirty and faded shirt , as he chewed on the bitter kolanut in his mouth,his browncolored teeth gave away years of dedicated tobacco intake .Somewhere beneath the steering wheel on the dashboard of the vehicle was a sticker which read"Smokers are liable to die young"signed by the federal ministry of health in alliance with the producers of the cigarette brand. Seated besides him on the passengers seat and squeezed between the gearbox and a heavily built woman was this small skinny looking figure of a man,bald almost half way through his skull but yet still wearing the Afro hairdo which extended through the margins of his earlobes ,backwards and downwards, through his neck, as though to reach for the upper part of his back ,kind of in a bid to compensate, for the mass of aridity the skull housed anteriorly.To bring an end to a long tale,this fellow could be described as ugly by any authority whatsoever for his small body hung like a bag of bones fitted into a central pivot of skeletal frame work, The pectoral girdle was curved in a convex manner; one which could easily pass for the description of "scoliosis""a thoracic cage deformity customary to two classes of folks.Firstly,the abnormally big breasted nymphs whose spines after years of fighting to maintain compensatory lordosis, finally succumbed to the gravitational pull of the heavy but soft masses of well shaped fats.The second class consisted of culprits from either gender who were cursed to a life of survival through difficult and more often than otherwise low paying menial jobs,subjecting their body frames to long hours of unfavourable postures under heavy loads.Different menial jobs contributed to this pyramid of scoliotic fellows and holding the base of this pyramid roundabout it's edge,were members of a workforce which had as it's members,cement labourers. In this class,belonged our jolly good fellow "Dada Bantu"for that was his name:one could guess his age by randomly selecting any number from the "pentagenerian " series. ..........culled from"Tales from a Jagajaga nation" ..By Frank Bambam