Bloody Thursday

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It was Thursday.
The day before the day before the day before her birthday.
That was exactly how she penned it down in her journal earlier today. When she was much calmer and the main vehicular route across her apartment wasn’t so vibrant.

The last rays of sunlight had disappeared along the horizon. Dusk always set in early in these parts. The wealthy neighborhood in Opebi, Ikeja. Horns from impatient car drivers filled the air as darkness descended fast upon Lagos like some predestined apocalypse. Ruth pulled her hair over her right ear and turned away from the hullabaloo that was the main route in and out of Opebi. The street a mere meters away was quickly lit by orange tinted streetlights in the advent of the sun-less sky. Residents claimed the streetlights weren’t enough protection but they hadn’t suffered a robbery in seven years and they were fairly calm as regards their security. Perhaps the streetlights did work. Ruth strode into her apartment and collapsed on a one-seater. The leathery couch rubbed against her back and she relished the rubbery feeling on her skin.

Sunday had better come soon.

She sat there, lost in the ecstasy a mere ten minutes when the lock in the door snapped.

Her heart jerked as the door handle turned. Knowing her lock, she knew it required one more turn of the key and opening the bolt on the inside before the door opened and raced for the kitchen as the door refused to bulge. Her footsteps were loud and it seemed to have alerted the intruder as the door shook vehemently. A loud bang ensued and Ruth knew it was a break-in. She dived in behind a cabinet in the kitchen, snatched the butcher’s knife she had dropped there and scampered towards her bedroom. The bangs on the door increased as she ran past the door again and in that brief moment, she mouthed a prayer. To a God she hadn’t conversed with in ages but it didn’t matter now. Now would be a perfect time for Him to display that unending love he so professed she thought as she entered her room and locked the door behind her.
Moments passed and she heard a loud crash as the front door came down. Her mouth threatened to let out a sob but she clasped her hand over it. Her mind rummaged among other things why she was the recipient of a robbery. Armed robbery most likely. She considered the idea of it being an assassination but quickly discarded it. She was worth nothing, no one in his right senses would pay to kill her. So robbery it is. Why her? Why not the Kamsons or the Olajides; her neighbors. They both had flat screen TVs and state of the art furniture. Why pick the only budget-crazy seamstress on the street? Except it wasn’t a robbery. What was it? Why was she the target? Her mind raced back and forth without any real breakthrough. A crashing sound from the living room brought her back to earth and she focused on her current plight.
Armed with the butcher knife, she poised right beside the door ready to swing it at anyone that came through that door. Bright light flashed in through the blinds from her neighbor’s security light and she cussed as it obscured her vision.
She cussed because she wanted to.
She cussed because her neighbors would sleep soundly tonight and she would either be robbed or worse; dead.
All cos of the mad man in her house.
She could hear him in the living room. Her floor tiles reacted brashly to heels and his were pretty loud for her to decipher amidst the voices in her head and her now thundering heartbeats. The footsteps drew closer and stopped right outside the door of her bedroom. She felt his hand wrap round the door knob and anticipated his entry. Terror flared in her mind but she remained quiet amidst her fear.
The first jab at the door came sooner than she expected and she let out a gasp. At that moment, she regretted it as she had given away her location and the intruder duly pummeled the door as the wooden frame threatened to come down. She stepped away from the door gently, her weapon in hand and braced herself.
One. Two. Three… She counted to steady her breathing.
You got this Oriame. She recounted to herself. Only referring to herself in her native name when she was agitated.
Seven. Eight. Ni… Crash! 
 
The door came down and a masked man headed straight for her. He was fast… very fast, but not fast enough. He shrieked in pain as blood splattered across the pale white walls of the bedroom. The intruder held a hand to his face as he went down on both knees, his black gloves drenched with his own blood. Ruth garnered herself further and stood over him.
“Next time, you rob some rich bastards and not the poor bitch that lives next door.” She held up the butcher’s knife with both hands and brought it down with all the strength she could muster. At the third slash, his head came off his neck and rolled to the corner of the room. She heaved a sigh of relief and collapsed into an ottoman beside the queen bed.
* * *
The buzzing sound of a mosquito in her left ear jerked her back to reality and she winced in pain. Her head was banging like it had been hit with something heavy. Something hard.
She tried to make sense of the last few hours and closed her eyes to shut out the headache. It all came back to her in a rush. The masked man. The failed robbery or assassination. The butcher’s knife. The blood. His decapitated head.
The memories engulfed her and she gasped for air.  She tried to get up but before her back cleared the chair, her body was dragged back. Chains trudged back to the ground where they had been lying and the reality of her predicament dawned on her. This wasn’t her bedroom. She opened her eyes and surveyed her surroundings. She was bound hands and feet to a wooden chair with large chains in a dark room…
Mike Dammy

Yore

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* * * * * * *

She took a few steps; exerting more pressure on the interlocking tiles to convince herself she wasn’t creating a delusion. A couple of footsteps nearby in a similar rhythm to hers made her wonder if all she was hearing were mere echoes. A bat whisked over her head and she ducked in fear. Then she heard another step and she was convinced she was being followed.

She took to her heels and raced into her street from the main access route. Her heavy steps and laborious breathing left a trail too easy for her stalker to follow but she didn’t care. So far she got home before he caught up with her.

Three blocks from her building, she dug into her handbag and fetched her keys. A minute later, she was fiddling with her door handle as she struggled to insert her key into lock. She turned the key in a rotary motion twice and the lock snapped. Quickly, she entered her apartment; the boys quarters apartment in an illustrious compound in the suburbs of Surulere. Her door slammed shut and she gasped with the noise that strew across the still night. She bolted the door and peeped through the blinds to see if she could sight her pursuer.

She saw no one and retreated into her bedroom. The clock chimed two as she took off her nurse vesture. She had a cold shower and collapsed on her mid-sized bed. She laid on her bed thinking about the incident and slept in two minutes after the exhaustion she suffered from working extra shifts at the hospital. She had not been asleep for five minutes when she heard a knock. She woke and snatched at a flashlight on a bedside cupboard. She switched it on and scanned her room for intruders. She heard another knock and sighed. Her heart raced as she exited her bedroom and advanced on the main door.

As she approached the door, she noticed the light from the flash light waggle as she struggled to keep herself from shivering. A few feet from the door, an envelope slipped under the door panel and she heard footsteps retreat from her door. She fought the urge to open the door to see the letter carrier and picked up the envelope instead. Her mind played out different scenarios for her current plight and she chuckled when she imagined it being a letter bomb.

She laughed it away and sat in a nearby settee. She tore open the envelope and an object fell from it. She picked it up and saw it was a necklace with a locket. In the locket was the picture of a young lady and a little girl; most likely the lady’s daughter. She laid the necklace aside and unfolded the letter. A quick glance told her she didn’t know the sender as the handwriting was unfamiliar. Straining to sound calm, she read it:

 

Dear Mary,

She paused and wondered how the sender knew her name. If he was someone she knew, why did he go through much stress to hide his identity. She shrugged off the thoughts and continued:

It’s great to see you, child. It’s been ages since I did. I hope you’re faring better than I am. I do miss you and I’ve always been around even if it didn’t seem like it. I hope you’ll forgive me abandoning you. I was young and naïve.

Still, I’m proud of you. And dare I say I’ve seen you work. I’ve seen your work and I’m deeply impressed. You’re the true child of your mother. I’ll get in touch with you soon.

Love,

Mom

So it was a She, she thought; her mother to be precise. This was splendid. Now she had a stalker who was also a blackmailer. She tossed the letter away and some scribbles on the rear of the paper caught her attention. She picked the paper and put her hand to her mouth as she read the note.

If you don’t believe it’s from me, go back to the orphanage and ask for the pictures I left them.

She ran her fingers through her hair in stupefaction. Only her mother knew about the pictures. The same pictures she had retrieved from the orphanage some months back. She went into her room and came back with a brown envelope. In it were the pictures the letter talked about. She never opened them since she collected them. She feared for the worst as she tore open the envelope. The contents fell to the floor as her hands were shaking in fear. She picked up the first picture in the stack on the floor and left her mouth aghast as she saw a magnified image of the one in the locket.

 

Mike Dammy

Sons of a Father

Sourced from Google

Sourced from Google

Hey there!
Thanks for coming back!
🙂
This article is one episode from a series; remember Dee…. Yea, something like that.

I’m starting something serious soon and this series is kinda like a prologue. So, I’ll need your opinions and comments on this.
I know we are all busy and all, but it’ll take just a fraction of your time.

Concerning this episode and future episodes, this if purely fiction.
Any resemblance in names, characters or story line is a coincidence.

Don’t let me bore you too much.
Enjoy!

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

    Tuesday Morning
    8:00am


This morning we dig deep into the minds of your ancestors and ransack through what they
have in there; anything they’ve seen, heard or done.

Your tools for this course must be intact and any sign of laziness would be dealt with squarely.
Monologue conversations are what prevail here; I talk and you listen. A word from you and you would be in big trouble.

Your manuscript is your pass here. If you don’t have one, you have until next week to get one. If you don’t have one by then, I’ll make sure your butt is set ablaze through my cane.
And yes, I said cane. I don’t care if you are in university, I’ll still beat you and nobody would do or even say anything.

As for you ladies, unlike your last tutor, succumbing to seduction is not one of my talents. So if you are planning to get marks through that, you’re in for a shocker.
Finally, unlike your parents and guardians, I’m not old and prudent, so you can’t con me with your immature ploys.

That’s all I have to say.
Did you understand me?!

Yes Sir! the class retorts.

Still in fear, I watch Mr Chris Olawale walk out of the classroom. My gaze remains fixed on the door as if he was still standin there.

Oloriburuku ni bobo yen, Tunde’s voice finally snaps me back to reality.
How would he be threatening us?
I prefer the former Mr Dumeboung better.
Can’t even imagine this man teaching me history.

He might not be that bad, I finally speak.

You say? Tunde replies. A quizzed look dominating his face.
This man?
You must be high.

And he didn’t stop there….

Hey Guys!
Jeff just said he prefers Mr Olawale to Mr Dumeboung.

Laughter rings out in every corner of the class.
Insults and curses came after it.

I obviously am the only sane person in this class.
Or am I?, Yes, I am jor.

Jeforr!

Dude! I’ve told you to stop calling me that. I reply following it up with an angry look.

Ohkay. Sha let’s go and eat, am starving. Tunde replied, oblivious of the anger I’m feeling.
I pack up and we leave the classroom, my mind still worried because of today’s occurence.

    Same Day
    8pm

I knock on my dorm door. A little tired from today’s excruciating exercise in the library.

Damn, its so hard to read in there without sleeping.

My mind darts back to this morning’s class.
While the lecturer was ranting, I got bored, really bored. So I retired to my favourite past time; trying to read the thoughts of my classmates.
Boring you might say, but its quite rewarding. At least I don’t sleep like best friend, Tunde.
Talking about Tunde, why hasn’t this guy opened the door. Its been almost five minutes.
I bang the door a couple more times and I still get no reply.

Still tired and slowly getting pissed, I decide to check the room next to mine.
I knock and open the door.

Samuel, seen Tunde at all?

Yea, he went to Renegade. Here’s your key.

I struggle to catch the key as he tossed it at me.

Tunde at Renegade. I thought he hated alcohol. Maybe he’s at Tantalizers considering its in the same area.

So, even as tired as I am, I head off to Renegade.
Took me a while to get there but I did eventually. Tantalizers was closed, so he had to be in Renegade; the biggest beer parlour/peppersoup joint on campus.
The smell of alcohol emitting from it already putting me off.

Why would Tunde even come here?

I walk in holding my breath as hard as I could, still cursing Tunde under my breath and then I saw him.
My best friend was sitting alone at a table drowning himself in beer, and this was obviously not his first because a couple of bottles littered the table.
I walk up to him and slap him as hard as I could.

Tunde!
What is wrong with you?!
I thought you said you hated alcohol, what’s with you and drinking several bottles of it all of a sudden?

Jeff…

What? I reply angrily

My life has ended.

No, its hasnt.
First, let’s get you out of here.

I manage to drag him out of there, into a cab, and finally onto his bed.

See the stress this boy has put me through.
He better have a good explanation.

    Wednesday Morning
    8:00am

Tunde was out before I even woke up. I later met him in class studying.

He better have a good explanation for what he did last night.


Jefferson…

Jefferson!

Jefferson!

Sir! I had gotten caught up in my thoughts.

You have started daydreaming again shey.
I wonder what it is wrong with you. You’re so lucky your grades are good. I would have dragged you to the HOD. You and that your friend.
He turns to look at Tunde who was already in wonderland.

WAKE THAT IDIOT FOR ME!

Tunde woke up himself.

Hmmm…. He wasn’t sleeping.
Tunde not sleeping in class.
Something is definetly wrong.


Get out of my class.
Useless Boy!
You’re failing, yet you’re unserious.

I could have sworn I saw Tunde wipe a tear from his eyes as he walked out. It can’t be the teacher’s words that moved him. That guy is too strong for that.

What’s on his mind?
Maybe its his dad.

You see, just like me, Tunde’s dad walked out on him and his mother. And unlike my mother, his mum didn’t have a job at hand. So, they have struggled since then. He gets emotional anytime he thinks about it and I’m always there to help him. But yesterday was too far.

This must be something else.

Oh… Am lost again. Lemme focus before this man catches me.

The class soon ended.
Before I left though, I got a message from the new HOD, Mr Olawale; our new history teacher for Tunde.

He said he must see him today;
the girl said.

Did he say why?
I asked

No….. He sounded serious though. Tell Tunde to see him today o. See you tomorrow. And she walked away.

Bye. I replied, my mind travelling again into the subconscious.

    Wednesday Afternoon
    3:30am

I took a cab to the hostel instead of the shuttle and met Tunde crashing.

Tunde!

Hm…

Wake up jor.
Mr Olawale needs to see you now.

Why? His reply was abrupt.

He’s still worried.
I need to talk to him soon.

He is our new HOD. Its probably because of you sleeping in philosophy class today.

Damn! He cursed.

Now you’re angry. When you were having fun at Renegade, you didn’t know abi.
I laughed hoping he would join me but he didn’t.

I hope I didn’t just make his mood worse


I’m going to see him now.
He called out before he slammed the door.

This needs to stop.

I run after him and pull him by his shoulders.

What is wrong with you?
Why have you been so messed up lately?

He didn’t reply.

Tunde!

What?

Answer me!

There’s nothing to answer.

There is, and you’re going to Now!
What did you mean by your life had ended?

I keep ranting as we walk to the bus park.
People start noticing,

not as if I care.

He flagged down a cab and got into the front seat beside the driver. I got into the back.

Two more seats.
The driver calls out to the people in the bus park.

Driver, move. We’re in a hurry.

That one no be my business o!
Na you go pay for the remaining space or u go pay for the petrol I go buy.
Two more sea……….

Driver!… I interrupted his calls.
Move, I’ll pay.

You sure?

I said move!

Ok o! You must sha pay my money.

I’ve heard, so please shut up.

Tunde.

No reply.

Tunde!

Jeff! Please leave me alone. I have a lot on my mind and its not your business.

Ouch! That hurt. But I wasn’t going to back down.
Tunde, you would need jazz to make me stop.
We’re brothers, remember?

No, we’re not.

Yes, we are.

No, we’re not.

Yes, we’…… See, that’s your business. Just tell me what it is bordering you.

We soon get to the college building.
He alighted and I paid the fare., thanked the cab driver, chased after him and caught up with him right in front of the HOD’s office.

Dude, talk to me. What is wrong with you?

The door opens and Mr Olawale appeared.

Tunde,
the HOD says,

Dad………………..

Dad?!

To be continued.

So that’s the end of Episode 1.
Watch out for Episodes 2, 3, 4( I don’t know how many they are yet)

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    Damstylee

    I Think | I Write | I Inspire

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