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WHERE SILENCE RESTS BETWEEN ECHOES

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You were in your past that evening. Your past lived, so much it became like your present. You turned the Music up louder to drown out your mother’s painful sobs. To drown out the sickening thud that reverberated through your skull with every punch. Your father’s drunken voice, roaring slurred cuss words. You sat huddled on your bed. Dreading the end of the song. Hating that brief period when your headphones went silent and you could hear the sounds of your mother being beaten like *Aso Ofi*.

***

“Kunle, are you not old enough?” your aunts had screamed at you the last time you visited. “Can’t you tell your mother to leave that house before our brother finishes her?”
No, you were not old enough. You would never be old enough to tweak things to what suited you. It was years ago, this memory, but it still wouldn’t leave you alone. It plagued you, filled your life. Crushed you under the pain and fear that still raged on the inside. It got so bad you became theatrical. At Board of Directors’ conferences, when they shook your hand warmly and hailed your reputation, you were often tempted to tell them who you were, that you were scarred, that your background was ugly, that you were haunted by the loss of everything you had loved. Haunted by the loss of everything you had never loved enough. You closed your eyes and cried bitterly. You let the music carry you away. Back to the worst day of your life.
You waited for the track to end, so that you would endure the awful sounds that would soon disrupt the silence that you longed for.
“I’ll teach you to disrespect me, bitch!”

Your father’s roar shook the house.  The blood pounded in your head. You were a boy leaning against the bedroom door. Listening. The pressure in your head was growing. Crashing and pulsing painfully, increasing with every sound. Every thought. Every second. You hated yourself for being so weak. You wanted so badly to stand up for your mother. The only thing holding you back was fear.

***

You hated yourself for being so scared of one man. And you hated yourself for watching while the woman who had given you life, raised you, protected you, suffered. You pounded your head against the wall; you needed to feel something else apart from this. Your headphones slid off of your ears, exposing you once again to the horrifying reality that was your life.

Dazed, you slumped against the wall, warm slow blood trickling down your forehead. You wiped it off angrily. Your fingertips were sticky. Your mother’s cries echoed in your head. Almost of its own free will, your hand slid under your pillow, and you felt your fingers slip over the now familiar grip. You squeezed it; your knuckles shone. You breathed deep, waging a war deep inside. You wanted to, you needed to; the blows were getting louder, heavier. Her screams had quieted to whimpers.

***

You stood up; your headphones slid off completely. Before you had time to question your choice, you bolted from the room, your right arm dragging behind you. You stopped dead the moment you emerged into the kitchen. There was blood, everywhere. So much blood. Tears streamed down your face. There was no way someone could lose that much blood and still be alive, you knew. You screamed, roared your anger, vented your pain into the thick, copper-smelling air.

***

You crumpled to the floor as you took in the scene: Your mother, curled on the floor, covered in cuts and gashes. Her arms, her chest, her throat. The knife, the same one she had used to peel potatoes for a meal that would never be eaten, buried in her stomach. The blood, tainting every surface, covering the floor, smeared on the wall. Your father, standing over her body, covered in the crimson liquid, disbelief and anger etched in every inch of his being. You were only eight. A boy tightening his palm around the object in his grip as it threatened to slip from his hand. You had found the gun in his old drawers. The assurance of the molded rubber-coated body was the only thing keeping you sane; everything else only tried to overwhelm you.

***

Shaking with rage, you raised your hand. Three words were all you said, “Should’ve been me.” You closed your eyes and pulled the trigger. You felt the kick of the gun; you heard your father’s choked cry—the bullet had entered his chest. Fresh tears rolling down your face, you dropped the gun and scrambled across the floor to where your mother lay, lifeless. The last thing you remembered about that night was pressing your forehead to hers, your tears leaving silver streaks in the blood, tainting her beautiful face.

***

A slim hand on your shoulder brought you back from your reverie. You cracked open your eyes, and struggled with a smile. She was the reason you were still alive. The reason you had found the strength to keep on.

“You need to go to bed,” your wife finally said, a concerned look on her face.

***

Then you took her hand, feeling the immense sense of rightness that came with the feel of your skin on hers. You smiled at her, wanted to tell her that the sadness wad already fading to a dull throb. You pulled yourself to your feet, and put your arm around her. No matter what, as long as you had her in your life, everything would turn out fine. You looked into her eyes, needing her to understand how much she meant to you, how much she would always mean to you. “Yeah,” you said, finally, quietly. “You’re right.”
READ ALSO: DEAR AUNTY CAROL
-AKINSANYA ADENIYI AYOSOJUMI

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Fiction Stories

The Church Scandal (Episode 8)

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The Church Scandal

The Church Scandal (Episode 8)

 

On the night of the graduation, Just after the
ordination, a gospel party was thrown at the
school auditorium for the graduates.
Uduak, Mfon, Inibehe and Eno were seated on
the same table. They had a sip of the heavens
wine over again, until it finished and they
demanded for another one.

The Church Scandal (Episode 7)

“This doesn‟t taste like the Nigerian table wine.”
Eno said to Mfon.
“Of course not. My daddy used to buy a lot of
this when he visited here.” Uduak said.
Eno stared at her meanly and said, “I wasn‟t
talking to you. I am talking to my husband.”

Mfon was already tired of trying to stop the
bicker between his wife and Uduak, he just gave
a loud sigh and shook his head.
Inibehe was searching for Nduke with his eyes in the crowd.

When he finally caught a glimpse of her in the
crowd trying to walk herself out of the door, he
got up and followed her.
She went to have a sip of the dark rum she’d
used in baking her birthday cake.

She gulped down the last sip of it and threw the
bottle on the sandy floor. He was right behind
her, but she wasn’t aware. A sudden cold wind
gusted on her. She held herself together and
strolled toward the school beach side. It was
lonely and cold, but the dark rum kept her warm.

She couldn’t think of anything else but Inibehe,
the picture of him appeared in her head.
She stared at the waters, the way it unfold itself and scattered into the sands, running toward
her. She was not aware that Inibehe was right
behind her.

“Nduke….” He called out her name so gently she
felt an inexplicable need to cry. She knew it was
him, the sound of his voice skipped her heart. He looked like a man ready for a confrontation.

“I won‟t let you go, I promise. Don’t be sad.”
His voice ran like a caress over nerves stretched
too tight. She fought an urge to throw herself
into his arms.
“There’s a storm coming in, you have to stand
with me. You have to stand with me in this
storm, because there will be no umbrella.”

He hugged her backwardly, her scented body
lotion thrilled the moment.
Her hand lifted to stop him, but he held them
tight and began to kiss her again.
Inibehe knew it might be the last time he was
going to kiss her that way, so he kissed her even
deeper and more passionately that she felt the
impact when he released her lips and took it
back like he was never going to let it go.

As they sank into the white sand by the beach
side, She told herself that she was going to
forsake her ego and be with the love of her life.
His presence still managed to take a lot of hurts
and sad feelings away at the moment.

He cried when she took his hands to her chest.
“Make love to me for the last time.” She said. He
flashed her grin and her heart stood still. How
was it possible to feel so enervated, yet so
completely aware all at that same time?
“I won‟t make love to you. Let’s get married here and now.”

“How? No pastor to bless us.”
“We are pastors, we were ordained today. God is
here already. Let’s make vows. look…” He
brought out a necklace that had a picture of him
inside a tiny frame. And showed her the one that had a picture of her inside a closed tiny frame too. Ridiculous tears stung her eyes.

Inibehe hung the necklace that had his picture
on it on her neck. It was gold necklace with a
diamond pendant of their faces in it. He took her hands and cut her fingers with a tiny blade.
“Ouch!” She exclaimed painfully. He licked the
blood in her hands without seeking for her
permission. He then cut his hands with the blade and she licked his blood too without hesitation.

“I will love you forever.” He said with so much
passion.
“I will love you forever too.” He withdrew his
hand slowly, trailing it over her skin. It began to
rain softly, and then wind driven rain began to
beat them. He began to giggle, while she
laughed. But there were still sadness in her eyes.

“I can‟t believe I did this.” He said. “I just wanna prove to you that I can’t ever love someone else.” He said, staring at her as if he were trying to see past her words, to read her thoughts.

They didn’t make love. He couldn’t just do it. He
felt he was taking advantage of her body simply
because she would let him.
They hugged themselves in the rain until the icy
cold ran through their spines.

He’d dreamed about her, her remarkable eyes,
but he’d only pictured them filled with sadness
that nearly matched his own.

 

By VICKYBON UZUAZOR

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Fiction Stories

DIARY OF A PASTOR’S WIFE (EPISODE 6)

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DIARY OF A PASTOR’S WIFE www.organicarticle.com

DIARY OF A PASTOR’S WIFE (EPISODE 6)

 

The cool air felt heavy against my bare arms, as
if they were holding onto raindrops that were
reluctant to fall. It was a cold Sunday evening,
I sat comfortably under the comfort of my
children’s duvet, while I watched them sleep.

Diary of A Pastor’s Wife (Episode 5)

Then I heard familiar voices in the sitting room.
David and Ifeoma were back from church.
“Don’t worry, she won’t do anything to you.
Take off your jacket, let’s go inside.”

David Instructed, serious faced as they entered
the sitting room. Ifeoma sat quietly on the
couch. Her heart skipped a bit when she saw
me appear in the sitting room, immediately she
sensed my watchful eyes, she became bold
and confident.

“You should let me be please madam Ekom. It
is not my fault that pastor wants Me.” she said
in a shaky tone.
“Get prepared for where God will be taking you
to Ifeoma. Very soon, you will be so ashamed of yourself, God has revealed to me how such
a day will be.”

“And I hope he also revealed to you that I
have finally agreed to divorce you Ekom. You
and your adopted kids should start packing.”
David said, he didn’t look directly at my face.
I flew on the center table firmly and slapped
him twice on the Face.

You and your Adulterous lover will leave this
house of my sweat for me and my Children. I
toiled with you! Prayed that we grow together.
I carried the sands of this house on my head,
which led to my first and last miscarriage!
Go to hell with your divorce paper, I am God’s
own woman, I detest divorce. I will be patient.

Go to hell with your church! With your lover!
Shame on you two! ” I snapped at them, I was
throwing curses at them. Tears rolled down my
cheeks, I made choking sounds as I walked
angrily into the Room. A film of sweat coated
my entire body like a second skin.

The silence was broken only by the whir of the
ceiling fan as it sliced through the still air.
David sat down and slowly lowered his head
into his hands.
“Ekom, unbelievable. You mean David said
these words to you?”
Pastor Felix asked. He has been David’s
childhood friend since the days of theological
school. He founded a big church and had a
large congregation too.

Pastor Felix was a mature looking man, who had grey hairs and wore round spectacles at all times. He was a learned man of God who was highly respected.
He was also the president of Pastors Forum.

“How can a church as big as Hills ministries
condone such sinful act from their pastor? I am
so disappointed to hear this. What did Lady
Georgina say about this?” He asked in a
baritone voice.

My eyes were heavy, and I was trying so hard
to control tears from running out again.
“It’s okay Ekom. I am really sorry. I need you
to pray seriously now. You are a strong
woman.” he said as he patted my back softly.

“I am holding a pastor’s meeting for this
reason by tomorrow.” He said authoritatively.
My nerves bit with frustration and tension. I
was so ashamed that my marriage was going

By VICKYBON UZUAZOR

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Fiction Stories

GOOD GIRL, BAD GIRL “THE STORY OF A RUNS GIRL” (EPISODE 4)

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GOOD GIRL BAD GIRL

GOOD GIRL, BAD GIRL “THE STORY OF A RUNS GIRL” (EPISODE 4)

Tega’s laughter subsided, but a wistful smile
remained on her face.
Omote had told her about her encounter with
Isioma, who was popularly known as ‘the
school fucker’ in secondary school.

GOOD GIRL, BAD GIRL “THE STORY OF A RUNS GIRL” (EPISODE 3)

“Does she still do that her busy body?” Tega
asked, smiling wide.
“Ahhh….yes o.” Omote giggled.
“I am surprise that she said she is married.
what then was she doing at a hotel with a
small boy?”

“I don’t know o. She asked me to call her. So
maybe we will talk about that when we see.”
“Ah! Isioma the crazy girl.” Tega laughed.
There was a loud knock on the door. Tega and
Omote wondered who it was.
“Are you expecting a visitor?” Tega asked.
“No.”

Omote walked to the door and opened it
immediately she saw who it was.
“It’s Kennedy.” She whispered to Tega and
clicked the door open.
“Where is my money?” Kennedy asked in a
baritone voice. His face became stern. There
were beads of sweat on his face, and he
looked pale.

Omote did not look at his face, rather, she felt
his surprise.
“He didn’t touch me.” Omote said with a frown
on her face.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that he didn’t give me any money.”

“Liar!” Kennedy yelled. ” You mean that a
whole Chief Akporo who gives girls 100k as
thanks for coming, did not give you a dime
Omor?”
“Maybe he doesn’t like me. But I swear on my
late father’s grave, that man didn’t give me a
kobo. He only said that he was going to see
me again.”

“If I find out that you are lying enh, I will make
sure Chief doesn’t see you again.” His voice
was getting louder, his head bobbing. He
walked away and slammed the door
aggressively.

“Omor. Kennedy introduces you to big men? I
thought you said he is just a good friend?”
Tega asked softly, she continued, “Did the man
give you money?”
“Holy mary, Yes!” She yelled. “He gave me
200k, and I am supposed to give Ken 20k.”
She sat gently on the couch.

“So why can’t you give him, since you will have
a whole 180k to yourself?”
“Because I am trying to set up a business for
you. Since you can’t use what you have to get
what you want. let me be the twerp.”

“I didn’t send you to go about sleeping with
men for money. I will not give out my body for
Money!” Tega said arrogantly.
“But you can sleep with a man for love and silly
emotions? See, I am not doing this for you, I
am doing this for mama. She has suffered
enough for Us. If I want to waste my time, and
watch you as my elder sister to hustle and take
care of us, we will all die.

Start thinking of what you can do, so that I can make plans to give you some money. you think sey to find job for Lagos na beans?” Omote said and walked angrily into the room.
Tega said nothing. She sat carefully on the
couch and bit her finger nails.

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