Archive for the ‘ Fiction ’ Category

Wasteful Silence


“It’s a lesson, a point of view when there’s a wasteful silence in an empty room”

I stared into that window from my empty room, waiting for a sound, a sign, anything, but nothing came. The eternal quest of man is to shatter loneliness in any way he can, some through alcohol and others through cheap meaningless sex but I have failed in them all. Don’t get it twisted, I have people around me, but the loneliness is never crueler than when it is felt in close propinquity with someone who has ceased to communicate.

I’m not poor, not by any standard. I own a 5 bedroom duplex in a choice area in Lagos. I have someone I can still legally call my wife and two kids. Yet Bruce and Charlie are the ones whose “hi” means anything to me daily; I call the bird outside my window Bruce and the dog next compound is Charlie, I want to assume every “woof” it does is its way of saying hi to me.

Yeah, about the wife. She was at one point loving, kind, understanding, submissive, gentle and beautiful; though I’m at a point where I don’t even know what beauty means anymore. But by some sick turn of poorly handled events, everything dissolved, it was 5 years ago at my boy’s 10th year birthday. You know the way salt loses its solid-state whenever it comes in contact with water, July 11th was the water to our crystal salt.

Maybe I was too tight spirited, forgiveness has never been my forte. Rather I keep on talking about an issue even after closure, and since it sent bad vibes I started ‘unlooking’. The party music was loud and I had to pick a call, so I went outside the gate for less noise then I saw my wife in the distance. I wasn’t even aware that she had left the party. She was in tight embrace with a man, that kind of tight embrace that isn’t innocent at all; worst of all, it was a man whose face I remember well. When we met she was heart-broken because she had to abort a pregnancy and was jilted by her lover, then like a bricklayer on Sabrina I mended her heart and that was how we started dating. Yes, it was that man! “What was he looking for? Why was she outside? Will she tell me? Why is he holding her waist like that? Are both of them mad?” Were a few questions in my head: I got angry, went inside and was waiting for her to tell me about it since she didn’t even see that I saw them. I never asked, she never said. The anger ate me up, then I started keeping to myself in my own petty way, I became passive-aggressive and progressively the anger destroyed my family ties. Till Today I have never mentioned it to her, and yes we talk; mostly about the school fees of the kids.

I started having issues at work, I became paranoid because I was always thinking “what if she’s with that idiot again? Who knows where she is now, she closes by 6pm and it’s 6:05 and she’s not yet home.” I became cold to my family and lost it all, right up there as the biggest mistake one life can contain.

Scattered thoughts, noisy mind. I sit in the room alone most times and mull over the points in my life where the mistakes made could have been avoided: not seeking clarity, not getting closure, letting anger fester and letting unforgiveness gain possession of my life. I don’t party anymore, what is partying?! Keep in mind that to avoid loneliness, many people have both social circle and intimate attachments, technically I have none. Inside my heart is breaking, no make-up nor smile to cover it up.

Till now she isn’t aware of why we grew apart, we live together in what is already a failed marriage and a terrible example for our boy and girl. They don’t know the causality, they just see the gap widen till it became a gulf. The kids don’t even reckon with me like before because my bitterness spills out like food spilling from a playful feeding toddler. The world I live in is empty and the loneliness cuts me, tortures me and creates many holes in my soul. The potential to be offended in this world is endless; if I can relive those key moments, I will forgive more, seek clarity more and assume less.

“I’m lonely. And I’m lonely in some horribly deep way and for a flash of an instant, I can see just how lonely, and how deep this feeling runs. And it scares the shit out of me to be this lonely because it seems to me it would end catastrophic.”


The Golden Goose


Almost a couple of years ago, I took a sharp stainless knife, sank it into the neck of the golden goose, spilled out its rather lacklustre blood while I watched it gasp for life till it died.

Was it rational? Did it make sense to kill that precious little avian that produces one priceless golden egg per day? Common sense and rationality said No, greed said yes; but knowing how loud the proverbial demon on the shoulder is, it outshouted and drowned the small soft voice of the good conscience and in a moment of weakness and/or blatant stupidity, I allowed it. Now I’m totally soaked in guilt, knowing nobody would take my side if I tell my story. I will not take my side when I hear my story.

Of course I did not literally slaughter a golden goose, or any goose; for if I have one I’d let it multiply and build a huge golden poultry, but I’m not here to build castles and sell unicorns. I had a treasure, I lost it. Then came the “mistake”, the one we generally blame the devil for. She wasn’t very pristine as my friend sings, or “noble” in my eyes, but she agreed to date me. Then came a moment she was mushy and I was reckless. Emotions were on overdrive, weather was right, mood was right and the music was perfect. We consummated; I took that dive without a swimming suit.

In my mind, it was a smash and grab; life continued in golden fashion till she texted me that her period was late. For a moment the clocked stopped and there was silence in my head, a rare occurrence. See, I’ve always been a baby enthusiast believe me, but I found no joy in the news because it was happening to me and I was just so overwhelmed with the thoughts of the consequences, so I sought the advice of my friend. That my friend, my trusted ally and the author of my current pain; he told me to deny the pregnancy to buy time, so as to find a creative solution. Like a lizard on the wall I nodded, because after 3 bottles of Guinness extra smooth (big), everything sounds like a good advice. But you know, a lie started has to be followed up by series of lies till you get caught up in the web of lies that you start to believe it yourself. You only keep up, you don’t catch up or back track: A less than wondrous mess.

I lost out on the joy of a father, I lost the pleasure of a lover, I lost out everything I’d ever wanted and refused to take responsibility for my actions. All because I was afraid, afraid of what the world would say, afraid I won’t get their approval, afraid to be my own man. At most she needed my love, at least she deserved my respect and she got none from me. I had put her through physical and emotional pain, and this made her legitimise my denial of the pregnancy. How can one life be allowed to contain so many mistakes? On my road to Babylon, nobody stopped me.

Now she’s happy! I see the beautiful baby girl every day; well, through a friend’s Facebook profile as my sorry self has been blocked. My daughter looks so lovely, radiant and does not bear my name. I cannot give her an identity because I ran away when they both needed me the most and I denied them thrice before the cock crowed. I’d live a life full of regrets and ‘would have beens’ if I don’t get a chance to right the wrong that I’d done. Do I even deserve that chance?

I listened to a silly advice; I broke the trust of a girl who gave herself to me, and spurned the chance of pure joy and happiness every day. I have no reason, no defence; I took delight in the moment rather than the commitment.

I dined on the goose of legend, and now I have no golden eggs in my life anymore.

To unwrap your food

The time was 6:45, just when the sun was going down over the west wing of the city, but with enough residual illumination to remind you it was longer day and shorter night; or as Stella had planned, a very long night.

The ambience in the room was cool, the light was a little dim and the temperature was just right. She sat at the edge of the bed, her legs folded as she looked up at her tease. She had rid herself of her short gown in seconds, leaving bare her red undies as they clung daintily to her smooth body; red up top, red way down, she favoured the fiery look for the feisty moment. Her man was tall, heavy like a tank and every movement he made seductively created a void inside her that needed filling. He was a boss: He was her boss.

David was fully clad in his corporate wear, an hour before that was when he left the office. He paced in even movements, moving to shut the window blinds, gazing at her in flashes; moving his hips, licking his lips and smiling all at the same time. He turned on the music on his iPhone, placed it on the table and proceeded to sit by her side at the edge of the bed. She stopped him before he could sit, being face to face with him.

“I want to unwrap you like a shawarma and eat you bit by bit” she said as she put her two little palms on his chest. She moved closer, swirling her waist closer to his; nibbling his ears and whispered in sultry tone to him “Just enjoy it boss, enjoy it”. He intended to. The visual stimulation was not enough for her, she wanted total consummation. Strip by strap of clothing she started undressing him, she pulled his face to her neck to undo his tie, then she whined to the slow music unbuttoning each button one after the other; grinning deviously and breathing heavily. She’d always imagined having him, her chance showed.

Done with the buttons, Stella slipped her hands down his hands to undo the cuff links and with her fingers spread from his shoulders; she took the shirt off slowly, touching his body as she did. He giggled, she did too. Then in a fast pace she flew open the flap of his trousers to conclude the unwrapping of him, she picked the zipper.

“Are you going to stare at your fufu all afternoon or eat like a normal person?!” shouted her colleague who was seated beside her, almost done with her own leaf wrapped fufu. “You’re lost in thought again? Don’t let it affect your work this afternoon biko, don’t get carried away in this place o”

Her lunch break would be over in a quarter of an hour, she had spent the first quarter daydreaming about food in suits. Stella desperately wanted to unwrap her boss. She needed to.

After Waterloo


That was all I could hear, see or feel. A moment that belonged in the black hole; silence so thick and immense, it was like matter. The numbing noiselessness so thick I could tear through the decibel particles of it the way a turtle would waddle through the weight of mud. Spiritless and empty, devoid of any logic, shattered beyond even my powers of observation; but all I heard was nothing as everything flashed before me. It wasn’t my choice, the silence wasn’t induced, it was the voice of inevitability. The silence was more a roar of an impending undoing; the roar would rock even the earth to its core. In my eyes, no sorrow showed.

The quietness of defeat, the exquisite torture of a crushed soul, leading to visions not to be uttered, not even in the realm of higher life. The words fell on my ears and everything else made no sound. I grew up learning many languages; none was coherent in my head as I walked the lonely road to the bridge. All I ever wanted passed through my hands in but a flashing moment. I had high dreams but got nothing. I walked on and on. I had it but didn’t have it. It had always eluded me. Unsure of how to move on, I sank deeper into the hole in my soul.

In my head I could picture flashes of guns, the thunder of cannons, the shrieks of the slain, the surgeons and their knives besides my bruised and broken spirit. If I was to describe it all, I would be an artist; but if I was an artist, there would be deeper wounds which I would not be able to describe. It was like a train wreck waiting to happen; how I longed for someone to pick me up from the tracks, to save the wildfire from frustration.

I learned silence from the talkative, tolerance from the intolerant and kindness from the unkind; yet, strange, I’m ungrateful to those teachers; none had led me to what I wanted. I longed for the day when the torture would end, I would wear a smile and walk in the sun. But it was a far cry, for all I had for company was the silence of great love that stung stronger than death. The silence that only music could find words to explain. On the walk to the bridge, I did my crying in the rain.

The Mirrored Me

There you are, the little me, the miraculous outcome from the spill of my male menace after ravaging the concubines of a clavicle. The mirrored me, the power that escaped from my loins. You remind me of everything I was and all I never was; from the beauty of my seduction I got more than I wanted, everything I never had. I’m filled with glee and bliss that my first pour of wine to the earth gave up its finest back to me.

Your tiny hands gripped my finger like you knew who it was and in a moment, I was in love. It felt like my heart was being squeezed and through your eyes, I could see the world smiling back at me. I carried you in my arms and softly kissed your fluffy pink cheeks and the manliest of tears I ever shed ran down the isle of my lean face as I’ve never felt a love so pure and true; after I met your mother that is. I’ll never trade a day with you for all the money in the world, I won’t trade even your toys for all the diamond in Russia, and I’ll never trade the sleepless nights you gave to me for all the trophies in the world.

To your mother, I hold the fire that burns beyond my cloak and deep in my heart. My love, my life, the beauty of my seduction, the mother of my child. No higher position, no loftier throne has any other in my heart; the best design with nothing missing, a completed jigsaw that have merged into an indivisible perfect picture. To her I owe all, the conveyor of you into my life. From the moment she knew you existed, the love for you had no resistance; the elation she felt as you grew in her womb, the joy I felt in my heart when you started to bloom.

From the first time you kicked me in the ears until that glorious day you actually appeared upside down and much quicker than planned, you change my life in that instant. I pray that I remain a good father to you and that I live a life worthy of emulation. I can’t seem to get to grips exactly with what I did to deserve you, but I definitely must have done something right because having you as my daughter has been nothing short of pure delight.

This day last year, you cried as you came into my life, your cry brought a smile to my face as I was birthed into the realm of being a father. You are the best part of me. Happy birthday Iteoluwakiishi, love you till eternity.


Twisted Escape

The customary sound of his car security was enough to alert the neighbourhood of his presence. The loud annoying sound he so used to detest became the kingly horn that announced his arrival at places he was known. With the gate open and the security man nowhere to be found, his whole package was only going to get a lot finer. He turned to look at the backseat as he undid his seatbelt, a surge of pride and satisfaction went from the sweat on his face to the chill at the base of his spine. She had never been a fan of surprises, but he wanted a new twist to their romance. Pour a little oil to the frying pan to ignite a burning surface.

Burdened by his sweat soaked shirt, he felt heavy with the live white rose bouquet on his right hand while his Sekonda wrist watch on his left wrist helped hold the new handbag he bought, setting him back the price of a fairly used car. He smiled as he walked along, forming Mr Romantic all the way. As he approached her door, he heard his favourite song, ‘Red light’ by TLC. Closed his eyes, clenched his lips, he nodded to the beat of the song as he knew she was already in the mood. Royal epicness was waiting for him. With his personal key he opened, to behold the consternation of having a romantic evening destroyed by a force never planned for.

Her toned arms were up in the air, with her long black hair flowing to her yellow back as a firm hairy masculine hand gripped her just below the ribs. She was moving in circles, but it was only her lower body, as she was seated like she was on a yoga spot; but she was seated on another man’s yoga spot with her hands held up like she was expecting some healing. He was shocked! As the loud music and overtly erotic atmosphere made it impossible for them to even be cognisant of his presence. He heard him moan like a retard king and she like the queen. It was a moment of shock, one that would not even let his reflex drop what were in his hands.

Without violence or wailing, without attention, he turned and walked out of the lonely door. The three meter walk from the door to his car seemed like a trip between Lekki and Berger. A million thoughts ran through his head and none was pleasant. His guilty pleasure has been violated; his sweet escape from the harsh unpleasant reality he lived in had been compromised. She was the only sweetness in his sour life and he trusted her with all that he was, all that was within him; his mistake. A pocket perforating apartment in the heart of the Island, a car only a few notches from his car, he made her life comfortable and thought he had sole exclusivity.

As he reluctantly ignited his car to leave, he saw her face through the window with tears welled up in her eyes. But the rather disproportionate anger and disappointment in him pushed the car through the gears and out of the compound. He would put an end to his misery; it had already ended in his head. He turned and twisted and got himself to his lawyer’s place after some kamikaze displays behind the wheels. Without any pleasantries, he made his point in an unclear manliest tearful voice “This would probably not make sense to you, I just caught my girlfriend cheating on me and I’m a very torn man on the inside. But first I need your help, I want to divorce my wife.”

Another Wasted Saturday

“I hate you.”
“I hate you”, those heavy words pounded in her head repeatedly like a relentless pendulum reminding the world of the sun’s cruelty at noon time. The words struck straight through the heart of Joke, it wouldn’t have mattered if it came from any other mortal, it came from Sam; her only daughter.

Samantha was birthed at the twilight of a blissful short lived romance. Joke and Daniel met during a youth camp programme and a cloud of passion and desire flooded the sky, raining down heavy feelings that seemed unquenchable. There were inseparable and so into each other that they couldn’t wait to consummate each other. When they made love, it was transcendental; her soul took hold of him and, unaware of the passage of time, they basked in the affection they had. Every moment was filled with sunshine, moonlight and a million stars. It was pure magic: Until her ‘period’ went covert.

Joke told Daniel about her pregnancy, expecting love and acceptance, but was greeted with a bouquet of rejection and hostility. Her misery gathered pace when he vanished like a healthy pee in a vast ocean of coloured waters. Then it hit her, the unrealness of the romance and the intensity of the passion had left vital stones unturned. She brought forth a baby girl and raised her the best way she could; little did she know her best wasn’t enough to cut the mustard by her daughter’s unicorn standards. Her inability to consciously appreciate male attention led to her perennial spinsterhood and she took it out on Sam.

The last product of civilisation is the intelligent use of leisure, and that was all Samantha wanted: A break. She saw her mother as cold, unloving, non-sympathetic and inherited the sole ownership of the real estate of deep misery; she even seemed unhappy about her own very smile. Her mother blamed her for everything and she never understood why they had to endure such strained relationship. Both of them never agreed on any topic, in any sphere, not even about sun and moon regime. Her mother saw her as a remnant of a derelict father, on occasions she would call her Daniel while beating the living daylight out of her daughter. Samantha developed a thick skin.

Sam wished she could hate the woman that conveyed her from being an egg to being a life, but she couldn’t justify why her mother even deserved the hatred; her scale was tilted more towards apathy. She desperately wished she could find a way out of it. When mother and child are out in front of friends, they act normal with smiles adorning their faces as they parade their unnoticeable false happiness. Two adults under the same roof speaking the same language but were fundamentally incompatible; a collection of contrarieties.

The sun was just overhead, and even the spirits would dread the hovering heat, when both of them had to go to a wedding in their local church.
“Go change that dress, I don’t like that colour” barked out Joke at Sam
“No, I’m not 3. I wear what I want to wear” replied Sam in a rebellious tone
“Is that how you would talk back to me? no respect whatsoever”
“Free me abeg”
“Maybe he knew I’d produce a rude uncultured girl like you, that’s why your father probably ran away” Joke said with all conviction and no remorse in her voice
“I hate you” Sam screamed at her mother.

Joke stood awe struck by the car as her child had thrust the ultimate indignity upon her. Two lonely shadows cast on the floor by their figures as they both stood staring at each other. Sam ran back into the house with her face in her palms and slammed the door to her room. The wedding wouldn’t be graced with their presence, but such was nothing new. It was just another wasted Saturday.