And of course, we cant leave our duchess out… This is one hell of a beautiful piece. 😀

Enjoy…as always
val's14

Zino gave him a foot massage as he watched the African nations cup qualifier, he loved it when she did this. He loved most things his wife of 2 years did. She was the most beautiful woman he had seen. She made the best banga soup in the world, okay second best after his mum’s. She was a real gem though, he was lucky to have gotten such a beautiful woman and to end up her husband seemed like the best blessing a man could ask for. He met her in his final year of UNI and spent the next one year asking for a date. First, all he wanted was to date her, but once they started dating he knew he couldn’t spend the rest of his life without her. She was obviously scared of his player past and especially since she had caught him cheating on her once. It took a lot of convincing and begging for her to finally give in.

Finally, on the 4th of September 2010 they said their vows in front of her amazing family and his.

They decided not to have kids immediately, so they spent the first year traveling to different parts of the world, she was a director at her father’s company so she took a long leave and he was a travel agent and could afford to work from any part of the world. He always told Zino that the Maldives trip was his best trip ever.

The second year of their marriage wasn’t as good as they had expected. Zino became very ill, she kept treating malaria, typhoid and eventually pneumonia. Efe couldn’t take it anymore and made her travel out for a checkup in the UK. Zino was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. It was already in its late stage. It was detected late. The doctor told him his wife was going to die. Efe cried like a baby, he was going to lose his best friend, his baby, his angel, his wife, he wasn’t ready. Zino was only 26; 26 year olds never died of cancer or did they? He had to be strong for his wife.

They went to a counselor; he had sessions with them and tried to help them come to terms with her impending death. Her father refused to accept it, he kept asking if money was the problem, he wanted to fly her to the best hospitals in the world, he forced them to go to the US for a second opinion, every doctor said the same thing, it was too late for chemo, it was too late to save her life, she had only a few weeks to live, at most 2 months.

They spent her last days in bed mostly, she wanted to travel and be lively but she had no energy and was too sick. His family were very supportive, they came to help clean and cook, his sister particularly made all her favourite meals, everyday felt like the ‘last supper’. Her parents were distraught; they brought different men of God every day. In fact Zino was the strongest of everyone, she came to terms with it so easily, this upset Efe so much, he hated that she didn’t want to fight, to survive, to stay with him. How could she accept death so easily? Efe hardly worked, he just wanted to be close to his wife all the time.

As they lay in bed cuddling and watching Scandal, he felt her breath stop and her body stiffen. His wife was gone. He just held her and cried so hard. The next few weeks were a blur, the burial was planned and executed without much input from him, he only picked her dress and the venue of internment.

That was six months ago. Today he walked into his office looking around in disgust as he saw the valentine decorations everywhere. This was the first time in 6 years that he didn’t need to make valentine preparations. He missed Zino, he missed her so much. He didn’t even want much in life; he would trade everything in the world to hear her laugh again.

The date was the 14th of February 2014. He had already told his secretary to buy him flowers to take to his wife’s grave. He had to go to work to pick them up. As he entered his office he saw a big envelop sitting on his desk, he’d deal with it later, he was already feeling down and he knew why. He decided to open the envelop, maybe he should ask his secretary who it was from. He picked the envelop, opened it and saw a paper and a key, he opened the paper and it read:

Efe my love,
How have you been? Hope you are doing great without me?

It was from Zino. How? He continued to read.

Do you have a girlfriend yet? Lol . I doubt it. I didn’t want you to spend valentine alone so I got you a new toy! Take the key and take your new baby for a spin.
I love you now and always.

P.S you always asked what I did with all the money my parents and uncle gave me for the wedding, well … Lol

Efe was stunned. This woman was perfect. How did she plan this? While he worried about her health she worried about valentine. She was a piece of work.

He went outside and took a good look at his new toy. It was a 2013 BMW R1200GS . It was simply amazing.

He went inside the office beaming like a kid, his workers were whispering, he was so sure his wife had managed to win ‘most romantic wife’ award. He picked her flowers and got on his bike. As he rode away he realized he was indeed lucky to have had Zino till her dying day.

 

@duchesskk
www.eccentricaro.tumblr.com

Happy Valentine’s Day people… Hope you have the best one yet.

This is one of the awesome pieces we have for you today. Don’t forget to leave your thoughts.

Enjoy…val's14

Ogechi was nervous, as nervous as any new wife would be on her wedding night.

Except this wasn’t her wedding night. It was the night of Valentine, and her wedding had been last Saturday. Yes, it had been her traditional wedding, but still, it was a ceremony that had sanctioned her union to Benson Ogbu. Even though the groom hadn’t been present, what with all the engagements he had to tidy up back where he lived and worked in the UK. It didn’t matter to her that she had had to hand over the traditional cup of palm wine to Benson’s brother, Ikenna. After all, Ikenna was family, and it was said that when you married a man, you married his family too. It didn’t also bother her that she didn’t know Benson very well. Their courtship could be summed up in a few phone calls, after her mother had passed her photograph to his mother, who in turn emailed it to her son, who viewed it, approved and made contact. Then there was that awkward first meeting when he visited Nigeria briefly last year, a meeting that was chaperoned by their mothers (who were best friends and dreamed of having best-friend grandchildren). He liked her even better in real life, and she didn’t think he was bad-looking either. He had money, she had beauty. They got on well together, and even shared a few laughs and good conversation. He liked that she was so well-mannered, and she liked that he respected her wish not to tumble into bed with him until after their wedding. The most intimacy they’d shared was a few chaste kisses he gave her on the lips and the steamy phone sex conversations they engaged in when he returned to the UK. She was positive that that was enough.

“You are crazy if that’s what you think!” her best friend, Stacy had exploded when she confided in her the status of her relationship with her future husband.

“Oh come on, Stace –”

“Come on wetin? You mean to tell me that you haven’t had sex with this guy and you want to marry him?” said Stacy in an incredulous tone. The young woman had no inhibitions about sex, and had a plethora of ex-boyfriends as a testament of her active sex-life.

“What is so wrong with that?” interjected Ogechi’s other best friend, Maryann. “Sex is so overrated. And sex before marriage is very risky. That is why I have a purity pledge going with my boyfriend. We are not going beyond kissing and smooching until after marriage,” she finished piously.

“Eh, we have heard you, Sister Mary,” Stacy rejoined caustically. “While you are busy basking in all the glory of your purity pledge, perhaps Obinna is out there getting his dick the much needed relief it needs from another woman.” She waited a beat before adding cheekily, “Or man.”

“Hey! Don’t you dare talk about my man like that,” Maryann snapped, her eyes flashing. “He loves me and will never do anything to hurt me.”

“Riiiiight,” Stacey drew the word out in a sarcastic drawl, rolling her eyes at what she perceived was her friend’s naiveté.

“Abeg, you two, it’s enough,” Ogechi cut in with a weary tone that suggested she played the role of peacemaker a lot. “This is about me –”

“Exactly,” Stacey interrupted again. “It’s about you and your future as a wife. And you’re about to sacrifice it all on the altar of chastity.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Listen, I’m all for holding off sex until you are mature enough to handle the responsibilities that could come with it –”

Maryann cut in with a disbelieving snort and an eye-roll of her own.

Stacey ignored her and continued, “But girl, I believe you should know the strength of the car you’re paying for before you let it into your garage.”

Ogechi let out a gust of laughter at the suggestive metaphor. In spite of herself, even Maryann let her face crease into a grudging smile.

“It’s true nah,” Stacey insisted. “He may look good on the outside, but what about what he has inside? I mean, for heavenssakes, you just can’t go into a marriage without at least knowing the size of his dick. Don’t you want to know if Benson is packing a hunting rifle or a tiny little plastic kid’s pistol? After all, he knows how big your boobs are. I’m not saying size would be a deal breaker, but don’t you have the right to know what’s down there?”

“Stacey!” Ogechi protested laughingly.

“And the sex itself – not everyone is great in bed, you know that? And the fact that he is good-looking doesn’t translate to him giving good sex. A lot of good sex is about listening to your partner and being able to respond accordingly. And a woman’s honeypot needs a good listener and an even better responder, if you know what I mean,” she finished with a lascivious smile.

“Yes, Stacey, even the nuns in a convent know what you mean,” Maryann interjected caustically as Ogechi exploded into more gales of laughter.

That was three months ago. She hadn’t heeded Stacey’s advice and given in to any urge to sleep with Benson. It wasn’t that she was untouched or a virgin; she’d had exactly two boyfriends/sexual partners in the past. Something, however, had changed for her when it came to the prospect of marriage. She was determined to wait. It helped that Benson was away in London, and wasn’t around to pressure her, however tacitly or explicitly, into having sex with him.

And now, she was his wife. In the eyes of custom, anyway. The traditional wedding was last weekend. The church wedding was tomorrow. Tonight was Valentine’s night, and she was in bed, waiting with a thumping heart for the man she was now to call husband.

Her decision to do this had surprised him, pleasantly so, she could tell. He returned to Nigeria this morning, and she had been at the airport in Port Harcourt to welcome him from his trip from Lagos. They exchanged a chaste kiss on the lips and she looked him in the eyes and said, “I want us to do it tonight.” And in response, he smiled a slow, sexy smile of acknowledgement.

Just then, the bathroom door swung open and he entered the room, his presence bringing her thoughts to a crashing halt. He was bare-chested and clad only in boxer shorts. Moisture from his bath dewed the skin of his impressive build, and as he walked slowly toward the bed, her eyes dropped to his shorts, and she stared intently at the crotch, as though somehow, her eyesight possessed the laser-like power required to sear through the material of the boxers and know what hung down behind it.

Don’t you have the right to know what’s down there? Stacey’s words resonated in her head.

Just then, she became aware that while she’d been sizing him up, he’d also had his eyes all over her too. Taking on an intensity that made her breath catch, slowly and deliberately, his gaze was going over her, from the crown of her soft fall of hair, over the lithe length of her lingerie-clad body, to the toes of her bare feet. When it lingered meaningfully in significant places, her blood pounded wildly in her ears. His gaze slowly retraced its path to her heated face, those lips curved into an expression she recognized, one that hinted at the fact that he was probably thinking something dirty.

The bed sunk in under his weight as he climbed unto it. He crawled slowly to where she was lying. Her heart started a rapid tattoo. His face angled closer to hers. His lips loomed before her face. Her eyes began to flutter shut as he came closer.

And then their lips met in a union that seemed to still her breathing. He slid one arm under her back and lifted her up and into the kiss, devouring her with a hungry intensity Ogechi felt to the tips of her toes. She twisted closer, her breasts flattened against his chest, her breath emerging in short, shallow pants that mixed with his. His tongue slid inside, and took hers in prolonged, erotic strokes.

Don’t you have the right to know what’s down there? Even in that heated moment, Stacey’s words just wouldn’t leave her be.

She tried to moan them away, and kissed Benson with reckless abandon, her hands clutching at his shoulders, encircling his neck. He murmured approvingly against her lips and kissed her back with as much ardour.

Don’t you have the right to know what’s down there? Don’t you have the right to know what’s down there?

Oh, for the love of God! She thought with some aggravation and started to pull away from Benson’s embrace. He resisted, but she was insistent, placing her hands firmly against his chest and pushing backward. He reluctantly allowed himself to be parted from her.

Then she dipped her hand downward, past the waistband of his boxer shorts, and into the still-damp interior. Her fingers skirted the pubic hair before grasping the semi-hard length of his manhood. At her touch however, it came further alive, desire pumping thickly through its veins and hardening it into a throbbing length that she sighed gratefully over.

Benson’s lips curved into a knowing smile and he murmured, “You like?”

“Oh, I like very much,” she gusted with a laugh.

“Happy Valentine, I suppose?” he said with a chuckle.

“Oh it already is, my love,” she returned. Silently she added: Yes, Stacey, it’s a Happy Valentine for me.

Written by Walter Ude.
Twitter handle: @Walt_Shakes
Blogger at www.mymindsnaps.wordpress.com

This is one of the most outstanding stories we have for you guys…saving the best of the best for last….

Enjoy…

val's14

“FATHER, MOTHER AND SON COMBINED! YOU DON KILL ME TODAY!” came the voice of Mama Derpina, and it quickly bounced off adjoining walls in the face-me-I-face-you network of this compound in Agege.

Nobody ran to her rescue. Nobody pricked their ears and said disapprovingly “Why that man dey too like to dey beat hin wife like that?” Mama Kelechi, however, shook her head, her face contorted in prudish revulsion. Nobody heard her, but she mouthed “harlot” (she pronounced it “allot”) before crossing briskly into the soot-blackened communal kitchen to give the akpu a few last turns.

Papa Ebuka cleared his throat as he moved his draughts piece across the board, noticing amusedly that Chidi, his neighbor, was distracted. Chidi crossed his legs (which is really funny, if you imagine a man trying to cross his leg while straddling a bench), hiding the beginnings of tumescence deep within his Utomi HillFinger boxers.

No, Mama Derpina wasn’t suffering from domestic violence (sort of). She was being ‘lashed’ from behind by another kind of cane (About 8.2 inches long with the approximate girth of thirty bundled-up chewing sticks), and she was calling on several deities who would have preferred to distance themselves from the matter.

As Papa Derpina rolled off his woman onto his side of the bed, Mama Derpina sighed satisfiedly and adjusted the wrapper – which was also their makeshift bedsheet – and wrapped her sweaty buttocks.

“Why you dey cover am na? Something wey you show me na na na?” Derpina’s popsy said with an amused smirk on his face.

“Ehen na. When feem finish, them no dey off TV? My TV don off abeg.”

Papa Derpina chuckled softly and smiled into the darkness. There were times, in the morning, when mama Derpina snored and drooled on the shared pillow (Which, as a matter of fact, was just a pillowcase stuffed with dirty laundry), where he often had to fight the urge to press the pillow against her face until she died, escape from the house (leaving Derpina sleeping in her room) and flee to Malawi. There were times when he considered mounting his okada and riding for as long as his fuel tank would go, then continue the journey – running – until he passed out from exhaustion. Mama Derpina was aggravating, truth be told, but her vocals during sex kept Papa Derpina coming for more.

Figuratively and otherwise.

“You know say all the neighbors hear when you dey shout, athink?” Papa Derpina asked, breaking the cloying silence.

“Ehen? And so?”

“Them go don discuss us tire since we pack come this area.”

“Na jealousy dey kill them na. When the women no sabi do. Na so papa Ebuka go play draft from morning ‘til night ooooh. Hin face go come long like NEPA pole because hin wife dey do 100 days fasting for shosh.”

Papa Derpina smiled again. It was also the pillow talk that made him almost love his wife. Almost. He surreptitiously adjusted his head until he arrived – ‘miraculously’ – atop her left breast. He nuzzled against her breast, feeling her heart beat through the mound of adipose tissue and sprinklings of areola.

“Valentine don come oh, Michael.”

It is important to describe Papa Derpina’s reflex mental reaction to that statement. Papa Derpina (in his mind), jumped off the bed naked, out the window, stepped on the broken shards of glass and kept running with bleeding feet until he reached the Nigeria-Cameroon border where he fought off some kidnappers and terrorists with the jawbone of an ass and migrated to Egypt where he spent the rest of his life building pyramids under a heavy sun and hard labor.

However, the bodily Papa Derpina lay frozen on the mound. This night was fast reaching its anticlimax. Mama Derpina never called him by his given name – Michael – unless money was about to change hands.

“Go on,” he said. His English always became perfect whenever he felt threatened. “I am listening.”

“Nothing oh. Just dey check say you never forget the date.” And she trowayed face like ees nothing.

Papa Derpina did a mental recon and arrived at a plan of action: ignore this problem and hope it goes away. “Okay. I no forget. I wan go piss.”

“Before you go. Hope say we go do this valentine proper this year sha?”

DIRECT CONFRONTATION, thought Papa Derpina in capital letters. THIS ENEMY GOETH NOT EXCEPT BY PRAYER AND FASTING.

“The piss don hook me.”

“Ehn. Just talk make I know. E no go take time.”

“You wan’ make I piss for body first before you know say the matter serious?”

“Yes. I go mop grand. No be today. You kuku piss for bed last week. Oya. Talk.”

His brain, seeing red again, switched to English. “Woman, believe me, there is no cause for alarm or consternation. Every preamble has been covered to ensure suitable goodwill amongst both parties, id est you and me.”

“Sir?”

“I don handle the valentine matter. I go surprise you, I swear.”

“Ehen! Na wetin I just want make you talk. You fit go piss, my strong, strong husband!”

Laughing drily, Papa Derpina made his way to the paint bucket situated in the corridor (that was their makeshift ‘toilet’ in case you wondered).

He held the bucket close to his flaccid penis as his urine dropped reluctantly into the bucket and sighed miserably.

Expenses, expenses. Derpina go chop food, wear cloth. Mama Derpina go chop food, wear cloth. We must connect DSTV because if we do GoTV, the neighbors go call us sufferhead. I-better-pass-my-neighbor generator go make Mama Derpina shame to dey buy karosin from Mama Clara, so we gatz buy big Elemax. We go pay NEPA bill. House rent. School fees. Na only Papa Derpina dey go work for the house oh. Only me.

On top of that wan now, she go like make I buy am Smartphone so she go fit dey Instagram like Cynthia wey dey go LASU.

Papa Derpina considered the Malawi plan again, this time with a lot more seriousness.

 

—————-

Vunderkind: Bespectacled geeky farmer with a pen. On twitter,I am the asshole called @TheVunderkind
www.iraborjustin.wordpress.com

val's14

Mary blocked Sydney’s path has she proposed to leave the house. She held a knife to her own neck and yelled,

“There ain’t no way you’re gonna leave me in this house if we ain’t gonna fix this. Ama freaking kill myself.”

Sidney eyes shot red hot, she was angered by Mary’s statement. She ran towards her, punched her ribs, and slapped the knife away from her hand.

“You wanna die? Be my guest. But ain’t gonna watch you kill yourself because of that Son of a bitch.” She said with her voice trembling and her whole body vibrating. “Is he worth more than I am to you?” She took a deep breath and then continued. “Can’t you see how much I care about you, about our lives, our future?”

She gazed at her pointing a finger,

“You know he doesn’t deserve you, you know you don’t love him. You wanna keep being his punching bag, his sex machine? Tell me.” Sydney yelled at Mary yet again. “I’m gonna leave you with your thoughts hun, and by the time I get back. I wanna know what your decision is.  A sister’s love or a brother’s touch?”

She held her in her hands, kissed her passionately and walked out of the house, slamming the door behind her.

Mary burst into tears as she watched Sydney shut the door, she screamed at the top of her voice,

“Watcha gonna have me do.” She wept on.

***************

Rick held a small torch light as he combed the room for evidence. He knew the routine; it was a crime scene, so he requested the presence of a forensic psychologist and an officer from the Los Angeles Police Department as he scanned the room in search of every little detail that will unveil the murderers’ identity. He had intercepted a dispatch call on his way to the office, and so he decided to be the first detective on site since it was just behind his neighborhood. He wore a pair of gloves and switched on the torch in his hands. Rick is young, but he was also one of the Bureau’s brightest detectives. He gazed at his wristwatch; it was 8:27 in the morning.

“What happened here?” He asked the officer beside him.

The officer, whose badge read John Stone, looked clueless. He kept rolling his eyes as if it would explain his ignorance.

He then breathed out, “I think he was killed by a female during sex.” He paused for a moment, “With that knife”, pointing his pen at the direction of a knife that hid under the bed.

“That’s some crazy shit. Have you got any information on the deceased?” Rick asked, paying intense attention to the dead body that laid on the bed.

The officer wore a frown on his face, he doesn’t enjoy a detective ordering him around, but he had no choice.

“His name is Mark Brian, works at the train station, and he has a girlfriend; her name, Mary Jane.”

Stone stopped, only to realize Rick wasn’t paying attention, or perhaps looked like he wasn’t paying attention. 

“What’s today’s date Officer?” Rick asked,

“15th of February detecti…”,

“Yesterday was valentine, bloody valentine.” Rick cut him off before he could finish answering, He faced Officer Stone and told him, “Get me Mary Jane’s address.”

***************

As Rick drove down to Mary Jane’s apartment on Oxford Street, he wrapped his mind around the crime scene. He was a graduate of criminology, so he understood a fact: you can only solve a case when you fit yourself into it. This was clumsy, his mind flashed back to Mark’s lifeless body; he was naked, he had a knife wound on his neck which probably led to huge loss of blood, and his hands and legs were tied to the bed with four neck ties.

He was going at the speed of 40km/hr, and whenever he hit a traffic light, he would murmur to himself, “What am I missing?”

He brought out an earring from his left pocket; he had stolen it from the crime scene. The earring looked awfully familiar to him but he couldn’t just place where he had seen it before no matter how hard he tried. He knew it would help him solve the case, so he stole the earring to avoid unnecessary bureaucracy at the Office. Solving the case would earn him deserved respect amongst his colleagues. 

Why would one kill his or her spouse on Val’s day? He thought to himself.

However, he didn’t dwell on the thought for so long has it only brought memories of his girlfriend’s absence on Val’s day. She had gone to Ohio to visit her parents, and left him to loneliness. He knew something was off about her before she left, he couldn’t just pinpoint what exactly so he let it slide. He wasn’t too cool about her leaving and they fought about it too so, he spent the day drinking, after which he got a blow job at a strip club. 

Detective Rick finally arrived at Oxford Street, and it wasn’t difficult for him to locate Mary Jane’s house. It was the second house on the block.

***************

 

Mary Jane lit a stick of cigarette as she sipped on the bottle of Jack Daniels in her hand. The guilt of what she did to Mark raged within her. She had left him the day before to be with another. She spent the night in the cold arms of another; she was cheating on him. She told a lie. She sank into the couch beside her, with her eyes heavily clouded. She began to weep silently.

She grabbed her phone from the floor, and dialed his number on speed dial. He didn’t answer; she became furious after the 6th attempt,

“Where the hell did you keep your phone Mark? Ain’t fucking doing this shit no more. I gotta tell you something.” She yelled at herself like a junkie in desperate need of a drag.

While she was yet at it again, her doorbell rang. She killed the cigarette in her hand by squeezing it on the ash tray. She was expecting her true love; she brushed away the tears with her hand, and rushed to open the door.

“Good morning ma’am, I’m here to see Mary Jane. Am I at the right address?” Rick asked Mary, who was shocked to him.

She was expecting someone else. She quickly snapped out of her slumber and answered, “I am Mary Jane, how can I help you?”

“I am detective Rick, I’m with the FBI. I’d like to ask you few questions”, Rick replied.

“Oh my God! Rick Starburn of New Jersey University. Criminology department. Ricky, you don’t remember me?”

Rick stood transfixed, trying to search his memory for an answer.

“Mary Jane Ivy, the girl that was rusticated from the department for possession of Marijuana in the second year”, Rick shouted like someone who hit a Jackpot. “Fuck hell, you gotta be kidding me. Where the hell have you been?” He asked in excitement.

They laughed for a minute, and Rick quickly got back to why he was there.

“Can I come in?” He requested, she winked at him and beckoned at him with her middle finger to come in.

Rick and Mary shared histories; they used to be friends with benefits back in school.

***************

“Are you saying you were with him yesterday?” Rick asked.

“I was with him in the early hours of the day. Why are you asking me all these questions? You getting me scared Ricky.”

“I’m sorry Mary, Mark was murdered last night.”

She jumped out of the couch and burst into tears. Rick was aware that he needed to complete the questioning, but he couldn’t do such at the sight of a lady who just got the news of his boyfriend’s death.

He moved close to console her, and she held him tight while she cried. Rick brought out his handkerchief to wipe off her tears. He pulled her face up in an attempt to clean her tears and she kissed him. They got locked up in the epic romance and ended up in the bedroom.

***************

Detective Sydney came back with a lot of groceries, she was going to make up with Mary Jane about the fight they had earlier. She hit the doorbell twice and got no response. So she decided to let herself in with the spare key.

She’s been out for long, perhaps she is still angry, she thought. She walked into the living room gently, whispering, “Baby, I’m sorry…….”

She opened the door to the bedroom and found her making love to another man. She was shocked. Not only by what she saw but she also recognized the man Mary Jane was with. She stood in trance, pulled out her gun and held it in her hand, as she waited for them to be done. She wanted to be sure of who Mary was having sex with, even though her mind had confirmed it. They turned around, and got a post valentine surprise. Mary and Rick faced Sydney.

Rick was shocked, shocked beyond words. “Sydney!!” He almost screamed.

What was his girlfriend doing there? Had she followed him? But she wasn’t supposed to be back yet. How did she find him? The questions were flying through his head.

Rick jumped up naked and perturbed, “It’s not what you think babe.”

“I can’t fuckin’ believe this Mary. I fuckin’ murdered Mark last night, and here you are fucking my boyfriend already.” Sydney raged at Mary Jane ignoring Rick.

“What the fuck is going on here? You know her?” He asked Mary, pointing at Sydney. They both ignored him.

“Wait…What? You killed mark? Sydney, you disrespect your badge and my love for you. You told me you were gonna see your folks. What’s your relationship with Mary?”

Sydney put two bullets in his head before he could make another statement. Mary became sacred, and she pleaded for her life.

Sydney looked at her sympathetically,

“I ain’t gonna kill you. I love you. I left my man for you, killed your man for us, and you chose to fuck with the man I left for you. I hate you Mary!! I fuckin’ hate you!”

She moved closer to Mary, kissed her tight. She put the gun in her hands, faced the muzzle to herself and squeezed the trigger with her help. She shot herself in the chest, and while she was gasping for air, she made a call to dispatch,

“Officer down, block 2, house 2, Oxford street. Send a back uuuup and a medic.” Sydney coughed her last, and Mary fainted.

 

Femi Fragile
Follow and tweet @fragiletimbzz
Happy Val’s day ahead…. 
femifragile.wordpress.com

val's14

It was Valentine. Everybody was carried away in the spirit of valentine. Girls had accessories, the colour of red pinned on their hair, shirts, skirts and even some started wearing red shoes. As for the guys, normal blue jeans gradually gave way for red skinny jeans. The lecturers were not left out. The bars, clubs, restaurants, supermarkets and hotel all had valentine displays in and around their premises. Businesses were offering discounts; some people were winning free tickets to a romantic get away with their lovers. Churches and campus fellowships were all in preparation for the big day. Some girls had even changed their names to Valerie, even some claimed to be born on Valentine. Coincidentally, my birthday fell on February 14. What were my parents thinking?  

My first year roommate already had a date for the d-day. Tola in second year had been on a steady relationship with her boyfriend for the past eleven months. My final year roommate Hope was the churchy type, the typical long gown and loose shirt wearing ‘sister’. A part of the sect that believed that any form of ornament was a sin including wedding rings. I had once asked her why she wears gold wristwatches in spite of her belief. Were they not also regarded as ‘ornaments’? She had called me an inquisitive monkey and avoided answering. There was little or no hope for her even though one of her ‘brothers’ had been trying so hard to befriend her in the ‘worldly’ way.

As for me, I was clueless on what to expect that day from my ‘admirers’. I thought about Larry but he was such a broke guy. The last time he visited me without prior notice; I had to give him transport fare back to his lodge. I didn’t think Kenneth; my best friend would possibly have time for me. He must have made plans to spend the day with his new girlfriend Onyinyechi.

Every girl must have at a time in her life had a secret wish. Mine was a Knight in shining Armani who would sweep me off my feet and treat me as a queen. I thought about ‘him’ once again. He was dressed in a magnificent Shining Armani Suit, a golden crown on his head and a sceptre in his hands. He stood out among all the other men in a large feast where a banquet was about to be held. Tall, handsome, fine well sculptured face the effect of which every other lady in the hall was ogling him. He was advancing close towards me with determination as if I was cherished prize he had to take away and tuck safely out of danger. He was not aware of the flirtatious glances from the ladies. His eyes were set on me. Just as he was about to hold out his arms for me to link them with hi, I felt a hard tap on my shoulder bringing me eight thousand miles back to reality. I hissed and turned to the culprit.

“Eeh babe, what now?” I asked Tola frowning while rubbing the area where she had just hit me.

“You are just weird Dunmo, how can you be smiling to only what you can see or has the anointing fallen upon you?”

“Anointing ke? Nothing jare.” I replied. I stood up from my reading table with the novel I had been reading earlier and laid down on my bed.

“Will you be going out with Skuki on Val?”

“Yes, of course” She answered. Her face lit up in a smile.

Great. I can now book sharwama earlier. Better don’t come back without it.”

“Yes madam.” She replied.

I saw ‘him’ the next day in school. He was looking every bit like the young millionaire he was. My heart flipped immediately our eyes met for a nanosecond before I shyly looked away. An imaginary force kept pushing me close to him and under that impulse; I took five steps towards him before I regained consciousness and turned rather to the direction of my lecture hall.

Valentine afternoon, I had a surprise package waiting for me on my bed. The package was wrapped in pink and white. Inside it was a sleeveless full length gown with a slit reaching above the knees. The dress was a design from Shamaeel Ansari. The price tag made me gasp. Also included in the package was a pair of black six inches stilettos and accessories to go with the gown. There was a note attached to it. It read ‘Wear this for me tonight. I will pick you up by seven-thirty pm. Love xxxx.’

I had private misgivings about accepting such gifts especially one from an unknown potential valentine date. I repackaged the items and dropped it in my wardrobe. Two hours later, I was alone in the room. The items were still lying where I had dumped them earlier. The orange wall clock above Hope’s bed said 7:03 pm. the curiosity to find out who the unknown was took over my being at that moment. I yanked my wardrobe open. In less than fifteen minutes, I was done. I applied light make-up on my face and wore the stilettos. I looked at the full length mirror at the door to the bathroom, I looked completely transformed. The gown fitted me sprucely giving me a ‘diva’ look and the accessories uplifted my appearance.

There was a knock on the door. It opened to reveal two men. Before I could say ‘Jack Robinson’, I was blindfolded and taken to a car. I was scared but the feeling of posh leather seats beneath my hand conveyed to me that my abductors were not after my life. No word was uttered till the car came to a halt twenty minutes later. The door to my side opened. I was gently helped out of the car and guided into a building. When the blindfold was finally removed, I found myself standing in front of a large golden door. I opened the door to hear a beautiful rendition of ‘Happy Birthday to you’ by a popular musician that made me weak at the knees, the clapping by the guests at the end of it. The hall was filled with different classes of people; a gigantic cake was placed at the middle of the hall. To my surprise, Tola and Ifunanya were there with their dates. They waved at me while giggling loudly. I made a mental note to kill them once this was over. Osaruyi met me halfway into the hall, linking my arms with his and together we walked gracefully to where my seat was.

“You look elegant.”

“Thank you.” I replied rather curtly. After a brief introduction, the cake was cut. I had a couple, of dance with Osas after that. We later switched. I danced with my roommates, friends and a couple of Osas’ friends. After the dinner, Osas was nowhere to be seen. I handed my glass of wine to the waiter and went in search of him. I went towards the door leading outside when I felt strong but gentle hands pull me to a hard chiselled chest.

“Osas,” I whispered in batted breath to the gentleman who had the ability of taking my breath away whenever he is in close proximity.

“Dunmo, i know you definitely want to wriggle my intestines out of my body but let’s talk first, hmm.”

He led me out of the building to a beautiful garden just behind the banquet hall. We sat down on a bench carved out of acacia wood.

“I hope my men didn’t manhandle you.”

“No.”

His face became serious. “I have to be honest here.”

A pregnant silence passed before he continued.

“I have always had a thing for you. I knew what I felt right at that first time I saw you at admin block was not just the normal everyday love or infatuation.

“Don’t even remind me about that.” I laughed remembering my gawky little self walking with my books placed in m arms on my way to finish up my physical clearance. He was walking and talking with his friend when he had hit me with his elbow sending me flying sideways and my books scattering all over the place. I hissed and made a nasty comment when he had tried helping me up. I left him there stunned without uttering a word.

“Your attitude struck me that day Dunmo. I mean nobody had ever treated me like that before. I got to my room that day and replayed the scene over and over again in my head. I couldn’t get you out of my mind. I embarked on a missionary journey to get your attention. I know you feel as if I had browbeaten you into coming here but I knew of no other way to express my feelings. I love you Dunmo, very much” He said tucking a stranded hair back into its proper place as he held my eyes with his.

“Please say something”

“Okay, since it’s all about being honest here, let’s bring it on.”

He looked at me with a raised brow.”

“You have been my secret crush.”

Osas laughed heartily. “Like seriously?”

“Like duuh.” I replied.

“That means we have been like opposite poles of a magnet waiting for the right time to attract.”

“You could say that again.” I said. We talked late into the night learning more about each other. That night marked the beginning of a friendship that blossomed into something more than friendship itself. We became inseparable more like two peas in a bud. He was more than just a friend to me and vice versa. Osas graduated that year and I followed suit the next year. We got married four years later in a beautiful ceremony on the beautiful island of Tahiti in the presence of our family and friends.

Unfortunately, our happily ever after didn’t materialize as Osas died nine months later in a plane crash. He died but not without planting his seed in me. Nine months later, I held my bundle of joy in my arms and named him Osaruyi after his father.

It was Valentine today and I had gone to his grave side to remind him that he gave me the best valentine ever. Osas Jnr who was now six years old placed our simple wreath at his tomb head. It read 

“Knowing that you are in heaven watching over us makes us stronger every day. Love, Dunmo and Osas.”

I linked my hands with Osaruyi’s and walked back to the car.

 

The end.

 

@trixandra
www.trixandra.blogspot.com