theinkheartblog

letting the ink tell the tales conceived in my mind………

Month: August, 2013

Mrs Njoku tore at her clothes like a woman possessed with legion of demons. No one could stop the tears that rolled freely like a waterfall down her face. Sweat and tears soaked her clothes and plastered it to her body like a second skin. Everyone begged her to stop but they all knew they were giving a futile advice.

They strived hard to take what was in her hands but she refused. She hugged the cold body of her child in her arms like it would resurrect the dead girl. Her thirteen year old daughter had stabbed herself to death and no one could fathom why.

What transpired with this teenager, no one could tell except the mother’s brother who had forcefully had his way with his niece. The pain was too much for the girl to bear, she felt no one would believe her if she shared the horror with them and so she took her life to end it all…..
********************************************
Tade screamed as she pushed. The excruciating pain she felt toppled her world in black and horrid emotions, reminding her of the day the baby in her womb was conceived. A dark cold day with the rain descending to earth angrily so much that it felt like it was protesting human wickedness it was when her own father had beaten her to a pulp and taken advantage of her at the age of sixteen just as she was about to start her senior secondary school leaving certificate exam.

She’d felt pain; hot white pain as he rode her roughly, inhumanly that she’d fainted. Two months later, a naïve, shy girl was found pregnant and her not so motherly mother gave her the beating  of her life for “telling such terrible lies about the paternity of the bastard”.

She could not take it anymore. She stole a huge chunk of money for her father’s home-bank and ran far away from home. Seven months afterwards, she was breathing her last in a tiny maternity home as the second of her child was delivered. She smiled weakly at her ironic blessings and she smiled, her head began to loll downwards surrendering herself to the peaceful darkness that enveloped her.
********************************************
She emptied the sachet of phenazepam; a valium like benzodiazepine that could kill if overdosed within minutes. She was tired, tired of living as she was, tired of jumping anytime she heard the door open, tired of living as if her life was perfect.

She was tired of everything and was ready to end it all. She knew her family would be hurt but she was tired of acting surreptitious. She walked around her room and anticipated the pain the pain that would come before the numbing darkness.

She was ready; no pain could be worse than what she’d endured the past month. She took another swig of the vodka she’d sneaked in earlier. She’d read somewhere on the internet that alcohol hasten and heighten the fatality. Minutes passed when she felt the first jab of pain. It was a bit mild, not at all what she was expecting.

Then she felt white sharp needle like pains pricking her insides. The pain was unbearable but it was welcomed this time not like the nights her step father had sexually abused her. He would come to her in the middle of the night while everyone slept and have his way with her, threatening to kill her if she made a sound.

In silence, she suffered the pains. She knew she should talk to someone but she was scared. “What if they blamed me?”, she would always think to herself, so she took the easiest way she knew; taking her own life to end it all.
 
The pain keeled her over, pushing her to the ground. She rolled on the floor and it felt as if a wild animal was biting and chewing her intestines up but she never willed it to stop. The pain was minor compared to the damage her step father had caused. She could only feel the wetness on her cheeks as she was blanketed in a comforting blackness.
 
The next morning, an eighteen year old Hadiza was found dead on the floor in her room. On her reading table was an empty sachet of sleeping pills with an almost empty bottle of vodka with no clue as to why she killed herself. No one understood why except for the step father who hurried out of the house because he couldn’t bear the guilt.
********************************************
She had heard people tell her “what doesn’t kill you would make you stronger” but she didn’t feel that way. She wished she had the courage to kill herself but every time she tried, she couldn’t bring herself to doing it. It was killing her to walk round her office building like everything was fine.

She could not bring herself to tell anybody because she knew they would blame her. She had people blame rape victims for their dilemma and she couldn’t bear it if anyone blamed her.

Moreover, he had threatened to kill her and ruin her family if she told anyone and Tega’s boss was one ruthless business mogul everyone steered clear of.

She knew he would truly carry out his threats if he got wind she told anyone. Not that death wasn’t a better option to what she was going through, she would never put her family at risk of danger.

She stared out the window of her new office on the top floor. If only she knew she was only promoted as the chairman’s secretary for the boss selfish reasons, she could have declined. She was handpicked to be used whenever the chairman felt like.

She heard the door to her office open and only the chairman entered without knocking to ease himself sexually. She was tired of being used against her will and she was filled with renewed fear that propelled her to jump the ten storey office complex.
 
No one knew why a twenty three year old would end her life in such way. Everyone insinuated but no one came close. Only the selfish and wicked chairman could tell what made her commit suicide.

First written for http://www.aaaborode.wordpress.com

Posted by theinkheart

Earth, moon, and the stars stand agape at your beckon,

With the girdle around the waist that alludes the mind of reckon.

When the might of the sun has brazen upon your face,

To let it shine and reveal the ever-green lineage beauty trace.

The movement of the legs in synchronized elegance and poise,

Caught the eye of unassuming admirers and your choices: ME!

In the sea of glittering crystals they call windows

To the heart. And of a truth, the heart has laid sight on its warmth

To which it bellows.

Ada mma! The ebony skin exudes of sea-scented ude,

From the finest palm blend and the bosoms oh! Aphrodite’s jealous gaze,

Cannot be eluded, the eyes of Trojan’s admirers

Who seek to steal you away from my clothes: Rivals?

Remember this, the shower of praise are but mere,

Inflammatory to re-kindle the over-heathen calm tear,

That flow from the stream of love within me for you.

Do not hearken to their words, for they are lies without plea.

The eagle is not soft on its voyage through the sky

it always leaves in its wake a robust impression- fly.

Like the feathers of the bright coloured peacock,

Your imprint left-behind is soft, bouncy, and fluffy with every curve struck.

For you Omalicha’m nne’m oma.

Written by Enekwachi-Aja Ndukwe.

Posted by theinkheart

JADESOLA
I start to throw my things in a bag. I am not even bothered about the way I’m throwing them all in. I am usually the type to iron and fold my clothes before putting them anywhere but today, there is no need for such. My life is crumbling and neatly folded clothes are the least of my problems. I fight hard to keep the tears that threatened to spill out at bay but I am not successful. The tears are hot and they burn my cheeks. The tears are a silent reminder of how terrible things have gone. I hear the footsteps but I refuse to look up. A part of want to desperately turn to him for comfort and the other just want to run far away from him. I hear move towards and sits on the bed. I wait for him to say something but he is quiet for a while. I hear a heavy sigh and he leaves again. I am happy and sad at the same time. Why does he do that all the time? Why does he make me feel like it is my fault everything is coming to an end? Why is he just too blind to the fact that I’m hurting too? God knows I’m trying to stay sane. He drives me crazy and I cannot stand it anymore. Leaving is the only option left.

I sit down and look around the room. It is not as I used to remember. It used to be my favorite part of the house; cheery and the best memories were made here. What happened to making those wonderful memories? Even the bright coats on the walls are fading as if in harmony with my matrimony. How did we allow things get so bad? How had we allow that one incident to tear us apart? Was it not supposed to bring us together so that we can make another? I cry as I asked no one in particular. I stand up and walk to a door. The door had not always been there. He had it fashioned out so we can have our little ones close. I hesitate a bit, bracing myself for what is in the room. It is almost seven years and both of us have not bothered with the room any longer. It no longer hold any meaning to my dear husband. I open the door and almost run back but my feet is rooted to the floor. I am trembling all over, a fresh bout of pain washing over me. My eyes rove around the room not sure where to focus on in particular. My heart is thumping in my chest and my blood is icy. My eyes keep roving till they rest on the object in the middle of the room. My heart shattered into million pieces and I fall on my knees.

I crawl to its side and lean on it. I feel the sadness weigh in on me. My baby’s cot, I sigh heavily as the thought cross my mind. My sweet baby boy. He looked exactly just like me except for his eyes. He had eyes dark and piercing like his dad’s. He was supposed to be everything but he left us, leaving behind a gaping hole in our hearts and in our lives. I try hard not to remember but I cannot help it. The memories come flooding in, holding me prisoner to the pain that comes with remembering…

DURODOLA
I look at her and my heart breaks into million fragments. I know she thinks I blame her for the death of our son. I hate the fact she thinks I blame her. I know it is because I barely stay around her. Frankly, I will think the same if I am in her shoes. I blame myself for not being able to save our son. I blame myself for not being strong enough to protect him. I see the forlorn look on my wife and die daily inside. I can’t even stand staying around her. I do not hate her, I hate myself for not being to comfort her. I hate myself for failing her. I hate myself right now for being the reason for her tears. I move towards the room that is supposed to be our baby’s. She doesn’t move from where she is. Maybe she is lost to the pains or she does not want me to see her tears, I do not know. I look at her and sees her clinging to the feet of the baby’s cot. I can not take it anymore. I feel the anguish coursing through my body and my knees become soft as jelly. I fall on my knees and the tears are unstoppable as I remember…

FLASHBACK
They sang Abimbola’s favorite nursery rhyme together as Durodola drove the car. Jadesola juggled him in her laps as she sang, hoping the baby would sleep. Abimbola was just eight months old but he was such a tough kid to keep up with. His energy was both amazing and exhausting. Durodola loved that about the baby and could barely wait for him to grow old enough to play soccer with him. His smile did not waver as he sang. He loved to sing for his son. His phone suddenly rang and he asked his wife to check who the person was. The name on screen was Angel and that made Jade jealous. She started to inquire who Angel was but Duro had only laughed. He knew his wife was the jealous type and it amused him greatly. She had nothing to worry about, he was faithful to her. He explained that Angel was his cousin and Jade did not believe it. They started arguing so badly that Duro lost concentration. It was too late before he realized he was heading into a big ditch. Every effort to swerve the car to right lane proved futile. The car went head long into the large pothole and they were thrown into darkness.

They woke up in the hospital not sure what day it was. Duro was the first to regain consciousness and the doctor had told him the bad news. He was not even sure how to break the news to his wife. He was angry with himself and with the world. He was so angry that he could not prevent that accident. He was angry that his wife had to go through the pain of loosing a child. Jade was not sure how she felt when she heard about the death of her son. She felt sad and guilty and confused. She wanted to run to her husband but she was scared to look at him. She carried the guilt every where she went. No amount of therapy could wipe that out.

DURODOLA
I know she is leaving me but I don’t want her to. I want her to know that I’m sorry for not being able to protect our son. I want her to know that I long to wipe her tears away. I want her to know that if she leaves me, I will never be the same again. I look at her and see her staring at me. Her eyes are begging me to hold her close, to comfort her. I draw her close to me and place my arms around her. It feels good to feel the warmth emanating from her body. It feels good to know she needs me.

JADESOLA
I am surprised but I do not show it. I lean in closer and rest my head on his chest. I sigh as he draws me closer. It feels good to be in his arms. I look at him again and sees him soften. His eyes no longer holds the contempt and anger. He looks as if he is at peace. I feel at peace too. Maybe leaving is not the only option left after all. Maybe we can still salvage what’s left of our marriage. Maybe it can still work out. I know it is hard to do, maybe it is time to lay the ghosts of the past to rest.

Though it is hard, I know the pains will go
Though it is tough, I know we will smile again
And it might take all the strength in me
But I’m willing, willing to start all over
I’m here, waiting to conquer our fears
It may be longer than we expect
But I’m ready, I’m Someone Waiting!

Someone Waiting comes up every wednesday and it is going to be a collation of short sad stories… Someone Waiting is not make us sad but to appreciate life more…

Posted by theinkheart

Sitting alone in this classroom, my head feels like its on fire. I’m sitting directly under the air conditioner, yet it does not lessen the pain I’m feeling. Never have I felt so alone in my entire life. I just finished a test and I am not sure of 5 marks out of 25.
Hold the fuck up!!! What am I doing here? My mates have graduated……

Sunday March 11 2012
Babcock University Law City, Iperu.

It was my hall’s dinner that day. I never knew being the committee’s vice chairman would be so much work. I was about heading to Lagos for the third time in five days, that time to pick up a “celebrity” from the airport.
My phone vibrated in my pocket as I stepped out of my room.
“Hey Mum” I answered.
The moment she spoke, I knew there was a problem. I struggled to maintain composure.
“Your brother is in the hospital. He was badly burnt in a fire.”. My mind became muddled up. My eyes were wide open, yet I saw nothing. I felt sweat gather on my forehead.

Abiola was my inspiration. He was a brother anybody would wish to have. His intelligence was not comparable to anybody I knew. I remember one time back in high school I had a simultaneous equation assignment and Abiola, still in primary school had solved it using examples in my text book. I loved that boy with my life. I never showed him. The honest truth; I was jealous of him.

“Kanyinsola, Kanyinsola, Adio!!!!”, my mum called me from the other end of the phone.
“Don’t bail on me now ókó mi. Your brother and I need you so much now” my mum said.
“I won’t mummy, I promise I won’t.”.
She told me the hospital in which he was admitted and begged me not to come.
“Please stay in school for now Adio”.
I told her not to worry. I had made up my mind. I was going to the hospital first thing the next morning. I scanned my immediate environment. Boys were moving around, oblivious to my newly found predicament. I got myself together and made a decision I later regretted. I would tell no soul the news my mum had shared with me. I called Anjola and headed out of the hall.

… the creaking sound of a door wakes me from my trance. My class governor walks over to where I am sitting and hands over my test script. “9 over 25”.  better than I had expected.  I get up, walk out of the faculty building and leave for my hall. People do not seem to notice the “I don’t want to talk to anybody” look on my face as it seems everyone I encounter has something of great importance to say to me. I make it to my room, go straight to my bed and plug in my earphones. Few minutes later, I am back to my trance …

Anjola and I sat at a cafe inside the airport having a drink awaiting the arrival of our celebrity guest. Soon, his flight was announced upon arrival. I ushered him to the car park where our driver was patiently waiting by the car. Our guest pointed out he wanted to take some things at his guest house. I looked at my watch, we still had time. We left the airport and after sometime got to the guest house our guest was lodged. He got into the car and we headed for school. Just as we were about turning onto the highway, I noticed a signpost in front of a large gate that read “IGBOBI HOSPITAL”. My heart stopped. My brother was in there. I wanted to stop the vehicle. It took every ounce of self control in me not to say a word. A tear dropped from my right eye. “Are you ok?” Anjola whispered to me. Apparently she saw the tear.
“I’m alright o. My eyes keep getting watery. I should probably see an optician.” I lied.
We were in school about an hour later and the dinner went smoothly. I never got the chance to change into my dinner clothes as I was running everywhere trying to make sure the dinner went according to plan. After the dinner, I met my hall administrator and told him exactly what my mother had told me that morning. He listened with his mouth wide open. Good thing no fly found its way to his mouth.

Monday March 12 2012

Who needed a bath on a day like that? I quickly got dressed and waited for my hall administrator. He got to his office earlier than usual and signed my exeat without hesitation.
“My regards to your mummy” he said.
I smiled back and left his office. I went back to my room to pick my bag. I walked towards the exit of the hall as I went through my BBM recent updates. My cousin’s personal message read “RIP ABIOLA”. A part of me died instantly.

For Abiola, you live on forever in our hearts. Unforgettable, that is what you are!!

My heart weeps when I remember you
You were a darling; sincere and true
Abiola, a rare gem is what you were
You shone brighter than the stars when you were here
Oh, I wish I could bring you back
Without you here, I’m always off track
But I know, a better place is where you are
Where your duty is better and greater
For our sakes, you’ve gone to heaven
So that for us daily, a prayer you’ll say
We love you but God loves you more
Abiola, our fallen angel; that’s what you are

Written by Mr. Slayer @slaayar
(Poem written by theinkheart)

Posted by theinkheart

It was supposed to be the perfect night of my life. I had called you earlier that day to remind you to make reservations at oceanview for our dinner date but you told me you had a better idea. We would go somewhere solemn, somewhere the two of us could talk without being interrupted by the noise made by other customers in the restaurant. You told me you had a surprise for me and because you were just too shy for your own good, you decided your apartment would be great. I argued about how I wanted that night to be really romantic and special. You told me not to worry, that it would be the best night of my life. I teased you about trying to get us to be alone. You just laughed and I knew if I was there, you could have playfully spanked my ass. Your laughter reminded me of the first time we met; that was five years ago and the novelty still had not worn out. As every day passed, I found myself drowning farther into the depth of love and I loved the way I felt. You made me feel like there was no end to what love was. We could lie in each other’s arms all day without talking much and still feel like we just had the best conversation. More than often, I would wonder what I did to deserve a man so loving as you. I was so lost in my day dream that I did not hear what you said. You said goodbye with the belief that I picked every word you said. I dropped the call and called my P.A to come into my office through the office’s intercom. Within seconds, my docile assistant was in my office. He smiled as he usually did and sat on the chairs. We were very close; he was like the brother I always craved for while growing up.
“What’s up, doll?”, he said playfully toying with a miniature statue of black haired lady with a serious look on her face, holding a pen and a paper in her hands. It was a gift from you. You told me it reminded you of me. You told me the lady looked just as serious as I looked whenever I was busy with work especially when the deadline was near and the fact that I was a writer/chief editor, the pen and the paper was just a plus that really showed the statue was really meant for me. It was not the gift I was expecting on our 3rd year anniversary but it was so thoughtful of you that I forgave you immediately for not buying what I wanted. I slapped his hands off the doll and gave him instructions on what he should do for me. I told him about the change in plans for the night and he gave me a smile that showed he approved of it. I shook my head and placed my laptop in its pouch and packed the essential documents into a folder before dumping them into my hand bag. He hugged me and wished me a wonderful night. He whispered some obscene words in my ears and I gave him a light punch on his shoulders. I smiled as I left the building. Even if my assistant didn’t tell me to, I planned to give you the best part of me; that part of me I had reserved for you if we made to the 5th year. I got home and took a luxury bath. I used the bubble gel that you loved so much; the one with rose water and goat milk. You told me it made my skin soft and it smelled heavenly. After the luxury bath, I rubbed sweet smelling oil on my body; I wanted to drive you crazy just with the way I smelled. I was putting on the black leather lingerie complete with garter belts, whips and cuffs when I got a message from you. I rolled my eyes as I read your text. You wanted to me to send the picture of what I was wearing at that moment. I sent a “tongue-out” smiley to you and told you to be patient. You replied with the “sad” and “crying” smiley and I could not help but smile. I thought it wouldn’t hurt to send you the glimpse of what you were going to feast on, so I took two sexy pictures; one with the cuff and the other with the whip. I made sure the picture captured everything. You called almost immediately after I sent the picture and was whistling. I laughed and you told me I looked so hot. Not that you had not seen me almost naked before. There was a time we almost did it but you restrained yourself and that even made me love you more. You were short of words, all you did was whistle and I kept on laughing. I told you I would soon be on my way to your apartment and you told me you would join me soon. So I wore a long summer dress over my lingerie and drove the short distance to your apartment. I quickly re-arranged your room, changed your sheets and poured the rose petals I brought with me. I dimmed the light till it gave the effect that I wanted; like the moonlight. It was perfect just as I had imagined my first night would be. I rushed to kitchen and brought out two flutes from the cabinet. I brought out the wine and wrapped it expertly in a silk scarf like my assistant had taught me, then I kept in the bucket of ice. I took it to the room and kept it on the small table beside your bed; your cherished footstool. Satisfied with the work I had done, I put on the i-pod and was glad when the melancholy voice of adele filled the room. You used to tease me about adele all the time. I would feign being hurt and you would explain how I need not listen to songs about heartbreaks when I had a man who wouldn’t break my heart. You told me to start listening to happy songs; beautiful love songs from Beyonce. I would roll my eyes at you and increase the volume. It was no news you loved beyonce so much that you wished I would love her that much too. Fact is, it had started growing on me but I would never let you know. I wanted you to love Adele too. I got bored after a while and you told me not to cook, you had something special ordered from my favorite restaurant. I picked my phone and called you but got no response, I imagined you were driving back home already. I removed the summer dress I was putting on and kept it in the wardrobe. Clad in only the leather lingerie, I sat on the bed and waited for my man to come. I would have made the best 5th year anniversary gift.
It was the sound of my phone ringing that woke me up. I must have slept off while waiting for you to come. I stood up and picked up the phone. It was you calling me. I pressed the green button and waited for you to say something funny. You were good at playing pranks and I would not give in. The voice I heard wasn’t yours. Someone was talking to me but I could not hear a thing. The man was saying nonsense; at least that was I thought. Maybe it was network playing pranks on me. I severed the call and called your number back. It was the same story; I was needed at some private hospital at surulere not so far from his apartment, you were in a coma. I hurriedly wore your jalamia, that one you always leave by the door. I wore bathroom slippers and drove like a mad person to the hospital. I got there and met your sister. She looked at me and started crying. I began screaming and jerking the nurse near me to tell me what was going on. She only told me to be calm, that the best of the doctors were attending to you. I couldn’t be calm. I paced the waiting area and refused to be consoled. Your sister tried, she hugged me and told me soothing words but nothing worked. Then your father came in. He was a very busy man but he loved you dearly. He went straight to the doctor, denial etched on his face. The doctor took him by the hand and practically dragged him to his office. If it was another place and time, I would have laughed at the picture it painted in my mind. Some minutes later, your dad came out of the office. He looked twenty year older than his age and his usual strong demeanor had thawed. I rushed to him and he looked at me with pity. It was then I knew you were gone. A lone tear had escaped from their confines and was trickling down your dad’s face. The tear rooted my suspicion and I couldn’t remember what happened after then.
I woke up and found myself in a hospital bed. Your parents were there and your sister too. My parents were outside talking to a doctor. You weren’t there with them. I shut my eyes and started crying. Your mom could not stand it, she started crying too. Your sister came to my side and said all kinds of sweet things to calm me down. I did not want to hear those words, I wanted you to come but you never did. You were gone forever.

That was two months ago and it still feels like the first day. My mom said the jalamia stinks but I don’t care, I’m going to wear it everyday till you come back. She told me to stop wearing the ring too. They found the ring in your car and a journal with the still-life you plastered all over the pages. That was the surprise you had for me, you wanted to propose to me but you never came back to me. You never even claimed that part of me that was to be yours eternally. You promised never to leave me but you left when we were just about to start another journey together. You wrote that in the journal. You wrote that I will never be alone, that you will always be my side everywhere I go and that was the reason you had your pictures all over the pages, so I can stare at you no matter where I am. I don’t want the still-life you, I want the real you. I want the five years of my life back, I want my true love back, I want my true happiness back. I’m a living corpse without you, I want you back. I know they think I’m mad but I’m not. I’ve not even taken off the lingerie. I want you to see me like the picture I sent to you, so I’m here, waiting for you to come and claim what’s yours; me. Till you come, I’ll never stop talking to the walls.

Posted by theinkheart