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

Month: March, 2014

A friend like no other. He is one that will cry with you when you are sad and give you his shoulder to lean on. He will put off his shirt for you when you are cold and will blow air from his mouth if he has to just to ward heat off. He is that friend you will run to when you are in trouble because you know he’ll be there for you.

A big brother I never had. Protective and very sweet. He wants to know who you are with and how the person is treating you. Trust me, no one can’t you if you have a brother like him. He is prepared to fight for you even if it means getting beaten.

A father anyone will be proud of. He is ready to part with his last cash just to give you the best. He is stern, yet lovely. He will scold you and still draw you near. He is playful and gives the best advice, encouragement, solace when you need it.

A teacher and a mentor you can always look up to. Calm and gentle. He is the only teacher that will help the student to do his assignment. He is humble. Like a good leader, he is ready to serve and willing to learn. He listens to corrections and will not crucify you for yours. He is awesome.

Oluwasemileye is just a man after my heart. He is everything to me and I’m protective of him. I don’t have any regret knowing. He has been a blessing to me since day 1. He is the father I’ve always wished for. Thank you very much for always having my CV when I need it. Thank you for being my shoulder when I was weeping. Thank you for being my strength most times I was weak. Thank you for the times you put food on my table. Thank for being my role model. Thank you being a wonderful person to me. You are a blessing to your family, your friends, your generation and your wife and kids are indeed lucky to have you. I know you will start doing greater exploits because you know the Lord and good things will work for you because you love the Lord. Keep being you.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


She was tired, too tired. Her laden legs screamed for her stop and rest but she couldn’t. She had to find somewhere safe enough to hide from the man chasing her. She could not bear the thought of what would happen to her if the man caught up with her. Her breathe had become laborious and her vision blurry but she ran as fast as her tired legs could carry her. All she heard was the footfalls closing in on her and the next thing she knew, she was on the floor writhing in pain. There was a numbing pain at the back of her head and blood was already soaking her t-shirt. She felt the man crouch over her and inject something into her three times. For a while, she was excited. Then her heart started beating too fast and she could not breath anymore. All she could think of before her heart stopped beating was what she could have done to deserve such cruelty.

The Shadow kicked the iron bar he had used to hit the petite woman and spat on the floor. He had not been prepared for the stress she had put him through. Follow her, taser her and then inject her; that was what he had thought. Covering the spittle with dust and touching his cross pendant, he started looking around for what could have dropped from him. Seeing nothing to incriminate him, he bent down to pick the metal and thought against it. He would leave it there and give the police false hope of finding his prints on it. He removed the mask he was wearing and wiped it thoroughly clean, brought out the note he had prepared from his pocket and dropped it near the body. Maybe he should be the one to break the news to the press, he thought as he walked away from the scene looking around making sure no one saw him.

Detective Olaore could not wait to get down from the car. Deji, his friend’s assistant was a talkative and in the space of 45 minutes they had met each other, Olaore had known about Deji’s life. He talked about his late mum, his sweet father, his wonderful sisters, his nagging girlfriend. He even talked about how much he loved stray sex and partying. All the detective’s attempt to shut him up did not work, instead he talked more.
“Ehen, guy, so you enjoy this your police work? How much do they pay you guys? I heard they pay you people as low as 5k per month? If it is me, I can’t even take it o. I love money. Na the money they fuel my escapades. Even me that I earn 55k monthly, I still dey do business outside. My girlfriend will sha do fine girl and I will help the family. You know as e dey be now?”
He talked and talked, not minding if Olaore answered him. When they finally reached the Syrup night club, Olaore almost knelt down to thank God. His ears were ringing from all the unnecessary information he was fed with.

The car park was almost occupied and it was just some minutes to 9 at night. He entered the club with Deji following him, winking and smiling at every girl he saw. Olaore shook his head, the boy was a yeye one indeed. He found an empty stool by the bar and sat down on it. A waitress walked up to him and asked him what he wanted to drink. She was dressed in a very tight and short skirt and her cropped top showed her glittering belly ring. Her face was heavily made up but it suited her and she had a no-nonsense air about her. She was very pretty and Olaore decided to flirt with her a little to get some answers from her.
“A tall glass of you, sweetie”, he drawled and gave her his best sultry smile. His effort was rewarded with a smile from her.
“I’m too expensive, you know. You can go bankrupt on top my matter o”
Olaore laughed and the girl laughed too.
“I’ll go broke because of you. You are too pretty and I don’t mind soaking garri on top your matter”
“You have a sweet tongue, I see. I like you sha. You know how to make someone smile”
“Let me do more than that. Let me give you the moon and the stars and the skies. Anything you want”
The girl was laughing and leaning on him. Time to ask questions.
“So, if I want to take you home with me, so you can spend forever with me, who do I have to talk to?”
“That will be the manager but you can only take strippers home not the waitresses”
“Why is that now?”, he said, feigning sadness
“Well, we don’t service men, some of the strippers do it. The manger has to approve of the man before she goes with him”
“Where is her office? We need to change that arrangement just for you. You won’t even come back, you’ll be my wife”
“She is not yet around and come to think of it, that’s weird”
“How is that weird? Maybe she is with her boo”
“She is the efficient, punctual type. Since Ruby’s death, she has been coming earlier and checking up on all of us”
“Who is Ruby?”,he said, pretending to hear the name for the first time.
“A stripper that was killed and dumped in public. It was all over the newspapers and gossip blogs now”
“Oh. I’m always too busy to keep with the news. So, the manager is not in and you don’t know where she lives?
“You’re one funny guy. You are willing to go that length to take me home with you?”
“I’ll do everything for you, baby. I want to die on top your matter”
“I don’t know where she lives sha but we can meet after my shift, it ends in 30 minutes”
“Okay, love. I’ll wait for you here till you are done”

Olaore almost hit the table. Where the hell could the manager be?, he thought. He was already standing up to leave the club when a thought dropped in his mind. He sat down back and ordered two cans of smirnoff ice while he waited for his “love” to be done with her shift. As he gulped the drink, all he could do was pray that his plan would not flop.

P.S: Suzanne, life is beautiful and always will be. This note is for you, for me, for everyone who’s been preyed upon. This note is for you, for me, for every strong person out there who has been burnt too deep by the past. It’s not easy to let go, it’s not easy to break off but we are fighters. We’ll fight with everything we have. We’ll use our voice to conquer these demons threatening to devour us and we will overcome because we are stronger than they are. And when we are out of the fire, we will be like gold; A treasure to the world.

Dear Awesome Child of God,
I am more than happy for who you have become. Daily you strive to be better and you climb new heights no one thought was possible for you. I remember when things were bad for you; really terrible days when you wished death would favour you. Remember the times you ran away from home because you were scared of being judged? You went to a place no one knew you and struggled every day to live. Remember when you had to beg for survival, you would go days without food and all you could manage to get was a sachet of water to fill your tummy for the day. Life was cruel. You were in pains and even when you got really sick, you still chose to stay away from home. You were the prodigal child, a black sheep that was scared to face anybody. Maybe if they found your body rotten and half eaten by animals, they would forgive you but death was not kind to you. It looked you in the face and told you to try another time. You tried your best to get rid of your life but God said wait, you still will fulfil the purpose I called you for.

Child of God, daily I am surprised with the new vigour you now live your life. You still struggle with the past and try to lay it to rest but that is not a stumbling block to the wonder you are now. Pain is part of life that grooms you for greatness, you know this and you’ve used it to your advantage. You took your horror and turned into something beautiful. In search of a solace, you found a voice that has brought you fulfilment. Who knew the outcast can be celebrated? You are my hero and every day, I praise God on your behalf. The past has become a catalyst for the great things you are doing. In searching for help, you found creativity. Everyday, you live your life like today is the only chance you have to prove yourself. Nothing else matters to you except to use the new voice you have found for the beauty of the Lord. It is not easy, I know. People still look at you and judge. Some try to celebrate you when you are around and sneer at you at your back but that is not going to stop you. You live for you and the God that created you. Let them laugh all you want, soon they will be preaching about the goodness of the Lord in your life.

Dear beautiful daughter of Zion, I see in you greatness. I see you and I see a walking epitome of success. You are an achievement standing, a miracle to your generation. You carry in you fire that sets negativity ablaze and sparks up positivity. You are not ashamed of your past because you know that the most brilliant of all minds have once been preyed on by the biggest of all problems. You are product of the dirtiest mess and you are proud of it because it gave birth to the new you. When God says yes, you know nobody’s opinion matter anymore. God said yes to you and that is all the fuel you need. What can’t kill you, only made you stronger. When death refused you, you are tougher than you know. You are strong, intelligent and a living prospect for excellence. You are wonderful and I am proud of you. If your past could not succeed in stopping you from giving birth to excellence, nothing can stop you. You were burnt to born miracles that will turn the world around. You were burnt to give the world a new meaning. Just like the gold, you were burnt to born BEAUTY.

Part Two of the story. Please drop your comments and tell me what you think. Comments actually make me feel like I’m not writing for myself. Read and be nice to tell me what you think 🙂

Investigation was just starting and he was already frustrated. The cigarette he had lit some minutes earlier laid idle in the ash tray and he watched as tendrils of smoke escape into the air. Detective Olaore suddenly wished he could just escape somewhere he wouldn’t be bothered with murder investigations. Just a day and it felt like a noose had been placed around his neck, choking him. He was hitting blank everywhere he turned to for answers and that was not good at all. No one saw any strange movement around the canal that night or during the day. Even if they did, he knew nobody would talk. Everyone feared being arrested and detained in the cell for nothing. The terrible police men amongst them had succeeded in giving the Nigerian Police Force a bad name. He wouldn’t blame them for ‘not seeing anything’. The ID card found on the girl had been useless too. It had only RUBY O8; which he was very sure was not her real name and her passport photograph on it. No other thing was written on it to indicate where she got the ID card from and the kind of work she did.

Confused, he leaned back in his chair and pulled the first button of his shirt continuously till it fell off. He looked at the button on the floor like it would give him a solution to his problem. His phone rang and he quickly pressed the green button when he saw who was calling him.
“How far? Anything interesting?”
He listened for a while and when he was sure nothing the caller said was making sense, he decided they should meet face to face.
“I’ll meet you in ten minutes at your office”.
He ended the call and took some seconds to put the cigarette out, picked his car keys from the desk and rushed out to his car.

Dewale would have laughed if his friend was not wearing that deep scowl on his face. His face told him he was very serious and he was there for business and not pleasure. The scrubs, gloves and masks Olaore was wearing made him look a pathetic surgeon in a low budget nollywood movie. As his friend of almost twelve years, dewale knew Olaore never mixed business with pleasure. He led him into the autopsy room. There was a gurney with a sheet covering the dead lady and dewale looked at his friend. There was no emotion on his face, just the deep scowl.
“Guy, are you ready?”
“Of course. You think I came here to play baby sitter for a dead girl”.
“Relax joor. Why all the tension na?”
“Just open the body and tell me what you found out”

Dewale shook his head and pulled back the sheet covering the lady. The Y-incision running from her chest to her pubis made the body looked like it had been unzipped. Ruby’s body organs had been removed, weighed and analysed. The block of organs, muscle and tissue had been unceremoniously bagged and dumped back in the body cavity. The face drooped like a doll whose supporting stitches had given way. Detective Olaore swallowed the spit that had formed in his mouth and willed his breakfast to stay back in his stomach. He would not give his friend the pleasure of seeing him throw up like a sissy. He held his stomach while he listened to Dewale talk.
“Well, from my autopsy, it looked like she died from an overdose of heroin.
“Heroin?”, Olaore asked, disbelief in his voice.
“Yes, heroin. There was congestion and a foamy mucus in her airway that showed that she overdosed on a respiratory depressant. The fact that there was 6-monoacetylmorphine; a metabolite of heroine in her body confirmed that the respiratory depressant she overdosed on was heroin. There was a needle mark on her forearm that further proved that.
“Couldn’t she have been overdosed by a boyfriend or something that just used the murder note to put the police off course?”
“I actually thought that too. Like she was having drug induced sex in a car when she had a heart attack and died in the process, right?”
“Yes, exactly”.
“Well, I found something that changed that thought. Two superficial puncture wounds were found on her chest. Like two needles set barely an inch apart. Like a patterned injury.”
“Dude, see why I had to come to your office. I don’t understand a thing you’re saying. Talk normal english and leave all those oyinbos jare. My blood dey hot”
“The needle marks looks like what a taser gun would leave where the electrified darts impacted the body. My dear friend, she was shot with a taser gun and then injected with an overdose of heroin. The heroin would not have worked that fast if she had not taken so much alcohol earlier that day and her lungs were already weak from the abuse of nicotine”.
“That means, she was definitely murdered.”
“Exactly. To be 100 percent sure it was heroin she overdosed on, I’ve drawn blood and urine from her body and sent them to the lab for toxicology report. That would come back in two weeks and we would know just how much of the drug she was injected with”.
“Wale, two weeks is too long. I don’t have that much time. Can’t they make it three days or so?”
“No o. It’s not that easy. I will try and make them to do it in one week”.
“Alright, thanks man. I appreciate this. Let me rush back to work.”
“Wait, there is one more thing. About that ID card that came in with her body and her stuff for fingerprints….”
“Nothing dey there, abi you know person wey they use that kain card?”, olaore cuts in.
“Yes, actually. One yeye assistant the hospital just hired for me said he saw that kind of card at one syrup night club on one of the waitresses. Just a funny fruity name and passport photograph”
“I need to meet that your assistant now!”, Olaore shouted, excitement coursing through his body.
“He’s no longer on duty o. He left like twenty minutes before you got here”
“Shit, give me his number. I need to meet with him urgently”

Hi everyone. I’ve been reading too much about serial killers, so I decided to write a story about one…. Please, drop your comments and tell me what you think. Thank you very much.

Long legs made for top runways and elite magazines did a lazy catwalk on the metal bench making sure her moderately big behind bounced at every move. Smooth hands with nails painted blood red went to her bra and removed it seductively, setting round, firm mounds free for everyone in the room to see. Loud cheers rented the air and she smooched her breasts and bent low; jutting her ass out. It was a perfect act that had men slipping naira notes and cheques into her pant while some sprayed the money all over her. To show her appreciation, she loosened the tiny ribbons that held her thongs together and her pant fell on the stage. She turned her back to the crowd and shook her ass like an expert. More money was sprayed on her and some of the men slapped her behind. She did not mind, all that mattered to her was the money they were spraying on her. It was the rule of the club that whatever money the girls made on the stage belonged to them. It was their choice also tro strip fully for the men and they also decide if they wanted to sleep with men for extra cash. She did a bit of pole-dancing and ass clapping that made the crowd crazy. Crazy meant more money and more money equals freedom to start a better and respectable life. When the music stopped, she picked up her lingerie and did a lazy catwalk to the backstage. People clapped as she left, screaming for her to come back to the stage.

Disgust was etched on his face and if everyone had not been so lost in the performance of the naked girl, some would have noticed it. They were all shameless. Pot bellied men shouting and throwing money at a girl whose dignity had been robbed by the love of money. Girls like that were not supposed to be alive. They were the reason grown men leave the comfort of their homes almost every night to find bizarre amusement in dancing naked girls who would do anything for money. He took a gulp from his bottled water to calm himself down. He was not a fan of alcohol. Alcohol distort his way of thinking and he liked to think straight all the time, especially tonight. There was an assignment he needed to carry out for humanity and his head had to be clear. He got up from his seat and moved to a room that had “MANAGER” written on it. He knocked and waited for a response. After what seemed like forever, a woman opened the door for him. To his amazement, the woman had on a gown that reached her toes and a pashmina around her shoulders. Her hair was packed in a tight bun and her was void of make-up. As if she could guess what the man was thinking, she said: “I know I don’t look like a typical strip club’s manager. Things we do to make ends meet.” He just nodded and followed the woman into her office.
As a man working with time, he told the woman why he was there.
“I need that girl that just left the stage. I will pay any amount to have her”.
The manager smiled. She was used to men coming into her office paying heavily just to sleep with a stripper. She had never tried to question the way their customers spend, it was not her place to.
“Ruby; that’s her name. There is a standard price. 50,000 naira to the club and 100,000 to the girl.”
“Done, call her in. Do you have rooms here or you don’t mind if I take her to my place?”
“We have rooms here. If she wants to follow you, that’s her choice.”
“Call her in, so we can sort this out then”
The manager watched the man count money while she called ruby on the intercom. The man was too willing to drop the money. Well, she had learnt in her business that horny men were not thinking men. Some minutes later, Ruby came and the business was concluded. Ruby liked the man and the fact that he was not stingy with cash, so she agreed to follow him home. Maybe, he would be generous if she went home with him.

He drove with one hand and touched the cross pendant on the chain round his neck. He mumbled silent prayers for the forgiveness of the soul sitting next to him. The very soul that reminded him of his own mother. A woman who had sold herself to men who did not care about her bulging stomach. A woman who did not have a care in the world for anybody. She slept around and left him to fend for himself. He had done the baby in the protruding belly a favour by taking the live of the mother and since then, he had vowed to do the world a favour by getting rid of those cheap whores. That was when he was just 17 and powerless. Now that he had the power, he was going to fulfil his vow with nature. Ruby lit a cigarette and smoked without a care in the world. She would flash a sultry smile and wink at him now and then but he was not even moved. He was angry instead and eager to get his assignment over with.

1 DAY LATER in a national newspaper
A lady found was found today near a canal dead. She was found naked with no sign of scar on her body. Alongside a handbag stuffed with clothes, under wears and an I.D card with the name RUBY 08 on it, a skin-like mask and a note was found near her body. The note read thus: ONE LESS, MORE TO GO and is signed “The Shadow”. What this means, no one knows. Investigations are already going on and people in the area are being questioned about any strange movement around the canal. We hope that very soon, the culprit will be found and punished for the innocent life taken.

The detective looked at the newspaper on his desk and shook his head. The case had been assigned to him specially by the IG and he was not prepared for it, not after the last one that almost cost him his life. It was already making his head ache thinking about he would go about his new assignment. He drank his now cold coffee in one as he played with the cross pendant resting on his chest, searching his mind for solution. He knew that was just the beginning.