ShortStory II Could it be Real?

by Fred Nwaozor

Wonders, they say, shall never end. The least he foresaw. The bashful Nneka just bashed into his matrimonial room. “Could she be drunk?” he thought while sceptically and astonishly glancing at the pale-looking beautifully created creature that was clad in a white nightgown as she stood at the room entrance leaning on the closed metal door.

Emeka who was lying in his bed in his boxers couldn’t fathom his view. It was unarguably just like a dream. But could he be dreaming while his eyes were widely and enthusiastically open? “Nneka,” he managed to exclaim. “What are you doing in my room at this time of the night?” It was about 11:08pm. “I was feeling lonely,” she shyly responded. “I am sorry.” Nneka was Emeka’s sister-in-law, precisely the immediate younger sibling to his newly wedded wife, Adaku. The couple tied the knot barely a few months back, and Nneka who was awaiting a call-up letter from the National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) having successfully rounded off her degree course some weeks back, had been asked by the new couple upon request to join them in the city of Port-Harcourt, Rivers State while she await her NYSC. She just arrived their home three days back. Right from when the couple was still courting, Nneka had been attracted to Emeka without his knowledge nor his fiancée’s. Each time he visited their home in the absence of every other person including their parents, she would employ every tactics to prolong his stay even when he was very anxious to take his leave, unknowingly to him that she was up to something. Even on the day the couple tied the nuptial knots in which she was the chief bridesmaid, she felt as if she was the one getting married to him. The fantasies, euphoria as well as the not unusual sensational thoughts peculiar to such epoch-making moment were being nurtured by her person.

On that very night when she appeared at the couple’s matrimonial room unannounced or like a ghost, Adaku – a practising gynaecologist who was engaged with one of the government general hospitals in the city, had been called earlier at the night at about 8pm via telephone to report at the hospital for an emergency and she complied as usual, not knowing her darling hubby was a targeted prey. “You were lonely…?” Emeka verified, still lying in his bed. The fair, slim, and about 5.1-foot tall Nneka nodded calmly. Her sparingly transparent night dress was showcasing her nude boobs coupled with her white panties, thereby making her seemed irresistible. “Was that why you couldn’t even knock at the door?” He queried, though in a friendly tone; kept his head upright with the support of his left arm. “I am very sorry, sir.” She said, gushed out tears and attempted to leave the room having kept the door open.

Emeka was moved by the deceptive tears. “Hold on, hold on.” He urged, stood up from the bed. She stood still, held the partially opened door with her right hand. “Come.” He enjoined passionately, sitting on the bed. She quickly closed the door and walked pitiably to him with tears in her face. “Sit down.” He requested soberly. She complied. He asked her to wipe out her tears and she heeded the advice. They were seated on the bed about two centimetres apart from each other. “What’s wrong with you,” Emeka inquired. “Is there anything you are not telling me?” The 24-year-old Nneka quickly looked into his eyes romantically. “I fell in love with you the very first day I set my eyes on you.” She disclosed vocally. The 37-year-old Emeka who became dumbfounded and depressed, frowned at her, stood up. There was a moment of silence “Are you out of your mind?” He ranted. “Are you insane?” She stood up and joined him, holding his waist with her arms while facing him. Her booms were stylishly touching his bare chest. “I am so sorry,” she dished out. “Just that I couldn’t hide my feelings anymore.”

The chocolate, plump and about 5.4-foot tall young man couldn’t resist the unpredicted tender touch and lyrics; she was already all over him. Every dick and harry in him was feeling the unimagined warmth sensation, and of course his ancient driller was therein seemingly on her going by its renewed posture. It seemed her sinister motive had been actualized. Apparently, there was no need for a prolonged preliminary since every needed instrument was within their reach. In view of this fact, in less than ten minutes time, the deed had been done. Immediately after the unscheduled tango, they concurrently but coincidently took a glance at the clock hung on the wall – it was 11:45pm. Adaku had called to inform them the moment she got to the hospital that she may be back at the midnight. Could it be real? Did it really happen? Those were the thoughts expected to be running through Emeka’s medulla oblongata as he lay in his bed watched Nneka depart for her alleged lonely room. On the other hand, who knows, would she feel lonely again as she earlier claimed, or had the loneliness been quenched by Emeka’s rugged trustworthy driller? Any good observer who was privileged to observe the melodrama wouldn’t hesitate to ponder over this required inquiry. Who on earth could presume that Nneka, the renowned mouse-like and sanctimonious girl would attempt to seduce a bachelor let alone her brother-in-law. Anyone who knew her very well could swear that she was still a virgin. As the saying often goes, ‘the known devil is better than the unknown angel’. That was the most suitable clause for Nneka’s case. Four weeks on, Nneka who was really obsessed with Emeka, deliberately conceived for him while Adaku was yet to be impregnated. She disclosed the latest development to the father of the unborn baby who frowned at her and consequently persuaded her to get rid of the pregnancy but she refused. Emeka’s wife, Adaku who never knew that wonders were happening under her nose or imagined any antics, was totally kept in the dark until the said pregnancy became conspicuous in two months’ time. When confronted, her kid sister disclosed to her unequivocally that her husband was the owner of the unborn child. The disclosure was tendered when her affluent husband was away to Dubai, United Arab Emirates, for one of his numerous business trips. Adaku who couldn’t wait to have her hubby’s presence to confront him with the accusation, felt like an electrocuted creature within the two days and nights that ushered in his return. Upon arrival, the awaited Emeka was issued the query. Surprisingly, contrary to his poor wife’s expectation, he never refuted the allegation, though it was admitted with the aid of an apologetic utterance. Adaku died shortly afterwards owing to the poison she took. She couldn’t bear the awful reality of the news relating to incest.

ShortStory II Unseen Palace Queen

By Fred Nwaozor

The fascinating story of the duo commenced jokily but eventually metamorphosed into a serious movie.

They – Bethel and Martha – were seemingly less busy at the time being fresh graduates of university and secondary citadel, respectively. It suffices to assert that they ostensibly had all the time in the world to create a beautiful world of their own and choice. The conspicuous free moment was perhaps the driving force.

It all began on a Monday, precisely 10th December 2012, as they were separately as usual catching fun on the then most famous social media platform popularly known as ToGo. It was a memorable fateful day, to assert the least.

“Hi pretty!” the dude greeted in grand style.
It was about 8:25 pm, hence the best moment to engage a total stranger in a rigorous chat. Theirs wouldn’t be an exception.

“Hello handsome!” responded the damsel after a reasonable suspense.
The girl was unarguably pretty to the best of his knowledge, having painstakingly considered the appearance of her gorgeously displayed profile picture.

“Good to have you here.” He tendered in a jiffy. “You are indeed a very beautiful creature.” He hurriedly applauded.

“Thanks.” She wrote. “I appreciate.”

From her response thus far, he needn’t be told she was the jovial and lively type.

“You are welcome, dearie.”

The chatting was apparently progressive as could be boldly observed by anyone within the scene.

“This is Bethel.” He introduced graciously.

“Martha.” She succinctly supplemented.

The online conversation, in the long run, disclosed countless unknown identities to each participant, such – but not limited to – as Facebook account names, phone numbers, as well as participants’ localities and social cum academic statuses.

The first interaction lasted for hours before they called it a quit. This was so unusual among online pals. The duration of the unexpected chat seemed as if the duo had before then known each other for ages. A lot was really deliberated on their first encounter.

The chap gallantly went to bed, felt fulfilled, after the long chat. That ought to probably be the feeling of the damsel, who thanked the guy for his companionship prior to their departure from the platform.

Martha, 18 and hails from Agulu in Aniocha Local Government Area (LGA) of Anambra State but lived in Nkpor within Onitsha with her lovely family, was a fresh school leaver who had a strong dream – thus was deeply in need of a company that would spur her to go for the best. Bethel of Imo State was apparently a suitable match to this noble aspiration.

The friendship, online though, was getting every attention it required as the duo would be invariably busy on a daily basis discussing not just trivial issues but serious ones. This smoothly progressed to an extent that some of their respective siblings were informed of the union, even though they were yet to meet.

The both parties involved enjoyed the togetherness as they could testify to the good moments emanating from the unending electronic conversations.

The remarkable experience continued unabated till further notice. Subsequently, the chatting transcended to Facebook and became more lively and scintillating to the delight of the duo.

The frequent discussions revealed she was chocolate skin-coloured, slim and tall, whilst he was average, chocolate and equally slim. They were pleased with the descriptions, hence stuck passionately to each other.

He wasn’t just a friend, but equally a brother and counsellor as she was bold and proud enough to testify the unalloyed benefits being derived from the seeming divine friendship.

On his part, the feelings weren’t different. She wasn’t just a pal but endlessly seen as a heart-mender and soul-mate despite the distance, that, he couldn’t spend a whole day without hearing from – or reaching out to – her.

Martha whose native name was given to be Nkiru, was no doubt absorbed by Bethel as a palace queen who couldn’t be spotted anywhere around the royal dynasty. Days, weeks and months passed, yet the awaited physical presence of her majesty was not felt by the naturally-crowned young king.

The aforementioned bitter experience was the painful and ugly side of the splendid story. In spite of the unbearable pains, he waited patiently, yet to no avail. The excruciating effect of the ordeal was so severe and untold.

It’s noteworthy that she equally wished and longed to meet with him, but unfortunately couldn’t at the time possess the needed power and immunity to make out time for the foreseen meeting.

Sadly enough, months down the line, they lost contact unannounced owing to unexplained circumstances, perhaps resulting from change of contacts and what have you. This further resulted in a monstrous situation.

He was thereafter merely consoled by the pleasant look of the softcopy of her photographs, which were in his possession. Pathetically, that rather constituted more harm than good.

Amid the anguish and nightmares, he only sought consolation from the Creator who he thought had the needed powers to bring the unseen queen back. But still, ‘Angel’ – as he fondly called her – was nowhere to be found despite the frantic efforts made.

“Could it be real?” the dude soliloquized at one lonely night while deeply filled with nostalgia as he lay moodily in his sad bed. “When will this end?” he added soberly.

As days rolled by, all he could imagine was when he would once again come across her, but all the lofty daydreams couldn’t materialize into realities. The futile nature of the anticipation brought another devastating moment in his precious life.

As God would have it, two years later – 2014 to be precise, he reconnected with her via the social media after which it was cemented through phone calls.

This time, she was an undergraduate, studying Mass Communication in the revered Nnamdi Azikiwe University (NAU) and already in the second year of the degree programme.

It was like dream-come-true, though the reunion never yielded a physical meeting between the duo contrary to their wishes and prayers, particularly that of the dude.

“Could it be their fate?” a keen observer might ask.
Nevertheless, the chap remained resolute and resilient, perhaps due to his scientific experience. It has been on record that engineers, or scientists generally, have a unique way of doggedly pursuing something even when the scenario seems so challenging. He had been a graduate of Electrical Engineering from the prestigious Ahmadu Bello University (ABU, Zaria in Kaduna State. Thus, he refused to see it as a mirage.

Oh, they lost contact again after some months. Afterwards, all his moves to find her proved abortive. She couldn’t be located on any social media and all her phone numbers remained unreachable or unavailable.

He saw hell as this very moment lingered, and remained helpless and unsure of what the next second entailed. Yet, there was obviously a burning desire to reunite with that same lady who had thus far caused him sleepless nights.

“I must see to the end of this endless journey.” exclaimed the lover boy, in one of his usual lonely moods. “I will never give up.”

The rest is history, please!


FDN Nwaozor
-Novelist, Playwright & Poet-
_________________
frednwaozor@gmail.com
Twitter: @mediambassador

N.B: This short story was scripted on 10/12/2016

A Tale Of Johnbull

By Godwin Babatunde



Nothing was attractive anymore about my dress code. I had just one old generation red tie, a pair of black shoes with a dead sole, a white short-sleeve shirt with worn-out neck because of too much washing, and a pair of black trousers I borrowed from a friend.
I left the home hurriedly, looking old fashioned like a primitive headmaster.

‘O God please, help me because I am tired of searching…’, I prayed as I reached Bimco PLC, a first class company in the Insurance industry.

My first appearance gave the Human Resources Manager (HRM) a wrong impression of me. I became a victim of my own profession. A popular maxim I used to know flew to my mind. It says, “Beauty is greater recommendation than any letter of introduction”. I was really ugly in appearance.

‘Bad dressing! Very bad appearance!! Don’t you think you are an anagram of confusion and a compendium of several misalignment of corporate procedure?’ the HRM remarked sharply, as I stood before him.

I just kept calm like the biblical Lazarus that returned from the spirits. Fear started raising false alarm in my mind. My conscience started accusing me. I developed cold feet while my head was hot.
Nevertheless, that was a battle I must win since I needed the job desperately.

‘A dying lion must fight to the last’, I encouraged myself.
I stared at the man, pot-bellied and mustached, sitting before me.
‘Isn’t this man a Nigerian?’ I asked musingly and rhetorically.

There, I stood before a man, an opportunist, I guessed, reading sluggishly the CV of a Sociologist.

It was clear that I had Second Class (upper division) far and better than Mr. Alagbor, who got a Third Class grade in Political Science, yet, he got the position of the Administrative Manager in Bimco PLC.

Such is the character of a society that negates the principles of merit and competence - the wise stood aloof and watched the fool rule.

I started accusing the society of playing the game of ‘man-know-man’.
But, whom did I know at Bimco except Alagbor, who made partial introduction at the gate, that I was his childhood friend. So what?

I began ruminating again within seconds, like a goat chewing the cud in the midst of greener pastures; I saw the state failed woefully. Mediocre developed wings to fly while merit was dragged to helpless quagmire.

I saw shadows that resembled hungry, angry, and jobless teeming youths reached alarming proportion. They roamed the streets aimlessly, like stray puppies, until they got the job of thuggery or prostitution, as the case may be. Whilst, others played the game of drug addiction in frustration.

The shadows bade me bye and left. Sooner or later, I realized I was in a trance.

Babatunde wrote in from Lagos via
pauldegreat@yahoo.com

ShortStory I Monster Personified

By Fred Nwaozor
 

    Opining that cultism is a dreaded and deadly confraternity, which remains a posteriori reasoning to any sane being, was unarguably a laughable assertion to each member of the ‘Scorpion tattoo’ whose actions or decisions remained a nightmare across the lengths and breadth of Ajala University of Technology situated in one of the states in the South-South geopolitical zone of Nigeria.

       The overall members of Scorpion tattoo, which was the most terrifying secret society on the campus, could not hold their breaths until ‘justice’ was tendered with cruelty to anyone whom they felt deserved it. Their unequalled weird and irrational prowess proceeded unabated that most prospective students of the university were repeatedly deterred from enrolling for the institution during Unified Tertiary Matriculation Examinations (UTME).

      “Butcher them all!” the Capone would always exclaim each time he sent his men to the battle field.

       On their part, his subjects comprising 23 able-bodied dudes wouldn’t hesitate to gladly and emphatically respond “their heads remain our meat” whenever the aforementioned instruction came up.

       Any rational creature who happened to be close-by each time they chant in such uncanny and bilious manner may wonder if one’s head could actually serve as meat, though something that was invariably chanted in a bush – if not thick forest – might not be possibly heard by a second party or passerby.

       Scorpion tattoo was the order of the day not just within the said zone but across the country as well as a nightmare to any genuine and dedicated security personnel resident in the area. Unravelling the brain behind the seeming unstoppable nefarious syndicate causing wanton destruction of lives and property was indeed a case study to any meaningful stakeholder both within and beyond.

        It’s worth noting that the federal government declared a one-week state of emergency in the affected state when the incidence became colossally unbearable. This gesture was necessitated by two identical female twins who happened to be students of the university that were murdered on the campus in broad daylight by stray bullets during a duel between the Scorpion tattoo and its closest rival – the ‘Red legend’. The parents of the deceased persons who were influential personalities in the society had compelled the federal government to delve into the unfortunate matter with a view to ensuring that justice prevailed.

       “I want you to ascertain whosoever that is behind this mess.” The Inspector General of Police (IGP) instructed the Commissioner of Police (CP) of the affected state on a telephone conversation during the era of the state of emergency.

       “Sir,” the CP voiced out. “I promise you that I will leave no stone unturned towards capturing the bloody fool within five days.”

       “Did I hear you say five days?”

       “Sorry sir,” the CP said apologetically. “I meant three days.” He assured sceptically.

       “Sorry for yourself,” the IGP roared. “I want the culprit in my office within 72 hours.” He added frantically.

       “Yes sir!”

       “Did I make myself clear?”

       “Yes sir!” the CP reiterated.

         Definitely, the die had been cast. No doubt, the clique was in deep trouble. It was only an imbecile that would not comprehend that going by the IGP’s order, his person was boiling immensely and the CP needed not to be told that 72 hours actually meant three days, and nothing more.

        How would the police loosen this vertex of poignancy? Where and whom were they meant to go to? The paramount consignment was to discover the idiot fueling the movement of the scorpion tattoo.

        Since it was obvious that ‘no smoke without fire’, every security expert understood that for a clique to operate fiercely and fearlessly, there must be a ghost in their midst. And undoubtedly, the case of Scorpion tattoo wasn’t exceptional.

        Thereafter, having charged and challenged his men to step up their actions, the state CP, Mr. Sule Ibrahim came up with a more viable strategy. A tight round-the-clock surveillance was set in the entire state and its environs.

       The most worrisome and intriguing point was that students weren’t mainly the prey of the syndicate. Lecturers were not left out; and most importantly, they were the prime target.

        It wasn’t that the police hadn’t been trying, or proactive, towards capturing the vandals but each time they came up with a unique strategy, the university’s Vice-Chancellor (VC), Prof P.O. Akpan would calm the team down by convincing them that the school management had concluded a different internal mechanism through which the cult would be subdued, all to no avail.

       To be continued, please.

Nwaozor, novelist, poet & playwright, 

could be reached via frednwaozor@gmail.com

+2348028608056, Twitter: @mediambassador

                    

ShortStory II Such A Mess

 

  By Fred Doc Nwaozor    

         “Hello handsome!” Lady Bolanle greeted.

         The salutation was dished out as she walked closer to the supposed recipient having caught sight of him in the distance in one of the most famous supermarkets in Yaba, Lagos State, Nigeria.

        Bolanle, a single mother at 45 whose only child begotten out of wedlock was ten years old, was no doubt a prosperous importer who specialized in all kinds of gold jewellery. Owing to her ego, she had vowed never to settle down with any man or to be under any mortal in the name of matrimony; to her, marriage was a forsaken union. Towards quenching her libido, she went for any young man whom she chose or whomsoever she found suitable for her classy person.

        “Hi!” the supposed recipient, Akeem responded, still concentrating on the wares showcased in the shelves.

         Going by the tone of her abrupt greeting, he needed not a seer to interpret what she was up to.

         Akeem a bachelor at 30 though deeply engaged, was a graduate of Human Physiology from the Lagos State University (LASU), Iyana-Oba, Lagos State who was yet to secure a promising job.

        “Sorry for bashing into you.” Bolanle tendered.

        “Noted,” Akeem said, looked at her. “What can I do for you?” He added unfriendly though seemed charmed by her elegant look.

         Balanle who had her handbag in her left hand was indeed both in nature and appearance a very attractive lady that had all it takes to win the attention of any man regardless of what he was made up of. She was fair, huge and about 1.75-metre tall. She put on a multi-coloured dress, grey balanced-heeled sandals, low-cut hairs and sunshade spectacles coupled with designer perfume and various gold jewellery ranging from earrings to necklace, wristwatch and what have you; everything on her was golden in appearance as it could be testified by even a visually impaired being.

        On his part, Akeem, clad in black jean trousers, light-green shirt, black trainers spotted with red colour and a red cum black baseball cap, was about 1.70-metre tall, chocolate and plump. Although financially less-privileged, he was actually looking resplendent and buoyant in his dress.

        Bolanle, who leaned on one of the shelves, stylishly removed her specs. “Don’t you think you are being harsh?” she queried cheerfully. “Common.., be a gentleman.” He urged submissively, smiling.

        This time, they were facing each other and closer too. Both of them were carrying their trolleys in their right hands.

       “Sorry if that was harsh.”

       “It’s okay,” she said. “Well, I am Bolanle.., but you can call me Bola.”

      “Alright,” he replied. “I am Akeem.”

      “Let me not waste your time,” she hinted, dipped her right hand into her handbag. “This is my card.” She added handing over her complimentary card to him.

      “What for?” He queried, ignoring the offer.

      “Please take it,” she enjoined. “Call me anytime, we need to talk.”

        He reluctantly collected the document and glanced at it stylishly.

        She smiled over the compliance.

       “I still don’t understand,” said Akeem. “What are we to talk about?”

      “Till you call, Mr…” She said, seemed to had forgotten his name.

      “Akeem.” He reminded.

       She nodded. “Mr Akeem, please try and call me, okay?” she reiterated, looked into his eyes passionately. “You would be glad you did.”

       “I will try.” He replied, looked away and continued with his shopping.

       “Cute man indeed.” She thought pleasantly, looked at him for the last time and left the arena for where she was, felt fulfilled.

        On Friday, 22^nd March 2002 being exactly three days cum three nights after the incident, having employed reasonable delay and tactics, Akeem made up his mind to put a call across to Bolanle with the opinion that the lady might be of help to his future since he was still job-hunting; a call that instantly transformed his status from a weary to a magnificent one just like a magic.

        During the phone call, they scheduled for a meeting at her office. Consequently, she succeeded in luring him into her net. Akeem concurred with her proposal to go on a date with him having disclosed to her that he had a fiancée. Keeping a ‘sugar mummy’ in his life was one of the ‘evil’ experiences he never dreamt of, little did he know that he would someday fell prey to such a mess.

        Afterwards, the moment the romantic affair commenced, Akeem was provided with everything a man of his age needed as he was promised. He could boast of a car, expensive wears and a befitting house in Benin, Edo State where he chose to relocate to.

         Prior to this time, he had lied to his pretty fiancée Bukola who was also resident in Lagos State that he secured a job in Benin with an oil servicing firm. The lie became consequential because he needed to distance himself from her in order to avoid any iota of suspicion that might arise in the future.

         Bolanle was very comfortable with the arrangement. She was frequenting Benin whenever she wanted to meet him, or she would send for him directly to a hotel suite in any locality in Lagos – apparently the choice was hers.

         The ugly scenario proceeded for over six months till one fateful day when Akeem thought it wise to lead Bukola down the aisle. Hence, he disclosed the intention to Bolanle who rejected it emphatically and threatened to make his precious life miserable if he dare went ahead with the plan. The unpredicted altercation dawned the awful truth on his person.

         He was so myopic to be preoccupied with the notion that whenever he disclosed to her the intention of settling down, she would hastily hug, cuddle him and therein lick his toes since he told her from the onset that he was seriously engaged.

         Though at the beginning, she agreed to allow him get married with his fiancée whenever he chose to, but just like the saying goes ‘it’s easier said than done’. No sane woman would be glad to watch her man walk out of her life let alone when the woman in question had spent a fortune on him.

        The depressed and flabbergasted Akeem who felt suppressed, later wore a bold skin, hence decided to give her warnings a deaf ear. Thus, he went ahead with his plan to settle down with Bukola having estranged from Bolanle. In view of this, he sold his duplex in Benin and relocated to Asaba, Delta State having told his wife-to-be that he got a transfer.

        Bolanle seemed to had been spying on Akeem right from when their estrangement set in contrary to Akeem’s presumption that there was no way she could trace him; needless to state that she was smarter than him.

         Two weeks on, Saturday 14^th December 2002 specifically, Akeem who hailed from Ogun State headed for Oyo State to pay Bukola’s bride price. On his way to the epoch-making ceremony in the company of his friends and relatives including his parents, the beautifully groomed bridegroom who wore a traditional tartan kilt was brutally murdered in cold blood along Lagos-Ibadan expressway. The assassins comprising three huge men whom had stopped the deceased’s motorcade for a brief scrutiny disguised themselves as policemen.          

         It was a very hard blow to his parents alongside the bride who got the news in a jiffy.

Nwaozor, a playwright, novelist & poet, could

be reached via frednwaozor@gmail.com

Twitter: @mediambassador

                

ShortStory I Unknown Angel

UNKNOWN ANGEL

       By Fred Nwaozor

        It was unarguably a groovy outing and a night of bacchanalian revelry. The dance floor was abruptly turned into something else. Obviously, everyone within the hotel hall was extremely excited and motivated owing to the availability of edible varieties which included assorted wines, snacks, meals, and what have you, coupled with the exotic hip-hop jams being played by the Disc Jockey.

        Different groups comprising males and females were variously seriously dancing with bottles of wine in their hands at strategic locations in the magnificent hall. It was undoubtedly a high-quality variety disco night made up of classic men and ladies in psychedelic wears and moods that even the blind could see for themselves.

        On his part, the celebrant, Chibuike – a high class bachelor – who was gladly catching his fun with his friends and kin was marking his 36^th birthday as usual. Being a promiscuous dude, he was dancing with the lady he had chosen to spend the remarkable day with, at one of the corners in the hall. The epoch-making event was taking place at one of the classic hotels situated in the city of Owerri the capital territory of Imo State, Nigeria where Chibuike and most of the invitees were resident in.

        “So,” Chima who was seemingly tipsy said. “Who invited you to the show?”

          The said dude, an old time friend of Chibuike, was one of the highly respected invitees in the occasion. He was ardently catching his fun with one of the female invitees, Ogechi. Both of them whom were apparently drunk were passionately dancing to the tune of the unending music with bottles of red wine in their hands likewise others present at the arena. The most intriguing and unfortunate aspect of it was that Chima who was a prosperous banker residing in Owerri quit bachelorhood barely few weeks back and had successfully wedded in the church.

         More interestingly, he rounded off his 4-week honeymoon with his lovely wife the previous day. Needless to say that his lifestyle wasn’t unlike that of the event host, Chibuike who was yet to settle down in spite of the overflowing wealth he was making in his importation business. To say the least, Chima, 35, managed to tie the knot due to the persistent importunate behaviour he received from his parents whom were also based in Owerri. As the saying goes, ‘birds of a feather flock together’. He had lied to his newly-wedded wife, Nnenna that he was sent by his employer to Lagos State on an errand, which according  to him would last for two days.

        “Nkiru,” Ogechi responded, referring to who invited her to the event. “Chibuike’s babe.” She added.

        Nkiru was the lady who was rocking the night with the celebrant. The celebrant as well as the host had earlier urged her (Nkiru) to endeavour to attend the party with most of her friends, and Ogechi happened to be one of the lucky ones who accompanied her.

        Ogechi, a so-called final year student on one of the campuses in the state was clad in a tight and sparingly transparent blue mini-skirt, sleeveless and sexy pink top that was partially displaying her white bra and black high-heeled shoes. Her crazy dress was obviously showcasing her large boobs as well as shocking hip and butt. She was chocolate, plump and about five-foot tall. Whilst, Chima a light-skinned, about 5.4 feet tall and slim dude was putting on black jean trousers, blue T-shirt, white trainers and a white baseball cap.

       “I must confess,” Chima rode on. “You are really looking hot.” He applauded.

      “Really..?”

      “Sure.”

      “Thank you.” She appreciated cheerfully. Stylishly straight out her left hand to his head and changed the position of his cap so that its bill would face his back rather than his front; this was to enable her see his supposed handsome face elaborately.

        At this time, Chima’s cucumber had aroused that he almost ejaculated in his boxers that was already feeling the unavoidable intense heat and vibration.

        Ogechi being a naughty lady observed the abrupt change of mood written all over him as she expected, and then smiled.     

        “Why the smile?” He enquired, still dancing enthusiastically.

        “Nothing,” she replied. “Just admiring your dance style.”

        “Really?”

        “Yea.”

         In a few seconds, they dropped the bottles of wine in their respective hands on the dance floor and within a twinkle of an eye, they found themselves in one of the hotel rooms that was made available for him (Chima) by the host. Before you could know it, both parties whom were already on the bed became starkly in the nude.

         Chima’s attempt to grab the packet of condom, which he kept in one of the front pockets on his trousers that was already lying on the tiled floor, was aborted by Ogechi who pleaded with him to tango with her without any protective device stating that she enjoyed it when it was ‘skin to skin’.

        Chima whose sensation was obviously getting out of hand took heed of the plea and blindly headed for the long awaited marathon race, which ushered him into a different world both therein and thereafter.

        Fifteen minutes later, they became saturated. Chima who was lying helplessly in the bed appeared like one who just finished ascending mountain Kilimanjaro.

        So pathetic; she had just deliberately infected him with Human Immunodefiency Virus (HIV). Funnily enough, Ogechi was actually HIV positive. Since three months back she confirmed she was living with the virus after several diagnoses conducted in various medical laboratories, she had vowed to infect as many men as possible with the deadly disease, and Chima happened to be her fifth victim.

        The following day being Thursday June 16, 2011 at 6:20 in the evening, Chima who was a HIV carrier, albeit ignorantly, arrived his matrimonial home that was at the moment made up of only him and his darling spouse, Nnenna who couldn’t wait for his arrival.

        Ironically, Nnenna – a very pretty looking and brilliant damsel at 24 who just graduated from the Federal University of Technology Owerri (FUTO) – got married to Chima as a virgin. Before she walked down the aisle with the unknown angel whom she ran into barely few months back when she went to deposit money in the bank where he worked, she vowed that she would never be defiled by any man out of wedlock; and as God would have it, she passionately and firmly stuck to her faith until after her wedding day unknowingly to her that the vigorous labour would end up in vain.

        Two months later, Nnenna took in; an awaited moment that brought a totally different phase in their matrimony. Based on the tradition or the routine attached to ante-natal period, in her fourth week of pregnancy, she was diagnosed of all kinds of illnesses and infections with a view to ascertaining her overall health status and capacity and unfortunately and shockingly, she tested positive to HIV.

       Afterwards, she wasn’t told of the unimaginable discovery; rather, the doctor requested for her husband’s presence so he could break the news to him. On the contrary, she thought the invitation was to sensitize her husband on how he was meant to take care of her.

       When Chima arrived at the hospital, he was enjoined by the doctor to check his HIV status and he complied, though after series of interrogations and enquiries from him (Chima) which were diplomatically attended to by the doctor. Consequently, it was learnt that he was also living with the virus. All these were happening in his wife’s absence.

        The doctor used the opportunity to disclose to him that his wife was as well positive. He made him understand that that was what prompted the sudden invitation.

        Chima who was devastated and dumbfounded over the incident needed not an interpreter to inform him that the unforeseen and unthinkable medical results were as a result of his uncontrollable randy nature, thus he felt like hanging himself. What pained his person most was that he had deceived an innocent woman whom could be best described as a god-sent.

        Thereafter when he got home, he broke the breaking news to his poor wife who fainted the moment she fully absorbed it. Consequently, she suffered from miscarriage.

        Notwithstanding, it would interest you to note that currently the couple in question is living happily and healthily with the infection. Chima has completely turned a new leaf. The marriage is at the moment blessed with three kids – a male and two females – and none of the children contracted the virus. 

  

frednwaozor@gmail.com

Twitter: @mediambassador