DEAR AGNES

Dear Agnes, how are you? How is your new family? I could only hope things are shaping up.

Please, don’t be annoyed that I had to write you this late. You see, I couldn’t attend your wedding because of circumstances I couldn’t control. But I am glad you are now okay, I mean, now that you are married.

Nevertheless, I still wondered why you had to get married, after deciding to be single, just a few years back. Could it have been that your incessant church going and marathon night vigils were targeted at getting a soul mate? You said you will be single forever, you said single is happy.

Though, I knew you started that cliché out of frustration, one you will never admit. I knew you cried inside whenever you are alone, but shows your shining teeth to the world whenever you are outside. You almost ill-advised our other friend, Janet, remember? She almost destroyed her marriage when you told her it was wrong for her to submit to her husband. The word, ‘submit’, you gave a horrific meaning that Janet almost believed you. You drew instances from horrific occurrences and asked Janet to divorce before it was too late. I told you that that was unnecessary, the first few years of marriage are always the hardest; especially in a situation like Janet’s where they only courted for three months before rushing into marriage. I’m glad she didn’t listen; she now has had her third child, with a blissful marriage.

Dear Agnes,

my good friend, I hope you learnt some lessons? Especially, one that you will be able to pass on to your female children (assuming your womb has not become too weak to hold a baby just like our fourth friend, Binta, whose incessant miscarriages were due to her many abortions).

For a first, tell her that time waits for nobody: remember, those times when we were 17, we were eager to have boyfriends. It was fun, and I could still recollect the scent of James, that guy you always said had nothing to offer. You chose the best and flow with the rest. Like I said, it was fun.

Fast forward to when we were 23 while moving to the university, my mom advised us to focus on our education and choose our friends carefully. Of course, we did. You chose Binta, and I chose Janet.

Without choice, we all became friends. Binta, a lousy short devil, took you around the world, going to clubs and night parties while Janet and I stayed behind burning the candles. You rejected offers for relationships from your mates and followed those who will pay. You lived large, you and Binta. The memories of watching that JVC 72 inches LCD TV (the only one in the whole hostel), in your room, still lingers. You were the bomb! The only males who were our mates that you will ever roll with were the ones who had the cash to spare. They must be rich because you were rich, the one people call the Big Girls.

Suddenly, without announcement, we were 28 in ages, and while I was able to keep a relationship after four fails, Janet was able to get John, the one she met and married some few years after her service year. 

I could recollect your gist back then, you and Binta were posted to the same state for your youth service, and you said you lived the life. Both of you were the talk of the town.

By the time you wanted to settle down, your mates no longer wanted you, you looked too old. The younger ones only wanted your money. You were being dated and jilted. The old men only wanted to go between your legs. Of course, they were ready to splash the cash, but it seemed you guys were no more interested in the act. You wanted to be serious, but it appeared too late.

Then, without effort, I heard you didn’t miss a program in the church. That was surprising, and Binta was frequenting the mosque. She even wore a hijab! I thanked the Lord for your soul. But I knew it wasn’t for free, you must want something very bad, something that should have proven hard to achieve.

After some years, at 36 years of age, I learned that Binta got married to a guy of 23 years old! Ha, I couldn’t believe my ears. I learnt the guy was a serving corps member in the company that Binta was working, and they got real close.

Binta? I couldn’t believe my ears when she said ‘age is just a number, it doesn’t matter in love’. Binta said that? That was shocking and funny, because during our university days, a younger guy wouldn’t dare approach her. If he did, he must be ready to listen to the tale of his birth and how she could have attended his naming ceremony!

Hmmm, it is well. Age, which was always one of the main factors back then, suddenly refused to be a problem again! Chai!! There is God o! You guys know you can deceive everyone, but please, cut me a slack.

As for you, after hundreds of failed attempts, even in Church, you started advocating for ‘single is happy’. You started talking about feminism and you pride yourself an independent lady who needs no man.

I am so sorry, but I laughed when I heard that. I knew you already gave up. Why shouldn’t you, at 38, no one wanted to get serious, except the ones who wanted you to be a second wife, even worst, the fourth.

Dear Agnes, I know I sounded too harsh, but you must take my advice, now that you eventually managed to get married-

1.    In marriage, you must make it work. I’m not asking you to be a slave, but be a helper.

2.    There will be troubles at first, just like Janet’s, but be patient, things will fall in place.

3.    Endeavour to teach your daughters- become their trusted friend. Experience, they say it is the best teacher.

4.    Keep praying, keep thanking God. Many didn’t even have the chance.

5.    Do not treat your husband as if he did you a favour by marrying you. It is understandable that you may feel this way after many have considered you an expired good. I know that years of being lonely and dejected may leave a dent on your self-esteem, but you must not let go of your pride of being a woman. If you do this, you will always be at his mercy. This is not good for you. You are made for each other, so, act that way.

6.    Do not disrespect your husband. Give him his respect, explain your views, and you will always be his queen.

7.    If things are not working out, and they seem like they wouldn’t, separate or divorce. There is no shame in that.

And please, remember these words of fantasy: Life is beautiful in marriage; marriage is always the best that can happen to a man.

If you believe that stupid statement, then pigs also fly.

I HOPE TO SEE YOU SOMEDAY, DEAR AGNES!

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THIS, I AM

Before you read this beautiful piece, please know this poem is for people who are rejected for their unique ways of life. 'Unique', I say, but many have been rejected by parent(s), family, peers and so on, and termed 'damaged' for choosing a particular way.

They are left alone to wander alone and struggle to survive.

But it is a known fact, that whatever you believe in, continue with it regardless of what people say: u shall succeed.

This is for people like Charlie boy and Derenle Edun (Nigerians) and many all over the world!

                         

                             THIS, I AM

Like the Atlantic Ocean my shortcomings are seen
Like a raven lunatic I threaded always, the deviant path
Unkempt as to defining everything, my ways, to them are sins
Yet I was call not of evil but of good even with my deviant path

****

My actions though unguarded, was never meant to hurt
I was neither meant to be perfect, nor even created to be one
I crave for them to look through me, beyond my disgusting being
And see the things I perfected, even in imperfect being

****

I was neglected since I decided not to change my ways
My future left unprotected as they shift the pole I leaned
In their heart I was a disgrace and in time they hoped I fail
In my quest to be different I must walk the lonely way

****

They interpreted my actions with contempt,
Pointing me towards an unknown future
They persisted my cause toward a vague end, but No!
My mind was made, not the bad they see but the good I behold,

****

Down the years it has been glorious with bitter-sweet sacrifices,
Never will I assume the catalyst to see this rose gross in agony,
Rendering the kernel to shed its clothes
But never put it back on itself,

****

This, I call to prove that which is proven
Even then I crave their loving heart,
That they consider my passion, so it does not woven,
For I'm clothed by my choice certainly but not to hurt a heart,

****

Their perception though, rob me of being the desired lad,
The pillar of my decision was not of evil or cursed
But of blessings; even in my imperfection,
This, they take amiss,

****

Though not here to convince otherwise;
I tour the path of elusive one, in their sight
My stand was mistaken, all along
Yet my action vindicated my later

****

Above all!
My soul joyed of the love, the happiness, the joy,
The tranquility, the bond that defines my success,
For tedious the toiling took me alone
Yet the rejected stone became the corner stone.

poem by Jerry (twitter: @unclejays00) and KINGwax Oluwadamilare (twitter: @acme_success).

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LIFE AFTER DEATH

picture from chimoments.blogspot.com

My name is KINGwax Oluwadamilare, and I will be telling you a true life story about my friend, Kofi.

I met Kofi in 2015 on Facebook. He was a Ghanaian who shared the same writing zeal as I.

Kofi was a graduate with a good grade and no job- a circumstance he found himself entangled in that wasn’t his fault. Nevertheless, Kofi was a hard worker who tried all who could to stay afloat in this stormy world of his.

We started by sharing writings and trying to chip in ideas into each other’s piece, and as long as it lasted, it went well and we both benefitted from the arrangement.  None of us bothered to try and employ the services of an editor because we couldn’t even afford it. As struggling youths from different countries, we tell our stories in our writings, and we erase every form of depression through expressions in writing. We almost shared the same style of writing as our poetry is mostly inspired by darkness, a negative muse due to sadness around our intended gladness. With hands well held together, we were surviving and laughing. We know that one day, a door will open.

Then suddenly, I stopped seeing his mail and I got worried when he didn’t reply mine. His mobile number was no more available. That scared me because it was running into weeks since I heard from my dear friend!

So, I logged into my Facebook account and tried to contact some of his friends who happened to be my mutual friends too. I told them I was worried about him and someone promised to help me trace him.

Three days later, a strange number called, and the voice was Kofi’s. He sounded dead and distant like a soul from hell.

“What happened, Kofi,” I asked, dreadfully, hoping the answer will be positive. But it wasn’t, Kofi was dying and the worst part was that he was willing to die!

He said, “I just found out that my fiancé of five years has been sleeping with her neighbour who works in a bank.”

“Did you confirm that?” I asked, trying to pacify him.

“Yes, I did,” He replied, to my horror.  “The worst part is that this guy claims to be very religious, and my girlfriend…sorry, my ex, is the chief usher from her church; a very religious lady who never misses any of the church services. I thought I had myself a gem, but my friend, I am so depressed that I don’t know what next to do. I have stopped writing and I think I’m going to die!” He screamed and started crying like a baby, much to my annoyance.

“Dude”, I called on him, “as much as I sympathizes with you, I must admit that you are a fool!”

The crying stopped abruptly, and I continued.

“If you die because of this, will that stop them from having sex and talking about your stupid life? Did you consider the fact that this revelation would have been more painful if you guys are already married? Did you realize that you should be grateful that you know that your ex- wasn't a saint she claimed to be? Didn’t you feel good that a problem of many years was brought to your notice this day? Didn’t it feel like you just saw tomorrow? Why are you so myopic that you forgot to see that aside her, there are others humans with boobs and hairy triangles walking to be noticed?

“If only I was in your shoe, I would have called you today and tell you how I used my situation to write as many poems as I could. How I wish this could be your opportunity to tell a story that you can relate with. Dude, send me your address so that I can attend your funeral as the last respect to a friend if you still insist on dying!”

I knew I was too harsh, but it worked because it was just the truth. He was silent, and then he disconnected. I didn’t hear from him until someone sent me a mail containing a link to a website. Lo and behold, there was the picture of my friend as a winner in an international writing contest. He will even be travelling to England for his chapbook launching. There was a little page for a dedication. It reads:

“People who left you while you were struggling for air in the waters were just helping you to float to the surface. Because they do not have a mind of their own, if you insist on carrying them along then you might just have to sink with them.

“Do not worry about the things you cannot have, but be anxious about the great ideas you were unable to write about.

“This chapbook is dedicated to my only friend, KINGwax Oluwadamilare. You are the one who made me realize that there indeed life, after death.”

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THE LOST SOUL

                                                        

           

Plunged into the ocean of darkness

Struggling in its impossible berth

Wishing I could escape this smoke of blackness

Feeding my soul with nothing but spiritual death

Oh, save my soul, for I know no peace

My conscience is drowned in the evil of my actions

My ways are paved on the path of the wicked

My nights are haunted by evil of my days

I escaped poverty, but I murdered my sleep

I destroyed potentials and the poor I cheated

I rejoice always at the wailings of the weak

I joined the league of the worst and the wicked

I failed to draw peace from the vastness of my possession

I couldn’t derive joy from the oceans of my wealth

My feet are quick to the house of the voodoo

Because my evil now eats through my health

Yes, I am lost, but I wish to be found

I have traded my peace with my carnal desires

Let the winds come and let Karma be invited

I bared my soul because I hope to be found!

picture from riskeverythingfearnothing.tumblr.com

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HOW TO DISCOVER YOUR PURPOSE IN LIFE

Today, I will be sharing a work a great man who decided to share with us, how he discovered his purpose in life. In sharing this, he hoped to help many like me, maybe like you too, to discover a purpose and work in line with it. Because in truth, a life without purpose is as disgusting as a cockroach. People get irritated whenever such individual appears.

So, take your time to digest.

PART 1

What Living On Purpose Really Means

Living on purpose simply means being able to give a correct account of the WHY for every of your daily actions. It means to live your life like a man/woman on an assignment; having short term, medium term, and long term goals for your life. It means living a planned life. Living on purpose implies a longer life for you; and not just that alone; it also means a life full of impact and meaning. It is a life worth living.

Nothing can be more frustrating as drifting through the days of your life like a robot, feeling lost and dissatisfied; angry at life, angry at people, blaming everyone else but yourself. People with a lack of purpose float rather than swim. They are passive in life rather than active. They flow with the tide and will rarely row hard against it.

They are shortsighted, helping fulfill everybody’s dreams but their own. Their lives are an emotional roller coaster, with more troughs than peaks; bored with themselves, often finding a way to distract themselves whenever possible. They rather find joy in foolishness such as expecting to get laid, flagrant display of clothes and its accessories, flaunting of electronics that are already outdated in Europe, binge drinking, joining of evil groups on campuses and so on.

This may be sounding vitriolic, or looks like a cynical viewpoint, but I’m afraid it isn’t. This is reality. I was a victim of lack of purpose for many years. Some of those days, I stayed awake all night, pondering what on earth I was born to do in life. I was so easily distracted by anything at all; lacking focus and direction; spending my life on social media sites just to scout for  frivolities such as cheap sex and to scam others.

PART 2

My Story

Between my first year in the medical school and fourth year, I vacillated constantly on what I wanted to do after school because I clearly lacked direction. In my first year in school, I wanted to specialise in Orthopaedic Surgery because I had an uncle who was a successful orthopaedic surgeon. Problem arose when I tried to get close to him to be my mentor then, but sadly, I discovered that he didn't believe in me. He thought I would never make it through medical school. He constantly spoke words of fear each time I visited him; telling me stories upon stories of young chaps who couldn't make it beyond the 2nd MBBS examinations. I lost my confidence and self esteem listening to him constantly, so I stopped visiting him.

I later changed my mind to Ophthalmology in my second year; then Obstetrics and Gynaecology in my third year. Later on, I decided I was going to be a top entrepreneur, with a focus on importation of drugs and running a one stop pharmacy complex. But my contract with confusion had not been severed. There was more confusion to come.

In my fourth year in school, I decided that I was going to be a pastor with my church.

So, in pursuit of the anointing for the ministry ahead, I abandoned my academic texts for many months as I went on many personal retreats. I missed tutorials and clinics while reading up on several books on Faith, Miracles, Power, etc, and I listened to hundreds of tapes in the process. I was the president of our fellowship then in campus. 

Needless to say, I dropped in my academic performance in school during this period of my search for the anointing and I’m sure you know why.

Due to this effect on my academic studies, I gave up again on being a pastor and I faced my books squarely in order to return to my academic best. 

It was during this time that I became angry at God and at the religious folks around me. I rebelled vigorously against God in my mind. I cared less anyway since I clearly couldn't diagnose my problem.

It was not until my fifth year that it all came together. I had more clarity than ever before. Nothing gives more clarity than a sense of purpose.

Are you feeling like a confused automaton trapped in a cold and unforgiving matrix? I’ll show you a way out; how I solved my own puzzle of living without a purpose and a direction. Grace to you.

PART 3

How I finally discovered My Purpose.

(1) I spent one weekend alone, thinking and reflecting on my CORE VALUES.

You see, our values are a pointer to where our calling lies. For instance, I discovered that my core values included

~Integrity and Sincerity

~Curiousity (Yes, it's true. I'm a curious person. I lack discipline and order). The meaning is that I hate routine and would likely rebel against norms than follow them.

~Hardwork

~Dedication

~Respect

~Loyalty

~Love, Compassion and Sharing

~Impact, Recognition and Appreciation

~Family and Friends.

I wrote them down, and decided that I would walk away from people, associations, societies, and cliques that do not share at least half of these values. There is a correlation between purpose and your values.

(2) I looked inward to discover what my PASSION really was.

For instance, I have more passion for public speaking and making power point presentations than I have for hospital job. Thus while my value for Love, Contribution and Sharing will keep me in the practice of medicine, my passion for communicating hope and direction will keep me afloat as a public speaker.

(3) I analysed the things that gave me PAIN and STRESS.

Many of us have been hurt and disappointed severally by people. For instance, I lost a sibling who was supposed to be my elder brother to a careless doctor who was treating him for malaria for several weeks while he was suffering from anaemic heart failure; which eventually took him. 

He was the only son of my parents then, with five female siblings ahead of him already. So, you can imagine the pain of my parents at losing a son they've been waiting for.

You see, there will be defining moments in your life. You don't have to forget them; but heal from them and turn them into a message/career. Make sure someone close to you does not have to go through the same things that hurt you in the past.

(4) I took a look at the PROBLEMS around me.

I believe that problem solvers are men of purpose. To help in solving other people's problems will shoot you to relevance and make you a man-on-assignment- a man of purpose. So, I found a problem.

When I was a student, one problem I saw was a sea of people who didn't know why they were in school. Some naive girls as young as 16 or 17 years were readily snapped up by smooth talkers who go on to persuade them to move in with them. 

Every night is a night of rumble under the sheets. These girls enter the university as good, homely girls but are turned to sex objects before they leave school. These are people's future wives for that matter. I saw it as a social problem that needs to be solved.

It pained me, so I started talking about it. I will enter a class early in the morning before a lecturer comes in and plead for attention from them to hear me out. I talked in hostels too. Little did I know that I was sharpening my public speaking skills and perfecting myself in the art of persuasion; at the same time, making an impact in the lives of first year students.

(5) I spent time bathing myself in PRAYER

-asking God why He created me, and sent me to my family, my community, my state, and Nigeria. Why was I born in Nigeria and not in Luxemburg?

I prayed until I had peace in my mind that God wanted me to practice medicine and not to be an entrepreneur/importer of drugs after medical school (please don't laugh).

You see, I believe the bible is a universal book that has sold more than any book on earth; filled with so much wisdom. Thus whether you believe in God or  you are simply an atheist, I hope you draw inspiration from a story I read in Habakkuk 2vs1-3 that taught me this 5th point.

Prophet Habakkuk said he will stand on his watch (the place of prayer), to hear what God will tell him. Then God gave him his purpose and told him to write it boldly and in plain letters. God further encouraged him with further words of hope. You can find your purpose like this.

PART 4

Warning:

(1) Ladies, please never marry a man that clearly lacks purpose.

They are everywhere, roaming up and down without a purpose or plan for their lives. It will be a Holy Padlock, not a Holy Wedlock; because they will sit over your purpose/plans/ambitions; feeling threatened at your progress since they themselves lack purpose. 

They are the type of men that graduate into abusers; battering their wives at the slightest issue because they try so hard demanding for respect instead of earning it with their grand purpose/plan/ambition/sense of direction. The stories on internet portraying all sort of abuses meted out to women are enough lessons. Beware, lest you forget.

(2) Gentlemen,please do not marry a clearly clueless, naive woman who is not supportive, without direction, totally dependent and materialistic, without a life of her own.

As a single lady, her highest calling is spending time on how to tie a man in an unholy marriage of her own; warming a hundred beds in town without planning on how to be a wife/mother/resourceful partner/efficient manager of resources/homemaker.

A sense of Purpose/Assignment solves all that. It has a way of conferring wisdom for living to people who discover theirs.

PART 5

My Prayer For You

If you're currently reading this, I believe you're a messenger; and you need to know that. You were designed with an end in mind so you should discover it and fulfil it.

The spotlight is on you now. May your life never lack a sense of purpose. You’ll never drift through life again. You’ll go from wandering aimlessly to possessing your future. You will own it.

You shall experience a quantum leap - a radical ascent of grace, shooting you up into new realms of life, not traceable to your natural ability.

You shall experience unpredicted emergence; a show up on the scene supernaturally, like the Wind, and taking your space by storm!

You shall experience a mighty rescue from habits stronger than you, plus the licence for a future better than your past.

God will take over your life and you will become a different person by grace. Your soul will be emptied of pain, and the curtains will lift for new light.

Grace to you, and unto me too (amen).

You can connect with the writer through his twitter handle: @DrChiemeziem

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TENTACLES OF YOUR PAST, THE HOLD ON THE FUTURE

The picture with this post depicts genuine smiles, even in the least place we have expected it. They probably have no good clothes, probably no good food, maybe no education, never seen electricity or many of the freebies of civilization that have made life a bit simpler for us. But yet, right with the mud house behind them, knowing they will sleep on a straw mat at night, they radiated so much glory in the beauty of their innocence.

But you,

Why did allow the tentacles of your past to hold you down like the fetters on a prisoner?

Why did you revel in darkness and continue feeding your soul with the thoughts of your failures?

Like the ashes, you have lost your beauty, and the essence of your happiness you have allowed to fade like a lost glory!

You secluded yourself, withdrawn into darkness, drawing solace in the condemnation of your beautiful self.

You have grown lean and feeble since all you eat is the hit liquid of your ferocious tears.

My friend, please hold on for a minute  and take solace in being privy to these…

Some, like me, have lost a whole investment to the fate that was never imagined…

Some, like them, have failed in everything that has ever been…

Some, like her has never had a joy keeping a relationship…

But yet, here we are, clutching to the wind like it will take a shape and be our strength…

We keep laughing all the way because when we cried, it made no sense and for once it never helped…

We rejoice at the opportunity of the next day because we understand that- 

If yesterday was the end, then today we will never be…

But being alive is a hope, a beauty that allows you to retry…

And yes, we keep trying and one day, maybe, we will get it right…

Now, this day, let us celebrate your own independence as you yank yourself away from your past…

JUST REMEMBER, if yesterday was the end, we will never be alive to try again today.

HAPPY INDEPENDENCE!!!

* if you are feeling lonely, and you need someone to talk to, someone to laught with (I am very good at making people laugh), feel free to add me to your friend list:

BBM: 53407ABF

Whatsapp: +2347035593128

Skype: acmesuccess007

Twitter: @acme_success

Facebook: /kingwax.oluwadamilare.5

THANK YOU!!!

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FREE DOWNLOAD: BLOOD ON THE ALTAR (THE COMPLETE NOVEL)

DOWNLOAD BLOOD ON THE ALTAR IT'S OUT AND FREE!!! DOWNLOAD FOR FREE BY CLICKING THIS LINK.

THANK YOU

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JUST A LITTLE PATIENCE

Once, I wondered what shortcut I could take to be rich because things are hard; I have no job, no money- nothing. At age thirty-one, I still live my mother and feed at her table. I am a graduate, brilliant, but poor and jobless. I established a very modest barber shop, but it brings nothing compared to what my friends earn. I wanted money; I needed to have it fast.

Since I cannot steal, or engage in fraud, I decided to visit a voodooist for rituals to wealth. I’ve heard it’s possible. I told my mom, but she advised me continue in my prayer and hard work, and things will be okay, but I refused.

When I got to voodooist, at the reception, I saw a young man in a straightjacket, a lunatic. I asked the receptionist if they now offer psychiatric treatment, and in her words, she said,

“This young man was here days ago for money ritual because he is poor and his work is not fulfilling. His wife left him, and he wanted to make life meaningful for his only female child- a four years old cutie. The voodooist requested a little virgin for a human sacrifice, and he arranged to pay some guys to help him kidnap a child.

“Three days later, he came back for his job, and the voodooist gave him a bathing soap made from the child’s flesh and blood. The soap will bring him good fortunes as he bathes with it daily. He also gave him a seed to plant; as the seed grows into a tree, his wealth will also grow. Lastly, he gave him a sack containing the head of the victim used for the rituals to bury in his backyard. When he got home and opened the sack, the head turned out to be his daughter who was in the boarding school! He became mad immediately”.

Well, “that was his destiny”, I said, determined to try my luck. But the lady said, “my friend, there is no free thing from the devil here. You will surely pay back you in other ways. I have been here long enough, and there’s no point having it all without peace". She further said, "exercise patience and pray, because there is more to life, than increasing its speed”.

That changed my mind completely; I stood up and left, and have never looked back.

Inspired by Mahatma Gandhi words, "there is more to life, than increasing its speed"

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THE 2016 COMMONWEALTH SHORT STORY PRIZE IS OUT: ENTER NOW FOR FREE

ENTER THE COMPETITION HERE

The Commonwealth Short Story Prize brings stories from new and emerging voices, often from countries with little or no publishing infrastructure, to the attention of an international audience.

The Prize is awarded for the best piece of unpublished short fiction (2,000-5,000 words) in English. Short stories translated into English from other languages are also eligible. Each year, we select five winning writers from five different Commonwealth regions. Regional winners receive £2,500 (US$3,835) and the overall winner will receive £5,000 (US$7,670). If the winning short story is a translation into English, the translator will receive equal prize money.

CLICK HERE TO ENTER

Entry is free.

*this post is copied directly from the website www.commonwealthwriters.org

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DOWNLOAD YOUR FREE FIVE CHAPTERS OF BLOOD ON THE ALTAR

THANKS FOR THE INTEREST. YOU CAN DOWNLOAD BLOOD ON THE ALTAR(PDF) NOW.

CLICK HERE TO DOWNLOAD FREE CHAPTER 1-5 OF BLOOD ON THE ALTAR. pdf format.

YOU CAN ALSO DOWNLOAD THE EPUB FORMAT DIRECTLY FROM OKADABOOKS HERE


**THE FULL COPY OF BLOOD ON THE ALTAR WILL BE AVAILABLE ON AMAZON, SMASHWORDS, KINDLE ETC SOON**

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BLOOD ON THE ALTAR (SYNOPSIS AND THE POEM)

     

    SYNOPSIS

Sister Mary, a church mother and a lover to Blessing, who was also a female choir member, decided to take her own life after a sex scandal. But before she took her own life, she made Blessing promise to assume the position of the Choir Mistress; a position she was totally due for before her suicide action.

The sex scandal, which also involved Blessing, forced her to flee both the Church and the town to Jos where she was to cool off for a while with her Aunt whom unknown to Blessing’s mom was also a lesbian. Happy to be with her kind, instead of staying for a while, Blessing stayed in Jos for years.

Years later, she returned to town and to her former Church to kick-start the mission of being the Choir Mistress just as she promised her dead lover. But it was no more an easy process as the Pastor in Charge was forced to ban that position and appoint a male Choir Coordinator instead.

Blessing, just a choir member, but armed with an angelic voice and an innocent face was able to hide her evil self even from the Pastor in Charge. One by one, she cut down her leaders, made them into a ladder and slowly climbed comfortable to the top. The Choir Coordinator was not spared in her holocaust.

That wasn’t all, unknown to all, including the Pastor, this position was cursed because everyone who occupied it never last in the seat. They either turn evil or are smeared with it because a dark entity controls the land such that anything or anyone in contact with it will know no peace.

Whether Blessing will be able to last in this new position, or she will also be brought down by a junior member of the Choir is left to be discovered.

BLOOD ON THE ALTAR (the poem)

The whole congregation waits in anticipation

Sister Blessing will soon mount the podium

She will render the special dedication

Her voice will intoxicate them like the opium

Oh, sister Blessing

She is just like watching the angels sing

Oh, what a Blessing

There is none other like her our eyes have seen

The Church’s microphone must feel no other hand

The speakers must convey no other voice

The podium must feel no other dance steps

Except our own sister Blessing’s

No other Sister will love to try

Because they will never be good enough

Once sister Blessing is ready to drag

They will be left without a scent of pride

She murders their character

She destroys their self-esteem

She cares not what happens after

She must remain the only fish in the stream

Even with their over bloated anointing

The Pastors have refused to see

Even with their vague holy life

The elders have refused to notice

Blood cries from the altar

From the podium where sister Blessing loves to sing

Dead ambitions, assassinated characters

All scream with their talents in her grip

All hail Sister Blessing

The Angel is ready to sing

And bloods cry from the altar

But no one is ready to listen

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BLOOD ON THE ALTAR (AN EXCERPT)

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The transit to Jos was too silent for Blessing; all through the journey which she went alone, she held the picture of her dead lover in her hands, crying at every glitch of the cherished memories they shared. The last night they spent together, she could still remember her words:


“My dearest Blessing, this is all a plot; a plot to take you away from me. Those mothers were jealous of what we have achieved together- your lovely voice that I helped you train and your influence from the children’s Choir to the youth’s Choir. I want you to know that many of them have approached me to help them train their daughters in which I refused. Now, they wanted us out, and they wanted you out of their way too”.


That day, Blessing looked at her in admiration, hate and pity. She knew it was all an excuse and a lie; she truly abused all those children like she had abused her. Though, she got over it and loved it. She was glad it never worked out with those new entrants; she didn’t want to share Sister Mary- not even with God!


“Promise me, promise me my love that you will remember me always, and you will fight for me. Your mother will take you away tomorrow, but promise me I will remain in your heart”, she requested of Blessing, something she would have done even without her request.


She also made her promise that she will not allow anybody to attain that position of the Choir Mistress because in her words, “it is my right. They never wanted me to have it, but you must have it if I couldn’t. I used all my strength, might, time and resources to grow the Choir. I was the third Choir member when this branch started. Now, they wanted to reap where they did not sow and enjoy the fruit of my labour”.


She watched her lover stood up, pacing the room like a damsel in distress, unsure where turn for help. Blessing stood up and walked over to her, as small as she was in frame, she held her close and assured her that she will do everything to ensure that her cause was justified and duly fought for by her.


Sister Mary kissed her, and it was a great kiss shared between them. She couldn’t have explained why that kiss has always remained something to covet, but she believed, maybe the salty taste from the tears on their lips added more taste to the whole kissing process.


She hid the picture perfectly in her bag as she alighted from the bus into the waiting arms of her Sister who started treating her as a victim of rape and injustice, much to her disgust. Only God knows what her mother would have told her sister. Her lover was killed; she was murdered by the jealous mothers who pushed her to suicide. Her lover was denied justice; justice to fair hearing. Her lover was taken away from her when she was about to enjoy her more. And here they all are, treating her dead lover with such disrespect! She has promised her she will avenge her death, and revenge she must take, even if it takes the whole time of her life. In her mind, she knew was never a victim of rape, but of injustice. Yet, no one seemed to understand this.


Her aunt welcomed her to the dining the evening she landed in Jos, but she couldn’t even taste out of the food. That evening, her appetite was not only lost, it simply didn’t exist. Her Aunt wondered and asked her why she didn’t touch the food,

“I am not hungry”, that was her response.

But even so, her eyes couldn’t resist the neatly placed cucumbers in the bowl, out of the many fruits in the large bowl placed on the dining table. She was already salivating; not from her mouth, but between her legs. Her Aunt, having noticed her attraction to the cucumbers, had invited her to take one and eat; an invitation she couldn’t resist. She took one and excused herself to retreat inside.


That day, she couldn’t wait to get inside before she pulled up her skirt and pulled down her pants. She ran into the toilet and sat on the toilet seat with legs professionally spread. With a quick movement, she spit in her palms and bathed the cucumber with it. She rubbed it gently, more like caressing. But it wasn’t slippery enough for her; so, she forced out phlegm and rubbed it on the cucumber. That felt better.


She balanced herself nicely on the toilet seat with one hand and gently pushed in the improvised todger gently into the wet throbbing hole between her open legs with the other. She almost died of an unending sensation that rushed up and jumped down her spine. She moaned gently as the abyss between her legs almost swallowed up the whole big fruit.


She held it in place and clamped her thighs together. She raised her head gently, absorbing the pleasure with a sizzling sound between her clenched teeth. Then she started to thrust, gently at first, and faster, uncontrollably. When the sensation was too much, she held the fruit with both hands and smashed it in with ferocious strength. Her eyes wide shut, her voice got louder; something she tried to control but for reasons known to her, she couldn’t. She shook her head frantically like a reggae artist!
She rose to the skies and aimed to for the heavens. She smashed ferociously and without care. Her voice was louder and her moans were darker and deeper. Then, suddenly, almost when she was closer to the heavens, she reached orgasm and touched down from her flight to the skies. She was tired, and she felt dead. She finished whatever she was doing and opened her eyes to the horror of her life- her Aunt stood right at the entrance of the toilet, looking at her.

Slowly, she removed the cucumber and lowered her head in shame.

“Blessing, what are you doing?” Her Aunt asked, half smiling.

“I’m…I’m sorry”, she said, and slowly covered her shame.
“Are you?” Her aunt asked.

Blessing nodded, but her Aunt continued,

“I mean you are doing it wrong; you may hurt yourself with such fierce movements”.

“Aunt, I was trying to kill an insect that entered while I was…”

Her Aunt’s laughter cut into her excuse like a wildfire, and it burnt the excuse away from her mind almost immediately. She realized she has been very stupid to even try to say that, but she must reiterate her lie until it is being accepted as the truth; both by her and whoever who cared to listen. Sister Mary thought her to always stand by her lies even when threatened with a gun.

“It is true, Ma. I was trying to kill a fly”, she insisted.

“Of course I know”, the Aunt said, “it might interest you to know that it happens a lot to me too, but I don’t kill it like that way. I mean I have, but I landed in the hospital because I ended up hurting my precious pot. You see”, she continued, much to Blessing’s confusion, “I have to teach you how to do this, because there are lots of flies around here, and occasionally, they will definitely find their way back in”. She smiled to see Blessing’s reaction which was already lost in the wastelands.



….an excerpt from my new book: BLOOD ON THE ALTAR.

DOWNLOAD THE FULL COPY HERE FOR FREE.

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THE BETRAYER

Dipo and Diya have been friends since you could remember your first name. I mean, even if you were older than they are, then their friendship were forged in heaven. They lived in the same neighbourhood, went to the same Primary School, the same Secondary School, the same University, different States for their Youth service, and they worked in the same company after serving their fatherland.

People said they were inseparable, but they were very different. Apart from their Nicknames where Dipo was called D1, and Diya was known as D2, D1 was a very brilliant guy while D2 was average. That aside, D1 was a Christian based on his family religion, but D2 was an atheist- a love he found while in the University, yet, they went on fine. D1’s extravagant lifestyle didn’t deter D2 for once, neither was his early promotion which made D2 some sort of a junior officer to D1. They were fine, until….

One day, while, at their usual local pepper soup joint, Dipo told Diya about a plan to be actualized that will make them super rich- a fraud! Diya declined to be a part, and it dragged on for weeks.

“This is funny, you’re not even a Christian”, D1 said one day after work. He was sitting by the edge of D2’s table. “I have been trying to convince you just because you are my friend, and the other wouldn’t take part since you are the only one out. They thought you might rat out on them”.

“D1, you know me”, Diya began, “I won’t do this, and it is not in my style to go rat you out. You guys do whatever you want to do, and have a good rest of mind. You’re safe with me. No one will know”.

“You have always said that, but that wasn’t the problem here. We agreed on just one thing, and…”

“I told you I won’t do that, okay?” Diya reaffirmed. “How do you guys expect me to put in my signature into what I don’t want to be part of?”

“Then collect the money!” D1 insisted. “At least, that means…”

“It means I am part of it; but no, I am not interested”. D2 maintained, and there was a heavy fog of silence that spoke too loud between them. It lingered on from that moment and a long time to come. D2 tried talking to D1 many times, but he will only hum, grunt or grumble as a reply. Dipo believed Diya was nothing but a hypocrite because he believed as an atheist he shouldn’t be talking about morals.

Just six months later, Dipo was sacked after the fraud was traced back to his office. Everyone whose signature was found on the list was also shown the door. Diya was made the Head of Department where Dipo once held. This made Dipo convinced himself that it was a plan actuated by Diya. Diya has betrayed him, he thought to himself every day and every night until he got lonely, depressed, obsessed and dejected. These brewed hatred within him, and he hated Diya with all his heart. He refused to pick D2’s call or listen to his pleas through many text messages to hear him out.

Then one day, Dipo resolved to a fetish way to destroy his friend’s life and he did his. So, he picked a day to visit the witch doctor. But as fate will have it, the night prior to his day of visit, there was a preacher on the TV who talked about people who betrayed themselves but blamed it on others, or God to be easier. And somehow, this made sense to Dipo. He thought about how Diya had stood his ground and shunned evil while he betrayed himself by embracing it. He felt ashamed of himself and accepted his fault in this matter. He said to himself,

“Even if D2 sold me out, then I was the one who gave him what to sell. I betrayed myself”.

Just about time, Diya called again, and Dipo picked. He apologized before Diya could say ‘hello’. Diya was confused at first, but believed his friend’s intention was clear. He went to the point,

“Dipo, I’m glad that you finally heard me out, and I am glad that you realized I didn’t do this, but there is an issue that requires your urgency. Our boss has been sacked; he was sacked based on fraud. The headquarters wants me to find a consultant to act as a proxy in his place; one that could make the decisions for a long time. The CEO said he doesn’t care which company handles it, he just want it done. You still have the company you registered a few years back?”

“Yes, I do”. Dipo replied in anticipation, in whispers.

“Then mail a proposal to my desk asking to get the job of the consulting company. You got the job already, okay? I couldn’t think of a more brilliant guy to make the decision. You know, if you haven’t done the fraud, you would be made the boss by now. I wasn’t made the Boss because I had little experience in this office. The job has been on for months, I held it down for you; I knew you will come around. Nevertheless, my friend, I am glad you are back!”

Did Dipo cry?

He sure did and was really ashamed of himself.

You might not get a second chance as Dipo did, so, live a good life. It doesn’t hurt. Learn how not to betray yourself.

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MRS. PANE AND I

Mrs. Pane was our landlady- she owned a building that is more like a prison!
Imagine a building separated with a long passage with six rooms at both sides, and we all share a single toilet, bathroom, and kitchen!

Mrs. Pane, that old lady with a loud mouth was also a close pal to my mom, they gossip all evening. She likes to shout at me, and I can’t say why.

One Saturday, she said something in front of the prisoners, I mean the occupants. They were all sitting outside the building like there was a congress. Some were playing games; some were just basking in the sun. But they all laughed at me when she said I looked like a strand of spaghetti because of my straight and lean figure. I believed that was just out of jealousy because her sons were fat and ugly! Nevertheless, I decided to pay her back.

She has a brown towel by the lobby of the bathroom, so, I decided to use it as a medium for my revenge. Whenever I was so dirty after playing soccer with my friends, I bothered not to bath; I just went straight at her towel and wiped my whole dirty slimed body with it. I was super happy, and since I play the soccer every day, the towel was useful for wiping my dirty body- it’s payback time!

The best I did was when I spit on it and rubbed it in. I cleaned my tongue with it and so much more.
I and Mrs. Pane became friends. I no longer frown at her or grumble whenever she comes around and shout. She was surprised, but I was laughing at her though she didn’t realize. She doesn’t have to- revenge is an art, one that I believed I have mastered.

So, one day, it was going to be a long soccer match, so I took the towel with me and promised myself to return it. When I got home, my mom was too keen on reminding me not to leave our things at the passage or outside because anyone might steal it.

“Did someone steal anything, mom”? I asked.

“Of course”, she replied. “Mrs. Pane is back early today- she caught a stomach bug and she frequents the toilet. She couldn’t find her face towel”.

“Maybe some kids played with it”, I said. “They will return it”.

“Well, I just pray they don’t put it in their mouth or wipe their body with it”.

“Why did you say that”? I asked, getting worried.

“You know we all share the same toilet”, she started, “so, in her way of preventing infection, Mrs. Pane always lay the towel on the rim of the closet before sitting on it”.

I belched, but she hasn’t finished, so, she went on,

“She also uses it to wipe her butt because she cleans her butt with water after defecating”.

I didn’t allow her to finish before I fainted!

When I woke up, I vowed I will not give up. My struggle continues, but Mrs. Pane surely got this round!

*picture from dreamstime.com

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