#wordfeastchallenge Day 7 Results for yesterday. Team Kennife wrote Story 1, Wages: 16 votes. Team Jerrida wrote story 2, Linen: 13 votes. I want to take time out to appreciate your comments, votes,suggestions and encouragement. Please keep them coming. Thank you so much. Voting closes 7am Nigerian time daily. Todays theme is VENGEANCE. STORY 1: FATAL SURGERY. Red crimson streaks the floor, Father is in a pool of his own blood. My eyes are peering into the dark, as I journey through time. It was at this place, and a time like this. Yes, it was Father behind the curtains that night in August, when the rains refused to subside and Mother could not come home. “She is not salt, she should return”, Father bellowed over the phone that night, as he spoke to my maternal uncle at whose abode she was trapped. He had always suspected her of infidelity, not trusting her even with her own brother. He drank himself out of sanity, ordered me to bring cold water, and forced himself on me as I dropped the mug. I will never forget the glint of satisfaction in his eyes, as if he had waited all his life for that night. I will never forget how he parted my legs open, how he thrust and pounded without mercy. That night re-defined my thoughts, and indeed my life. Father will wake up to find himself in the land of the spirits, hopefully in those parts reserved for the damned. His foul spirit will help itself to a long hard look at the flesh where it once lived, that flesh now mutilated. Yes, dismembered, on the same bed where he stole my innocence, where he destroyed the very essence of fatherhood. This bed which reminds me of my broken hymen was his arena of pleasure, but tonight I make it my altar of revenge. I am holding his penis in his left hand, and this dagger in my right. I thought long and hard, and decided that I couldn’t wait for the Lord on this one. It’s one less monster for the world to contain. STORY 2: MERCILESS The silence in the room, so heavy that a feather settling on the ground would have been a disturbance, was punctuated by the clocks steady ticking and our whistling breaths. Our eyes glinted viciously, our jawbones throbbed, our fists clenched and unclenched and air was swollen in a mounting frenzy. It struck eleven and the brooding silence was broken. I spoke first, and it cost me an effort to keep my voice steady. ‘He was just... 19...19...’ I paused, and like a ripple, an incensed murmur spread. ‘... Tonight...’, my faltering voice soared to a booming tone, ‘well teach them never to touch one of ours...EVER!’ Silence. In some minutes, we were spread out like a pride heading for the prey. Each step heightened our ruthless thirst. Our chants went up, ripping the heavens apart, raining courage in immense proportions down on us. We had crossed over to their side now but still, we chanted. Nearer and nearer we went and we stopped abruptly, a deafening hush descending on us. We heard frightened noises in the house before us. My axe shattered a window pane, and pandemonium broke loose. We skipped through the window, bullets blasting and machetes mauling as the eruption of screams and pleadings sunk into everlasting silence. I wasnt still satisfied. I was looking for the one who killed him. And then, I saw him crawling into safety. ‘He was just 19’, I said to him in a shuddering whisper. ‘Plea...’ My axe went up, and smashed into his head, his warm blood splattering across my face. As I shut my eyes, I felt peace swell within me. Kennedy Illuminaliterati Akpoveta Farida Adamu Jerry Chi
Posted on: Tue, 09 Dec 2014 16:56:28 +0000
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