THE YELLOW BUTTERFLY

By Itzprince in 21 Nov 2017 | 01:24

Itzprince Itzprince

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THE YELLOW BUTTERFLY – Episode 1

The memory was unclear. Blurred. Still, I could make out Mother’s fearless face. Father was, as was his manner, laughing in that very strange way he did whenever he came home drunk. Mother did not as so much as blink. Father advanced towards her and pushed her. Mother pushed him back. Father’s bottle of gin shattered as he lost balance, sending prickly chills all over me. Enraged that his precious, the bottle of gin, had been destroyed, he pushed Mother again but this time, fiercely. Mother’s arms went up first, the rest of her body following suit as she fell, then rolled down the stairs. Father called her name twice and got no response. Then, I backed away, still unseen. I climbed onto my bed and shut my eyes so tight, they hurt. It was Saturday and I did not like Saturdays.

In my world, there was no Saturday without the correspondent name Missy, Father’s Missy who always showed up on Saturdays, much to my hate. The hag was the phrase that best explained her; never mind that she was very young. She always came to stay with Father on Saturdays and honestly, I did not care what to stay meant for both of them, as their unholy business was none of my concern, but I did care that I had to clean the house thoroughly because she came to stay with Father. I did care that I had to clean the second landing of the staircase. I did care that I had to fight that jarringly haunting reminiscence, I had of the last time I had seen Mother as I came upon that cracked spot on the second landing of the staircase. I did care that Father would douse a lighted matchstick on my eyelid if he ever caught me subconsciously staring at the cracked spot.

The doorbell rang, jerking me off my train of thoughts. I knew, before I opened the door, that it was her. Horrible. My jaw was thick with dislike as I greeted. So sunny was her smile I wished if, God help me, the ends of her lips would stretch and remain in the new position acquired. Father’s voice boomed behind me, that scary bass. I stepped aside to give him way. In my new position, I looked at him. Since I was seven, which was the last time I had seen Mother, I had come to fear this man, this gentleman who was no gentle man; this highly educated man who had an uncanny hand in Mother’s disappearance. I knew he had a hand in it, I mean, I had seen him drag Mother’s body off that floor that night as I ran back to the nearly open door. I had tried to sleep off the memory by shutting my eyes so tightly but curiosity had had the upper hand. The first, and last, time I had summoned courage to ask him where Mother was, he had slapped me so hard I saw tiny stars. ‘’Am I now her keeper? Is it my fault she left both you and I and ran away to another man? Ask me such a question again and you would see what I will do to you. I have noticed that if I send you to clean that staircase, you would waste so much time on that tiny crack. I cannot tell what you are looking for or what you kept in that crack, but, you see, if I catch you wasting time there again, I will douse a lighted matchstick on your eyelid. Mark my words.” He kept to his word for which I resented him the more. Missy startled me with her question. “What are you staring at, Ifeyinwa?” She was still smiling.

I flashed a sneer embedded in a phosphorescent smile, but nonetheless, a sneer at her. “Nothing,” I answered. As I stared at her hair, pity laced through me. What she had thought as a stylish parting of her hair was, to me, explicit symptoms of alopecia. ‘’Ifeyinwa, you may take a walk now,” Father said with such an altruistic tone, I was taken aback. This was what I had been waiting for, the moment he’d let me take a walk. I was glad to provide them my absence as they went about their ghastly affairs. This was what I had been waiting for, the moment he d let me take a walk. I was glad to provide them my absence as they went about their ghastly affairs. Very quickly, as I could not risk Father changing his mind, I walked out of the door and as I did so, Father made such a risqué remark to Missy that did not even sound risqué at all.

It was as if he wanted me to keep on having the image of them I already had and if I had known Father well for my entire seventeen years of existence, it only meant that he had an ulterior motive for doing so. Well, I was not going to bother myself with such somewhat maddening thoughts because it was not always that Father let me out of the house. I stared at the vast dry land ahead of me. We practically lived in the middle of nowhere; well, just the outskirts of Enugu. We had no neighbours, only an abandoned shed that was so abandoned, it wouldn’t even occur to you to enter it. At times, though, Father would carry his food to that shed and comfortably eat it there. That never bothered me as it would make no difference to me if I heard that he was held in a psychiatric hospital. Father had once warned me never to enter there, as if I would be insane enough to enter the shed.

But I was later to find some terrible secrets of his out. A buttery, so yellow I thought its colour painted on, came uttering in front of me. I followed it. When we, the yellow buttery and I, had moved some distance, it stopped and lazily uttered around me, reminding me of Jerry from Tom and Jerry who would always bat his slender lashes at Tom if he ever needed anything. The mere thought made me produce a croaked sound that would pass for laughter. I caught myself mid-air, half-frightened that I still knew how to laugh; being that it had been such a long time since I ever laughed. The yellow buttery started again, with me hot on its trail, gently swiping at it to know if I could capture and cuddle such a pretty creature. I had not even noticed that the buttery had led me right into the shed till I heard the hollowness of my steps on the wooden planks beneath me. The yellow buttery flew away from the little square window opposite where I then stood. As I hurriedly turned around to leave, I heard voices from two different rooms. One seemed to say, “Who’s there? David?” and the other’s screams seemed muffled. Running away from that shed that day, non-stop and not looking back, I remember how goose pimples had taken over my skin, alienating my body.

We seldom went to Church – St. Lumumba’s Catholic Church – on Sundays and for this Sunday, we stayed at home as usual. I had already set the breakfast table and I was preparing to join Father in the dining room. He said The Grace and I mutely echoed ‘Amen.’ I made omelets for myself and made something for Father; raw beef with raw egg sunnily splashed on its top. This was the kind of food that Father preferred to eat. I focused on my plate so that my eyes would not dart in his direction as he ate, so that I wouldn’t vomit. ‘’How was your night?’’ He asked. ‘’Good.’’ I didn’t know what else to say. He grunted. ‘’I have paid for the DSTV,’’ he said, his mouth partly filled. ‘’Oh!’’ I exclaimed, pleasantly surprised. ‘’Thank you. Are you going out today?’’ I already knew the answer to my question. After breakfast on Sundays, that is, whenever we did not go to Church, he’d tell me that he had somewhere to be. ‘’Yes. Is there any problem?’’ He asked, looking up. ‘’No.’’ He wiped his mouth on his napkin and excused himself. He took his Volkswagen key from the counter in the living room. ‘’I’ll be back before 7 p.m.,’’ he said and left. I had the house to myself. Quickly, I ran over to the door of the living room and firmly bolted it.

I cleared the table and hurriedly did the dishes, all the while, nervous of what I had in mind to do. I went up to my room for no reason and went downstairs again. It was time. I took the keys and locked the door of the living room from the outside. The sun was mild on my skin. I looked around before I started the short walk to my destination – the abandoned shed. Since the previous day, I had been very keen to find out who, or what, had made the sounds I had heard; just who, or what, had mentioned Father’s name. I rubbed my hands on my arms to send the goose pimples away as I stepped on the shed’s first step. From where I stood, I saw a uttering yellow buttery at the other end of the short hallway. Ignoring it, I fully entered into the shed. “Please, is anyone here?’’ I asked my voice suddenly very hoarse. I had already concluded that if i did not hear those sounds again, I would leave immediately. I had turned and was about to leave when I heard that muffled voice coming from one of the rooms.

I sucked in gulps of air; a reflex. I steadied myself as I slowly walked up to the door and as I laid my hand on the wooden handle, I heard another sound. This other sound seemed like something moving with speed. It was strangely familiar; that tum-tum-tum sound. Then, I realized what it was. Father’s Volkswagen! My mind was caught up in frenzy. He had specifically warned me about entering this desolate shed. Only God knew what would happen if he caught me here.

STORY CONTINUES…

21 Nov 2017 | 01:24

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ryt on tym.. ride on bro... sweetheart @ladyg new story... my one nd only @denciebabe come over here. [hr] fast links to available episodes Episode 2 Episode 3 Episode 4&5 Episode 6&7 Episode 8 the end

21 Nov 2017 | 02:11

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SEATED THANKS FOR THE I.V @itzprince. oko mi @fridex come o @ladyg bring @pesman come erm @freshgirl u bring @jerrie come.

21 Nov 2017 | 02:22

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THANKS for the i.v @itzprince

21 Nov 2017 | 02:30

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Seated

21 Nov 2017 | 02:41

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am here

21 Nov 2017 | 03:18

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Thnks sweety @qeenvick next

21 Nov 2017 | 04:50

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here on time

21 Nov 2017 | 05:18

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Thank you @queen, where is my sugar @ladyg ? Have added another bae to my squared @ladyt4sure has been whispering into my hear

21 Nov 2017 | 06:48

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continue....

21 Nov 2017 | 07:17

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Seated

21 Nov 2017 | 07:41

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Seated

21 Nov 2017 | 11:12

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Hmmm, dis is serious o, @pesman wetin i jst hear u talk nw? Wo u better tell dt @ladyt4sure 2 park well o, if nt hmmm, my baby @sanctus4real t trust wat u cn do, congrants my g, @qeenvick thx bt where's is husband @fridex? Guy go on pls.

21 Nov 2017 | 12:35

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Am here

21 Nov 2017 | 13:45

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urw my love @ladyg hoping to score 3point wit u ni.

21 Nov 2017 | 15:58

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Baby mi, I don come o, oya shift let me seat close to u. My @ladyg ah don show, thanks 4 the IV, u do well.

21 Nov 2017 | 16:22

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THE YELLOW BUTTERFLY – Episode 2 But he had said he would be home before 7 p.m. and the time should still be around 10 a.m. I only had one chance at escaping. Oh God! I ran up to the shed’s entrance and looked out. His car was still a little afar off. He might or might not see me as I ran back. Then I remembered; he had a myopic vision. All he might probably see as I ran back was a moving little swish of red and blue. I heard that muffled voice again. ‘’Please, I don’t know who or what you are but if you can hear me, I’ll be back. Right now, I have to make an important run.’’ Steeling myself, I ran like never before. I ran till I reached the front door. I fumbled around in my pocket for the keys and when I couldn’t feel them, I stilled at the thought of the possibility that I had dropped them as I ran. The car was getting nearer. I gently felt around for the keys and I found them. I slid the key into the keyhole and the door gave in. I entered and shut the door behind me, unbolted. I ran up to my room and took off my sandals and went downstairs again. I entered into the kitchen and turned on the sink tap, redoing the dishes I had already done. When Father came in, I went into the living room with a very surprised expression, making sure my hands were practically dripping of water. ‘’Father, you’re back already,’’ I said as I stared at the big black clock on the wall. ‘’You didn’t bolt the door and yes, I’m home. I was almost running out of fuel when I reached the main road and I had no money on me, so I decided to come back and suck fuel into the car.’’ He stared deeply at me. ‘’Did you leave this house?’’ ‘’No, Father,’’ I answered and dropped my hands to my sides so that he wouldn’t notice that they were shaking. ‘’I probably have a migraine. Get me the fuel can and the hose. I am waiting outside.’’ As I turned to leave, I felt his eyes piercing into me, searching for the least of signs to prove that I was lying. I came down the stairs to meet Father wearing his reading glasses and peering into his computer’s monitor. On the screen was a woman on a brown patterned head wrap who was giving a speech on a podium whose background had the letters “TED.” I walked over to the window and looked outside. The Monday sky was a clear azure. I looked at the whirring CCTV which Father had installed himself earlier in the day, much to my utter dismay. I knew why he had installed it, so, I never asked. It was just to keep track of my movement. Bored, I went to the living room and turned on the TV. E! was showing a series from Keeping Up With The Kardashians, as usual. I switched over to Disney only to find a little girl wearing a head garland and talking with a dog. I turned off the TV. When I met Father on the stairs, he had changed into a dashiki and he told me to get dressed for the mall. Quickly, I did as was told. The mall was free air-conditioning. Father was admiring a very large plasma TV with a price tag so huge, I sucked in sharp breaths. “Do you want ice-cream?” “No, Father, thank you,” I answered. “OK. Your time starts now,” he said, fiddling with his wristwatch. Whenever we visited the mall, he usually gave me twenty minutes to be on my own. Thanking him, I rushed to the elevator and jammed the buttons countless times, for no reason. After ascending on the elevator, I descended on the moving stairs. And as I was about to go repeat the cycle, I saw him. Peter. The smile on my face was knocked right off. Suddenly, I forgot what colour of jeans I was wearing and if I was wearing powder. I was about to dodge behind the KFC signpost when he started walking over. Alarmed, I felt an uncanny urge to smoothen something; my hair, my shirt, anything. “Ify, how are you?’’ “I’m fine, I’m fine,’’ I answered, looking down at my moccasins. “How are you?” “Why did you stop coming to school or did you change to another school?” I did not know how to open my mouth and say this; did not know how to tell him that I stopped going to school for the whole term because I needed to regularly visit a speech therapist. “You’re not talking, Ify,” he said. “Peter, I…. I cannot tell you,” I said, “Besides, why are you not in school today?” “For today, I didn’t feel up to going to school,” he answered, looking slightly hurt. “With you…and Jennifer gone, I don’t know. Wait, what do you mean by you cannot tell me?” I looked at my wristwatch. Twenty minutes was well over; Father was going to have a cow and a sheep and a goat and all sorts of animals. “Look, I have to go. Bye, Peter,” I said and took off. From the corners of my eyes, I saw him standing there looking dazed and I felt a sudden sharp stab of guilt. I met Father standing on one of the aisles at Shoprite. When he saw me, he smiled, much to my surprise. It was either his wristwatch was deceiving him or his smile was a way to convey his anger. He was about to say something when his smile vanished. For a split second, I was scared that the whole facial expression was for me, but I heaved a sigh of relief as I turned in the direction of Father’s stare. Relief gave way to curiosity as I saw a sudden move, as if the person was ducking from Father’s stare. Like someone in a trance, eyes unfocused, Father dropped the basket he was holding and chased after whoever he had seen. I looked at the security cameras for no reason. I bit my nails because there was nothing else to do. I just stood there like a two-year old in the middle of a busy street. I was honestly taken aback when Father rushed back only to tell me to hurry to the car. “I don’t want to reach the parking lot before you,’’ he breathed. “Father, is everything alright?” “Do as you are told, will you?” I needed no second telling. With the look on his face, he could kill without blinking an eyelid. Soon, he was speeding after a Camry two cars ahead of us, with me muttering all kinds of prayers I knew. I glanced at Father who was both swerving and fiddling with his phone. “I just saw him, as in right this second,” Father said through gritted teeth. ‘’Where?” I would identify Missy’s voice anywhere, even over a phone. “The mall, Missy. He is in Enugu. Missy you lied and you already know what the consequence would be.” “No, no, don’t touch my daughter. Please! I did tell you that I had no clue where he was. Please leave my child out of this. Don’t torture…” Missy’s voice trailed off. Father looked at me and I noticed it, even though my eyes were shut tight and I was muttering unintelligible words in the name of prayers. It was clear that Father had lost whoever it was he had been after considering the relatively low speed he was now moving with. “I will drop you off then I would head back here; I need to take care of some issues.” “Father, we bought nothing at the mall including my necessities as a girl,” I told him coolly. I did not fail to see the quick look of care that flashed through his face. When it came to girly things like this, he tended to show a little more care. “I’m very sorry, Ify. I would return with everything we would need, I promise.” We talked more on the way home; just small talk, never mind that I could literally feel him bursting with adrenaline for actions yet to be done but must be done, actions which really didn’t concern me. The minute he dropped me home, I did what I had consciously deferred for so long. I felt around for the key to the house although I already knew where it was, where I had purposefully left it. I had left it in Father’s car and I was only putting on a show for the whirring camera which I was sure that Father would go through sometime later. Pouting, I sat on the doorsteps and made a bored face to myself, very ‘oblivious’ of the camera. I stood up and stretched, then went over to the gravel. I picked up a pebble and threw it in the air. I picked up another and did the same. I picked up more and kept throwing them up as if I were playing. Then, I picked up one more pebble and did exactly what I had wanted to do I ‘mistakenly’ flung it in the face of the camera and the whole thing crashed down to do. I mistakenly flung it in the face of the camera and the whole thing crashed down. First mission accomplished, I ran all the way to the shed. I shuddered as I saw a yellow buttery. What was up with that thing anyway? Swearing to find out what secrets lay behind those shed doors no matter what, I ran up straight to the one I had wanted to open right before. I swung at the door with all my strength and I froze at who, or more accurately a-who-turned-what, I saw. Jennifer no longer looked human. She looked like a very thin twig about to snap into two. Shaking off my shock, I ran to her and tried to untie all the ropes binding her to a chair. But it was of no use as the ropes were as huge as could be. STORY CONTINUES…

22 Nov 2017 | 03:41

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22 Nov 2017 | 03:41

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Hmm this getting complicated

22 Nov 2017 | 08:19

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seated

22 Nov 2017 | 14:53

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Jennifer Who is Jennifer

22 Nov 2017 | 16:50

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I'm right here even though no one invite me here

22 Nov 2017 | 17:08

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Curriousity kills the cat Your dad has a skeleton in his cupboard and am sure u will find ur mum soon

22 Nov 2017 | 17:17

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Jennifer ur mum, or who is she? More pls.

22 Nov 2017 | 18:44

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THE YELLOW BUTTERFLY – Episode 3 In the week that I had to stop school, Jennifer had been reported missing to the school authority but not to the police because it was not yet two days of her absence, but the next day, Missy, her mother had said she had been found but would take a few days off of school to recuperate. And then, I find her in this abandoned shed near my home. I had gotten ready to bombard her with tough questions, not like she looked in any state as to answer me, when tiny locks gave way in my head. On the way back from the mall, I had overheard Missy asking Father not to…Oh! My God. Did Father kidnap Jennifer? This didn’t make any sense at all. What was wrong with Father? Was he like a psychopath or something? Fearing the worst, I slowly pulled off the tape placed over Jennifer’s mouth so as not to hurt her if I pulled it fast, just like in the Sherlock Holmes movies I watched. I looked at Jennifer’s face and froze. Why was she looking at me like that? Did she think I kidnapped her? Oh! No, no. ‘’Ok. I really don’t know how you ended up in this abandoned shed but I want you to know that I had no hand in it.’’ “Just get me out first,” Jennifer said feebly. “Well, what do you think I’m trying to do, genius? She smiled feebly. ‘’How about you and Peter?’’ “You know, considering that your freedom depends on me for now, don’t you think you should be nicer or better still, keep shut?” I had started getting irritated. Jennifer knew just how to get this part of me out. It goes back to when we were both in school, when Peter finally stopped going out with her and started making approaches at me. Since then, Jennifer and I hardly walked the same path. In silence, I tugged at the huge ropes that could pass for Anacondas and gave up. “I have to go get some knives,” I said. “Fool, sit down and let’s talk.’’ ‘’OK, you have nerves, babe.’’ I sneered but still I sat down on the floor, opposite her. “Your Father, I don’t know what’s up with him. He brought me here since you-know-when and each time he brings food to me, he asks me if I knew where my Father was. It’s all so tiring. Once, he mentioned that he was in cahoots with mommy but I didn’t believe him.” She shook her head. “Say something, bubba.” “What do you want me to say?” ‘’Oh! You know, you could talk about Peter,’’ she winked at me. “Gee, the way you’re going, I would think that you’re the one in cahoots with my Father, not Missy.” She looked at me in shock. “Like, what’s that supposed to mean?” “Look, never mind. Let me go get some knives.” “As much as I hate you ” As much as I hate you… “I could say the same for myself,” I cut her short. ‘’As I was saying, as much as I hate you, I don’t want your weird Father to, I don’t know, lock you up or murder you or something. When you free me up, I don’t know how, but he’s going to know you had a hand in it. The man’s weird, I tell you.” “Oh! I see you are enjoying your stay here because no one in his or her right senses would see a one-way ticket to freedom and decline.” “Fool, I just know there’ll be repercussions when you free me on your own. Call the police or something.” “Again with that genius mentality, this is not America where 911 would hook me up with those people. The nearest police station is like hundred cities away and I am not allowed to be out on my own, well, unless Missy shows up but then, the time I have would still be limited.” ‘’Whoa, call my mommy’s name again and see.” “When you were calling my Father weird, I was silent,’’ I said. ‘’Only because you knew I was stating a fact.’’ ‘’Well, I’m stating a fact too. Missy comes here every Saturday and from the looks of it, she’s really in cahoots with Father.’’ “Whatever,” she sighed. I grunted. “Can I ask you a favour?” she asked. ‘’What? You want Peter for yourself?’’ ‘’Don’t be stupid.’’ “What?” I asked, slightly curious. “When next you’re coming, could you get me good food?” “So beasts get hungry? Wow.” She laughed. “Yes, they do.” “Ok.” “Put back the tape on my mouth. When your weirdo of a Father comes, we both wouldn’t want him suspecting, would we?” I did as she asked. When I turned to leave, she grunted. I turned back and saw a tear fall off her eye. I opened the door and left. Father waking me up after I had gone to bed was proof enough of his anger. I knew I was in for it. “To my room, Ifeyinwa,” he had ordered me in Igbo and then left for his room. He hardly spoke that language which still went further to prove that he was really mad at me. I knocked on his door and entered without waiting for his response. He was in briefs, a sight I was better off not seeing. “Watch this and explain!” He yelled. Silently, I watched the little show I had put up for the camera earlier in the day. I commended myself for being such a good actress, inwardly of course. “Father, I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what to say. I forgot the keys in your car and I had no option but to stay out here. I was so bored and I wanted to play. I’m sorry that stone destroyed the camera. Please…” “Just get out of my room. Now!” Like someone being chased, I ran out of his room glad that had gone easy. “Romans 12:9 says ‘Let love be without dissimulation,’” Father read. I didn’t know what had inspired this early morning devotion from him and neither did I care. I was too busy trying to spell the word CZECHOSLOVAKIA. “Are you even listening to me? Never mind, this Daily Guide is too complicated for even me to understand this early morning. Bow your head in prayer. Dear God…” I tried spelling ALCOHOL this time; not that I didn’t know it, just that the spelling confused me this time, as had already happened in times past, though ALCOHOL wasn’t exactly the word I had forgotten. ‘Is’ was. I had been writing on an essay topic How I Spent My Christmas Holiday and had gotten stuck on how to spell ‘Is’. I chuckled at that thought. “…Amen,” Father finished off. “Was something funny?” “No, Father, I’m sorry.” “Apologize to God. Anyway, your uncle, Ifeka, is coming over. He’ll stop here from the village then I’ll drive him to the Peace Park so as to get him on his way to Ota.” “Where is Ota, Father?” I asked as if I didn’t know that Ota was in Ogun State. “I thought you knew. Check the back of any exercise book that has Thirty-six States and Capitals.” I laughed. It was certainly not because what Father had said was funny but because Uncle Ifeka reminded of a very funny joke. The last time he had come and slept over, when he had come to put me to sleep, as I hadn’t wished to sleep yet, he had said, “I’ve been made mad today by the bus driver whose bus I boarded here. Don’t let me use you as an ‘escape goat’. Go to bed.” We had both laughed so hard that I laughed myself to tears and then to sleep. “What of Missy? Would she still come, as you’re going out and all?” “Minding your own business would do you a big load of good,” Father said as he stretched. “But clean the house thoroughly, though, because she’s coming. That would be right after you make me breakfast.” I mimicked him silently as I went downstairs to the kitchen to check the new meal roster that Father had put up a week ago, which was why I was yet to know what to cook without looking at the neat roster made so beautifully, you would wonder if it was the roster that was to be eaten or the meals on the roster. I groaned as I found out that I had to make pap. Making pap was so not my thing. If the pap didn’t turn out soggy, it was sure to turn something else, something worse. I put off making the pap so that I would make the bean balls first. I groaned further after I opened the freezer and found out how frozen the bean paste was; I had to wait for it to defrost, which meant that the pap had to come first. I peered so deeply at the bowl that housed the pap which I now poured extremely hot water in so as to detect when the pap turned. I gave a little shout of joy as the pap came out perfect. After putting it in a thermo-ask, I faced the bean paste which had by then defrosted to a reasonable extent. It was only after I had scooped the needed quantity that it occurred to me. Father was going out with Uncle Ifeka and Missy was going to be alone with me. I could talk to her about Jennifer, never mind that it would be a huge risk to me as I was not sure if she was in cahoots or not. Glad that I had come up with the thought, I scooped some more bean paste which would be Jennifer’s share. STORY CONTINUES…

23 Nov 2017 | 01:10

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REGISTER @freshgirl @qeenvick @swtharyomi @denciebabe @wyse-one @eddy @delight @pweety @victoriouschild @mray @jummybabe @babe4biola @sofia @ritagold @kuks @frankkay @pearl @originalannchilexdel @evanz @fridex @jclash @gracy @itzshaxee @simzy @chomyline @pheranmmie041 @temmyjoy @chriswayne @mecuze @skookum @jerrie @john451 @kniphemi @emmanesth @horpheyehmy @justify @maurice @kemkit @adeyoola @jummy @thankmic @kpumpy @christopher @anita @phinebraim @kedike @saintkenz @december12 @promise @sylvia @bsam @portable @cherryserah @steph @aarti @invincible @olaking3 @harddy @blakstudd @prince @azeeco @temmymofrosh @vizkid @sandra @sandy @hollar @kaysmart22 @sexynikky1994 @davick @youngestprince @semilore @oyindamola @ladygrasha @dhemilade1 @mature @peacebright @franklin @kolababs @mhzzrblayse @smilie @borwerleh @iksqueency @loveth @funmilayo1 @okklad @nizzy @flames @tony @vict-vames @stanny39 @softtouch @onahsunday631 @ele @jeddy @sonshine @sirgentle @hoelhay @aminzy @eben @teesolid @omoyemmy @olarach @daxking @krizzy @holarbordah @firstladyontop @softie @obaby @sergentmax @mhizdaofot @pappyjay @c-roderick @cookey @isabella1 @chisomsophia @mrfabulous @henry @mubarak @mhizzthessy @millz @abevica @individual @youngfellow @humblelion @natasha9976 @hartuny @jimmyjab @arosunshine @heartbrokekid @thosiano @peterox @sapiens @paula4eva @iamsmv @adegunle3gmail-com @yemitefestus @omoniyiola @inifek @skulboy @nheemot @deejaygrin @hitiswell @fynboy @whizjay @oshio @shikoleen @queencoded @vicoch @kimmy @ifeoma1 @nobleay @felixharuna11 @ibktemi99 @sanctus4real @bolaji2308 @damzybabe @profeze1 @horlarjuwhon @illusion002 @royzeray @chinenye5404 @dharmex @emileagosu @pharouq00 @saraya @blazeb @virtuous @ennyshow @haryormidey @mzz_teddy @daddyd @emergencia @ryder @fb-itz-chueleraloveday @cassiewells @judiee @omoshalewa @nheemot @rukibaby19 @ugochisunday @micheal1 @certifiedjx @wumyte @jokqees @temmyluv @oyefestus @coolbaby @ewosboi @lilfresh @phauzy @princeocity @ocpresh @sahent @horgzy @amibabe @bayslaw007 @saviour @damsyn @fortune @ernesto @light1259 @adeyemi @wisesam @bankykay @gaman @kingj @rossi @danielbrown @aanu001 @klaussimbo @princekidhonest @lilpaco @cheta @zach100 @pelumi99 @phaicynxsmith @macaveli @mizzykevin @gorgeousdammie @froshberry-2 @emperorsndyheartless @maltty @chidij1 @mavbirth @niceoneofficial @jacopet @wizy308 @coolval222-2 @olorivicky @shaklef @mackabsolute @nakam @ladyg @wizzyg @vivian @paula4eva @pappyjay @pesman @charliebryn @emmazzy @itzprince @youngmiss @faith @nkem @sabinto @bestabbey @pearlily @damariseze @Oluwaslimzy @Calebdanny @Frank @wisdomifeanyi80 @olushegzy @delexzy01 @Luvlydamsel @Hormortiyor @fb-MhizLilygold @elisco1453 And others come o

23 Nov 2017 | 01:12

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Hmmm nxt

23 Nov 2017 | 02:04

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Your father is something else

23 Nov 2017 | 03:20

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your dad is a gangster

23 Nov 2017 | 03:58

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nexxxt.

23 Nov 2017 | 04:39

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Ur father is really weird

23 Nov 2017 | 05:15

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Indeed your father is weird

23 Nov 2017 | 08:27

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Something is wrong with your father

23 Nov 2017 | 11:32

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THE YELLOW BUTTERFLY – Episode 4 Uncle Ifeka came in beaming, a duffel bag bouncing off his near-stiff waist. “Escape goat,” he said and we both laughed hard. “You mean ‘A Scape Goat’,” I corrected amid my laughter. Uncle Ifeka was one of my relatives I wouldn’t mind living with. Not the others like awful Aunt Anuli or the too outspoken Mummy Junior. “Yes, we know you know how to pronounce it correctly,” he kept on laughing. “Anyway, you know I really don’t have all day to spend with you. As a matter of fact, the minute your Father knows I’m here, he’ll get ready to set me on my way to Covenant University.” I made a face at him. “It’s not fair, you know. And, you really can’t tell me that you came all the way from the village without buying me anything.” “Don’t be so sure. I bought you what I had promised to buy you if I was ever to stop by here again,” he said and smiled. The smile on my face vanished. If he had really bought what he said, he would buy… “Uncle Ifeka, please don’t pull my legs, I’ll fall,” I said. He laughed and as he laughed, he pulled out something in a bag that had FINE BROTHERS written on its pack. “Here it is,” he whispered, “Go and hide it in your room and be careful how you use it. If you are caught, I gave you nothing,’’ he finished off, still whispering. I was too stunned to speak. I mouthed a ‘thank you’ as I ran up with the package mildly stuffed under my shirt. I opened the door to my room and gently put the package under my bed. Then, I went to tell Father that Uncle Ifeka had arrived. “I just informed Father that you’re here. As he prepares, do you want anything to eat?” “The Coke and Okpa that I had in the bus to here is still in my stomach. Nne, don’t worry yourself.” We settled to talking about why I stopped going to school when I heard the doorbell. I was certain it was Missy. No one else visited us without calling Father rst. “Missy,” I said and smiled as I opened the door. “How are you, Ify? “I’m ne, Missy. Kindly come in,” I said, most politely. I was exceptionally sure that she was taken aback by how nice I was being because she was used to frostiness from me. “Father would be down in any minute.” “Thank you,” she said as she stepped in. Father came downstairs looking as casual as ever. I noticed how Uncle Ifeka sat up straighter. Father talked to Missy first. “You know what we talked about. It might be a while before I return.” “No problem,” Missy said, smiling. “Ifeka, let us leave.” I was stunned that Father did not bother introducing Uncle Ifeka to Missy. “Father, didn’t you…” One knowing blink from Uncle Ifeka shut me up. He knew I was about to question Father for not introducing him. “What, my daughter?” He asked carelessly as he shook his Volkswagen car key. “Bye, Father.” I went over and hugged Uncle Ifeka. “Bye Uncle Ifeka” Father spared me a moment of a strange look, then he shrugged as if to say that he would never understand me. As Uncle Ifeka left the front door, he jokingly asked me never to be an ‘Escape goat’. I had thought Missy would be skeptical about what I had told her, but she proved me wrong by the way she unconsciously let the glass of water slip out of her grasp and landed noisily on the floor. Also, this went to prove that she was in no cahoots with Father, unless, of course, she was faking this. “You don’t expect me to blink my eyes and believe you, do you?” “Missy, it is your choice to believe or not to believe. Why would I just make up something like that? As a matter of fact, she said that I should bring her food when next I was coming.” “And have you?” “With all due respect, I cannot have that from you, Missy.” “So you have not given her food since you last saw her, since she begged you to? What kind of a person are you?” Saying that I had felt irritated was something more than an understatement. I just sat, for long minutes, staring right at her. “I should be asking you that question. Just what kind of a mother are you, you who lied about the surety of your daughter’s whereabouts? Just what kind of mother does that make you?” I was now shouting at the top of my voice. She seemed still or rather, she stilled herself. I felt her recoil into an unseen shell and I gloated for the impact my sharp words had on her. “You, mere child; you have absolutely no right to sit there and make conclusions. You have no right!” “Then, tell me what happened, will you?” I felt as if I was the older one and not Missy. “I don’t blame David, your father, for what he is, but I blame myself for what I did. I blame myself for introducing him to my husband. I blame myself for letting him know a little too much about my husband’s past life.” I just stared at her. She must have totally lost it. “You see, I have to take food to Jennifer right now, before Father returns. But, I cannot do it alone. Y ou see that camera out there?” “Yes,” she answered. “I need something or someone to block its view while I run to the shed to give food to Jennifer,” I said. “You do the blocking, but please, can I take the food to Jennifer myself?” I looked at her for a long time before I agreed. There was no harm in that. At least, she would believe me fully once she saw her daughter and that might facilitate Jennifer’s freedom, in a way. “But I have a condition.” “Ify, I’d do anything just to lay my eyes on my daughter after so long.” “You’ll have to clearly tell me all you know about Father and why he has your daughter and what it was you were just jabbering about right now … okay tomorrow.” Missy looked shocked. “Tomorrow’s a Sunday, I’m not even allowed to come here on any day that’s not Saturday.” “Tell Father that you have to lecture me on my periods or something. It’s all part of the big sacrifices and the lies we tell just to have what we want,” I said, not even sure of what it was I had just said. “No problem. Please, can you give me a knife?” I stared at her from the corner of my eyes as she stood up and went over to the dining table, to the basket of fruits on the table. I slowly did as she asked. I watched her cut a quarter off an apple. I listened carefully to her as she said that I could go get Jennifer’s food. It was after I had stuffed Jennifer’s food in her bag and was thinking of how to block the camera that I heard Father’s Volkswagen. Missy must have heard it too as I noticed the way her eyes widened in shock. We had been so caught up in our discussion that we didn’t even plan on what to do, together. Father came in, unsmiling. “That Ifeka has guts, condemning the men from that story in the Bible about Sodom and Gomorrah.” I heard that and stopped all my wriggling and every other thing that came with the way I was wriggling. I locked up that sentence in a tiny part of my head, the part that replayed how the day had gone when I lay in bed at night, looking up at the Plaster of Paris. Missy had paid his sentence no mind as she seemed really preoccupied with other thoughts. I noticed the way that her hands were shaking at her back when she said to Father, “That boy I live with just called me to say that he had just seen him.” I also did not fail to notice the explicitly wild are that entered Father’s eyes almost immediately Missy’s last word had left her mouth. “Go, fast, and see if you can lure him over here for me. Gawa, go!” “Yes, yes,” Missy was nervously chattering as she clutched her hand bag to her breast. “Wait, since when did you have a houseboy?” “He’s new. Haven’t I ever mentioned him?” “Just go, will you?” I cleared my throat; a sign to Missy to remember to tell Father about coming over the next day, about keeping her end of the little bargain. I was horrified that Missy said nothing; she just opened the door and left. I was sure that she had heard me and that she knew exactly why I had made that throaty mhh-mhh sound, there was no other explanation to it; Missy had completely blown me off sound. There was no other explanation to it; Missy had completely blown me off. Reeling in the thought, I cleared up the dining table; the quarter of the apple that Missy had not eaten and the knife. Wait, where was the knife? It was nowhere on the table. I looked around for it and as I could not see it, I settled with the thought that had formed in my mind when I had first not seen the knife. Missy. I immediately started blaming myself for telling her the incident with the ropes that bound Jennifer, how I had figured that only knives would cut through the ropes. “In fact, I am going myself to bring Nnaemeka here, I am going myself!” Father was saying as he headed for the door. “Father, where are you going?” I asked, very meekly. “I’ll be back, my sweet,” Father called as he breezed out the front door. My Sweet, ha! He had never called me that all his life and he only did because someone showed up in town. STORY CONTINUES…

23 Nov 2017 | 17:07

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THE YELLOW BUTTERFLY – Episode 5 I knew that I was tired. I knew that all I wanted was to go to my room, lock the door, and bury my head into my pillow and never come up for air. That was how bad I needed to rest. Rest wasn’t the only thing I needed; getting away from all the drama which I had Inadvertently drawn myself into, was too. But I couldn’t just sit and watch. I couldn’t skip this opportunity I had to know exactly who Father was and more importantly, why I had seen him do what he had done ten years ago. I walked over to the window as I was contemplating on how to shield the camera’s glare from me as I ran to the shed. My jaw dropped as I saw Missy supporting Jennifer who limped. With the look of extreme determination on Missy’s face, I knew she wanted to leave the vicinity as soon as possible. But Jennifer; she wore her own determined look better, though I could tell it wasn’t pertaining to what her mother wanted to do. If I was any good at guessing, I reasoned that she wanted to go the other way; my house’s way. I felt the wind whooshing past me as I ran right to where they stood arguing. Missy’s jaw dropped in a perfect oval. “You lousy backstabber,” I yelled. “Don’t. Don’t talk to her like that,” Jennifer quietly put in. “She’s my mother.” “It’s not my fault,” I said hotly. Jennifer laughed. “Good one, sister. She’s not perfect but she’s mine.” “Well, I’m sure mine was a lot better,” I added even though I knew how conceited that sounded. “Speaking of, your mother is back there. The room on the extreme is hers and she said it is well furnished.” I whipped around to face the shed. In a firm voice I asked her to repeat herself. “I would do no such thing. You heard me clearly the first time, and I see no reason to repeat myself.” “Do you know what you are saying?” I asked in a shaky voice. “Do you understand that you just said that the woman I…” Missy cut me short. “I heard your Father’s Volkswagen leave. Let’s go over to your house. There we would talk. Meanwhile, I am scared for what your Father would do to you when he would go through that horrible camera.” “That is no problem. At least, two years of studying Data Processing would pay off. I would easily clear the camera of its last recordings.” It was only after Jennifer had said that, that I realized how I had foolishly thrown caution to the wind and run out to meet them. “But I’m out here already. I want to see my mother. I want to see her now!” I said shakily. “Dear Ghandi,” Jennifer started. “I told you not to say that,” Missy said sharply. “Whatever. Ify, you have no idea where that horrible man you call your father went to and how near he is to here…” Jennifer continued. “I do know where he went to He said he was going to get someone named Nnaemeka ” I do know where he went to. He said he was going to get someone named Nnaemeka… “Then he is off to my house in Independence Layout, the fool. You have enough time to run in and find out for yourself,” Missy said. “Jennifer is going in with me, you hear me? I just can’t trust you right now and you know why.” “Ka anyi gawa osiso! Let’s get going,” Jennifer said and slipped out of her mother’s arm which supported her. Jennifer led the way whilst holding the sides of the shed for support. As we reached the extreme end of the shed, she gesticulated for me knock on the door. I heard a throaty laugh which I was sure I constantly heard as a child. “David, since when do you knock, you rascal?” “It is Jennifer, ma, and I am here with Ifeyinwa,” Jennifer said in a raspy breath. The silence was so much, a graveyard would look like a joke. “What is going on? How did you…? Did he release you? Is Ifeyinwa truly here? Say something!” I heard the voice say. “My mother helped me out and yes, Ifeyinwa is here.” “I won’t believe you till I hear her,” the voice said. As if on cue, my frozen voice was unthawed and I could speak again. “Mother?” “Ify? My Ify? Is that you?” I heard the voice say. It was only then that I believed the voice to be Mother’s. Nobody else ever said my Ify. “Yes, yes, Mother, it is me,” I said as I shook the handle to the door to no avail. “Don’t bother. He locks it,” I heard Jennifer say. “Yes, my dear, he does. Stop trying or you’d hurt yourself,” Mother agreed. “But Mother, why? Why are you here? Why did he keep you here?” I asked. “Both of you,” I added, facing Jennifer. “To call it a long story is an understatement of sorts. Your Father has problems; serious ones,” Mother said. “How are you, Mother? How is the inside of where you stay? Are you ok?” “I have everything I need to survive in here. It’s hard to believe but it’s true. He fixed a kitchenette in here for me. He brings me ten gallons of water each month. A sofa and some books. I am a little comfortable but I would want nothing more than to be out of here and be with you, my child.” “Mother, I swear, I will get you out of this place,” I said through tears. “That would be a little difficult, Ify. The key to this door would not be easy to find,” Mother said. “Give me the description, Mother. Give me the key description,” I said through gritted teeth. “Just how do you expect her to notice such an inconsequential thing as a key description?” Jennifer asked. “My child, I do have a bar of soap that I have been saving,” Mother said. Jennifer gasped! “Quick, ma, push it through this space under the door.” I was yet to understand how a bar of soap was of any importance at the moment. I heard the sound of scattering things for a little while before I heard Mother shout “here.” I watched as the white, smooth bar slid under the door and into Jennifer’s waiting hands. It was only when I had peered into the bar that I noticed the neat, explicit print of a key. It was then that I gasped. “Oh God, oh God!” I heard Jennifer breath ahead of me. “We’ll be back, ma.” “Be careful, children. David is a terribly dangerous man,” Mother said. “I will be back soon, Mother, I promise.” I was shocked at the agility with which Jennifer ran; she who had been leaning in on anything next to her for support just moments ago. I would have been surprised but nothing seemed to surprise me anymore. What with my father being something of a psycho? “You know, I am not a teenager,” breathed Missy behind both Jennifer and I. “Slow down a bit.” “I wouldn’t. And don’t even try to slow us down when my mother is languishing away in that creepy shed,” I caught myself yelling. “Just how is it my fault that she couldn’t keep her mouth shut? Was it mandatory for her to confront David on that night? Just tell me!” I had to stop running and faced Missy squarely. “What are you talking about? Speak up, Missy, and fast!” Missy looked like she regretted saying what she had just said. Just as she was about to talk, her phone rang. With one hand, she grabbed the phone out of her bag. I saw her eyes zero in on the phone’s screen and I knew that it just had to be Father. “Who is that?” I heard Jennifer ask. Missy swallowed. The cool evening breeze blew her loose scarf away. Without replying Jennifer, she answered the phone. “David,” Missy said in a forced sunny voice. She gesticulated for us to keep heading to the house and as we needed no second telling, we zoomed off. In no time, Jennifer and I reached the house. I gasped as the door gave in; I was shocked at how careless I had been in leaving the door unlocked. “The camera! Where is the monitor to the camera?” Jennifer asked, out of breath. “In his room. Which is always locked!” I replied to a wide-eyed Jennifer. I felt my own eyes grow wide when I realized that I knew where the spare keys to all the rooms in the house were. In a ash, I ran to the center table in the sitting room and threw the flower vase apart. The metallic jungle of keys reached my ears. “Oyanu, let’s go,” Jennifer said. “This way!” I screamed as I ran up the stairs with Jennifer hot on my heels. If anything, I had not expected Father’s room to be so clean. A place for everything and everything in its place. Jennifer had already reached the flat-screened monitor and was punching away on the remote. As I could be of no assistance, I looked around the room. There was a framed photo of Father, one of me and one other of Mother, but which had darts on it. I also saw a framed photo of a man that I was sure I had seen somewhere before. Was it at the mall? I wasn’t sure… Wait, I was! This had been the man that had ducked away from Father’s look at the mall on the day that I had seen Peter. A slice of guilt laced through me as I remembered Peter. But this was so not the time to dwell on such mundane thoughts. “In two minutes, the videos would all be deleted,” Jennifer said as she looked around the room. She went over to Father’s reading table and picked up a diary which I guessed to be Father’s. I didn’t even know he kept diaries. The diary made a thud sound as it came in contact with the floor. I was forced to take my eyes away from the monitor and watch Jennifer as she went closer to the framed picture of the man from the mall. “My father,” Jennifer said in a husky voice. “What is my father’s picture doing here? What does he want with my father?” Her voice grew louder with every question. “Jennifer, I want you to calm down. Please, just calm down.” “I swear if anything should happen to my mother, let alone my father, your creep of a father would have it hot with me. Ifeyinwa, I swear it!” I froze as my eyes fixed on the monitor. Father was forcing Missy into the shed. He was beating her too. His Volkswagen had dust all over it. It was after the breeze Jennifer left in her wake blew on me that I realized she had left the room. I was scattered. I did not know what to do, where to go, where to start from. I heard the clatter of cutlery down in the kitchen and I knew Jennifer had picked a knife. In my haste, I picked up the diary and stuck it under my blouse. Quickly, I ran downstairs into the kitchen and who I saw was no longer Jennifer. She had been transformed into a hideous beast. Scary lines criss-crossed her face. STORY CONTINUES…

23 Nov 2017 | 17:09

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REGISTER @freshgirl @qeenvick @swtharyomi @denciebabe @wyse-one @eddy @delight @pweety @victoriouschild @mray @jummybabe @babe4biola @sofia @ritagold @kuks @frankkay @pearl @originalannchilexdel @evanz @fridex @jclash @gracy @itzshaxee @simzy @chomyline @pheranmmie041 @temmyjoy @chriswayne @mecuze @skookum @jerrie @john451 @kniphemi @emmanesth @horpheyehmy @justify @maurice @kemkit @adeyoola @jummy @thankmic @kpumpy @christopher @anita @phinebraim @kedike @saintkenz @december12 @promise @sylvia @bsam @portable @cherryserah @steph @aarti @invincible @olaking3 @harddy @blakstudd @prince @azeeco @temmymofrosh @vizkid @sandra @sandy @hollar @kaysmart22 @sexynikky1994 @davick @youngestprince @semilore @oyindamola @ladygrasha @dhemilade1 @mature @peacebright @franklin @kolababs @mhzzrblayse @smilie @borwerleh @iksqueency @loveth @funmilayo1 @okklad @nizzy @flames @tony @vict-vames @stanny39 @softtouch @onahsunday631 @ele @jeddy @sonshine @sirgentle @hoelhay @aminzy @eben @teesolid @omoyemmy @olarach @daxking @krizzy @holarbordah @firstladyontop @softie @obaby @sergentmax @mhizdaofot @pappyjay @c-roderick @cookey @isabella1 @chisomsophia @mrfabulous @henry @mubarak @mhizzthessy @millz @abevica @individual @youngfellow @humblelion @natasha9976 @hartuny @jimmyjab @arosunshine @heartbrokekid @thosiano @peterox @sapiens @paula4eva @iamsmv @adegunle3gmail-com @yemitefestus @omoniyiola @inifek @skulboy @nheemot @deejaygrin @hitiswell @fynboy @whizjay @oshio @shikoleen @queencoded @vicoch @kimmy @ifeoma1 @nobleay @felixharuna11 @ibktemi99 @sanctus4real @bolaji2308 @damzybabe @profeze1 @horlarjuwhon @illusion002 @royzeray @chinenye5404 @dharmex @emileagosu @pharouq00 @saraya @blazeb @virtuous @ennyshow @haryormidey @mzz_teddy @daddyd @emergencia @ryder @fb-itz-chueleraloveday @olayintan @cassiewells @judiee @omoshalewa @nheemot @rukibaby19 @ugochisunday @micheal1 @certifiedjx @wumyte @jokqees @temmyluv @oyefestus @coolbaby @ewosboi @lilfresh @phauzy @princeocity @ocpresh @sahent @horgzy @amibabe @bayslaw007 @saviour @damsyn @fortune @ernesto @light1259 @adeyemi @wisesam @bankykay @gaman @kingj @rossi @danielbrown @aanu001 @klaussimbo @princekidhonest @lilpaco @cheta @zach100 @pelumi99 @phaicynxsmith @macaveli @mizzykevin @gorgeousdammie @froshberry-2 @emperorsndyheartless @maltty @chidij1 @mavbirth @niceoneofficial @jacopet @wizy308 @coolval222-2 @olorivicky @shaklef @mackabsolute @nakam @ladyg @wizzyg @vivian @paula4eva @pappyjay @pesman @charliebryn @emmazzy @itzprince @youngmiss @faith @nkem @sabinto @bestabbey @pearlily @damariseze @Oluwaslimzy @Calebdanny @Frank @wisdomifeanyi80 @olushegzy @delexzy01 @Luvlydamsel @Hormortiyor @fb-MhizLilygold @elisco1453 And others come o

23 Nov 2017 | 17:26

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kill him! kill him!! kill him!!! that is what will be ranting in Jenifer's mind. interesting following shall

23 Nov 2017 | 23:56

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Your dad is a physopath

24 Nov 2017 | 08:20

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Interesting story

24 Nov 2017 | 10:07

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Lobatan...Next pls

24 Nov 2017 | 13:33

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y is ur father kidnapping everybody only Missy can tell us what's going on here

24 Nov 2017 | 14:13

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THE YELLOW BUTTERFLY – Episode 6 “Don’t even stand in my way, for your own good,” she said. “Jennifer, don’t do anything stupid. He’s obviously stronger than you. He’d beat you hands down in any combat. Jenn,” I called her for the first time in my entire life, “Please?” “Oh! Ifeyinwa, out of my way this second,” she yelled. Till date, I would never understand why I raised my voice on her. “You fool! Go ahead then, go and fight him. Warrior of the century! Go, go now! If I stand in your way again, stab me with that knife. Wait…is that my dessert knife? The one I eat with? Biko, drop my knife this second and pick another.” She stilled at my raised voice. Then she started crying. “But…but, he’s got my mother” “Mine too. But for the past ten years, I haven’t done anything stupid about it. So calm down. This might be the last straw.” “What do we do?” she sobbed. “My Uncle Ifeka bought me a phone and a SIM card. Let’s go up to my room now,” I said slowly. I was beside myself with joy when I opened the package and an airtime recharge card fell out. I was about to x in the SIM card when I remembered that all the doors that led into the house were unlocked. “Fix in the SIM card while I go and lock up the doors and windows.” She nodded. I flew down the stairs and locked the front door and all the windows. The remaining inlets were the kitchen door and windows. I raced into the kitchen and locked the door and the window. Feeling a little relieved, I ran back into my room. “Who do we call?” I asked. “Are you asking me?” she asked back. “Let’s try 911,” I said. She punched in the three numbers and put in on loudspeaker. This call is an emergency call and will not be charged, the operator said repeatedly but did not hook us up with the police. “Oh no! Which other option do we have?” She asked. Much as I hated the option that had popped into my mind, I was in a dilemma here. It was Peter or anyone else. “Peter. He is our only other option,” I said frantically. “You can’t be serious,” she said and was already punching in numbers into the phone. “And who are you calling?” I asked, slightly irritated. “My father.” Her father was not answering even after five calls. “Call Peter now!” “Well, I don’t have his number by heart, so where do you…” “I do. 08171******. Punch, punch, punch them in fast!” I heard a bang on the front door; an extremely loud one. “Oh! My God!” Jennifer breathed. “I am…having…a…panic…attack.” This was so not what I needed at this moment. “Give me the phone.” I placed the phone to my ear as I watched Jennifer cup her hands and breathe into them. Who’s this? I heard the voice over the line. “Peter, Peter, it’s me Ifeyinwa. I need your help! Get the police and come over to my house as soon as possible.” Ifeyinwa, is this you? “Yes, it is,” I answered. Oh! So you only called because you need my help? “You foolish boy, can’t you understand that it is an emergency?” Jennifer added in a dreadful voice. Jennifer? Is that Jennifer? I would know that voice anywhere. His voice then softened. What is going on, Ify? I heard a noise, as if someone was coming up my window. I rushed over to my window and looked down and gasped. Father was climbing up my window. “Call the police and come over to my house. If you don’t know my address, it’s on my profile in the school website.” I dropped the call. Jennifer’s breathing paced up. I tried locking the window though I knew that it was to no avail. The knob had been broken by a fierce kick I had once given it a long time ago in anger. I took Jennifer’s hand and ran down the stairs. I grabbed the huge pestle and a kitchen knife and took several huge breaths. I heard the phone ringing upstairs in my room. I knew I had to get it. “Stay here, Jenn. I’m going to get the phone.” My two weapons in hand, I went up the stairs and into my room. Father was climbing in. I grabbed the phone and stared at its screen. I was sure that it was Jennifer’s father calling; he had probably seen his missed calls. I did not answer the call because Father had fully entered my room. “My daughter, what do you think you are doing?” He asked brushing dust off his shirt. “Don’t call me your daughter, you hideous beast,” I said with a venomous voice. “You locked up my mother for ten straight years for reasons I am yet to know. You locked Jennifer up too. And now, you locked Missy up. Are you a psycho or something?” “Now, now, don’t you use that tone on me, young lady,” he said and ran a hand through his overgrown hair. “I have not the slightest clue as to what you are saying. Drop those things now, will you?” “Not on earth. Not on this earth! So you’d lock me up too? Never!” I had started crying. “Why Father? Just why are you doing all these? I am scared of you right now. I don’t know if you’re a serial killer. Why are you doing all this?” I noticed the way he sobered up. “It’s a very long story, my daughter.” He sat on the floor. “It all started when I met Missy and she told me all about herself and more importantly, her husband’s past.” I sat on the floor too. I felt relieved to know that he wouldn’t be difficult as I had taught. Maybe he would be justified in all this in a way. “You see, Missy’s husband was into Sodomy. But he stopped all that when he met Missy. But I, I was into the same thing too.” My eyes were wide in shock. “What?” “Don’t judge me. It’s not my fault that I am this way. Unfortunately, I couldn’t stop. I didn’t even want to stop. Anyway, it was so hard to find someone who is in the same thing, or was. I had thought I would hold onto the person’s past and turn him back into what he was.” I was utterly disgusted. “Then why did you marry Mother, you foul thing?” “It was expected of me by your grandparents to get married and have a child. When you were seven years old, out of my grief and in my drunken state, I told your mother what I was and why I married her; not for love but to full all righteousness. But the foolish woman, she threatened to expose me to everyone including the police. I couldn’t have that! I couldn’t go to jail because of a woman’s big mouth. So, I shut her up!” I hadn’t even noticed how close he had gotten to me till I felt him grab my weapons in a single swoosh and hit me so hard I was blinded for seconds. I stood up, staggering. I tried running but he caught me by my hair and pulled me hard by it. Then, he grabbed me by the hand and pulled me toward the staircase. “Now, where is that Nnaemeka’s daughter that I was using as bait?” “You will not get away with this. You cannot.” He gave me another blinding hit, right across my face. He then pulled me to face him squarely, my back to the stairs. “Do you know what déjà vu means?” he asked. I then realized that this was the exact position Mother had been ten years ago when I was only seven. “You wouldn’t,” I said as blood oozed right from the corners of my mouth. Without another word, he pushed me. I advanced and feebly hit him. He pushed me again, I fell and then rolled down the flight of stairs. In the seconds in which my consciousness lasted, I vividly remembered how it had happened ten years ago, for the first time. Father advanced towards her and pushed her. Mother pushed him back. Father’s bottle of gin shattered as he lost balance, sending prickly chills all over me. Enraged that his precious, the bottle of gin, had been destroyed, he pushed Mother again but this time, fiercely. Mother’s arms went up first, the rest of her body following suit as she fell then rolled down the stairs. Father called her name twice and got no response. Then, I backed away, still unseen. I climbed onto my bed and shut my eyes so tight, they hurt. In my semi-consciousness, I knew I was being dragged across the floor. But then, the dragging stopped. I heard a thump then I felt Father loosen his grip on my right ankle. I heard another thump. And another. And yet another. Then, Father completely let go of me and even though I barely understood what was going on around me, I knew it was he that lay beside me in that pool of blood. I felt someone press my arm and knew it was for the sign of a pulse. I felt the person rush past me as a ringing sound came into my hearing. “Hello? Daddy, it’s me. Yes, yes, Jennifer,” the voice was tearfully saying as I drifted again into unconsciousness. A face loomed over me. Slowly, the face separated into two and then into four. I immediately sat up when I fully came to. Peter was holding my hand. Mother had tears in her eyes. Jennifer was breathing into cupped hands while Missy thumped her back gently. “We have to go, Mrs. Ejike. We will leave three officers here with you people though. We have to find your husband as soon as possible and bring him to book.” “Thank you, Inspector. You have no idea how much you have helped us,” Mother said wiping her tears. A month passed but the police were yet to find Father. Then, one day a yellow buttery uttered past my window and I immediately smelt the danger. I ran out of the house to look around. Mother followed behind me asking if everything was alright. Uncle Ifeka came and held me by the hand to lead me inside. “Uncle Ifeka, I am ok,” I said though I was truly uncomfortable. “I just wanted fresh air.” “Then we’ll leave you to yourself, ok?” Mother said. “Yes, please.” I watched as Mother and Uncle Ifeka went right inside and as I turned around, there stood Father with a knife in his hand. “Give me my diary now!” STORY CONTINUES…

24 Nov 2017 | 16:02

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THE YELLOW BUTTERFLY – Episode 7 BEFORE THE BUTTERFLY I didn’t have the strength to argue with Principal on why I was late to school. Well, I would have been beaten hands down even if I chose to word-spar with her because somehow, I would get stuck on a word that I couldn’t pronounce, as had already happened in times past. “Father, please, drop me at the back gate.” “Oh no, no! That way, you’d escape punishment and that is not acceptable. You must learn to accept the consequences of your actions.” I rolled my eyes and immediately regretted it as my eyelid hurt. Heat had been deliberately applied to it as a punishment by Father for asking him of Mother’s whereabouts a week ago. I smiled as he swerved and moved in the back gate’s direction. He was a cool Father, I’d give him that. But he was not so cool if you asked him about Mother or if he caught you looking at the cracked spot where… “I only did this because we live at Ngwo and most importantly, because I don’t have that witch’s strength. Next you’d know she’d call to ask me to buy you an alarm or wake you up myself or just do something.” I laughed. “Bye, Father.” I was climbing the hideously long staircase when my eyes befell my greatest enemy, if I did say so myself. “Jennifer,” I said in acknowledgement. “Ifeyinwa,” she said and turned her head up in that irritable way that she did. I clearly heard her cough the word ‘jerk’. “No you don’t. Not this morning,” I said, carefully trying to avoid a fight. “I’ve told you severally that you have Peter all to yourself. I don’t even look at him in the way you think I do, Jennifer.” “Tell that to Sopuru,” she said. Sopuru was the dumbest girl there ever was in my class. For half a minute or so, I was ashamed of myself for meting out judgement, for terming Sopuru as dumb but this was what, I thought, Jennifer lived for; bringing out the very worst in me. Honestly, I had already given up Peter. Jennifer could have him back because I was tired of the constant fights she put up. Though I still felt that tingling sensation in my chest whenever he stepped into the class, though I still melted into sticky goo whenever he looked at me, he was not worth the way I shouted around with Jennifer like a restaurant owner whose customer did not want to pay up. “Sopuru isn’t dumb, you know,” I said and couldn’t help but to add, “But you are.” I felt her explode like an atomic bomb which had been waiting for over a century to do so. “Oh! You have it in you, don’t you? Look who’s calling me dumb; the one who cannot pronounce C-A-T.” She laughed and I could tell it was a mirthless one. I felt like I had been punched in the face. I ran and ran and had almost made it to the class when I heard Principal’s voice. “Young lady, where are you coming from?” Her British accent was melodious with the way she didn’t pronounce the ‘g’ in young unlike most of the teachers. “Actually young ladies ” Actually, young ladies. I turned around to find out who had added the flies to ‘lady’. It was Jennifer. “From our houses, where do you think?” She answered in a nonchalant voice. Principal’s nose flared up in a startling shade of pink. “To my office now!” She said to Jennifer. To me, she asked, “And what do you have to say in your own defence?” “I’m coming from…the sick bay. I had a slight, um, cramp.” “I‘m sorry to hear that. Now off to class, will you?” I heaved a huge sigh of relief. This had gone easy. It was interesting how many things I could get off the hook with whenever I used ‘seeing-my-period’ lie. It worked on mostly everybody, Father too. Math period crawled by. When it was over, I got my reading note and ran to the staff room and almost entered without permission. “How dare you?” Mrs. Ibekwe shrieked. She was my Catering Craft Practice teacher. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Ibekwe. I truly am,” I was saying as my eyes scanned the square, fully air-conditioned room, crammed with staff tables for my English teacher. I frequently visited him to help me out with the words which I couldn’t pronounce. He said to keep doing this for him to know just how bad my ‘condition’ was, to know if to refer me to a speech therapist. “Well, when you want to get in, you do it the right way,” Mrs. Ibekwe said. “Excuse me Staff, please, can I come in?” “Yes, you can but you may not,” Mrs. Ibekwe said matter-of-factly. I had wanted to roll my eyes but I remembered that if I did, I would enrage the sleeping pain on my eyelid. “Excuse me Staff, please, may I come in?” I said this time. “You may enter, Ifeyinwa Ejike. You need to polish up on your manners though.” Mrs. Ibekwe said, beaming. My English teacher was smiling gracefully as I nervously approached him. I hadn’t quite learnt how to pronounce the word he had chosen for me to learn. “Good afternoon, sir.” “How do you do, Ifeyinwa?” “I’m fine, thank you.” I knew that if Principal were here, she would y off the handle because of my reply; she always insisted that when we are asked about how we were, we replied “How do you do too?” “Did you learn it?” I slowly shook my head. “That’s it! I’ll speak to Principal about having you visit a speech therapist regularly. I was very disappointed with myself. I knew I had tried; I had put in all my effort in trying to pronounce the words he had chosen for me. Yet, I just had to need the services of a speech therapist. I had no idea why God had created me this different. “Oh no, no!” Father yelled at the Principal in her office. “No one, I repeat, no one is going to subject my daughter to lay off of school for a whole term just to constantly visit a speech therapist. It is not done anywhere; do you hear me?” “Please sir, calm down. I’m sure we would successfully talk on this without raised voices. Now, your daughter has, err, speech problems. She naturally finds it difficult to pronounce some words unlike other people her age. Do note that I didn’t say that for destructive comparison purposes but only to get you to know just how direly she needs the help of a qualified speech therapist.” “I am not going to have you force my daughter into this…” Father was saying as Principal cut him short. “She has already consented and of her own free will too.” Father looked at me. I had a pressing need to chew on my fingers. If they had any idea how awkwardly embarrassing the whole thing was, maybe they’d spare me of all the hassle. “Is she right?” Father asked me intently. “Yes, Father,” I said looking down at my skirt. “Very well. How do you want to go about procuring a qualified ‘speech therapist’ for my daughter?” “We have two psychiatrists, one pediatrician and three speech therapists affiliated with this school.” Father nodded his impression. “And how much would I pay for the whole thing?” Principal laughed. “Is that what this whole disapproval is about?” “Certainly not, Mrs. Principal! Do watch your tongue,” Father sharply said as I got the impression of a double-edged sword ready to smite. I saw Principal recoil into herself, the lines of laughter in her face already wiped off. “All financial obligations have been met already in the fees which you paid for the term.” “That explains the horrifyingly huge amount of money I spend here on a termly basis,” Father said and chuckled to himself. “Well, today is Monday. I advise that she starts seeing the therapist by Friday. As soon as you leave, I would contact him to notify him of a new, err, patient.” “Okay,” Father said as he nodded slowly. Principal opened one of her drawers and got out a card “This is his complimentary card You should contact him by Thursday so that he’d give you the time Principal opened one of her drawers and got out a card. This is his complimentary card. You should contact him by Thursday so that he’d give you the time to meet for Friday.” “He better be good,” Father said as he collected the card. “Oh! He is, I assure you,” said the Principal. As Father and I stood up to leave, the Principal added, “Ifeyinwa, it will do you good to not inform your friends about this till you’re done with the therapist. I know what it’s like but I just don’t think you should talk to your friends about it. I do know that Jennifer Irokwe is not in your good books and neither are you in hers. If word officially gets out, it may ruin your reputation, ok? If you do want to confide in someone, meet the Counsellor.” “Thank you for the advice, Principal.” I said. “Bye, Mrs. Principal,” Father said with a smirk. “Jennifer Irokwe? Isn’t that Missy’s daughter?” “Yes, Father.” “You’re not in good terms? We’re good family friends now, why would both of you be quarrelling?” “Father, that her mother comes to our house every Saturday does not make both of them my friends; both Jennifer and Missy.” Father stopped walking and I worried if I had taken this too far. But the look on his face was not that of anger. If nothing else, it was the look that meant he had just gotten a new idea. “How does she go home?” “I don’t know, on her own?” “That is just perfect,” Father had resumed walking. “I will, umm, borrow her a little.” The sun was too hot, the parking lot was still some distance away, my shoes were tight and by tight I meant so tight I could not, and did not want to pay his last sentence any mind. “Race you to the car,” Father said and took off running. I just kept on walking, unsmiling. STORY CONTINUES…

24 Nov 2017 | 16:04

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REGISTER @freshgirl @qeenvick @swtharyomi @denciebabe @wyse-one @eddy @delight @pweety @victoriouschild @mray @jummybabe @babe4biola @sofia @ritagold @kuks @frankkay @pearl @originalannchilexdel @evanz @fridex @jclash @gracy @itzshaxee @simzy @chomyline @pheranmmie041 @temmyjoy @chriswayne @mecuze @skookum @jerrie @john451 @kniphemi @emmanesth @horpheyehmy @justify @maurice @kemkit @adeyoola @jummy @thankmic @kpumpy @christopher @anita @phinebraim @kedike @saintkenz @december12 @promise @sylvia @bsam @portable @cherryserah @steph @aarti @invincible @olaking3 @harddy @blakstudd @prince @azeeco @temmymofrosh @vizkid @sandra @sandy @hollar @kaysmart22 @sexynikky1994 @davick @youngestprince @semilore @oyindamola @ladygrasha @dhemilade1 @mature @peacebright @franklin @kolababs @mhzzrblayse @smilie @borwerleh @iksqueency @loveth @funmilayo1 @okklad @nizzy @flames @tony @vict-vames @stanny39 @softtouch @onahsunday631 @ele @jeddy @sonshine @sirgentle @hoelhay @aminzy @eben @teesolid @omoyemmy @olarach @daxking @krizzy @holarbordah @firstladyontop @softie @obaby @sergentmax @mhizdaofot @pappyjay @c-roderick @cookey @isabella1 @chisomsophia @mrfabulous @henry @mubarak @mhizzthessy @millz @abevica @individual @youngfellow @humblelion @natasha9976 @hartuny @jimmyjab @arosunshine @heartbrokekid @thosiano @peterox @sapiens @paula4eva @iamsmv @adegunle3gmail-com @yemitefestus @omoniyiola @inifek @skulboy @nheemot @deejaygrin @hitiswell @fynboy @whizjay @oshio @shikoleen @queencoded @vicoch @kimmy @ifeoma1 @nobleay @felixharuna11 @ibktemi99 @sanctus4real @bolaji2308 @damzybabe @profeze1 @horlarjuwhon @illusion002 @royzeray @chinenye5404 @dharmex @emileagosu @pharouq00 @saraya @blazeb @virtuous @ennyshow @haryormidey @mzz_teddy @daddyd @emergencia @ryder @fb-itz-chueleraloveday @olayintan @fb-holartunbosunmustapha @cassiewells @judiee @omoshalewa @nheemot @rukibaby19 @ugochisunday @micheal1 @certifiedjx @wumyte @jokqees @temmyluv @oyefestus @coolbaby @ewosboi @lilfresh @phauzy @princeocity @ocpresh @sahent @horgzy @amibabe @bayslaw007 @saviour @damsyn @fortune @ernesto @light1259 @adeyemi @wisesam @bankykay @gaman @kingj @rossi @danielbrown @aanu001 @klaussimbo @princekidhonest @lilpaco @cheta @zach100 @pelumi99 @phaicynxsmith @macaveli @mizzykevin @gorgeousdammie @froshberry-2 @emperorsndyheartless @maltty @chidij1 @mavbirth @niceoneofficial @jacopet @wizy308 @coolval222-2 @olorivicky @shaklef @mackabsolute @nakam @ladyg @wizzyg @vivian @paula4eva @pappyjay @pesman @charliebryn @emmazzy @itzprince @youngmiss @faith @nkem @sabinto @bestabbey @pearlily @damariseze @Oluwaslimzy @Calebdanny @Frank @wisdomifeanyi80 @olushegzy @delexzy01 @Luvlydamsel @Hormortiyor @fb-MhizLilygold @elisco1453 And others come o.

24 Nov 2017 | 16:05

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This your father is something else

24 Nov 2017 | 16:56

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is episode 7 narratingus how her father kidnap Jennifer from d school or what bcos I don't get it

24 Nov 2017 | 17:10

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what happens next after her father ask of his diary

24 Nov 2017 | 17:12

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Ur dad has a big problem

25 Nov 2017 | 04:17

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Continue pls

25 Nov 2017 | 04:18

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is your father Evans

25 Nov 2017 | 06:05

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So that manage to escape

25 Nov 2017 | 10:03

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I think that one is before the kidnapping

25 Nov 2017 | 10:05

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hmmm your father is somehow caring for the kind of person he is

25 Nov 2017 | 12:01

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Your dad is weirdo

25 Nov 2017 | 14:14

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pls continue

25 Nov 2017 | 20:41

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THE YELLOW BUTTERFLY – Episode 8 “We will make a short stop at the mall. I need to buy a few things.” Father said and was quick to add that I would not come along as he would waste no time. The gatekeeper that issued Father an exit card was unsmiling. I wondered if she was happy with this; her job. “Do you want anything?” An alluring image of an Ice-cream crept into my mind. “Ice-cream.” “Stay put. I will not take any longer than twenty minutes.” As he left the car, I shook my head. Those were exactly the same words that he said the day that he had met Missy at this mall. I had been horrified when Father came out of the mall with Missy at his side and Jennifer pouting behind them an hour later. The three of them had come over to Father’s car. Father had given them a lift because Missy’s husband had called to say that he would not make out the time to pick them up. They had been so keen on themselves, Father and Missy that is, that they exchanged addresses. As if befriending the mother of my enemy was not enough and having to answer Father’s daily questions of “How is Missy’s daughter?” I was horrified when on the Saturday of that week, I had answered the door only to see Father’s new friend. From then, one thing had led to another and I had Missy showing up in my house every other Saturday. A knock on the driver’s window removed me from my train of thoughts. It was Father. I unlocked the car by its Central Lock and minutes later, we were speeding away. I could see the print of a rope in the yellow bag and I could also see my ice cream in it. “Can I have the ice cream now?” “Oh! Of course but if you spill it, you’re washing my car.” “Volkswagen’s are no longer referred to as ‘car’, Father,” I said and he laughed. “Are those ropes?” “No.” I opened the bag and brought the ropes out. “Then what are they?” “Ropes.” It was my turn to laugh. “What are they for?” “None of your business, my daughter,” he said and turned round a bend. When we reached our house, he asked me to bring out a tape and a plastic chair from the house and put them in the car. “Father, what are these for?” “Biko, do as you are told,” he said. After doing all he said, he sped off without another word. I entered into the house and shut the door. I looked at the clock and shook my head; 2:11 PM. The school was going to close in nineteen more minutes but here I was, already in my house. The kitchen was a mess. I had not done the dishes before leaving for school. I went upstairs to my room and changed my school uniform, then went back to the kitchen I diced and peeled a tuber of yam and set them to cook Then I started doing the dishes My mind raced to the person I had sworn never to the kitchen. I diced and peeled a tuber of yam and set them to cook. Then, I started doing the dishes. My mind raced to the person I had sworn never to think about; Peter. I knew I still liked him and I guessed that he did too. But I did not like that he did not stand up against Jennifer whenever she picked up a fight with me about him. Instead, he played the pacier. I thought about talking to him about my speech problems and laughed. Not in this century. He would think I was dumb. Well, it was not like there was no possibility of him knowing. Jennifer already knew about it because of how close Missy had gotten to Father. I was sure that Jennifer would waste no time in spilling the news. What I was not sure about, though, was why she had not already told anyone about it. I would never understand the girl, would I? I rinsed my hands and got the blender out. I scooped some crayfish and ground it. I did the same for the pepper. I then added them into the boiling yam. I didn’t want to add the seasoning cubes and salt yet. I would add them only after I had added the onions and palm oil. After stirring the yam, I went back to the sink to finish off what I had been doing. I thought of what to do after cooking. I would have loved to watch the television but the subscription to the DSTV had expired. I shook my head and completely cleared the sink. I sliced the onions and added them to the pot, alongside the palm oil. I then added the seasoning cubes and salt and stirred. I ran upstairs to my room and got my uniform out. I went into the laundry room and dumped the uniform into the machine. I added water and detergent and watched it churn and hum. I ran back into the kitchen and turned off the gas cooker. I scooped some of the porridge yam into a plate and left it on the dining table to cool off. Then, I went back into the laundry room and got the uniform out and spin-dried it. I ironed it neatly and took it up into my room. I hungrily ate up my food and was about to go get a second helping when I heard Father’s Volkswagen approaching. I ran to the window to watch the car. He stopped a little way off from that creepy abandoned shed and got his phone out. Next I knew the telephone was ringing loudly upstairs. I ran to get it. “Father,” I said. “Yes, what are you doing?” “I was just watching your car approach.” “You can only imagine. Don’t you have dirty dishes to do?” He asked. “I already did them,” I said, proud of my foresight. “Your uniform, kwanu?” he asked. “I’ve done that too,” I said beaming. “Oya, go down to the laundry room and look for my Calvin Klein underwear. It’s blue. I don’t know exactly where I dropped it. Take your time and look for it,” he said. I was suspicious of him but I obeyed him. I went to the laundry room and started the search for Father’s Calvin Klein underwear. The next day was a Tuesday. I prepared for school in time and I took two different buses to school because Ngwo was so not near where my school was. Father couldn’t take me because he had some scathing welts on his face that seemed to be throbbing. He didn’t want to tell me how he had gotten them though. When I reached school, fellow students were milling about instead of in their classes. I immediately sensed that something had gone amiss. I saw Peter running towards me. My mind couldn’t focus on anything anymore; it went all blurry. “Have you seen Jennifer lately?” I was disappointed that he ran up to me just to ask me that foolish question. “No, Peter, I haven’t.” “She’s gone missing. Her Mother and Father are in Principal’s office. They reported her missing this morning but they said that she hadn’t come home yesterday. But Sopuru had said that she had seen her walking home yesterday and a man in a Volkswagen gave her a lift.” I froze. “Did you just say Volkswagen?” “Yes. I have to go now.” “Oh! Okay!” I said. “Look, don’t bother yourself over that,” he said and held my hand a little and then left. I went to heaven and came back. I wanted to run after him and tell him to hold my hand a bit more. I wanted to tell him how I wished he would take me somewhere quiet and talk to me; just saying anything as long as I got to hear that glorious voice. I snapped out of it. Volkswagen. I didn’t think anyone else owned a Volkswagen except Father. But I knew how absurd that sounded; Enugu was a huge place and Father couldn’t possibly be the only one who had a Volkswagen. Yesterday though, he had said something very, very weird just that I couldn’t quite remember what it was he had said because I wasn’t really in a good condition at the time he had said that. I didn’t care. If it had been related to someone else, I could have cared but Jennifer? Oh no! As I was about to enter class, I saw Missy and another man. The man was gently rubbing her back as she sniffed into a tissue. I went ahead and entered the class without greeting them. When I got home that day, I told Father that Jennifer was missing and that the school was buzzing about it. He laughed. “One of my friends said that a man in a Volkswagen had given her a lift, Father,” I said carefully because I knew the path I was about to tread very well. Father whipped around. “And why are you telling me that?” “Nothing, nothing,” I said and noticed how my breathing had escalated. “Go into that kitchen,” he said and pointed towards the kitchen, “And cook our lunch, now!” I needed no second telling. I cooked us Coconut rice with Beef and he ate it hurriedly and left the house. I reached school on Wednesday only to be greeted with the news that Jennifer had been found but won’t be coming to school for a while. I packed everything from my locker and endured some gruesome hours of Math. Then, I borrowed my Form Mistress’s phone and called Father to come pick me up. My term off had started. pick me up. My term off had started. It was on the Saturday of that week that my story started, that Saturday when that yellow buttery flew right past me. AFTER THE BUTTERFLY I had to make a sound. I knew I had to scream. But, my vocals had been supressed by a smell. I knew I was falling into a deep sleep. I struggled to breathe as a handkerchief was held over my nose… I awoke with a headache. When I saw Father sitting opposite me, I stopped rubbing my head. “You know, it is good to have friends from the police,” he said and laughed. “What?” I asked. “They helped me escape and made it look like I escaped all on my own. I only told you that so that you would stop thinking about it.” I looked around me. I had no idea where I was. “What is this place?” I asked. “Oh! This? One of my friends lent me his outhouse though you have to agree with me, it is in shambles.” If there was anything I could agree on with him, it would be that this place was in shambles. I didn’t care though. I just wanted to leave. “Look, I’m not Mother or Jennifer that you can just lock up if you want to,” I said hotly. “What are you going to do?” he asked and laughed. “You’re my father, I’m your daughter. Whatever madness you think you have in you, I have it double. Let me go now or you’ll see who I really am,” I threatened. He kept on laughing. “You’re going to shut up and listen as I tell you what to do for me.” It was my turn to laugh. “Me? Help you? Not in this life!” Father stood up and started walking around me. His movement gave me the space to see the gun nestling on the unsteady-looking table. “Did you just say that to me?” he asked. I was about to reply when I felt a sizzling slap. I rubbed my cheek. “I’m your Father! You don’t talk to me just anyhow and you’d do whatever, and I mean, whatever, I tell you to,” he said. I eyed the gun. I flung myself across the room and on the table so unexpectedly that Father froze for some time; time enough for me to get my hands on that gun. I was scared. I didn’t want to shoot him. “You like the gun, eh?” he asked, amused. “My police friend lent it to me too. Now drop it. It’s not for children!” “I’m seventeen, Father,” I said bitterly. “Whatever. Drop that thing and listen to what I want you to do.” “I am not dropping this gun,” I enunciated. He put his hand slowly to his back and when he brought it out again, I saw the glint of a knife. Till date, I cannot tell how many bullets I put in my Father before I ran and ran without looking back. THE END

26 Nov 2017 | 19:31

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26 Nov 2017 | 19:34

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nice thanks for shouting that f**king phyco

27 Nov 2017 | 04:46

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nice story bro

27 Nov 2017 | 05:03

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Nice one

27 Nov 2017 | 05:04

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Confusing though, why is d man acting like a psycho????? Nice story

27 Nov 2017 | 05:43

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Nice story.. Thumbs up

27 Nov 2017 | 08:27

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d man is really madt...nice story

27 Nov 2017 | 09:18

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Your dad deserve that bullet No problem

27 Nov 2017 | 11:16

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Cont.

28 Nov 2017 | 05:20

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