The living witness

  One could not but notice his anxiety: from the tiny little sweats that acervated to form droplets of oily waters; to the shakiness, plus tremors, dancing his hands to and fro. His legs were not left untouched too. The cover of his pen was already hurt, having suffered damage due to an unintentional tensed clenching of his teeth on the innocent rubber. The answer script was tainted with water. Despite the enormity of the paper, it was only his name that he had written.  As he raised up his head, what he saw were serious minded, roughly grin-faced individuals whose fast paced pens and sharp pencils danced rigorously to the tune of their mind. Each one swiped his booklet with such dexterity and it continuously made a solo for the calm, cool and serene atmosphere in the hall. All hands were filled with inky imprints and their heads were bent, inclined adjacent to their papers.  Francis is a Yoruba demon who schooled in the city of Akure. He was widely acclaimed as an erudite

"Ada, come and buy pepper for me," Her mother said.  "Send Ene, or am I the youngest here?" She took a swipe at the woman she calls her mother.  "Okay Ene, take the money and buy pepper for me." I was bitter and annoyed. I stood up sluggishly and collected the fifty naira note from her hand.  As I strolled along the street of Elele Town, I wondered why I came as the penultimate child. My sister was an arrogant monster who was so lazy to do the house chores. The only thing she knew was spending time on WhatsApp, telling people 'what's up'; she is always blushing while texting. Her cachinnate gestures were the most annoying to me. She claimed to be the Queen  of the house but there was no dignity or a sensible character in her.  My younger brother was a tyrant: a man of many stomachs; ever eating, never satisfied. His case was even worse.  As young as he was, every tongue of errands that spoke to him was always met with rebuff. Excep

One could start with a pair of shoes sitting on his chair, clothes scattered abroad like sprinkled water. One could also notice a pack of biscuit nylon situated adjacent to Dele’s head. However, what mattered to him was the extravagant jingling and ringing of the bell by his father. Mr Akin yawned as he rang the bell but the sound spread quickly like a bedspread across the house. Everyone including myself came to the sitting room to take our morning devotion, after which we will go on to prepare for school. It was 7 minutes past 7am when I got out of the bathroom. I would have to leave home by 7:30pm if I don’t want to be late for school. I had everything planned out and it had always worked out for me. As I wanted to wear my socks, I found out that they were dirty as always, so I took a soap from the kitchen, silently washed them and pressed them with an iron. It was a bad habit but was comfortable nonetheless. I took to my heels to arrive at the gate as the punctuality pr

  He woke up to meet the clapping thunder resonating in the air. It was on a cloudy afternoon and his sinews and marrows were just recovering from a bout of malaria that dealt with hi innocent soul.  Although the windy rain served as a panacea for the dusty nature of the season, the topographic and textural configuration of that locality was prone to flooding.  As he wiggled across the main passageway, he noticed an unusual silence across the building. His parents and most other tenants were not around because it was a Monday. Thus, he was left with the responsibility of preventing the waters from entering the house and to ward off lizards and unfriendly elements from having access into the building.  As he walked to the backyard, he noticed a creature lurking around its axis, under the pen house where their hens and anything domestic creatures with two legs were kept. He bent down checking, assuming a knee flexed position so the drops of water from the roof will not splash