Stay with me. I want to tell you something you most probably are going to doubt, considering that you think a bulk of what goes on between you both is a secret only yourself and Bimbo know about. But believe me, I know about it too. I, in fact, have known about it for a long time now.
Look, I was there when it all started. That hot Tuesday evening in July. It was I who stood by the corner of Larke street, watching as you stood behind a blue gate that opens to one of the biggest houses around there, which you had knocked thrice before backpedaling three steps, to wait until someone opened the gate.
If you can dig a hand into your mind and pull from out of it the faintest of memories, I am sure you’re going to recall that a guy winked at you when the gate clanked open and Oladipo stepped out of it. You had been glancing around as if looking to see if someone is watching, and, boom, your eyes met with a stranger’s. A stranger who immediately withdrew into the street and was out of sight.
Kojo, I am that stranger. I am a secret agent and I have been watching you for a while now. Your father hired me to keep an eye on you after you ran away from home because your mother somehow found out that you smoke hemp and sniff cocaine.
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Every Tuesday, I am always here to watch what happens between you and Oladipo. I see how you squeeze money into his left hand, and how you squeeze out cocaine from his right. You both nod when the deal is done and Oladipo walks back inside the house whilst you wander into the street.
I always follow you down Jamkpa street. I follow you, even, until you stop by the house of some fair girl with large breasts. I don’t find her very attractive. You kiss her by the road, not caring about whether or not anyone is watching. Sometimes I want to walk up to you and spank your butt. But doing that would blow my cover, so I chill and watch.
Kojo. Please don’t doubt this. Don’t trust Oladipo. You two might be keeping a common secret, — trading drugs — but this big-breasted girl you are in a habit of kissing; this Bimbo, which I see from all indications that you are in love with. She is Oladipo’s ex-girlfriend, and she is the reason why Oladipo wants your blood spilled on the tar in a few days.
She is the reason he wants you dead. Don’t wonder how, but I know there’s a gun, and there are boys who have been given orders to deal with you. So, please leave the girl alone. Stay away from this area, if you can. Go back to your father. Kojo, be safe. Noh come die because of woman and cocaine.
Ubong Johnson (Ubee) a storyteller. When Ubee isn’t writing, he is either sleeping or playing the piano or is dead inside.
1 week ago
The poem, "Sugar on wet Sand" by Omodero David, is experimental and daring. The poet is set to take the #poetrycommunity by storm and our fingers are crossed.
Read the #poem here:
#poem #poetry #writing
"Along Came Love" by Zubair Hassan Baba, is what we might refer to as brilliant historical fiction. You may smile or sigh but surely, you will fall deeply in love with Zubair's storytelling style at the end of it all.
Read story here: https://eboquills.com/2021/05/01/along-came-love-a-short-story-by-zubair-hassan-baba/
"...I am the voice of reason,
That dance not to the deceitful tone
Of political eloquence and propaganda
I am the voice above religious hypocrisy and sycophancy
Truth is my warrant and change is my cause..."
Who Hears Me? By Etim Bassey Onyam
Read here: https://eboquills.com/2021/04/24/one-poem-by-etim-bassey-onyam/