A STORY BY ANTHONY TEMILOLUWA KENNY
(FEBRUARY 20th, 2017)
LARABA was successful, and thanks to God and my audience (especially from timigold.com and users from okadabooks) for that. The publicity, the sales, the acceptance and the impact was hortative. I never thought it would be this success.
But then after LARABA I never wanted to relent. I was tasking my head to write something as epic as LARABA again. Even though I’ve had slew of ideas pumping in, I have never really settled for one initially and that was because I was still confused.
Confused of what next to pen down because as much as I wanted to write something epical, fiction and science-fiction were also struggling for a space in this my small head. However something soon happened that made me make a decision in writing something.
It was just like a normal day in Abeokuta, a suburban area in Ogun State. It is actually a place where I stay and school. It was morning though.
A kind of morning that is always endowed with sending lazybones back to sleep to cuddle their duvet more even when the time yelled 8 am. The morning was spruced with light dews of water that condensed on cool surfaces over night from water vapor in the air. I was sure lazy MAPOLY students would find flimsy excuses of not greeting lectures that morning.
I was still at home that day, though I wasn’t sleeping. Lest you start thinking I’m such an idler. I was actually working that day. I was working on my laptop over an adaptation of my widely read story; ‘TEMI: ALL ABOUT TRUE LOVE.
The louvers of my house was still saturated with dews; and that had made sighting whoever was coming from outside into my room totally impossible. All I knew was that the door of my room snapped opened suddenly and someone
I least expected stomped in.
I quickly grasped my ‘Grace’ and ‘Sweetheart’. Then slammed him the most horrible and inquisitive stare humankind could ever posses.
“Who are you and what do you want ?” I blurted.
While I quickly closed my ‘Grace’, while I dug my ‘sweetheart’ inside my pocket and lurched up from bed. I wouldn’t want a demented intruder to pilfer away what I cherish most in my life and most importantly, my writing tools.
I know you are confused now on what I meant when I said my ‘Grace and sweetheart’. Well that’s one of the ways I employed to applaud what I cherish so much in my life. Have always had this silly motives of bestowing sobriquets to something I held so importance to my life.
That was the reason I named my laptop – ‘Grace’ and my phone—’sweetheart’ . ‘Grace’ normally was an ex I so much cherish in my life. I so much loved her while we were together and I still do even after our separation many years back . So I had to name my laptop ‘Grace’ to depict how much love I have for my laptop. And my phone that I gave ‘sweetheart’ was due to the fact that my phone had replaced the position of a girlfriend in my life. My phone is always with me, and always served as a companion. Exactly what a girlfriend does to blokes and dudes. My own phone gives me the soothing feeling especially when my hands are flying on the keypads, typing I so much love my ‘Grace’ and ‘Sweetheart’ to bits.
I heard my interloper cleared his throat and talked. “I heard you are a writer. You are Temiloluwa Kenny the writer of LARABA, MAKANJUOLA, PART OF PROMISE, TEMI and a lot of them right?” He questioned me, snorting at my promptness for safety.
I was surprised at the question. My jaw dropped as my name and who I am plopped out from his mouth. I was even more surprised as he listed some of my stories effortlessly. The situation immediately made me settle my nerves and passed a keen stare on him. It was then I noticed my intruder didn’t look like someone who would pilfer my stuffs. He was expensively garbed with costly wears. Wears that I know would cost me to sell all my properties—including ‘Grace and sweetheart’ before I could afford them. I was sure his ordinary Ray-Ban sunglasses hugging his forehead was enough to pay for my house rent and even settle those pesky bills. My intruder reeked of awesome wealth.
I swallowed the lumps of spittle hurting my throat. “Yes, I am. How h..how may I help you?” I stuttered out to my utmost engrossment.
My intruder heaved a sigh on hearing that. Then I saw him peruse my room until his eyes caught a stranded white plastic chair at a corner. “Thank God I finally got to meet you before I die.” He muttered as he stomped towards the chair and sank himself on it.
I squinted my eyes in utter horridness as I heard him.
“What did you just say?” I asked him.
But he cast a stare on me. A stare that had more meaning to what he just squealed to me. A disquieted stare. Despite the aura of wealth haloing around him, I could still see he looked more like some lost soul. So lost that he didn’t look like he could be recovered. His pricy wears did well to shroud this for him. I guess they were just facades to any acquaintance he must have probably bumped into to let them know all was well. But I, being a very a observant lad; I was able to see what I could only term ‘death’ hanging closely on his nape.
Instead of replying me, this man only rubbed his dome and shook it. A smile crawled out of his lips, then a tear accompanied it through his eyes. This my intruder was now crying and at the same time smiling. He was crying profusely like a toddler, wailing like igbere (the Yoruba name for gnomish-sized evil creatures that carry mat anywhere they go while crying) I was totally confused at the sight albeit I was still moved as I advanced toward him and grabbed his shoulder. He was emotionally tattered, battered and dinged and it was obvious he was hiding it from me or perhaps if he wanted to he was failing woefully to do that.
“What’s your name?” I asked him, allowing his tears to slither on my hand.
He controlled his wailing and reduced it to a snivel. “My name is Adenifuja Adebori Williams.” He finally said, and believe me when I said I was totally gobsmacked. I almost fainted at as the name hit my eardrum. I recoiled and refrained from touching him. Who would dare touch the great Adenifuja Adebori Williams without first contending with hordes of his bouncers that followed him around. You can’t even whiff his cologne from afar off without first getting a taste of one or two whips from his roughshod-looking bouncers. That was the reason I didn’t know he was the one bestowing me an august visit. Adenifuja was wealthy, so wealthy that Dangote’s money was like a trifle compare to his. Even if Adenufa’s wealth and Bill Gate’s should meet at warfront, believe Ade’s would butcher Bill’s. Yes, that was how wealthy he is. Not everybody could be so fortunate to host Adenifuja early in the morning like this. I guess luck just decided to grin at me that money.
“You are surprised I’m here right?” he asked, as he wiped his tears and scoffed.
I couldn’t talk; I only nodded like an agama lizard.
“I’m about to die, but before I die I need you to do a favor for me.” His crusty voice responded making my body tingled and shuddered with fears.
What could make a whole Adenifuja think he was about to die? That was one puzzle I didn’t take long to unravel as I asked him;
“What f-fa-fa-avor do you want me to do for you ?” I stuttered, allowing my slickly sweat to pour from my brow and dropped into a corner of my eyes. That peppered me but I ignored.
Adenifuja stood up from where he was sitting and pranced away from me. Then he dug his two hands into his pocket and shook his head.
“I want you to write a story about me.”
He finally muttered.
“Wha.a.a.a.? Why? .. How.. I mean I.. ” I was still stuttering like a nincompoop when he faced me.
“You need to keep stuttering and do this for me because I have just little time left. I beg of you!” he pleaded while I nodded and hastily stood up, ignoring my doleful mood about the giant of wealth standing in front of me. I carried my ‘Grace’ from the bed, opened it and heaved a sigh. I was now happy I’ve finally found another story to write.
Another story after LARABA (Where love never ends).
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