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KARMA

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K A R M A “Come on in”,Oyenna replied cheerfully to the knock on the door. On hearing it open, he glanced up with a smile which froze in place as he realized that the masked entrant hadn’t been the visitor he was expecting. ‘Who are you and how did you get in here?’, he asked it in obvious fright as he jumped off his bed. ‘Trust me, you know who I am. You are just trying to pretend like you don’t remember’,the stranger retorted, producing a gun from its shoulder bag. ‘I don’t understand what you mean. I can’t even tell if you’re male or female’, Oyenna said in despair. ‘How then do you claim that I know you?’ ‘Well, I must say that I am a bit surprised at your reaction. I’m sure you never considered gender differences while you perpetuated your atrocities with the innocent teenagers left in your care for years so this shouldn’t be an issue for you! Anyway, my face is going to be the last you’ll ever see, so …’, the stranger lifted the mask and Oyenna gasped with obviou
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Dear Reader, It’s our first time of meeting (and most probably our last), so I wouldn’t want to bore you with my life story. However, I’m having some issues I’d love to share with you if you don’t mind(after all, a problem shared, they say, is half-solved), and maybe, just maybe you might have a solution, an idea or a suggestion as to whether or not I should go ahead with my plans. Before I start my story though, why don’t we get some introductions done? My name is Ifunanya (the Igbo word for ‘Love’) but everyone calls me Naya; I know you have so many names(any of which you take up at different times) so I’d rather call you ‘Reader’ to suit what you are at all times. I am a ten-year-old girl who lives in a suburban area of a large city in Nigeria with my parents and my only brother, Cheta (short for Chetachi - meaning ‘Remember God’). Did I mention that I am supposed to be in Jss1 when school resumes for the next session? Well, I really used to be a very happy girl until four
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Hey Jay, wait up nah !’, I heard someone shout from behind me as I hurried towards Miracle Junction to board a bus. I turned to see Deborah heading towards my direction with her backpack slung over her right shoulder, and Ifeanyichukwu following closely behind so I stopped. ‘ Jackophytes ! You couldn’t even wait for next session before you start reading overnight. Keep intimidating unserious students like us oh inugo’,I hailed them jokingly, then pointed at Ifeanyi,‘I know this is definitely your handiwork, Mr NCS-Night Class Supervisor.’ We all laughed. ‘ Omo  leave story oh’, Deb replied,‘I didn’t even need much persuasion this time. Only the course outlines for Criminal Law and Intellectual Property Law are already enough to make me stay the proceedings of my long vacation for now.’ ‘ Chei !  Ndi  law students will not kill somebody’, Ifeanyi joked. ‘See who is talking?!’, Deb and I said simultaneously and burst into laughter. I glanced at my wristwatch. ‘Hey, I need to get goi
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MY IDENTITY (1) Who am I? This is one question that has been on my mind for a long time now-for a hundred and one reasons. Putting a hundred of them aside,let's talk about the one reason for my question today. I'd love to illustrate this by sharing a story with you-: "Born less than three decades ago into a struggling family of five-parents inclusive-in a small and not-so-nice neighbourhood in Okegbe, a small village in Delta State of Nigeria. My father was a low-income tailor and my mother was a petty trader but no matter how bad a week had been as regards income and needs,we never missed going to church every Sunday to appreciate God-not even when my father did not get any 'contract' for an entire week. For my parents,faith in God meant more especially in time of lack. We were neither rich nor in the middle class-which was a nice way of saying we couldn't get offended if you called us ‘poor’,because that was in fact what we were. But in all these,my parent
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THE GHOST  As I left my house and headed towards the junction to board a tricycle,I couldn't tell why,but all I kept saying was "God please allow me to see the ghost of Mrs Udenna." I didn't care whether people would believe me if I told them I saw her ghost but I wanted to anyway. With tears streaming down my face,I began to recall memories of her. Mrs Udenna had been the principal at Frabjous High School (F.H.S),Bende at the time of my admission into Junior Secondary 1 there. Although I knew little or nothing about her at that time,I would never forget the woman who always advised us to be good ambassadors of our school,our country and most importantly,our home. A woman who was rarely seen,but when present,was an embodiment of significance. I had not encountered her on a personal basis,until the day I was summoned to her office by the school clerk. A classmate of mine had lost five thousand naira(#5000) which was given to her by her parents to purchase textbooks w
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*A  NEW  DAY* When the class representative announced at 2:10pm to the 2nd year students of Economics that their next lecture (Acc 214) would hold at 4pm,there were murmuring from all sides of the class. “Not again!”, someone shouted from behind. “That woman has no chill at all”,a girl said to her seatmate. “Does she not have a family?”,another asked. “I heard she is having issues with her husband,and that is why she tries to do anything that will keep her away from home till night“,her neighbor interjected. These and many more,were protests and angry comments flying around the class,yet no one dared to move or make any effort to leave the class. Mrs Ulondu was known for her strict adherence to the school rule of “75% attendance for a student to be allowed to sit for an exam”,and her students knew better than to cross her by missing her classes. In all these,Ginika said nothing.For her,she might as well be dead;she had long reached her point of saturation for the day that she fel
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*DESOLATION(2)* Four days later, Papa died in his sleep. Actually I had thought of more painful ways to make him pay,but Papa was a heavy man and at fifteen,I was no match for him. Two weeks after his burial,some elderly men I didn't recognize,arrived from the village to see Mama.I overheard them telling her that the doctor said Papa had died of poisoning and the village oracle pointed her out as the perpetrator of that act. Oh I missed the shock on her face at the news.I smirked and pressed my right ear closer to the door just in time to hear them tell her that we were to surrender everything in our possession that belonged to 'their brother' and vacate the apartment within two weeks.And that was how we found ourselves here;in this Face-Me-I-Face-You house in the remotest part of Ojede town,from the two-bedroom apartment we had been staying in. It was a single room,but with the help of a curtain,we divided it into two- a bedroom with a small mattress,a mat and a wooden cu
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