Skip to main content

Work in Progress. From the book entitled, “Gone with the Last Bus” by Sunny Jack Obande. ENJOY!!!

At the foot of the huge boulder, the deposit of fine shingles had become a makeshift bed for Mama Sherifatu and the supposed spiritualist, their clothing, heaped together on the sandy earth, now a temporary mattress. She laid on her back, her legs wide apart with the knees drawn up to accommodate the weight of her partner in crime who was busy thrusting in and out in quick successions, the muscles of his exposed buttocks squeezing so tight with every effort. At first, they were so into their sins they didn’t even notice we were at the scene.
“Spirit enter into me,” she cried in-between thrusts, “Spirit enter into me and be my protector.”
        
“Abomination!” Akeke breathed as we stepped into the open and towered over them. I was almost certain he would kick the busy man violently from behind as we closed in on them. “Which spirit is entering into you, Mama Sherifatu?” he spat in resentment, “Spirit of this crook or spirit of Lucifer?”
          
And that was when these two, joined at the waist in their coital embrace, suddenly realized they were not alone. The man was first to respond. He quickly pulled himself out and rolled onto his side, briefly revealing the woman’s wet crimson slit from whence his phallus had just made its abrupt exit.
         
“Jesu!” she cried out in shock as she scrambled to cover her nudity with what she could grab of her dress, “Akeke, what are you two doing here in this forest?”
         
“What nonsense question is that?” Akeke retorted, his ugly face taking on a vicious expression, “Are there no more vacant hotel rooms in town? Why come this far just to fuck yourselves in an open space like two stupid dogs? Tufiakwa!” He coughed up phlegm and spat on the ground very close to these two to show his disdain.
         
“My brother, it’s not what you think?” the spiritualist stammered through the words as he struggled to quickly fit himself back into his rumpled vestment.
         
But Akeke wouldn’t let him do that; he snatched the garb from the man’s clasping grasps. “Give me your garment, idiot! I’ll make sure you go back to town naked,” My chap threatened with all seriousness, “And if you dare to come near me, I’ll be forced to do damages to your adulterous face, I swear!”
         
The flustered man got the message and made an effort to keep a safe distance between himself and Akeke’s reach. “Please don’t go away with my holy gown, my brother. As I said, it’s not what you think,” he pleaded, his hairy face contorted in a mix of fear and embarrassment.
         
“Then tell me what this is, you lying charlatan!” Akeke replied, “So your work is to lure women here and then fuck them afterward in the pretense of carrying out religious rituals? Well, your cup of sin is full today because I must go to town with what I’ve seen. Thank God I have an eyewitness to give credence to my evidence.” He jerked his head at me.
        
I nodded in return to let Akeke know I was with him all the way on this. “In fact, I still can’t believe what I just saw with my two naked eyes!”
I sighed as I folded my arms across my chest and shook my head in utter disappointment.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

From the novel entitled, "Beyond Imagination" by Oladele Dada.

 Oladele Dada. It was dawn. The chilly dust-laden wind formed dense fog on the road. The rocky hills and the tall trees made Ajewole a beautiful town. The birds sang aloud, and clanging of stainless dishes in the neighbourhood suggested human activity was at its peak. Humans had begun to move to their various destinations. Adunni had trouble with child bearing and her husband was worried. Then she booked an appointment with her doctor. After several tests, the doctor suggested the couple be patient and that she will surely get pregnant. Not long after, Adunni was pregnant. After several months, Adunni was delivered of a boy. The women in her neighbourhood, alongside the children, sang and danced to her home to celebrate with her. Her husband, Fredrick Olagbade, thanked the Lord and named the boy Juwon.     As Juwon grew, his mother had another child whose name was Olakitan. Juwon was intelligent and his parents were struggling to make ends meet. As poverty st...

BOOK EXCERPT: The Farmhouse by Omoruyi Uwuigiaren

The Farmhouse  by Omoruyi Uwuigiaren Chapter One The Family `Once upon a time in the old town of Gid, an old farmer called Erasmus had a horse and a son. The boy’s name was Jason, and the horse was Francis. They lived in a farmhouse, and Francis took them everywhere they went. The farmer had no wife. She died after Jason was born. Erasmus vowed never to remarry and had remained a widower ever since. Taking care of Jason and Francis alone was never easy, but the farmer promised his late wife on her deathbed that he was going to raise Jason into a fine man. One sad morning, the cockerel said it was dawn. The disturbance woke Jason. The boy stormed out of sleep. He removed the blanket and rolled out of bed. He went to the window and peered out. The weather was clear, and the boughs of trees bowed and danced to the sweet movement of the morning breeze. Jason liked the morning, and then he carried himself to the sitting room, where his father was on his knees saying his morning prayers....

NEW RELEASE: Those Ghostly Victorians by Annette Siketa

  Those Ghostly Victorians by Annette Siketa ABOUT THE BOOK At its zenith, the belief in ghosts in the Victorian era bordered on the hysterical. From stately homes to deserted wells, no dwelling was complete without a resident ghost. Halls and mansions and even the odd palace or two, spawned a multitude of family legends, many of which still persist. Many people claimed to have direct contact with a ghost through an object such as a ouija board or a pen, the latter collectively known as 'spiritual writing'. For example, a secretary allegedly continued to take dictation from his employer long after the latter was dead. Whether it was through books, plays, or supposedly true stories, the influence of the supernatural was profound. And it is not difficult to understand why, especially in the 'lower class', the majority of whom were uneducated. With nothing but drabness and poverty on the horizon, events such as a windy night or a violent storm were likely to set the ima...