The Thing within A Circle (Episode 4) By Joseph-Sam Sarah
THE THING WITHIN A CIRCLE. ( A Short Story).
EPILOGUE
***********************
Some of her colleagues and students from the school stopped by to visit bringing with them cards and flowers, perfumes and deodorant, jokes and clownish attitude to laugh at.
You prayed for her, never minding how short it was you said it anyway; "Lord, fill her with the spirit of divine healing". A prayer you had learnt from church last week.
Saturday came, there was no dinner whatsoever. The power holding company had failed to come to your aid, the candle lit formed scary shadows on the moronic wall. The opened window brought in air but you felt hot, silence swept the whole floor. Wanting to ease yourself, you had climbed out of bed and walked through the corridor that led to the toilet.
Your surprised sight was turned sour when your mother's half opened door exposed an immoral act of shame. Your cerebrum became blank but you saw him, it was Tobun. The woman's velvet dress was torn to shreds on the floor.
They were both naked.
***********************
Hostility came to live in your house, you talked less and worry more. Your saddened heart hid obviously, playing dumb to every situation, you feared your sister's death.
Things eventually fell apart when the unpredicted thunder that broke the wheel screen of your mother's car announced her death. She was poisoned.
Not given egg sauce and bread, Neither were you patted by any uncle, Ojimah was buried beside your father's grave. Feeling uncomfortable living with the repentant adulteress, an incomprehensible oxymoron and a melodramatic experience. Your white cat had been painted black.
Fifteen years since Nelly had been born, a replica of ojimah. Your mother had worked her transfer few months after giving birth. A house at ajah, the only property left to her by your father where she thought was a better place for concealing a truth already knew. You played the fool and grew fond of the little face that shared your bedroom as you watered the resentment in your heart.
After your youth service at ikeja, you decided to live with Olamilekan, the man you married. His sister, Ann, was a cheerful company to welcome. Being the CEO of the pharmaceutical company had made you influential and connected. You insisted on sponsoring Nelly's education, the French school at the island was rigorous and good. But then, your mother became unexpectedly ill, weightless and white like the hands of cold oceans.
A sickness the doctor had advised on not wasting more time and money. The last stage of ovarian cancer was near death than living. With hatred, you weaved a gear of prayers beside her sick bed.
When she died, your heart was soothed with regrets, pain and mild joy.
***********************
As you ate with the matured fifteen years old teenager that night, you saw cold curiosity powdered her brow.
'Nelly.' You called out.
' Yes sister.' She answered inaudibly.
You had barged into her class that afternoon with shaky hands and unstable physicals insisting she followed you back home. Not arguing further she had trailed behind you obediently, now with normality and calmness you ate the kedgeree dished with your favourite coloured mug plate.
'Do you want to know who your father is?' You asked.
'You told me he died before i was born.' She replied.
'He is still alive.'
Her bewilderment broods over her oval face.
'Do you want to know who your dad is?'. You asked for the second time.
The reply was far from being schizophrenic, it was precised.
'No, i don't want to know, please lemme finish my meal. Good to be home after a long day stress!'
You watched her with an indulgent relieve without wavering your gaze, you knew who it was. Ojimah had come again.
Now you could be partially happy.
********-******-******
THE END.
EPILOGUE
***********************
Some of her colleagues and students from the school stopped by to visit bringing with them cards and flowers, perfumes and deodorant, jokes and clownish attitude to laugh at.
You prayed for her, never minding how short it was you said it anyway; "Lord, fill her with the spirit of divine healing". A prayer you had learnt from church last week.
Saturday came, there was no dinner whatsoever. The power holding company had failed to come to your aid, the candle lit formed scary shadows on the moronic wall. The opened window brought in air but you felt hot, silence swept the whole floor. Wanting to ease yourself, you had climbed out of bed and walked through the corridor that led to the toilet.
Your surprised sight was turned sour when your mother's half opened door exposed an immoral act of shame. Your cerebrum became blank but you saw him, it was Tobun. The woman's velvet dress was torn to shreds on the floor.
They were both naked.
***********************
Hostility came to live in your house, you talked less and worry more. Your saddened heart hid obviously, playing dumb to every situation, you feared your sister's death.
Things eventually fell apart when the unpredicted thunder that broke the wheel screen of your mother's car announced her death. She was poisoned.
Not given egg sauce and bread, Neither were you patted by any uncle, Ojimah was buried beside your father's grave. Feeling uncomfortable living with the repentant adulteress, an incomprehensible oxymoron and a melodramatic experience. Your white cat had been painted black.
Fifteen years since Nelly had been born, a replica of ojimah. Your mother had worked her transfer few months after giving birth. A house at ajah, the only property left to her by your father where she thought was a better place for concealing a truth already knew. You played the fool and grew fond of the little face that shared your bedroom as you watered the resentment in your heart.
After your youth service at ikeja, you decided to live with Olamilekan, the man you married. His sister, Ann, was a cheerful company to welcome. Being the CEO of the pharmaceutical company had made you influential and connected. You insisted on sponsoring Nelly's education, the French school at the island was rigorous and good. But then, your mother became unexpectedly ill, weightless and white like the hands of cold oceans.
A sickness the doctor had advised on not wasting more time and money. The last stage of ovarian cancer was near death than living. With hatred, you weaved a gear of prayers beside her sick bed.
When she died, your heart was soothed with regrets, pain and mild joy.
***********************
As you ate with the matured fifteen years old teenager that night, you saw cold curiosity powdered her brow.
'Nelly.' You called out.
' Yes sister.' She answered inaudibly.
You had barged into her class that afternoon with shaky hands and unstable physicals insisting she followed you back home. Not arguing further she had trailed behind you obediently, now with normality and calmness you ate the kedgeree dished with your favourite coloured mug plate.
'Do you want to know who your father is?' You asked.
'You told me he died before i was born.' She replied.
'He is still alive.'
Her bewilderment broods over her oval face.
'Do you want to know who your dad is?'. You asked for the second time.
The reply was far from being schizophrenic, it was precised.
'No, i don't want to know, please lemme finish my meal. Good to be home after a long day stress!'
You watched her with an indulgent relieve without wavering your gaze, you knew who it was. Ojimah had come again.
Now you could be partially happy.
********-******-******
THE END.
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