Welcome to Oluwafineboy's Jotter

Lets continue from where we stopped yesterday... Spending nights in prison was never his ideal nor, the vision he’d ever dreamt of, Yet he felt entrapped not by the grungy walls, the flying mosquitoes, the humming crickets, or by the iron bars. Then what was? He knew the answers, he sensed the answers long, long time , but he doubted the truth. It is  said that the truth is bitter but his wasn’t bitter it was destructive and unimaginable. He had gone through series of questioning and battering, all for the truth, Mr Sola the investigator was already getting tired, he saw it in his eyes that he pitied for him, but he needed no pity. So the battering continued, questioning continued, nothing less, but all increased. He was bruised, his soul wept, there wasn’t any tears in his eyes, because he’s soul kept weeping while he’s blood from his body kept gushing out. Mr Sola had asked the Policemen to lock him up in the cell. Since he couldn’t get the truth out from him. “ ...

It was Saturday, I was done with my chores, which were, fetching water from the well, sweeping the parlor and room. Lacing my boot before I head out to the field to play soccer. Dad’s phone began ringing.   “Hello” “Yes, I be Nnamdi, wetin happen?” “Chineke!” “Ewo…. Ewo!” “Ogini?” Mum asked. “Dad what is it? I asked confused” “Jerry” “Sir” “Chigozie” “Sir” “Your Uncle and Aunty just get accident” “Ehh!!!... Chineke me! ……. Life is funny isn’t it? Yeah it is, he bluffed and smiled, as he tried leaning on the prison wall. But it became ridiculous, when he stumbled on the truth. Beverly Parents were dead and buried. The accident that took place was indeed fatal. Beverly Johnson  had become an orphan, just in a twinkle. She began living with us. She had to adapt, for two years, when she’d be twenty years of age, to inherit her Father’s assets, it was willed so, and so it was. She was the only heir, and that left Dad and Mum too creepy. ...

I see his gait Steaming and welling  inside of him Like the vapours of a rulpting volcano Ready to burst It must be pride It can't be humility 'Not one called to be a leader For I've seen one Just like him, who never did end well His words like balls Rolls out only in public Colored in highs And do's Like a trophy he claims to be golden But the shadows of his words Leave a stench Only the wise ones can interpret Beware of his lies' 'As deserting as the water that touches your skin by the Bank. You must beware   For such aura comes With a price of a fall So lowly to the mud It can only be pride Not humility. Your Gait Wriiten by Ogri Mathilda Sarah All rights reserved