Mercy was my sky flower

Her overpowering affections made me oblivious of the ills of Kutu’s failed regime. A new trend emerged in our poignant budding romance. She followed me to lunch breaks and sat very close. Her toned legs flashed in the sunrays as we had intimate meals in our love-nest. However, I became alarmed when she decided to follow me to the aluta grounds. The Legon students became so disillusioned with Kutu and took up arms against him. Their demonstration was fierce and the police were on high alert. We watched events from a distant when we got there. Mercy excitedly spread festive cheers and gyrate her small waist to ecstatic tunes floating in the air. At a point, the students decided to attack the police station and the officers decided to act. They tossed tear gas into the students to disperse them. A couple of the gas canisters fell at where we stood. Lethal smokes filled the air and blinded us. There was a deadly rampage and we ran in all directions. Mercy was caught up in the turmoil after she slipped from my grips. I went to school only to realise she had been trapped behind enemy lines. I had to rescue her. I wove my way back into the danger zone in search of my sky flower.

Mercy paraded her love openly and I was well loved- up by her. Even the sellers in the school knew of our fledging romance. Amina the waakye seller was the first person who became suspicious. Her waakye was a delicacy and we craved it. I had missed lunch break on this particular day because I was compiling some exam results for Miss. My tummy was rumbling so I went to Amina’s place. I joined the long queue and waited for my turn. I was about to pay after she served me but she waved me on. I stared at her confused. ‘She paid for you’ she said. I was more mystified. ‘Who paid for me?’ I asked. She looked at me menacingly. It was an indication she was not expecting silly questions from me. Amina was a very creepy woman who hardly tolerated pranks from students. ‘Your sky flower paid’. She bellowed. I was not aware there are gardens in the blue skies where flowers like lilacs, velvets, and cherry roses blossomed. ‘I have no sister with such name in the school’ I said to her. She ignored me and continued serving the queue. Mercy had given me a secret lunch treat without letting me know. ‘My little angel that is so sweet of her’. I muttered.

Mercy tapped into the world of romance and I went along with her. My devotion for her peaked after an incident that sent me to the hospital. We were playing on the school park and I collided with one of the guys. I fainted instantly and I was rushed to the Legon hospital. I felt a feathery weight on me when I regained consciousness in the ward. A familiar gleam face tore into mine. The face gave me a golden glow and the well-carved dimples stood out neatly. It was Mercy. She kept vigil by my bed. Her glossy locks of hair reflected under the fluorescent. It was late and school was over. She shrieked with joy when she saw me awake. ‘What are you doing here at this hour’ I asked her. I tried to lift myself into a sitting position but gave up the idea due to my pains. She cradled me in her arms and rested her pumped up chest on me. ‘I couldn’t leave you alone here’ She responded. She was extraordinary captivating. ‘My dad would be passing over after work’ I told her. She was not happy. She leaned towards me and her lacy bra flashed in my face revealing her youthful cleavage. Mercy was a busty teenager. ‘I want to be with you’. She said. The nurse on duty came to my bed. ‘Is she your sister’ she asked. I shook my head. ‘She had been by your bed all day’. The nurse explained. She was terribly romantic at heart and lavished me with so much attention. I thought.



The account from the nurse kicked off my love for Mercy and I secretly yearned to be with her after I was discharged. However, I loved to be with the boys at the Legon gate watching the students’ protest. It was a scary scene but very interesting. The students blocked the Accra-Madina road in front of the police station. They were in bold red coloured attire and gave bizarre renditions of local highlife songs that ridiculed Kutu’s genitals. Mercy was so excited. It was desperate situation for Kutu. Police officers were drafted across the country and they swamped the Legon police station in anticipation of quelling the riot. The hapless police officers looked on as traffic was halted for days.

Then it was rumoured a couple of students were arrested and detained at station. That was why the students launched a blistering attack on the station to vent their fury on Kutu’s weirdo police officers. The officers decided to repel the marauding students by hurling tear gas at them. More and more tear gasses floated all over. The police sting however backfired and spiral out of control. The air became full of lethal smoke. People were choking to death from the deadly smoke and went berserk. That was when I lost hold of Mercy. School was not far off so I knew she would found her way back. I was agitated when she did not turn up. I was leaving nothing to chance. I had to save my sky flower.

The protest grounds bellowed with tear gas smoke on my return. It was disastrous scenario. Confused souls ran for dear life. Mercy’s unforgettable figure was slumped on the ground. Life was nearly squeezed out of her. Web of legs in flight flew over her cute frame. It was a quick thinking. Without thinking of my own safety, I threw myself on her to protect her from stampeding feet. Her eyes were filled with tears from the lethal smoke. I used my uniform to cover her face to neutralise the stinging effects of the deadly smoke. I placed my hands around her famous curves and lifted her into my arms. My covert operation was extremely successful. I sauntered through the thick throng in search of an escape route to the school. She cuddled up to me lovingly and I felt the softness of her bare cleavage on me. She was calm after our emotional reunion. She gave me more cuddles thereafter. She was bra-less and the feeling was awesome

I became a hero after my bold rescue of the loved one from total annihilation. Overall Mercy idolised me after her numbing experience. ‘I owed you my life’ she said to me later on. Coming to think of it, I did not know how I was able to manage such a daring rescue attempt. One thing was sure; nothing was too daring for my princess. I was not a hero; I explained to my friends. The fact was the loved one woke the lovely side of me with her lavished affections. Besides, all I did was to save my teenage heart- throb from harm.

Mercy’s love for me was infectious

I was restless unable to come to terms with nursing a secret heartbreak. Mercy had avoided me during the school gig before vacation. She was in a porcelain green dress that day and she looked captivating. I knew I had pressed the self-destruct button by rejecting her public display of love for me the days prior to vacation. This was after an edgy romance we had in one instance. I was then sitting on a bench near the school park when she came. She stared longingly at my face and then sat by me. She draped her deftly hands around me and I felt her swell chest on me. ‘Touch me’ she whispered. Mercy was incredibly infectious and difficult to resist. I curled my arms around her small waist. She was calm. She rubbed her moisturised legs on mine and I floated on the breeze of time into invincible realms. ‘You sweet little love maniac, you are so romantic at heart’. I said to her. She said she was flattered. She wanted a repeat of the steamy scenes and that was when I turned her down. She was furious and bolted with my bosom friend Amon. I was desperately jealous. It was the last time I saw Mercy’s haunting curvy figure.

Mum noticed my restiveness and asked if I would like to go with her to the Makola market in Accra for shopping. I warmed up to the idea. It was a chance for me to get some whimsical stories to tell Mercy when school resumes. I needed to win the heart of my rain flower back. Amon usually came with exciting stories to hoodwink her. She only dashed to me when the hormones reminded her of her affections for me. Mercy was usually brazenly flirty. She would often ask me ‘would you be my primrose forever’. In my array of bewilderment, I was generally quiet. She cuddled up to me one day and looked into my face. Flood of tears flowed from her eyes. ‘What else can I do for my raspberry lolly for him to love me’? She asked. ‘My heart pounds and I offered it to you. Don’t you want me’? She continued. Mercy’s overpowering infatuation for me was infectious but lethal. You may call it a puppy love but I was too scared to have a dip in her love pool.

When we got to the market mum took me to an old friend of hers who had a stall behind the Fire Service Station. She had a zesty looks with a fiery flowing hair. She was excited to see me. ‘My jolly bonnie your mum never brought you to the market’ she said and smiled angelically at me. Her fixative look turned into a singsong. ‘My butterfly on the crimson bloom I have many lollies at home. Would you go home with me?’ She chanted tunefully across her wares. She was definitely another Mercy on my trail. The truth is I was an adorable kid with airbrushed photo shot features. The Makola lady was not the only one of mum’s friends who was passionate about me. There was auntie Afiya the lady whose hourglass figure set tongues wagging on our estate. This was before Mercy burst into my life with her flirty attitude. Untie Afiya had moved to the estate with her husband who worked on Legon campus. The husband was as an absentee husband who had a second wife somewhere in town.

Auntie Afiya was not only childless but an unhappy wife too. She pleaded with mum and took me home often. I became the child she never had and was a solace to her distressed soul. The pains of auntie Afiya’s childlessness were expressed in the bizarre passionate lullabies she chanted anytime she cradled me in her arms. ‘Weep, none would on my death bed. A child feeding on the mother’s milk ends the sorrows of womanhood. My pains were ceaseless. Others ended their grief ages ago’. Her melancholic tunes lulled me to sleep anyway. Somewhere along the line auntie Afiya became seriously sick and died. True to her predictions, her burial was tuneless. Mum kept the news from me until the day of the burial. She knew I would be distraught. It was true. I was inconsolable. I became completely inseparable from auntie Afiya because she was so devoted to me. I sang a floral tribute in my heart for her when the funeral cortege passed in front of our house. ‘Journey well, auntie float well, on your passage through voidance. Despair no further, I am the child nature never gave you. Depart well auntie on the bough of my unvoiced poesy into calmness. You are so valued’. Strangely, auntie Afiya’s husband and his second wife were not among the mourners. Mercy succeeded in erasing the memories of auntie Afiya from my mind by infecting me with her love frolics.

Mum picked some few stuff from her friend’s stall and placed them in the shopping basket. We left my admirer’s stall and wove our way through the thick throng. We came to a provision stall in the centre of the market. There was one of these revolutionary guards standing menacingly over the owner of the stall. There was a coup d’état and the coup plotters were everywhere like bumble bees. He yelled at the seller. She was then attending to tearful calls from her little son. The poor child was rudely woken from sleep by the soldier’s roar. The next thing I saw was the soldier started pouncing on the poor lady without any provocation. A ferocious blow from him caught the seller on the jaw with a military precision and sent her sprawling to the floor. A couple of her teeth rained down on the floor. The little boy screamed louder. A fiend with revolting behaviour was on the prowl.

The beast held the lady’s dress at the neck and pulled it with a brute force. It split into several pieces along the seams. The shreds slipped off her shapely body flashing her sensational curves. A colourful necklace laid nicely in her youthful-looking cleavage in her lacy bra. Spurts of blooding oozed from her cracked lips and ran down her well-carved ridge vanishing into her waistline. The blood soaked into a thick colourful beads lying neatly on her waist. Her bemused boy walked to her mum; got in between her legs and buried his head aptly to cover her mum’s modesty. His curly hair was soaked in blood. The lady’s crime was she asked the fiend to pay for the provisions he picked from her stall. Apparently, the soldier grabbed a handful of the scarce items and was about to walk away but the lady would have none of that. ‘Kuma lets go’ mum said and led me away from the murderous scene. For the first time in many years, I felt some sweet sensation in me for Mercy. I wished she were with me at the market. Her fluffy curvy frame would be flaunted all around me.

Strings of blunders marred the poignant affections Mercy had for me. By this time, her infectious love had spread like a terminal ailment in the diseased soul. I yearned to express my fondness to her for once through my fascinating tale from the market. The story of the violent shoplifter with sickening distorted values would undeniably melt the heart of the loved one. It was horrific tale though but it would soften her heart. I rehearsed the lines repeatedly to get a perfect storyline. I looked forward for an emotional reunion with her after the vacation. In the end that was never to be. She never came to the school. When I asked I was told she was gone to a place far away from town.

Francis Kwaku Egu, UK
kwakuhull@yahoo.com
kwakufrancis.blogspot.com

Ruthless affection: Romance that never was

I was on admission at the hospital recovering from a hip surgery when they came for a visit. The pains after the surgery were agonizing but I saw her haunting figure in the flowery dress she wore. It was then he introduced her to me. I could tell Bob had a crush on this particular one. They were completely inseparable. They fondled each other at the least chance all the time they were with me. Fiona had succeeded in giving Bob’s rootless heart some grounding. Bob was unlucky with ladies. He had forayed in and out of failed relationships with strings of girls through no fault of his. Unlike the others, I could tell Fiona was for keep. She was very infectious.

Bob was a gifted artist and a poet as well. He immortalised Fiona’s dazzling beauty on series of lurid paintings he made of her. The iconic paintings nonetheless did not survive their break-up. Capturing the charms of Fiona on a canvass was an obsession rather than a hobby. Her portraits hanged all over his room. She was in a kinky pose in one of the portraits. It was his favourite creation among the lot. Until he set the art works ablaze he routinely cuddled the kinky one every evening before he went to bed. As a gifted poet he wrote floral tributes celebrating her remarkable looks. The paintings became a vehicle for expressing his profound love for her. ‘Chanting Fiona’s splendour in my art works was therapeutic’ he said to me.

Bob worked in the public service. The wage was meagre; he did odd jobs to supplement his earnings. Albeit he lavished Fiona with exotic gifts and took her to glamour spots in town. He was at her beck and call and he dotted on her. Fiona found Bob’s profound attachment to her as a bother. She wanted space and Bob had occupied too much of that. She yearned to discover the world of romance but Bob was a hold-up. As a high school graduate, her dream was to be at the uni but her results were poor. Her dad wanted her to be a beauty therapist but she abhorred the idea so much. ‘It was too demeaning’. She said. She became frustrated and it was affecting their relationship.

Bob waved his magic wand and got her admission at the uni. He bought her some trendy dresses so she could cope with the fashion craze on campus. In the middle of her studies Fiona’s taste for glamour soared. The wannabe glam model set tongues wagging in her direction with her variety of fashion labels. Her compelling feminine feature turned the head of many admirers hazy. In fact, it turned the head of a mystery lover she met on campus foggy and he fell for her. The mystery lover had muscles to flex and money to spend. He swept Fiona off her feet and ruined the life of Bob forever. The lover turned out to be one of these failed lawyers in Accra who find succour in politics. He and many of his revolting ilks, bask in deceitful lives so long as it guarantees them their ‘boobs, booze and bonuses’. He delivered his deadly dozes of sham on Fiona and her soul was embalmed in scintillating ecstasy which Bob’s love ballads could not replicate.

Fiona had a startling discovery after her encounter with the failed lawyer turned politician. Life for a lady transcends exhibit of charms on canvasses and empty poetic lines. A public servant cum artist was certainly too poor to provide the fame and fortune she craved. The politician gave her a ride in his Lexus in the first instance. The chilly air missed with the air refreshment that glowed in the car made her broody. She swung into fantasy realms and dreamt of weekends in luxury resorts with the kids rolling down the slide in glee. Dumping Bob her long time flame was just too easy. When the agile footed hare is in flight the tortoise must give way. She started avoiding Bob.

Bob was oblivious of the bumper handouts splurged on Fiona. He got his usual paltry stuff and went to campus to meet her. ‘She is gone out’. Her room mate told him. When he insisted on knowing where Fiona was she revealed the grime secrets. ‘Fiona became a wild party girl after meeting the Party Chairman’. She said. ‘She attended lavish bashes with A-list bellicose political sickos. She even romped with the legal flop in a pool in his house.’ Bob wore a disappearing expression upon hearing the bombshell. His heart was in turmoil. His face went blue. The leak flatly contradicted what he knew of the loved one. She had changed from an angel he knew into a fiend. He waited for a show down with her. It was never to be. Fiona was on a chartered yacht far away on a pleasure Island somewhere on the Volta Lake. Bob never heard of her again. His heart tore into two and the pains were agonizing. He became suicidal.

He sat on his bed distraught when I entered the room. I went to see him when I heard the news of his failed suicide bid. He took over doze of painkillers when his heartache became unbearable. The numbing experience had isolated him from friends. He had a forlong look and Bob the buxom guy I knew was a nervous wreck. Some of our pals accused him of being daft for trying to take his life because of a ruthless lady who had no affections for him. ‘There was no romance between them in the first place’. Fiona just used him to achieve her aim’. One friend argued. He got up from the bed and went into the adjoining room. He was in white Y- front underwear and did not bother to cover up. I remembered the first time he introduced Fiona to me at the hospital. They were pleasant couples and were so happy together. I knew he yearned for the day he would walk the aisle with her in holy matrimony. That desire faded into emptiness. He was drained.

He came back into the room moments later with a lit coal pot. His presence woke me from my trance. I watched him walked the room absent minded without saying a word to me since I arrived. Suddenly he started ripping the paintings of Fiona hanging on his wall. He dumped the pile on the floor. He pulled a manuscript containing her love sonnets from under his pillow and added it to the pile. I realised his intentions and tried to save the treasured items but it was too late.

Though he had a sentimental attachment to the masterworks, he incinerated them in the furnace. I stood hapless as the flames licked Fiona’s painted curves into ashes. The boisterous fire smothered life out of his creations. They heralded a painful era in his distorted life and he annihilated that completely. Hanging on to the sick memorials brought poignant recollections. He yearned for the return of the loved one so he hanged on to the cherished items waiting for her return. It was never to be. The loved one never came back.

Francis Kwaku Egu, UK

kwakuhull@yahoo.com

kwakufrancis@blogspot.com

Romance, love and betrayal: Stealth lover

He went looking for her but his highflying beauty with astounding curves was gone. She left with Jim the hunk with the looks of a pop icon. She escaped to a pad out of town. It was an only cure for her heartaches. Stephen had pressed his own self-destruction button. He knew one thing for sure their relationship was on edge. In fact, it is irretrievably broken. She was a goner and left him empty as before. It was his fault. The temptress came flashing her boobs and he fell for it. He strolled down the street in front of her house livid and filled with venom. He could see in his mind’s eye Susan coiling her adorability in the arms of the hunk. He was desperately jealous.

Susan sat distant away from Jim as they sat in the bar over some drink. She was in animal print dress with a plunging neckline, which revealed her youthful-looking cleavage. Her looks set tongues wagging. She did not look like someone whose world was turned upside down by a love rat. Jim the stalker had trailed her for months but she ignored him. Her dream was to have a puppy love with Stephen but now she only sang soulful break-up ballads. ‘It must have been love, but it’s all over now. It must have been good I lost it somehow….’ She was cold to Jim though she accepted his date. Jim had splurged cash on her. He wanted a wild night out but she wanted a getaway from the pains. She believed Stephen when he told her he would look after her forever. He floated her on the cotton clouds but removed himself beneath her when she was not looking.

It was the third day and Susan had still not returned from her secret bolthole. It was out of character for her to stay away from him for that long. The little information he gleaned from a neighbour was not adequate. Jim came for her was all they told him. He was in limbo. None of Susan’s friends was keen to help. They were angry over the raunchy txt message from Brenda. The last moment he spent with Susan kept flashing like a flood. She came to his pad looking like catwalk queen. She was just like the temptress he first met at his mum’s shop. Reluctantly she joined him in his bed when he requested. They had steamy romantic scenes. Susan ripped off her cloths and she was in her black lacy bra and brief. He straddled her and fondled her silkily. She told him for the first time she love him with all her heart.

The light in her room was on finally when he got there. It was after he has made several trips there. He fluttered as he tapped gently on her door. There was no response. He persisted and her voice came ringing; ‘go away I don’t want to see you’. She told him it was over between them. He pleaded and asked her to give him a second chance. There was not another chance for him she screamed. ‘You are a love rat; go away’. He stood at the door pleading then his phone rang. It was from Brenda. He went ballistic. ‘I told you to leave me alone’. He yelled into the phone and hanged up. The phone ranged again and this time Susan heard it. ‘Go back to your hooker’

Stephen was so furious when Brenda was flirting heavily after she ensnared him to the Red Lobsters. Hangover is the wrath of palm fronds an elder once said. There was no need for his rage because he brought it upon himself. The stealth temptress had malicious intentions. She wanted to have a romp with him after their wild night out. Her dress was slashed to the thigh and her body language said it all. She wanted to cap the night with a sleep over in a luxury resort in town. That would be suicidal for Stephen because Susan would find out. He slithered out of the teeming café when the temptress went to the loo. He fled from the ominous peril. He passed Susan’s house to see her and that was the time he found out she was gone. He called but her phone was off. He decided to see her the next morning. The truth was Stephen was so committed to Susan but she thought otherwise.

In the early hours of the next morning, he was at Susan’s pad again and there was no sign of the leggy beauty. As he waited a car pulled up. A gentle looking chap popped out imposingly. He sauntered towards the house and he heard him talked to someone in the foyer. He was so full of himself. He came to the door and Susan let him in. He had stood behind the door for hours but Susan refused to open him. He felt like venting his fury on the imbecile but he kicked against the idea. It would drive Susan into his jagged arms. He heard a giggle as the door cracked in his face. He imagined Susan ripping her cloths and displaying her natural curves to the psychopathic stalker. He was raving mad.

Stephen felt like his life was in ruins. Susan refused to let him off for his treachery. The emissaries he sent returned with tales of woe. She wanted nil contact with him. Meanwhile she was always in the company of Jim who was so besotted with her. He often draped his arms around her curvy waist anytime they walked the streets. Stephen made series of emotional calls to Susan but she ignored all. He became an emotional wreck. He went into fit one evening and he was rushed to the Legon Hospital. The doctor who attended to him booked him for theatre next day after conducting series of test on him. ‘Nil by mouth’ the nurse wrote by his bedside as she attended to him. ‘Susan is toiling with my heart’ was the first statement he uttered when he went on admission. The nurse was bewildered but his mum who kept vigil at his bedside was not. She knew what to do to save her son.

She went to Susan and pleaded with her to visit Stephen. She was more than happy because she was excited to meet him. She carried things too far. All she wanted was to make him desirous. It blew in her face. Stephen became an emotional wreck. She went to the Legon hospital to see him. He was fast asleep and she kept the vigil at his bedside instead of his mum. At a point, she leaned over him and whispered ‘Stephen I love you’. She fell on his chest and shook him gently. Stephen woke up when he felt her woolly body on him. She cradled him in his arms when he came back to life. Flood of tears fell down Stephen’s cheek when he saw Susan by him. He was discharged from the hospital without the surgery.

Stephen had an amazing recovery. The medical staffs were baffled with his miraculous healing. The presence of Susan by his bedside was succour to his sick soul. Calamities they say act as a fibre that bind lovers together. It times of worries they draw strength from each other. It is not often the case though. Some lovers would only stick with you when it is cosy and rosy. When troubles come your way, they click the undo button. Stephens’s ailment brought Susan back to his arms. Brenda the failed stealth temptress jetted abroad and no one heard of her again.

Francis Kwaku Egu, UK
kwakuhull@yahoo.com
kwakufrancis@blogspot.com

Romance, love and betrayal: The traitor turns a temptress

Susan would be an obvious choice for any realistic guy in love. It was an altered story for Stephen. He still had a crush on the prodigal. The poignant love relationship with her was still fresh to recall. They were completely inseparable until Brenda went astray in London. Fogs of confusions clouded his mind. The sinister intruder returned a catwalk queen flaunting her natural curves and he was bemused. She was not there when he needed her, Susan was yet he kept hurting Susan’s emotions. He was jobless and it was as if his world was crumbling. The small handouts from his mum’s shop could hardly provide the luxury Brenda wanted. He wished she would understand him. ‘Wait for brighter days to come my angel dear’. He often said to calm her down. ‘Are you referring to sunny days in heaven’? She responded mockingly.

He dreamt of greener times here on earth just like his well-connected pals who drove in Sport Utility Vehicles (SUVs). Devoted chaps who chauffeured their precious ones for shopping binge at the Accra Mall. Brenda often complained anytime they went out in public transport. She fancied being chauffeured by Stephen just like the others. Standing at the wayside in the heat waiting for non-existence transport was something she loathed so much. The lewd jokes from men who kept eyeing her up added to the despair. There was no point in inviting unwelcomed attentions from lecherous blokes. The pressure was too much for Stephen. He succumbed to her idea of leaving the shores of the land for an improve life in England.

Her first few days in England were exciting. They stayed on Skype timelessly and dreamt their lives away. It was her first Valentine’s eve since she went away and they were on Skype until the break of dawn. She was freezing and yearned to be in his arms, she told him. Then she said she had a surprise for him. Just as he was about to ask what it was, she slipped out of her robe and stood bare in front of the webcam. Her scintillating curve was teasing. She wiggled her buxom round hips to an arousing tune from her iPod Touch. The lyrics filled the background. 'Tomorrow is St Valentine's Day’ and I am here all alone, my love not here to attend to my pains’.

He knew the teasing music was for him. Brenda had a way of luring him into her fanciful world. ‘The sweet little thing’ he muttered. ‘I’m here in pains, from the wounds of love, from the wounds of men’. The music continued and he was sad. They spent Val’s eve together in the past. ‘My love is not here to attend to my wounds. He became teary. ‘My wound bleeds, and my pains bleats’. He was tensed emotionally. ‘I missed my love on St Valentine’s day’. He went off line, as he could no longer stand the pains flowing through his heart. Their romance on Skype ceased when Brenda started romping with Paa Joe. Allowing the bug back into his life would be abysmal. It could disturb the uneasy truce he had with his angel. Susan brought him joy when the vermin had saucy times at lavish bashes at the O2 Arena (London). Susan was a cherished trinket in high demand but Stephen kept upsetting her emotions. He had ruffled her feelings before Brenda’s arrival and now he was dating her secretly.

There was no tune to mark Brenda’s return. Her friends regarded her as evil and avoided her. ‘She was a home wrecker’. They said, bent on destroying the little joy Stephen had found. They warned Stephen to stay away from her as she pestered him with endless phone calls. She sent a text when Stephen was not picking her calls. ‘I have present for you; could you meet me at the Red Lobsters please? She was so cunning. She knew Stephen would take the bait because it was their favourite restaurant. She lunged into his arms as soon as Stephen approached her at the car park of the restaurant. She rubbed her softness into him and kissed him time after time.

Stephen was stunned; London had transformed Brenda into a dazzling splendour. She looked hot at the catwalk in a flowery dress with cool patterns. They stayed late into the night over a bottle of wine. Occasionally she stretched across the table to offer him her glass of wine. Her actions revealed the well carved ridge running through her fleshy bosom. Stephen’s eyes popped out of its socket. At a point, she sat on Stephen laps and rubbed her fluffy body into him. Her exposed woolly thigh glowed ominously through the faintly lit room. Stephen responded to her warmth. ‘Make love to me tonight;’ she whispered to him. He looked at her silky face stunned. ‘Don’t be silly; are you drunk?’ he bellowed at her. He told her to hold herself and he shoved her off. He had an angel waiting for him at home. He could not hurt her by cheating with a temptress. Brenda returned a highflying catwalk queen. She was a temptress so hard to resist. Her host of fashion ranges and love frolics got Stephen’s head razing in the cotton clouds. He still could not make up his mind.

He planned to keep the meeting secret but Susan found out. She read a text message Brenda sent to him when he mistakenly left his mobile phone at her place. She was livid. She had been suspicious of Stephen ever since the temptress arrived in town. His attitude was half-hearted. He started calling her Susan instead of the pet name ‘daisy’ he gave her. She feared for the worst. Stephen succeeded in taming her wandering heart and she had grown to love him. His caresses were balms to her emotions. She felt his hot caress rather recently. She visited him and he asked her to join him in bed. She joined him reluctantly. He unbuttoned her dress and took off her cloths. He drew her closer and caressed her tenderly. Then he lay across her bosom and rubbed his face tenderly on hers. His actions were sizzling. Losing the hunk to Brenda would be hurtful. Nothing about him annoyed her.

The only problem was Stephen struggled to shake off his past. It came back haunting him. He was of dual mind. One of his warped minds danced the foxtrot with death in the form of an old flame. Susan was a bequest from superior realms, yet he failed to honour her. It was the end of the road for Susan. She was so mystified because Jim was in waiting with his unfettered love. Jim was a next-door chap who stalked her daily with his affections. She avoided him because of her loyalty to Stephen. Jim promised to look after her forever. She wanted him now. Anything that could mend her cracked emotions was welcomed. He asked her for a date the previous night. She met him and he ferried her into the night, away from the diseased world of Stephen and Brenda.

Francis Kwaku Egu, UK
kwakuhull@yahoo.com
Blog: kwakufrancis.blogspot.com

Romance, love and betrayal part ii: The traitor returns

His troubles began when he kept calling her Brenda instead of her real name Susan. She forgave him the first few times he used the accursed name for her. It was one of those dammed things, she mused. However, she became alarmed when Stephen kept calling her Brenda. She could not stand it; living under the shadows of a love defector was her nightmare. The fact remained she had no clue why he kept referring to her as Brenda. ‘Who was this Brenda anyway?’ She confronted him. Stephen stammered and went round in circles without telling her a thing about Brenda. She flipped and stormed out of his house. She left town to a hide out in a quiet rural retreat never to been seen for sometime. He was stunned and wondered if he was back to where he started. Despite his hard efforts; the despised name was a tune on his lips and piled to his woes.

Brenda left him a distressed soul. In fact, she took a part of him away. He lost it until Susan rescued him from anguish. Brenda was his first love and as a green shoot, he emptied his innocence at her feet. Love without add-on trappings was worthless to the fluffy ones. The trappings add to the glamour. She crushed his stupid love under her feet. Even though he had found great love in Susan, he was nostalgic about his past romance with Brenda, especially their explosive love antics on campus. It was delightful. They went to lectures together and when Brenda closed before him, she loitered about until he was ready and they cat walked back to their halls together. He as a rule curled his arms around her well-formed waist and hallucinated about higher realms. The pair wandered the cotton streets of the Sapphire city at will. At the set of sun, they lazed in the calm evening breeze from the luxuriant trees lining the feathery grounds around the Drama Studio. The name Brenda was his singsong, a sort of a music label. It was deep-seated in the sub conscious mind and was so indelible. It required something extraordinary from Susan to wipe his mind clean. Yet the name was threatening his new love.

Susan was perfect in every form except to obliterate the hated name from his memory. Since their night out at the film studios in Kanda their love bloomed. He spent less time at the shop and more time at her place. He visited Susan one day and found her very moody. Her face was burry in her pillow, as she lay on her bed almost bare. She did not attempt to cover up when he entered. Stephen was baffled seeing her full curves glowed through her glossy nightie. He sat on the bed beside her firebrand frame. She did not respond when he spoke to her. He held at the shoulders and lifted her gently onto his lap. The softness of her breast on his lap sent puzzling codes to his nerves. Yet he got be careful; she was still moody. He knew something was not right. Susan always received him warmly whenever he visited. He brought her close to his chest and felt her velvety to the fullest. ‘What was it my angel’ he asked her. His hand reached to her curves around her waistline and he stroked her bosom inch by inch. She was calm and melted into his arms.

He looked into her eyes and saw undiluted love. She spoke after salvaging her sanity. ‘It was your mum; she said you have a wife in London.’ It was first time she heard about the name Brenda. Stephen kept his past from her. It was a folly to keep such a secret from a sweet one like Susan. Such angels are rare and difficult to find. Well his stupidity almost cost him pure love. His mum told Susan about Brenda with the hope of scaring away from Stephen. She was indignant of the presence of Susan in his life just as she was with the one gone before. ‘This Susan girl would bring you nothing good’ she told Stephen. ‘She would be a wedge between you and your child hood love.’ She explained further. It was such a pity because Stephen kept the ignoble news from his mum as well. He felt ashamed to tell his mum Brenda and his bosom friend Paa Joe had betrayed him. He stood by Brenda when his mum was nasty to her. The mum realised her son was in love and accepted Brenda into their family. Above Paa Joe was like the brother he never had. The pervert was living with him until he travelled to London for further studies.

To avoid calling her Brenda repeatedly he decided to call her ‘daisy’. Susan became relaxed and came out of her hideout. Things became rosy and they paraded their love all over Adenta. One day Susan was going to town and Stephen saw her off at the taxi rank. When she was about to enter the taxi he held her by the waist and drew her closer. He gave her a hot cuddle. On lookers were baffled at his reckless display of passion in public. A fussy taxi driver saw him as a lost soul in a man’s world. ‘Bema kontobonku’ (an effeminate man) he yelled at him. A foul-mouthed driver joined the fussy one. ‘Do you want to make love to her in the public, you are a nincompoop?’ Stephen ignored the worried observers. He had all but won the heart of his daisy back until his mum told her about Brenda. He had to act fast before his daisy run out of town again. He told his mum about the dark secret enveloping the traitors in London. The mum was bewildered. He pleaded with his mum to visit Susan to calm her down. The plan worked. Susan stayed in town.

The daisy idea was a marvel because it was harmonious and their love blossomed. At the high point of their romance, Stephen had a call from Brenda. She was in tears on the phone. His inclination was to hang up but he decided otherwise. Paa Joe made a fool out of her. She told him. He was engaged to a lady in Ghana. He misled her by promising her marriage and after using her, he discarded her like a worthless item. He drove her out of his house because his wife was arriving from Ghana. She (Brenda) was returning to Ghana and she was pleading with him (Stephen) to accept her back. She loved him still and he was the first man in her life. She went on and on until Stephen eventually hanged up. The deserter made several other calls after the first. Flipping hell, Brenda had sown a grotesque seed in the perplexed mind.

Stephen was at a crossroad in his quest into the world of romance. Following his heart meant accepting the viper from London back into his life. One thing was sure; he still loved the prodigal one. Yet he had found balm in the amusing frolics with his new angel. Susan gave him life when he had none. She saved him from the desolation of the heart and raised him into the world of illusion. Any false move would ruin the petals of his daisy without end. He was so unstable with the news of the return of the traitor. Part of him wanted her back and the other preferred Susan. He had a choice to make. It was a very difficult choice indeed; yes, it was a very difficult choice.

Francis Kwaku Egu

kwakuhull@yahoo.com

kwakufrancis.blogspot.com

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Romance, love and betrayal

He spent his idle time helping his mum ran their family business. It was small cosmetic shop at Adenta. It helped him forget the sour incident that almost sent him to the gallows. A betrayal from a close pal was like thrusting a spiky pointer through the soul. The beast took away the only thing he cherished most. The customers came as usual to buy few hair products and other stuff. His only interest was to make more sales. It gave him some inner flush akin to what Brenda gave him before he lost her to the fast life in London. The customers mainly the female ones to him were images in a mirror reflecting the same distorted refractions like the one gone before. He paid very little attention to them. They are erratic and heartbreakers. This notwithstanding there was a fussy customer he could hardly ignore. He was stun by her looks as he served her. His hands hanged in the air unable to take the money from her.

Stephen was recovering from the shocks of Brenda’s betrayal; so he kept a low profile. He was not ready for another twist in his already mangled life. He had met Brenda back on campus and they had a dreamy relation. They were toast of their friends as they were striking pair. A cord bound the duo together. Realities of life after school tore the cord into shreds. It was like digging a limitless void as things went haywire. Stephen was unemployed and all his job hunts yielded no dividend. However, fate smiled on them. Brenda got a two-year working abroad visa to the UK. They celebrated the good news with a night out and had a jolly time. The exciting news notwithstanding there was a little hitch; Brenda had nowhere to lodge in the UK. Stephen phoned his bosom friend in London and pleaded with him to host his angel. The friend readily agreed to help. He saw Brenda off at the airport and waited until the BA flight vanished into the unknown.

Life in London is very different. His friend tried many times to seduce Brenda just as she arrived. When that failed, he frustrated her. He locked her out in the cold winter blizzards to freeze. He hid the grocery and denied her access to basic things in the house. The hassle was too much for Brenda. She lost her nerves and gave in to ease her frustration. Her idea was to have a brief fling with the pest to calm him down. Who knows what Stephen was doing in Ghana? He might be having fun with other ladies as she went through harrowing experience in the chill, she reflected. It was not to be; the brief fling became a routine. The vampire became so loving after he drew the first blood. He indulged her and showered her with delicate gifts. They were kinds of gifts carefully selected from flagships stores on Oxford Street. Stephen could only afford such exquisites gifts in his dreams. Brenda wizened. It was better to bask in a handy wealth than lingers on with a bloke hunting for non-existence job. She agreed to the Londoner’s marriage offer without blinking her eyes.

The lady who turned Stephen’s head upside down after Brenda’ betrayal was a cute looking lady with a flowing hair and a nice shape to match. Her name was Susan. She was new in the area. The day she went to the shop, she was in a simple straight dress, which fitted her perfectly. She was a sort of a temptress; so irresistible. Stephen’s behaviour the day he saw her was embarrassing. He could not control his emotions and betrayed himself to on lookers. Susan was embarrassed as well. She dropped the money on a table, and hurriedly left the shop.

Stephen had been on the look out for the temptress since the episode but she never turned up at the shop for months. He tarried but there was no sign of her. He volunteered to be at the shop more often and the mum was baffled. It was unusual of him. Lamentably, he was engrossed with Susan’s jelly looks he forgot to take her number. When all hope of seeing Susan was lost, she turned up at the shop one afternoon. She had not been well she told Stephen.

Stephen was so excited to see her. He told her he had looked for her everywhere under the sun. She said she was flattered. She visited the shop regularly there after. She was bored at home, she explained to him. He invited her to the movies one day and he was relieved when she accepted the invitation. Susan turned up in dazzling dress and he was stupefied at her looks. Joyously he welcomed her with a cuddle. He told her he was impressed with her looks. At the movies at the film studios at Kanda, Stephen chose a familiar suite. It was a preference for Brenda. Stephen sat so closed to Susan and his thigh rubbed hers. The softness coming from her bare silky thigh was so soulful he lost focus. The film beamed on the screen but his mind was on the appeal from the one sitting next to him. The lights were dim. It created a perfect romantic atmosphere. He saw chunk portion of her thighs radiating forcefully through the dim. It was greasy and rewarding.

The heat was unbearable and he excused her. He went out to the bar and bought some popcorn and drinks. The lovebirds popped the corn and washed it down with the drink. Susan was in the mood and became flirty. She got closer to him and placed her head on his shoulder. Occasionally Stephen fed her with his corn. He offered her his drink as well and she sipped it through the straw. At a point instead of the popcorn, he offered her his lips. She grabbed them with hers and mouthed it with glee. It became obvious they were no longer watching the movie. The movie was a bait to lure the cod from its hideout. They engaged in flowery love games as they ignored Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt’s movie ‘Mr and Mrs Smith’ beaming on the screen. It became steamy and Stephen held the tip of her dress at the upper part. He looked at her face and said ‘can I have look’? She ignored him. He repeated his question. She nodded. He busied himself rubbing her faintness. It was breathtaking. He thought he would never love again nor taste of the bliss derived from cuddling a loved one. Was Susan real or an illusion just like Brenda? He pondered.

Months ago, he had memorable burst with Brenda in the same room. She clanged to him and wept her heart out. She was sad there were going to live apart, she said. She promised to remain dedicated and return to him in one piece. It was the last sweet words he heard from the cherished one. He did not hear from Brenda again after she became a prey to his predator friend in London. The home wrecker stopped calling him as well. Any time he tried calling the answering machine bellowed ‘the number you have dialled is incorrect please check the number and dial again. Please check the number and dial again’. Was Susan real or just a delusion like Brenda? He kept pondering. He was confused. He was scared.

Francis Kwaku Egu

kwakuhull@yahoo.com

Blog: kwakufrancis.blogspot.com

Agnes the School Miss who fell in love with me

Sweet memories of her are ingrained on my mind and there they will remain in perpetuity. A Seraph sent at the appropriate time to help fulfil an innate dream; the dream of escaping from the despair which was rife everywhere. You can call it escapism. Schooling was daunting with hostile teachers cracking whips at will; venting their frustrations on poor kids. In the midst of these hostilities she appeared.

She offered me a unique place in her heart. A sacred a place the lecherous male teachers who lusted for her sweetness were denied. She showered me with unflinching love (not amorous) and was so caring. She always wanted me close to her so I sat at her desk. She spoke about the import of education. She took interest in my scholastic evolution and gave her life in exchange for that.

Miss Agnes Asare was a rare gem; a stunner whose beauty radiated excessively. Her terracotta skin shone and reflected the sun beams into nothingness. Her cute body was like that of a robin with an exquisite poise. A fashionable lady; she was in her early twenties and fresh from College. As a single lady; suitors were hot on her trail. They were resentful of my presence in her life but later gave in. I was a key to unlocking her tender heart they realised. It was a case of love me; love my dog.

I was her pet; her Rottweiler; which she treated with tenderness. She disliked it when I’m punished and had rescued me from the cracking whips of Mr Obeng the Craft Teacher on few occasions. In the grand scheme of things Craft work was not one of the escape routes; no chance. To prevent such occurrences she kept me by her cute side more often; including sneaking me to the staff common room where she shared her lunch with me. She gave me money on regular basis. It was lovely game we played. I will open my palm with my eyes firmly shut. A roll of neatly folded Cedi notes will drop into my palm; the effects were sensational. She invited me home occasionally. That was the sweetest bit of all, as I had her attention all by myself.

A trivial incident happened which became an impetus to the escapism premise. I was with her at Madina station at Legon as she waited for a car home. She drew my attention to the Red Tiled Buildings across the road. ‘Those should be your target’ she whispered. I looked at her sweet face and smiled. That was tasking aim to set for a kid I thought. She revisited the subject some days later but this time with a pledge. ‘My daughter will be your wife if you did.’ It was a tempting inducement yet so illusive; betrothing her unborn daughter to me at such tender age. It was a unique stimulus to the desire. I had a bride in waiting; except she was still in the womb. The price was a certificate from Legon. I got her message; she wanted me to be great; I was resolved.

A couple of us were preparing for the test to escape but I was the only one she offered extra tuition. Why did she give me a chunk portion of her heart? Incidentally I was not the dandiest pupil in the class. There was the jollied Emma who came to school in Range Rovers. There was also Amon who read host of Mills & Boon stories and spoke fluent English. And the petit Mercy the little imp was always trailing him.

Along the line fate became cruel and things took a diverse turn. Miss Agnes became sick and was absent from school for months. Part of me went with her and I yearned for her return. I tarried for the day she will appear through the door. One day she did looking so lovely but worn out. I was thrilled to see her. My initial thought was to run into her arms and put my head on her fluffy bosom to feel the warmth it emanated. The one I had missed badly but there was limit to our special relation. It excluded inappropriate touches. She was very professional. So I was unable to express my excitements when I saw her.

She called me as she settled in her chair. It seemed I was the embodiment of the class as that existed in her imagination; I was real. I was the lone pupil; the rest were phantoms with lost souls wandering in distant lands. As I sat by her desk she stared at me intensively with sparks in her eyes. She spoke softly but with some anguish. ‘You never look for me when I was away’ she said. ‘Also you were not excited to see me’.

She went on; she was so concerned about me and asked to be discharged from the hospital. She longed to be around for me though she was still unwell. The exam was near and I needed support. I was stunned, touched and my eye became teary. I had never felt so loved and yet ashamed not to express my joy when she walked in. I was devastated by her absence but I was just a kid who could not articulate his innate feelings. At times I wish these events took place in present times. The narration would have been different. I would have wrapped my arms around her curvy frame. Sweep her off her feet and swing her a few times before resting her feathery cleavage on my bosom. I will give her a long kiss on her cheek to let her know I loved her so much. Miss Agnes exuded pure love, a woman’s love; a mother’s love.

I wrote the exam of liberation and came top of the school. Again she came from the hospital to be present at the ceremony that awarded me the top prize. She was so excited and her face beamed with joy. I left to pursue the set goal. Months later I went back to look for her and she was gone; gone with the wind. She left when I went to High school I was told. She had remained strong for me in her sickness so I could relive the dream. There was no point hanging around; she had lit the Prometheus flame.

Where can I find Miss Agnes?

For ages I have searched for the loved one but to no avail. She went back to the Brong Ahafo region to be close to her family I was told. Miss left an indelible mark on my heart and I carry her memory fondly. It’s locked in a pod tucked neatly in a place where it will flourish evermore. The seeds are in fruition; harvest time is near.

Lest I forget Miss I am ready for my bride now; the one you betrothed to me in the womb. I got the certificate which was her dowry years ago. I have topped that up with other certificates from the United Kingdom. I escaped from the desolation.

I will implore teachers to radiate love to their pupils. The kind Miss Agnes exuded because these kids will grow up with such sweet memories forever. The Teaching profession is one of the least paid jobs in the country but teachers should take solace in the fact that their past students adore and hold them in high esteem.

Francis Kwaku Egu, UK

kwakuhull@yahoo.com

A wrong choice for romance: Romance from Hell

Aaron confided in a friend about his secret; the dim secret that brought him misery. He was debonair but could hardly keep a relation due to his blight. Mary was the last lady in his life. Just like many before she was heartbroken and left in desperation. Her dreams of having a fairy tale love with him fizzled out when she discovered it. She went back to the USA where she came from. She wished she had not embarked on such a futile journey to the mother land for the search. Many ladies came in droves. They coyly fell at his feet ready to sail into illusive worlds with him. He left them in distress. He encouraged the daintily ones still when he knew mustn’t.

He was a striking guy and smooth talker as well; very athletic with a flat 6 packs abdomen. He was aware of this unique quality and displayed it regardless. His elegant looks albeit he had an ominous secret. Esi was the first to discover it. She confided in friends but none believed her; she was a doubtful character. She snatched Aaron from her friend Mabel. They went to Aaron’s place often; when Mabel was not watching she took over and left her shattered. It was not the first time. She had a track record of taking over her friends’ guys. They became wary of her and shielded their men from her. Aaron was frail; she told her friends. ‘He floated you high into the billows and left you hanging midway’. He was a wrong choice for romance. She warned all her friends. She warned Mary.

Mary spent her formative years in the USA. A daintily lady she was; always gracefully dressed. She looked extremely stylish. Her many years stay in the States sparkled around her. Her English was smooth and fused with smooth American accent. She returned to Ghana to find a suitor but went about it the wrong way. She had her own fanciful ideas of an ideal man. She was so choosy. Guys flocked her with marriage requests but she ditched them all. It was one excuse after the other. One guy had a stinking mouth. The reek was repugnant and made her threw up. Another was ugly; his head was like coffin. She was not interested in a tomb headed man.

Aaron met her by chance. It was a Valentine’s Day and he spent the evening at the splash restaurant at Shoprite, Accra Mall with friends. Lovers came in pairs; the ladies were in velvet outfits. The Mall was crowded with bonny guys cuddling curvy glossy ones. Dreamy songs sailed serenely on the breezy air; it was thrilling. It was fused with guys humming their fondness to their graceful ones with cotton wool wits. The ambience was passionate as lights beamed from distant buildings into the dark sky. The shaft of light from the Airport tower hovered above the darkness. Some distant away was the shines from the Shangri Hotel and other gleaming buildings. Towering all the beams was the flare from beyond the green hills; the beacon of hope in the city with cotton streets; the Sapphire city- Legon.

Aaron was in the restaurant with friends as the DJ poisoned the air with his soulful melody. ‘Val’s day is here; leave your sorrows; let her be your queen tonight.’ The dance floor went into full swing as the lights were dimmed. ‘Let her be your fairy for once’. Silhouettes of lovers appeared vaguely in the dim as they clutched one another. Boisterous guys wrapped their hands firmly above the curves of their sweet ones and drew them closer. The music continued ‘leave your pains to air, love her for once’. Shapely figures rocked gently to and fro in unison to the lyrics. ‘Today would be gone and you shall miss her velvety’

Aaron was nervous as the music got poignant. Esi had carried out her threat. She had gone public with the news and the ladies avoided him like plaque. Even Fiona the awkward was not enthused to be his date. He came to the Val’s day alone when his friends were in pairs. He felt miserable as loved ones danced their joys in ecstasy. He walked out of the room. As he approached the front of the Mall, he saw Mary. She looked distraught. She was by her self. It was obvious from her poise she was new to the system. The snow flakes of the States still reflected on her glittering skin. She paced down the front of the Mall totally confused. For the first time she wished she was approached by the guys she abhorred. None did.

Should I or should not. Aaron contemplated as he saw her. He knew of her fiery rage. Mary was meeting a guy at the Mall but there was ‘no show’ when she arrived. She rang his phone but it was off. She had never felt so humiliated in her entire life. It was an opening for Aaron. He was easily accepted by Mary as he approached her. He invited her into the restaurant. She followed. She was a nuisance at the car park. Car lights beamed on her glittering dress as they advanced. Revellers made lewd jokes at her charms. Aaron introduced her to his friends as they sat at the table. After a few drinks he asked if she would like to dance. She nodded. They went to the packed dance floor. Shades of lights pierced through the dark; revellers shuffled their feet to tender ballads with their daisies. ‘Time to adore is here; cuddle her fluffiness.’ They swayed their hips to the lyrics. ‘Let her tenderness sway you; let her fluffiness weigh you’. It was a special evening for Mary and Aaron. Their romance grew to a new level there after.

She got hooked to him; she had found her ideal man in Africa. A little into their romance; she got so concerned with Aaron’s lack of affection for her. There was very little warmth between them. Aaron never stayed in a room alone with her or gave her a cuddle. He never made attempt to caress her or give her a kiss. He gave one excuse after the other to avoid the subject. One day she visited unannounced. And this brought her more pains. She informed him she was travelling out of town for the weekend. It was a ploy to catch him in bed with Esi. She suspected strongly he was cheating on her with Esi that was why he was always cold. He was alone that night. He was not excited to see her; she was worried but one thing was certain.

They were alone for the first instance since their romance blossomed. It was late and she knew she would spend the night. She knew she would feel his warmth for once. She craved for his attention daily but had none. Aaron was in a boxer shorts; his six pack folds stood out neatly. This was right time she reflected. She went close to him desiring a cuddle. He gave her none. He was about to walk out. She pulled him into her arms. He freed himself and walked out into the night. Mary was horrified. The rumour was true. She was in a mess. She soared across the Atlantic to Africa in search of romance; the one she found was from hell.

Francis Kwaku Egu, UK

kwakuhull@yahoo.com

Vuvuzela Love: The Zela blowing unpleasant romantic melodies

He was dazed and unconscious of his surroundings as he reflected about the events that made Abigail damped him for the horns in the South. He was haunted because it was due to his own foolishness. He was in so much pain and the pains pierced through his heart like a sharp needle. Abigail went with the crowd to watch her hero play but she never returned. When he asked, Jessica told him the awful news. Abigail eloped with a horn blower at the camp. He went mad because he borrowed from the bank to make her trip possible. He was in debt and his creditors were pursuing him. He knew the trip was a bad idea but she insisted on going. All he wanted to do was to please a loved one.

Peter treasured Abigail so much. She meant the world to him. He pampered her and made her a princess in his illusive world. His world revolved around her and he always wanted her to be happy. For some unknown reasons, his friends frowned on his tenderness to her. ‘Treat a lady with kid’s gloves and she would take you for a nincompoop. Ladies prefer guys who would cracked their emotions and send them to the rafters. They are so unpredictable’. His friends said to him. He knew his Abi. She was so fluffy, she was an angel. In fact she was a gift from the firmament. He always said in response to their arguments. He had dated Abigail for a little over four years and everything was rosy. Then the Vuvuzela horns started blowing their alluring notes from the soccer camps and his world turned inside out.

She came to his place looking so moody one morning. In order to cheer her up, he asked her to make a wish. She should wish anything and it shall be done. Abigail’s wish knocked him off his chair. She wanted a visa and a first class ticket to the South to watch her hero adorn the Star’s colours. ‘Wish something else’. He pleaded with her on bended kneels. There was not enough money at home. His little savings was towards their impending marriage. He tried to explain things to her but it was in vain.

No coaxing could change her stance. ‘What is a man’s worth if he cannot provide comfort for his angel? It was either a first class ticket or no wish’. She said. He could not believe his ears. That was not his Abi. The Abi he knew would not say such a thing to him. She must be under a bad influence. He reflected. Then Abigail started talking about Jessica her new friend. She met Jessica when she started working at the Head Office of her company. ‘She was going to South with her guy’. She said in unsympathetic words. ‘She had hard cash from her guy for a shopping extravaganza in the glossy shops in the South. Jessica and her man had already booked their flight and would storm the South with a bang’ she said. Since Jessica told her about her trip, she desired to go too but was unable to tell Peter. He dug his own grave by asking her to make a wish.

He saw her off at airport and watched the plane vanished into the cotton clouds. He was excited though he was in debt; if that would make his loved one happy. The warm relation between him and his loved one took a different turn as Abigail got accustomed to vuvuzela lyrics in the South. She never called after she left and he tarried for her call. He was so restless. Reports pouring in from the soccer camps were not pleasant. Some fans died in a coach accident. Could Abigail be one of the unfortunate souls? Some women were rape by some soccer thugs, was she a rape victim? They were planning their wedding in some few months and he would not forgive any hooligan who tasted of her sweetness before him. Would he still wed her if she was rape? He had sleepless nights.

Two weeks later her call came but she was so cold on the phone. He heard loud honking sounds at backdrop as she spoke. It was from the powerful horn. Yes it was the vuvuzela; the little horn with a man’s presence. She might be at the stadium or somewhere near. She read out a phone number and asked him to call her later. She was busy and cannot chat with him. There was a harsh change in the romantic chord of his loved one. Her voice in time past sang excellent musical notes that lifted him into higher realms. His name on her lips was like power ballads sang by Grammy Award winning soul singer. The voice of his dear was now singing flawed notes, which were so unpleasant. He never gave up on the silky one as nothing could replace her in his life.

He became more concerned as the tournament progressed. Any time he called his voice was drowned by the Vuvuzelas. He said his niceties anyway ‘Honey I loved you; honey I missed you’. Her responds said it all. She was not interested in pleasantries from a pauper. Something was not right. It was unusual for Abigail to stay days without hearing his voice. What went wrong? He asked himself. Then he had a call from Jessica asking for his help. Her man was nicked at the airport at Johannesburg. He was a wanted fugitive. In fact, he had been on the radar of Interpol for years. It was then Jessica broke the horrible news to him. Abigail was gone from the camp. She went to a far away land with an unknown wealthy Vuvuzela man. It was funny and ironic. Jessica returned to Accra without her man and Peter lost the woman of his dream. However, the good news was the pair fell in love.

Well Abigail lent a new song in the South. It was a song about a new dawn and a new era. It was an era for wealth and power. Which was symbolised in the powerful shrills of the Vuvuzelas. She sang that song to Peter on the phone, but he failed to decipher the meaning because it was less musical. His cherished one’s voice was so unpleasant to him just like the Vuvuzelas to people from other cultures. Jessica on the other hand learnt a new song. Her song was about ‘not all gold that glitters’ so be content with what you have.

Francis Kwaku Egu, UK

kwakuhull@yahoo.com

Romance in the Legon Woods

Rosetta walked the foot path running through the Legon estate to the field alone. Days ago they walked it together. His hand was wrapped firmly about her curves as they strolled leisurely along. Now she was by herself. She looked withered but her eyes were full of love; full of fondness for him. She had distant look on her paled face. She came to the gravel road that linked the old colonial bungalows to those built after independence and stood by the bench under the neem tree near the field. They sat on this bench often in the past. Tears flowed from her sodden eyes. Her action was an enactment of their love frolics. Albert explained. She acted oddly since the news came. The awful news that took away her joy; her dreams and crashed her world.

Auntie Naaki’s love for Easter picnics was known to everyone on the estate. As a devout Presbyterian she loved singing her Presbyterian hymns so early in the morning. She sang at the top of her voice and it resonated all over the estate. She made few enemies with her sun-up renditions though. Mr Deku the voodoo devotee next door saw her singing as an affront. He had enough of her pious behaviour. On one instance he came out filled with venom. He pointed his evil fingers at Naaki with vile intentions. Friends got worried; Mr Deku was a noted evil man. However it was routine for Naaki; as a kenkey seller she woke up early to get the stuff ready for the Bush Canteen. As she went about her task neighbours forfeited their sleep. Mr Deku hated her as the heavenly choruses rendered his deities powerfulness. It was a case of light vs. darkness. Evil was subdued; goodness prevailed. Mr Deku was ejected from the estate for his disruptive behaviour.

The kids loved auntie Naaki still for the yearly picnic she organised. It gave them rare chance to relax in the pool at the Legon gardens. The pool was an integral part of the garden. It had an artificial island at the middle. A scenic summer hut sat neatly on this island. The hut served as resting place for fun seekers. The pool was stocked with ornamental fishes and other aquatic creatures. A wooden bridge spanned across the pond onto the island. This reverie; a colonial relic was treasure hidden from many. It was a privilege enjoyed just by few; those who had link with the Sapphire City. The City with cotton streets, citadel of hope, the Hill of brainpower- Legon

Kwei looked forward to the picnic more than any one else. It gave him the chance to be with Rosetta the most beautiful girl on the estate. Rosetta’s beauty was beyond description. Guys lusted after her sweetness but failed. She had her sparkling eyes for just on one guy; Kwei. Some guys had all the luck when it comes to wooing the glittering girls. Their cotton wool words act as a balm to inner emotions of the creamy ones. They effortlessly get the fluffy ones excited when they are moody. Rosetta loved Kwei so much. Her world revolved around him. He was in a boarding school while she was a day student. They rarely met except during vacations. As a result they tried to spend much time together when Kwei was in town.

This particular picnic in the garden was a romantic one for the pair. Kwei had his own favourite spot in the thick woods in the garden where he took his angel. The spot had foliage which shielded them from the nosy ones like Albert. Albert refused to realise Rosetta was in love with the man she adored; a man who floated her into feathery realms with his relaxing words. His soothing words stilled her heart and sent her into delirium. They lived in their own gleam world.
In the garden the lovers walked leisurely among the wood hand in hand. Now and then they stopped at any suitable spot to hug. Kwei drew his cutie angel’s frame to his and squeezed her lovingly. Other times he raised high above the thick bushes and floated her in the air. This action made her giggled and it vibrated through the wood. Albert went bananas when he head the giggle from behind the groves. The lovers were unperturbed. They trounced the garden and had no care in the world. She tickled him and ran off. He went after her; grabbed her by her slender waist and pull her on to the grass. He laid on her and buried his face into her busty front. She remained calm as she felt the sensations from his weight.

The love bird enjoyed their lunch away from the rest. Rosetta served the meal she had prepared for the occasion. They took turns to spoon fed each another. She was a noted cook; the aroma from her dishes caused stirs among neighbours. The perfume scents travelled on the wavelength to distant places to trouble starving souls. After the meals Kwei drew her silky frame to his and they fantasised their lives away. At one point he pushed her tenderly onto the mat and rested on her velvet bosom. Albert could not take it any longer. He left the picnic grounds.

Albert loathed Rosetta with fervour. No one understood why till words went round he was ditched by her. He had all but won her heart with gifts. Gifts he bought with cash stolen from his mum. He visited her many times but nothing came out except shame. On one of his visit Rosetta walked him out. She threatened him with water baptism on his next visit. Albert took her threat carelessly and got drenched in soapy water. To add to his misery his mother found about the stolen cash. He was flogged at school assembly. The disgrace was too much; he avoided friends for weeks. Since the water episode his hatred for Rosetta exacerbated. He pounced on her at the least chance but Rosetta was too wise, she kept him at arms length.

Albert always came with repulsive gossips about her. This time it was a new one. He saw Kwei cuddling Rosetta behind Mr Asante’s hedges. She was topless; he saw her blossoming breast dangling menacingly. The pair were so engrossed; they did not see him passed he said. Well it was a cold December morning and the chilly breeze cracked its way above the leafless trees. The weather was so icy and Rosetta could not be faulted; for enjoying the warmth of her man so early in the morning. Albert often nagged about the wanton behaviour of the pair. Too often they flaunted their love frolics in the open. It was a nuisance he argued. For some days now Albert had been spared the trouble of more gossips by the news that shattered everyone.

The sordid news that shattered Rosetta’s world when she least expected. The demise of one thing she loved most. She was so fond of Kwei. She saw him off at bus station some few days ago and tarried for an email from him. The email never came; his belongings did and with it the distressing news. He died in car crash on his way back to school. Kwei left for School after their rollicking Easter holiday but never go to his destination. Rosetta walked away from the bench and retracted her steps back home. She was lost in a wood but this time not the love woods in the garden. It was the wood call life. ‘Death you have done your worst’. She yelled as she dashed away.

Francis Kwaku Egu

kwakuhull@yahoo.com

Romance in wrong hands: ‘Where do broken hearts go?’

She came in the night looking so spent. The isolated look in her face said it all; something was amidst. I opened the door and ushered her in. She walked straight into my arms and started crying. I led her gently into the sofa to calm her. When I asked of Jojo she was not ready to discuss him. It was odd because they were so fond of each other. She had never visited alone. The lovebirds dreamt of blissful times ahead with the kids running rout. I was bewildered seeing her in her current state and sat away from her. She looked at my direction; tears ran freely down her face. ‘Will you make love to me’ she muffled through her sobs. I was stunned. I gasped.

I faintly recalled the day we went to Prampram beach months ago. It was her birthday. To mark the occasion Jojo decided to give her a treat by taking her to the beach. He insisted I went along with my car. He wanted to be alone with her. It was ok with me as Meg had invited her friend from the uni. We needed room in my car as well. Meg sat at the front seat and spent the whole time listening to music. Her friend had recently split from her boyfriend I was told. She sat quietly at the back and nodded to the rhythms of the songs. She looked so distraught and sat broodingly throughout the journey. The ride on the Tema motorway was a quick one as there was less traffic. Jojo drove at frightening speed and I struggled to keep up with him.

I was glad when we eventually got to the Prampram. The birthday girl and her man were the toast of the day. There were all over each other as Afia gave Jojo close markings. They caressed each other as they danced to the tunes of Hip Life music blaring from the ghetto blaster. As this entire funfair was agog there was one loner who kept away from the maddening crowd. It was Meg’s friend Grace whose guy became fugitive of love. She walked aimlessly towards the sea and gazed distantly into the sky. In a twinkle of an eye she jumped into the sea. We screamed and raced to her rescue; it was too late. She was swept away by the raging tides into the bowels of the sea. Suicide was the only option; the guy she had grown to adore had eloped with a new lover on Valley View campus. Divers scrambled too late to rescue the distressed soul. Her body was washed ashore late into the evening. It was terrible experience mainly for Afia. She was distressed by the death of Grace. She was in the same state as she sat in my room. Except this time Jojo was not around to comfort her.

Romance between Afia and Jojo was a delightful one. The pair bathed in the cools of the mahogany breezes in the Legon gardens on regular basis. They loved listening to the cooing birds dancing away their times among the leafy trees. Wherever Jojo was Afia was sure to be lurking. She could hardly exist without him. She often coiled her cute frame into his huge arms and buried her head on his hairy chest. Her very existence depended entirely in Jojo’s world; a world he secretly sneaked other ladies into when Afia was not watching. In Afia’s dreams she was the only lady in his man’s life. All other ladies were excluded. Friends knew otherwise and mocked her for her naivety when she jilted a cool bloke for the Casanova.

‘Emaa pe kwasiafou’ (ladies crave for imbeciles). Amon once said. They prefer guys who would crack their emotions and leave them in tatters. He argued. Docile and affable guys are bore; bore; borrrrnn. I don’t agree with Amon though. It’s just a case of - wrong ladies courting wrong guys. The unexpected happened as Jojo moved to a new area around Madina. The distance between him and Afia Konadu created a vacuum which needed to be filled. Filled it was by an entertaining lady Jojo met around his new home. Emefa was not only dazzling but also homely. She washed the dishes, cooked the meals and mopped the floor. She often left the house cleaned as disinfected hospital ward. She was a well groomed humble lady who warmed her way to Jojo’s heart through his tummy.

Afia was shattered and her world came crashing when Jojo broke the news to her. Jojo had not only found new love but was going to be a father soon. The scanned results indicated he was going to be a father of twins in some few months. Afia knew right away her man had slipped through her fingers. The man she has spent her youth loving. She felt empty like an ‘obonu’ drum cracking through corrugated iron sheets in an ancient city.

She wanted vengeance; strike Jojo hard where it hurts for his betrayal. In her wildest dream she opted to sleep with Jojo’s best friend; nothing stings guys more. I was that cherished friend. In fact I was an effective rod for flogging Jojo. A willing rod too as Afia was so irresistible. Her carved pear-shaped figure was so alluring. It was an added bonus to her extreme physical tease. She was slim at the upper division of her body and this sat with ease at her lumpy waist region. She looked rounded and fluffy at the rear. I saw her sparkling shapely beads lying flawlessly on her waist line through her skimpy dress. OMG!

Her sobbing increased in rhythm as she moved closer to me. I felt the softness of her bosom. I was breathless. I pulled her closer as a way of assuring her. She lifted her face gently and placed it into mine. Her action was sensational. Then she delivered the bombshell. I should make love to her. It was pure madness. I had to choose between the loyalty for my friend and the sweetness radiating from her warm bosom. Do it; don’t do it. The voice was ringing. She was divine and blistering. The absence of Meg added to my misery. I had not seen her for the past few weeks. The guy from Germany was in town I was told. She had cheated with the same moron not long ago. Meg had always been unfaithful. The other day it was her ex. By this time Afia was standing topless in front of me. My eyes almost popped out. I could not remain calm any longer as she became hotter. I drew her closer; she obliged. Her lips were fused into mine. Her bosom was on mine and I was loosing it. In the frenzy I regained my sanity; I whispered calmly ‘I can’t make love to you Afia. Jojo is my bosom friend.’

She realised she had failed to get me into bed. The disgrace I guess was too much just like the pains in her heart. She walked hastily into the dark as I waved her good bye. She was so vulnerable; her shadow disappeared into the dark on the lonely road leading to her home broken hearted. ‘Where do broken hearts go?’ I asked again and again. I blamed myself for not taking her home. I would blame myself if any thing happens to her. ‘Would she find her way home’ I always blame myself for not saving the soul of Grace. I sensed her distraught state but Meg brushed it aside. Leaving Afia to walk through the dark alone got me agitated. ‘Would she find her way home?’ I asked repeatedly.

Francis Kwaku Egu. UK

kwakuhull@yahoo.com

Romance behind enemy lines

She spoke about the war with pains. It took away his dad and maimed her mum. James loved to hear her narrate it over again but she would not. At times she talked about it in snatches. The raiders arrived in the dead of the night she said. Sounds of Kalashnikov assault rifles flew over the thatched huts. The next day the body of his father and other warriors were recovered. The village was desolated as the looters torched every hut on their path. She was dead silent; her chest heaved. He pulled her closer to assure her of his unflinching love.

James’ mum was a pain. She nagged too often. He wanted to be anywhere but home. His was relieved when he was posted to Bawku for his service. Friends persuaded him but he was determined. The journey which could take 4 hours on a high speed train took forever in a wobbly coach. He was so exhausted. The friend’s voices came ringing ‘it was all folly’. He was almost in tears. At Bawku he learnt his journey had just begun. He was posted to Atora on the outskirts of Bawku. The gloom caused by the war was visible at the country side. Burnt huts littered the land. Government troops patrolled the street in obsolete armoured vehicles to keep the truce.

The people of Atora were lovely. They came in their numbers. ‘Toma toma’; they welcomed him. ‘Toma’ means welcomed Asibi told him later. Within him he wasn’t. He was cut off from the rest of the world. Luckily he met Bonsu a chap from Ho Poly. He made him felt at home. He took him to the market some days after and that was the first time he tasted the donkey slur. A chap barked at them ‘kabonga’ when they popped up at a stall. Eager heads turned to their direction. ‘Kabonga’ Asibi explained means donkey. It is an unpleasant word used to describe people from the south. She also thought him that ‘bugum’ means fire and ‘bugum saana’ is fuel wood. The only word James learnt without Asibi’s help was ‘mbordof’ (I adore you).

Asibi was an astonishing beauty of Atora with distinctive feminine features. She was a trained teacher from the College at Pusiga. She opted to be at the local school to be with her sick mum. James was smitten by her charms. ‘Mbordof’ he said to her. She said she was flattered and also impressed with his efforts to speak the language. She offered to give him lessons. The language lessons became steamy. The ‘bugum’ that flowed from her hot body ignited sparks in him. They became talk of the village. She spent much of her time in his house. They went to the river together and bathed in the cools of it waters. They plied the savannah daily romancing behind enemy lines.

Mr Abugri James’ landlord despised James to bits. He stole the heart of the pearl of the village. He spoke fluent Twi. He learnt it when he was in the south, he boasted. He talked cynically about a cocoa farmer at Asante Akyem Agogo. The ‘kabonga’ robbed him of his youth, he moaned. James told him he was not from Agogo. He was from further south along the coast. ‘A decyorated donkyie is still a donkyie’. Mr Abugri blurted. James was stunned. Asibi exploded into laughter when he asked her the meaning. He was not amused. My Abugri wanted to say ‘a decorated donkey is still a donkey’ She explained. The message was clear. Coming from the coast only made him a polished beast. The mark of the beast kept surfacing everywhere he turned. Their romance flourished as resentful village elders including Mr Abugri caved in; Asibi was so much in love with James.

She rushed into his arms as she saw him and clanged to him firmly. She looked terrified. It was her birthday and James went to her house to offer her a present. The enemy forces were planning a dawn raid, she said. The omen was foretold by the oracle of the baobab tree. James had witnessed two raids since he arrived. The conflict spiralled months after he arrived as government forces struggled to keep the fragile truce. The dawn raids were ferocious; villages were annihilated. On the first raid James brazenly went behind enemy lines to pluck Asibi to safety across the border. His second rescue was more daring. Against the advice of Bonsu he raced through enemy fire and pulled her from under rubbles. Her home was blown up while she slept. Asibi virtually worshiped him since these daring rescues. She owed him her life. As they burrowed through millet farms to safety; guns cracked above them. Tongues of fire licked the darkness. Shrills voices echoed through the dark. Bonsu refused to escape with them. He was busy with Akos the lady he met in the village.

It was the first time she had fully told him about the raid. They were returning from a shopping fling from Sankasi. Her dad was a brave warrior she said; he hid her in a dry well and returned to the war front to help other fighters defending the village. They were overpowered by the enemy and he was killed. She remained in the well for 5 days without food and water till she was rescued by the peace keepers. She sat behind the bicycle as she narrated the story. Suddenly she became silent and flirty. He felt her fluffy hands rubbing in between his thighs. Shock waves ran down his soul. He lost focus and almost rode into a baobab tree. At one point she placed her head on his back and held him close to her warmth. It was relaxing. Asibi knew his hands were firmly gripped to the steering and could hardly interfere.

Asibi was a master rider herself. She took over the bicycle as James became exhausted. ‘Don’t play any funny game’ she warned. She knew he would. She loved it when he fondled her. James sat on the metal bar between her and the steering. He had direct access to her bosom; he rocked it gently. She remained calm; any wrong move could be disastrous. In their dreamy state the pair was oblivious of other traders plying the road. He floated above the baobab trees as he felt her velvety. He forgot they were in a conflict zone. In his delirium he did not notice them. They came from every where except the main road. It was an ambush. They were ambushed by enemy forces wielding machine guns, and machetes. Warning shots rumbled into the air and machetes clanked. They were all rounded up. James was so concerned about Asibi. The evil squad could harm her. He had to liberate her; liberate himself. The firing intensified.

He valiantly went to the commander of the gang. What men could do for love? The commander pointed his gun to his face. The traders wailed as he cracked it. James remained calm. He told the commander he was a teacher from the South and not a fighter. ‘Kabonga’, ‘kabonga’, the commander bellowed. The others joined in unison ‘kabonga’ ‘kabonga’, ‘impale the donkey’. James had bitten more than he could chew. Saving Asibi was his game plan; it had backfired. ‘Hack the ass’. ‘Hang the dog’. They were incensed. ‘Leave the donkey alone’ the commander ordered. ‘He is a stranger; he is not part of the war. James’ arse was saved because he was an ass. Asibi was still in danger. He got to outwit the gang ‘She is an ass too’ He said pointing to Asibi. The thugs would have none of that. Such silky ladies are spoils of war.

Her innocence would not be thrown to dogs. She would not be defiled by men high on drugs. He went to Asibi and dragged her after him. ‘She is a beast too, she is a beast too’’ he repeated. ‘Let them go; the accursed ‘kabongas’. The commander yelled. It was another thin escape for the love birds. Asibi was shaken as she sat on the middle bar of the bicycle. Calling his sweet lass and ass saved her at last. She clutched to him firmly as they rode the lonely road home. They heard gun shots followed by loud shrills and then absolute silence. The bodies of the traders were collected by government troops the next day.

The parting was an agonizing one. Atora became a dangerous conflict zone. He evacuated. He wanted to do that with Asibi; go south to pursue their romance. But she could not leave her sick mum. James was gutted; he was broken hearted and saddened. She was at the station at to see him off. It was so difficult for him, as Asibi wailed and threw herself to the floor as the bus left the station. On lookers comforted her. He had not choice but to depart; it was too perilous romancing behind enemy lines.

Francis Kwaku Egu

Kwaku@yahoo.com

Mercy’s Love was True and Pure Love – Part IV

I was in bed reflecting about recent events; things had taken a new turn. I couldn’t escape any more. My shadow repeatedly followed me even into the abyss. I finally accept Mercy into my life. She visited regularly and I became exceptional doting on her. The day before was St Valentine’s Day. I had prepared the room in anticipation of her coming. She came in a lovely dress and her beauty was so sparkling. I had highlighted the room with red deco to mark the occasion. The bed was laid with wine velvet sheet. We went out that evening and I had never seen her so excited.

Meg was a girl next door. She was handy and helped me with my errands. The night before; she asked if I could drop her off at the exam centre at Cantonments. I picked her up in the morning and with the promise to pick her after work. I had gone to the exam centre earlier than expected. She was still in the exam room. I waited for her. Eventually she came looking shattered. Soon the centre was full of other worn out candidates, mystified beings hoping to get meanings to their unhappy lives. As Meg approached the car, I looked beyond her and I couldn’t believe my eyes. There she was; she had blossomed into absolute beauty.

I had to run the gauntlet and take the fight to her. Though I wanted to be left alone I don’t think I wanted to be married instead. I dashed to her and was about to embrace her but the unexpected happened. She shoved me off and walked away. It was unusual of Mercy; she was so fond of me. Some thing definitely was wrong. I followed her pleading. I went on my knees professing my love. I loved her deep down my heart; I had searched for her after graduation but Amon told me she had travelled. I was at the verge of tears. She was adamant. ‘When your child soiled your thighs you don’t clean it by slicing your own flesh; give him a second chance.’ The soothing words came from a smooth talking lady among the crowd. I was not only a petulant child who soiled the mum’s clothing but an irritable one who also kept her wake all night; I had wasted so many chances in the past. I deserved the humiliation. ‘Teach the beast a lesson’. A coarse voice yelled from the crowd. It was from a mean looking lady.

‘Noble men are worth considering; he is worthy take him back’ the smooth lady pleaded. I was urged on by her kind words. I got up and walked towards Mercy determined. She became calm and walked into my arm; I held her firmly. She started weeping and buried her face into my chest. The crowd became more curious of the two lovers; the sweet lover and the acidic one. ‘You hurt me so much; you disregarded my feelings’ she said. I could tell she was worried and vulnerable; I blamed myself. ‘You made me felt so unloved’ she continued. ‘Weep not baby, he will be a changed man’, the smooth lady yelled in excitement as she sat in a taxi heading towards Burma Camp.

Honey this time I will; in fact I do now, sorry long time ago. She stopped crying; and looked at me bewildered. Such sweet words never come from the outsider. Tears ran down her smooth face; tear droplets settled into her dimples. I wiped her tears with kisses; she remained calm in my arms. I took her bag and led her to the car; I opened the door and closed it gently after her. ‘I had to drop Mercy off at her home’ I said to Meg; she was watching events from a distant. Mercy’s love for me rekindled.

She was fiddling with the CD player. She loved music and always came with her own CDs. She came to the bed and lay on top of me instead of her side of the bed. I felt the softness of her bust brushing my chest and I was motionless. Her sweet face was melting into mine. ‘I have tasted candy floss, I have taste honey’. The CD started playing. I knew she had put it on; I was not sure of the music. She was expecting a response but I was mute. She held my head into a good position. Her head descended slowly to my face. The song was still on. ‘I have eaten Easter eggs, I have gobbled bunnies’. I had my eyes shut and I felt it. I felt her warm lips fusing into my. The effects were magical. The fusion of our lips into one roll sent sharp messages.

I was on flames. Feeling her feathery weight on me increased the intensity of the delight. I held onto her smallish frame and squeezed her gently. ‘I have tasted saccharine, I have tasted mint’. We were firmly embedded into each other; our heart beats increased in rhythm. I rolled her over and I was on her. I lifted her skimpy dress slowly. She looked into my face with a smile. My hands reached to her. ‘I have eaten lollipop, I have tasted caramel’. The chorus continued. I was hot. ‘Hang on’ she whispered softly. I was panting, I looked at her bemused. You always wanted occasions such as this. ‘Who was the lady with you at the exam centre?’ OMG you don’t ask such stupid question at such moments!!!!!

I got to be the man I had failed to be. Meg was a neighbour I explained. ‘She was so mean on that day, I mean at the exam centre’. So it was resentment that sent her into fit and got me so humiliated. My mind went back to the smooth talking lady. I was about to say something but she apologised and came back into my arms; ready to be carried on the furriness of the spheres. I was repentant of my actions anyway; the dowry first. I sat on the bed with my back leaning on the wall. She looked at me bemused. She was about to nag but I placed my fingers on her lips. I pulled her over and put her head on my laps. I stroked her hair gently and rubbed my hands over her bosom. The music continued ‘I have tasted candy floss, I have eaten Kit Kat; none compares to her sweetness, none compares to her meekness’.

It was the evening before the Val’s day. I had bought her a unique present and she was so thrilled. As I was picking a dress from the wardrobe she held me suddenly from behind and pulled me closer to her. I turned and wrapped my hands around her slim waist. ‘Will you like to eat the second time?’ she asked romantically. Eat what; we had just finished eating. I knew she was visiting so I grilled some tilapia; her favourite. She was excited with the surprise. I had been very soft and extra caring to her since she came back. It was my turn to woo her. ‘Will you like to eat me’? I was silent; she was extremely amazing, but you are not food I thought. ‘Or am I not sweet? I told her she was the sweetest thing in my life.

She fell asleep on my laps. I lifted her up and held her close to my bosom. She was gone beyond the call of the living; floating in her own world. A world she had now got me into. She wanted me to eat her when I was already satisfied. I placed her gently on the bed and covered her with the velvet sheet. She looked so pure, so untainted. ‘I have tasted vanilla ice, and strawberry too; none compares to her purity’. The song faded away slowly. ‘None compares to her tenderness’.

Francis Kwaku Egu, UK
kwakuhull@yahoo.com

Mercy’s Love was True and Pure Love – Part III

She lingered in the neighbourhood at an odd hour. What was she doing here, I gasped in amazement as her house was miles away. I had seen her some few days ago, but I just ignored her. The twisted mind was disturbed when I saw her again near the lair. The one of no return; girls who frequented the place had dates with maternity wards. He was a predator; with all those innocent girls forming his harem. There she was; a scintillating essence about to waste away on the altar of despair. It was a wrong place to be in that period in her life; a wrong choice I must say. I was so troubled for her; I wanted to rescue her; led her away to safety; away from the looming gloom.

The girlie name went with Mercy when she moved to her new school. Her school was a single sex school, I believed she was sent there to curb her volatile desires. I was no more taunted with her name. A boy with a girl’s name; it was demeaning. The name sent a sharp sting through the diseased soul instead of joy. I met her often in secret from the curious eyes of Tanko and his group. It was so relaxing the first time I banged into her in town. Her friend said it all; my name was a melodious tune in her ears, she sang it harmoniously and had carved it on her heart. She had fondled my fingers with passion and was almost in tears when I had to leave. I enjoyed it when she coiled her silky self around me.

All these took place in open. She melted into me and gave me warm cuddles. I held her firmly close to me; she was silent; she was breathless. The display of amorous tendencies by kids in front of adults is frowned upon. These wardens of the communal norms usually go over the top. Miscreant lovers displaying their affections in the open are derided. They are not spared the anguish either; married couples. Affections for loved ones are permitted in seclusions. The public eye supervised the open-air love overtures. Rules are rigorous enforced. Mercy refused to abide by the rules. She carved her own restricted world; a very tiny one for herself. A world she shared with me. Cultural norms were devoid of her world; fantasy world.

It was the third time I had spotted Joyce at Tanko’s house. What a waste; an appealing girl with a gleaming future. She was transferred to the school few month backs; to the heart of the Sapphire City. The city with cotton streets; the leafy mahogany trees kept it anew. The Sapphire Tower Spire which inspires many to aspire stood on the green hill, the ‘Hill of Knowledge’ – Legon. Many had been motivated by the imposing presence of the Tower. Its beacon beams its blue light afar; an invite for all keen kindred. ‘The hen is also aware of the approaching dawn’. The motto of the famed female hall; it broke the jinx of the misogynists. Joyce failed to herald the dawn. The parents wanted the best for her; she went for the worst. Visiting Tanko at strange hours was certainly hazardous. She became a prey to the predator just like Esinam and Asantewaa.

I was about to alert her of the danger ahead but it was too late. Tanko came out of the house red eyed and led her away. Incidentally Tanko’s house was not far from mine. A cord in me snapped, I moaned silently for her, for him as the lost souls entered the adult world. Esinam went along the same path; the first affiliate of the harem to go on maternity. The beast found succour in Asantewaa another graceful girl. She took leave of absence. Kids on maternity leave instead of half terms or long vacations. Mercy was too smart. She opted for the harmless; the flawless, the solitary one.

Only Emma knew I visited Mercy at her new school. A trusted friend he was and will not betray me. He was so furious when Amon came onto the scene. I could not let her go; yet I don’t know how to keep her; to make her feel wanted. That was what Emma failed to understand. A mystify child of two worlds I was; an idealistic world in the mind of the introverted. All was calm; the beetles lived beyond reproach and the ant held its court in splendour. It was all romance and delightfulness; imaginary world free from fret.

The diseased world was not afar, the pragmatic one where destiny was faced head on. A failure often led one into a limitless abyss. Amon’s world went bananas and so was that of the harem girls. They basked in the sensations in the waist regions much too often; they yearned for poisonous cuddles that led them into early parenthood. Tanko had his fair share as well. He found himself in the wrong side of life. He fell into a kind of mire; in the middle of a dense wood call life. He had to free himself. He held onto a branch; it cracked; he held onto a twig, it snapped. When others freed themselves from the fetters of destitution, he imbedded himself deeply into it.

Asantewaa’s dream was cut short; her dad a lecturer; had a great deal of hope for her we were told. Tanko the imbecile swept her off her feet. Such news heralds the demise of any romance; even if it was scintillating. She spent days wandering on the estate in search of her truant Romeo. Tanko the foul mouthed escaped when the Inspector called. He was wanted for impregnating a minor. Asantewaa’s world ‘fell apart.’ Achebe was right after all; the centre could no longer hold for her. She went away and no one heard of her again.

I developed a huge craving for my secret rendezvous with Mercy. I became an attention seeker instead. I will just walked through her school compound and she will ran straight into my waiting arms; rubbing her softness into me. Her excitement came with smiles which revealed her interweaved dimples. Nature had been good; it gave her a splendid edifice. Some have every thing in life, wealth, beauty, intelligent etc. the accursed are denied everything excluding ugliness.

Joyce had the morning sickness; fingers pointed to Tanko but he was gone; gone with the north wind. She walked into his room with her innocence. She came out soiled; a child eager to cart someone when she was carted. An extra mouth was to be fed. Such fears made the loner drove away untainted love; fears of planting grotesque seed with solid repercussions. Tanko and his harem were adults when they were to be kids.

To Be Continued

Francis Kwaku Egu, UK

kwakuhull@yahoo.com