The annual sporting event was held between the five schools within the district. The hosting of the event was rotated and was keenly contested by the schools. A trophy was at stake and each of the contesting schools was always keen to come out as champions. The event was also an occasion for the girls to flaunt their lovely, plump and full behinds. Harriet a super slender girl from the Airwaves School triggered some envious eyes during the event with her top of the range dresses. She exemplified anything that is feminine. She spotted well-defined curves at the top and bottom and had an attractive big bum. Many of the boys lusted for her ample assets. Mercy turned up on the day in a skimpy party dress that revealed her breathtaking zesty chest. I was entranced by her unique looks and I stared longingly at her youthful cleavage. Reverie, fantasy and delusion Mercy was an embodiment of all these stringed together. I was lost in the labyrinth of time.
It was the turn of the Airwaves School to host the games so we went in our school bus. Many of our girls wore figure-hugging dresses, to expose their stunning curves. It was an attention seeking tactics aimed at getting hold of boyfriends. Mercy looked effortlessly stylish on the day. She insisted she would sit by me in the bus. She rubbed her toned legs on mine throughout the journey. Festive cheers spread all over my face and I shrieked with delight. As soon as we arrived at the host school, we were greeted with the usual foul four-letter rants and the whole school was in uproar. The Airwaves School unlike ours had children with parents that indulge freely in vices one could imagine. Free for all extra-marital dating, bribery and corruption. Fathers having two or more wives with concubines were a norm. Wives had to learn to live with such unfaithful husbands because protests from reluctant ones may result in them being labelled as malicious wives. On rare occasions, some bold dissatisfied spouses hunted for pleasure from secret lovers when their men were away on night duties or keeping peace in the Sudan.
‘Crabs do not begat robins’; an elder once said. The students from the Airwaves school were never fed up of being raunchy with their short-skirted girls. Their hands wandered around the eye-catching curves of their girls with enthusiasm as they walked arm in arms on the fields. It was a nuisance to the baffled soul. Mercy idolised Harriet for her love for high-life. She idolised her and felt liberated in her company. She picked few bad habits from her and became more daring with her affections. She saw the lecherous pranks of Harriet as a more passionate way of expressing love. The first encounter I had with Mercy after her stint with Harriet was on the second day of the games. She came that day with a well-prepared meal neatly tucked in a basket covered with a lacy covering cloth. The size of the basket was too large to contain food for her tiny self. I knew she was up to some tricks. I was proven right when she later informed me I had a share in the food.
During lunch break, I was with the rest of the guys on the track when Amon signal to me that Mercy was looking for me. I left them reluctantly. I found her soaking up the sun on the lawns on the compound of the Airwaves School with the basket half opened. ‘Sit down my sky flower.’ She pointed to the lawns when I got there. She stopped what she was doing and came over to me when I sat down. ‘I am here to please you’ she continued and in a twinkle of an eye, I felt the warmth of her velvety lips on mine. She held me close to herself and squeezed me softly. ‘May I feel my love in the sun waves for once? Cling to my turtle dove with glee for tomorrow could snatch him away from me’. I was not sure if Mercy was reciting a line from a love ballad or not nonetheless, the tunes from the loved one hit me with a force. The breeze blowing from the luxuriant trees nearby added some glam to our romantic get-to-gather. It all happened in a flash and the next thing I saw was Mercy sitting on my lap. She rubbed her hands all over me. In my trance, I did not notice it when she thrust her hands into my shirt. Her daintily hands were magical and suddenly she started singing a sombre tune from a popular hip - life song.
‘You are not the only miserable turtle dove without a loved one. It is an endless list of desperate folks, so be glad my sky flower’.
I drew her attention to the students walking about our fairy-tale hideaway. She reluctantly went to the basket and dished out the lavish meal and we ate in silence. Intermittently she offered me a spoon full of the rice from her plate and I did likewise. We chatted intimately as we take our lavish lunch. Mercy’s closeness to me I must admit was forged by real love; and she has so much of that to give.
It was later I realised Mercy was influenced by Harriet, the girl who took the style crown during the games. Harriet showed off her sensational curves in her see through dresses and this made her the most desired lady of the moment. She had legions of fans craving her voluptuous behind. She settled for a lanky sprint runner, who found fame at the games. This notwithstanding she had a secret lover who was a lead singer in police band near her school. This fuelled speculations that she was rotten girl who was up to no good. Her secret lover was twice her age and the story was told that he gloated over his exploits with teenage girls. ‘The lead singer funded her fashionable lifestyle from bribes he collected from miscreant taxi drivers plying the 37 Military Hospital areas’. Mercy explained. ‘He had strings of ex-girl friends’. She continued. Apparent during the game Harriet took Mercy to the hordes of her secret lover and passed her over to another playboy who was guitarist in the police band. Mercy luckily had a narrow get away from the clutches of the predator.
Incidentally, Mercy kept her encounter with the guitarist from me until after the sporting event. I had seen her a few times with Harriet walking towards the bandstand area but I suspected nothing fishy. All the same, I was so uncomfortable with her association with the wannabe glamour girl. Then she sang the poplar hip-life song at the least chance. ‘You are not the only ill-fated bumble bee with a lost cherished queen. It is an endless list so be thankful my purple flower’. That was unlike Mercy. She used to sing hymns like ‘Amazing Grace how sweet the song that saves a wretch like me….’ When I asked, why she liked the tunes of such a sombre music ‘I would tell you some day’ was her response. That was never to be. She never told me until this day.
Francis Kwaku Egu
kwakuhull@yahoo.com
kwakufrancis.blogspot.com
Tuesday, 12 April 2011
Tuesday, 14 December 2010
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 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.
Sunday, 28 November 2010
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
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
Tuesday, 14 September 2010
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
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
Monday, 6 September 2010
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
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
Tuesday, 17 August 2010
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
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
Tuesday, 3 August 2010
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
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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