- The Storried Platform
ANNOUNCING THE WINNING ENTRIES FOR THE STORRIED MONTHLY COMPETITION #SMC FOR OCTOBER AND NOVEMBER 2017
Temitope Ejide’s Papa’s Can of Worms (October 2017 #SMC) is a well written story with a great dose of suspenseful plots. The author quite dutifully dealt with the theme, Nobody Can Explain What Happened Next?
Mama was so distraught at the news that she had stormed out of the place in a fit of tears leaving the rest of us to wonder how my late father, who everyone believed was a disciplined Born Again Christian, could have gone as far as having three children out of wedlock. It was a revelation that shocked me to the marrow of my bones. Unbeknownst to me, however, there was still more to come.
Tongues were still wagging and rumors about Papa were still flying around on the day of his Wake-keep. While I fought the lost battle of trying to convince my embittered mother and my disappointed siblings to at least try to show up, four posh Jeeps had driven into the venue. Out of the Jeeps, eight strange-looking men had emerged. They were all wrapped in strange orange shawls with eerie black marks on their faces and large vulture-shaped pendants on their necks.
One of them- the one with the most markings on his face- approached me and told me point-blank that they had come to claim Papa’s corpse. At first, I had thought he was insane until he told me that Papa was one of them, hence, it was their duty to bury him using the proper rites.
‘Who are you people?’ I had found myself asking.
‘The Brotherhood of the Vulture’ they had chorused in a sickening voice. My mouth flung open.
O, my God, a voice had cried in my head, that’s a Secret Society. Instantly, I began to wonder, was that how Papa had suddenly made his multi-millions? My head started swimming in confusion but I managed to tell them that they could never have his corpse.
‘If you don’t yield the body willingly, we shall take it by force’ the leader warned. I told him to go to hell and join his friend Papa. ‘So be it’ he had fired back and with almost as much effect as they’d entered, the vultures had exited.
According to the will, Papa’s final wish was to be buried behind his mansion at the village, so we went there. I didn’t even try to convince Mama to appear this time as I myself had only shown up to fulfill all righteousness as the first son of the family. I was so disappointed at the things Papa had done.
We held the funeral service at a local Catholic Church. The priest tried to make the service emotional but I didn’t shed a single tear. At the end, he instructed that the coffin is opened so we could pay our last respects to Papa before it was finally lowered into the grave and sealed for eternity. An undertaker opened the coffin only to discover that Papa’s corpse was missing.
Pandemonium broke loose as the Church dissolved into a cacophony. Even I couldn’t believe it as I had checked the coffin and seen Papa in it before we began our journey to the village. People began to make frantic calls and shoot questions in all directions but it was no use, nobody could explain what had happened to Papa’s corpse.
CAUGHT – By Chukwudi Raphaelmary
The night was silent and hushed like it has witnessed the death of its daughter daylight. Everywhere was dark to the full without the moon’s light as the moon was dim, the chirping crickets reduced their ringing sopranos to mild altos, the choir of frogs harmonized their refrain into a low organized hum, the nocturnal owl slept peacefully and uniform quietness governed the night.
I pondered on this unusual quietness as I trodden the street of Awolowo with my latest Sienna model. This street has been my favorite hiding place after the first few years of my marriage but why would one be hiding from his own matrimonial home?
I recalled the first few months of my marriage, how I had worshipped my wife adorably like a Roman goddess, how I had always returned home immediately after the close of work just to behold my wife’s radiant beauty, how I had always wanted to avoid work just to stay in bed with my wife all day long, the many nights of endless pleasures we had and I shook my head at my foolery.
I pictured my wife as she was after our second baby; her flabby breast, her shrunken and broken lips, her plank-like and unappetizing butt and many of her deficiencies, a feeling of disgust and irritation washed over me. I wondered how in heavens I had been attracted to such a thing. What could ever make a man marry such a woman? Perhaps she is the punishment for my sins.
I was nursing my regret and mistake in marrying my wife when I saw a figure from my mirror. Awolowo Street is notorious for such figures that prefer to call themselves commercial sex workers and they are the kind of things that would make a man hide from his matrimonial home.
Since my six years of being a patron to Awolowo Street, I have never encountered such figure. She was blessed heavily with everything my wife was lacking. Her breast unlike my flat-chested wife was full to the fullest and stood erect like the edge of an arrow. The low cut little blouse she was wearing revealed just a little of the treasure hidden beneath it, tempting and inviting excavators and diggers like myself for exploration. Her lips though a bit shadowy as I was far from her was succulent and luscious like an over-ripe strawberry. Her racy red lipstick brought the glory of the lips out and she lashed her tongue out seductively and tentatively as if she knew I was devouring her from my car. Her lips so chubby and cute made me remember the feel of teats on my tongue. Her sagging butts were something else. The mere sight of it could even arouse a religious. Her hips connected with her butts in a perfect concord and made a tantalizing fusion of sorts. The mini skirt she was wearing blended with her oval hips, cut across her attractive laps and revealed too much than necessary. I felt the first stream of semen drip down my laps from my junior as I was engulfed with lust. I fantasized about her moans of ecstasy and how she will handle my strokes when I finally get her down my hotel suite. I watched as she tartly moved her protruding and well-designed butt in accordance with the rhythm of an unheard music as the left butt inflated and deflated seductively.
My foot matched quickly the accelerator without my consent and the car moved of its own accord. Seconds later, I dimmed my light and lowered my window.
“Hello damsel,” I smiled seductively as I honked. “Can I have this night?”
“Sure Chris,” the figure who happened to be my wife with her make-ups and pad-ups said to me. “I heard you patronize this street a lot so I came to see for myself.”
ANNOUNCING THE WINNING ENTRIES FOR THE STORRIED…