Archive for August, 2011


An Ode to Icecream


Yellow and creamy,
Red like strawberry.
Dark chocolate or green,
Oh so sweet!
Give me a bowl, give me a spoon,
Nothing like cool ice cream at noon
Scoop, scoop.
Lick, lick.
Don’t care,
if it makes me sick!

Tee Hee!

Wild Things (by Razor Eddie)


Before this story commences, I would like to acknowledge the writer, Razor Eddie for this wonderful piece! I’m glad I inspired this so I’m expecting more…many..many..more hehehe!
Ok! Enjoy!

The shadow of the sign announcing the always open motel partially hid the girl in the school uniform clutching a big ugly green satchel. The autumn wind sculpted her loose dress over her ample bust, causing her to shiver all over. She seemed innocent and vulnerable enough till you looked into her eyes. They were the languid, disaffected eyes of a girl who had seen it all and remained unimpressed, an adventurous thrill seeker. A few cars driving in and out had stopped and offered lifts but she politely declined, sent them off with a smile. It was not yet time.

A blue Honda Hennessy pulled up the lane and made its way to the gate. As soon as she saw it, she straightened and pulled her bag closer, she had to look nervous not disinterested. The car slowed and the driver wound down his side window. He was in his forties, graying at the temples with a cigarette between his lips. He beckoned to her and she left her spot and slid into his passenger seat. Immediately his right hand found her thigh and inspite of herself, she squirmed in revulsion. The guards at the gate shook their heads as they let the car in; his weakness for innocence was well known.

He took her to the bar and she ordered a plate of chicken, not because she was hungry, but because it was expected. It bored her to play at naivete but she knew it was what he liked so she smiled coquettishly and protested when he bought two plates instead of one. He cackled and announced with relish, that she wasn’t that special. He dug into one plate of chicken like a savage, tearing off huge chunks of flesh and gnawing on the bones till juices ran down the sides of his face. She thought he ate with the greedy, impatient demeanour of someone who had seen a lot of hunger as a child. Eventually, when his hunger was sated; he carried along the remnants of his plate and led her to a room and locked the door behind them. She wanted to leave hers but thought better of it when she saw his frown. He urged her to eat and when she refused, grumbled about girls who preferred to starve for beauty sake.

He asked her bluntly to strip, he wanted to watch. She did, slowly taking off her clothes, subtly averting her eyes while she did to project shame. His eyes followed her every gesture, growing larger and larger with each layer she set aside. As soon as she was done, he asked her to lie on the lice infested bed and made her close her eyes while he undressed hurriedly. He is as greedy with his women as he is with his food. That was what she thought. She chanced a glance and grimaced as she took in his pot belly and pudgy thighs, fat filled arms that flapped as he moved and his beady eyes that roved over her young firm body, glutinously savouring her virginal form. He switched off the lights and crawled on top of her. His vanity wasn’t lost on her.
His entry was swift, his ministrations brutal and disorganised. She took it all with the grace of a marathon runner, making all the appropriate sounds and breathing through her mouth to spare herself his halitosis. She secretly thanked God he was not the kind of man to want intimacy, she didn’t think she could have faked desire with such a stringent deterrent. The bed creaked with his thrashing and he called out another woman’s name over and over, shuddering as his pleasure peaked. The only sound she made was a muffled sigh of relief as he rolled off her. He put an appreciative hand over her stomach and mumbled a little before falling asleep. She waited a while, took out a cigarette from her satchel and finished it in a couple of drags, blowing clouds of smoke on his slack jawed face. She killed the stub on a drumstick and slipped out of the room through the front door. The envelope of money he had put beside the plates of chicken prior to copulation remained untouched.

The bartender gave a subtle nod of his head as she passed and she detoured to his station. She slid a key across the bar and he swiped it with a coaster. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed she was empty handed. She shrugged and gestured in the direction of the room. He smiled evilly and with the key palmed in the pocket of his ill-fitting waistcoat, pretended to amble aimlessly in the direction from which she’d just come. She shook her head sadly and walked away. If the bartender was still going through his clothes when the pig woke, standing on his two feet would be the least of the bartender’s problems.

Three boys stood smoking cigarettes by the basketball court near the motel, their eyes trained on the road. They were watching her, approaching as though she was just another naïve harried freshman trying to find her way around. They weren’t fooled by the façade; they knew her for what she really was. She ‘bumped’ into them and loudly exchanged pleasantries, covertly handing over a camera phone and a wallet to one of the boys and taking a lit cigarette from the lips of another.
“The phone contains incriminating pictures and the wallet contains all his ATM cards; the pin is his wife’s birthday.”
They waited for her to continue, she stayed silent. The most skittish of the boys nudged the one with the cigarette and whispered something to his ear. He cleared his throat nervously and asked her aside.
“And you don’t want anything from us?”
She glared at him.
“Don’t insult me! I do this for the thrill not the money.”
He bristled at her tone and apologized. She smiled wolfishly, eyes flashing dangerously in response and he tried not scream. It was alien on her, like a shark wearing fur and a collar. She saw his fear and savored it before pivoting and walking away. All three boys were not sad to see her go.

The toilet stall at the train station was jammed from the inside with a graphite pencil. The latch was gone and she didn’t feel like anyone stumbling in on her. She was perched over the toilet and four rolls of bandages lay discarded on the floor before her. She was sore from tightness of the bandage over her torso. Next time, she would leave enough space to breathe. The shoulder pads sewn into her jeans were cut out and wads of tissue were stained a myriad of colors from stripping off the garish makeup that hid her face from those boys. In a tank top, flat front jeans, a fresh face and a ponytail, she looked nothing like the harried jambite who had entered the lavatory or the uncertain school girl who she was before that. She was back to being Uchenna, pretty not beautiful, agreeable not intelligent, aware not enlightened and totally unremarkable.

She’d blend in once more, only emerging when the boredom of normalcy forced her to reinvent herself again.

The End….or is it?

The Good Samaritan


It was a very cold night.
The winter had begun; Snow falling, wind harsh enough to cause breaks on the skin. Andy Donovan was making his way back home in his station wagon, wiper trying its best to clear away the snow and blizzard of the night. Though the heater was on and he was garbed in heavy clothes to keep him warm, he still felt the sting of the cold like he had ice in his bones. The road was filled with snow, obstructing the movement of the car till it finally came to a halt.

“C’mon! C’mon! Start!”
He turned the ignition first time, second time.
Nothing. He got angry and turned it a little too hard,breaking the key inside.“SHIT!! SHIT!!

He came out the car, both arms tucked underneath either side of his armpits for warmth.
“Bloody car!!”
Cold steam coming out his mouth like he was puffing on a cigarette. He kicked the bumper of the car several times, trying to pacify his anger. He tried calling AAA but there was no signal on his phone. He was in the middle of nowhere at 11:35pm.

His wife and kids had been expecting him. After he had stopped taking his frustration out on the car, he opened the passengers door and sat with the door ajar pondering what to do next. All he could hear now was the sound of the wind; the eerie sound reminding him of his hopeless situation. He slammed the door.
“Think I better just sleep in the car till morning”
He reclined the sit and was off to dreamland.

A sound on his phone woke him up.
It was 2:20am and it was his wife who sent a text message.
It read ‘Honey, wer r U ?’
“Great!! Signal!!!
He called her and told her about his situation. He told her to call AAA and she said she would. He was still in his car waiting for them to come when he heard a sound. He looked round surrounded by nothing but darkness and snow.
“Must be my imagination” he said.
He heard the sound again. It sounded like someone crying. He listened to the direction the sound was coming from and stepped out his car.

He was walking slowly as his feet were buried underneath the snow up to his ankle with each step, energising the uncomfortable cold feeling in his bones. As he approached, the sound increased in volume. It sounded like a little boy. He wondered what a little boy would be doing outside in this hell of a cold. He still could not see what was in front of him, the violent wind causing him to squint.
His face was pale, body shivering, smoke escaping his mouth and nose with each breath. He pressed a key on his phone so the light came up and he could see withered trees with no leaves on them.. In the middle was a little boy sitting down, head resting on his arms and knees, crying.
He couldn’t see his face.

“Hey, Hey what’s the matter dear.”
Andy asked the boy. He was confused as to why the boy was wearing a short sleeve shirt tucked in shorts in this cold weather. T
“I can’t find my mummy”. the boy whispered in a tiny voice.
“C’mon son, lets get you out of this cold and we’ll find your mommy. You don’t want to be getting sick do you?”
“I want my mommy! I want my mommy!”
The boy yelled, his head still bowed, resting on his arms. Andy asked whether he had her phone number.
“No”.
He then moved closer to the boy and touched his arm. It was completely warm, warm enough to reduce the tremble on Andy’s hands.
“Cmon, get up! I’ll help you find your mommy.”
The boy shrugged, pushing Andy’s hands away every time he touched him.

Andy was getting impatient and angry with the boy.
“Look, I want to help you but if you keep acting like this, then I can’t!”
The boy continued yelling, crying out loud. Andy thought of leaving the boy there but he wasn’t that kind of guy. He was a good guy, followed the law, paid his taxes, went to church regularly and was generally caring towards people. He took matters into his own hands and carried the boy, the boy’s arms around his neck. Again, he felt the soothing warmth of the boys skin on his. As he carried the boy, he stopped crying. He was making his way back to the car when he felt a strange sensation on his neck.

He looked at the snow filled floor and saw spurts of red.. He dropped the boy on the ground then touched his neck. The pain heightened.
He had touched not flesh but a tendon in his neck, blood spilling like a broken tap. Half his neck had been devoured.
He held his neck, trying to minimise blood flow but to no avail. The blood kept spilling and he looked at his hand, covered in blood, the snow causing it to dry up like paint. He was dizzy, losing consciousness. He looked at the boy and suddenly realised it wasn’t a boy.

The creature had just an eye on its face like a Cyclops. The pupils were not round but long and thin like a snake, deep yellow eyes. His mouth was as wide as a Shark’s and he had 6inch long SHarp teeth like mini katanas in his mouth.
Andy saw the white light people claimed to see before death and before he could bask in the euphoria of the rapture, the beast’s mouth opened wide again.
He ate Andy’s head down to his chest in one clean bite. All that was left was his belly, his two arms severed from the bite n dropped to the ground, blood gushing out like a broken fire hydrant.

Sated, the creature ran into the woods waiting for its next prey.

THE END

The Suya Butcher


They should have known.
All of them.
But lets face it, most Nigerians are too blinded by their poverty to notice anything.
The Suya Butcher, Nwobu Bobby Gerald-Richman. Yes, he was an Igbo man selling suya. A fresh Igbo dude, muscular chest like Randy Orton and the V shaped alpha male look; Not Johnny Bravo with skinny legs but with firm thighs as well. The dude was always smiling too, and that’s just the problem. Best suspect them folks that smile too much. There’s something sinister, very fucking evil about them. Runaway from them while you still can.

The Suya Butcher frustrated by the way things were in ‘THIS FUCKED UP COUNTRY!!!’
He screamed cracking the mirror in his room with just his thunderous masculine voice. The Suya Butcher Bobby was chiselled to perfection. He carried no weights. All he did was a special exercise routine: Two sets of ‘Diamond Push ups’ He called it them. Diamond Push ups involved placing your two hands together in the diamond shape( Like Jay Z’s Dynasty Sign,). You place them flat on the floor, and then go down-up as done in a normal push up exercise. It chiselled his chest which was previously man boobs. Gynecomastia they called it in the medical field.
Anyway, this strengthened Bobby, motivated him to be determined in his workouts.

Bobby did this routine everyday, 100, 100, two sets of Diamond Push ups. His chest was chiselled, looking like one of them Spartans in 300. He had no 6 pack abs, just a very flat ab and hair covering it up to his chest like Shawn Michaels. Not happy with the rounded hair God gave most Nigerian men, he decided to relax chest hair. This gave it a more foreign look, like he was a mixed breed, maybe Barbados and Nigerian blood combined.

This caused Ladies to stare lustfully at Gerald Richman, making his suya even more desirable to the female folk. Some would buy just to flirt with him!
Bobby went bald early so he decided to wear a trademark skin cut. He however never cut his facial hair so it grew from his ears down to his neck, swallowing his whole cheeks leaving his lips like a red/brown passage way that opens and closes without control.. After a while, when he looked at the mirror and was not satisfied with the jagged beard common to most Africa men, he decided again to use the magical relaxer. When he was done, his facial hair looked like someone from the States. He only cut it once in six months because it was way too fresh, like the mane of a cub.

Bobby always smiled and this attracted his customers. He went to a private school in his country and studied a course called Management Information Systems (MIS). He studied Engineering previously but failed woefully in his first year as did most of his mates. Like Dominos, they all fell away from Electrical Engineering and switched to MIS. So the class was filled with crooked students, the most crooked set both male and female.
When you fail, it hardens you, awakening a hunger in you. This was how the MIS students were. None of them read for they believed in cooperation, determined to just get that degree, Fuck the knowledge. Bobby graduated and he didn’t even know what the course was really about. Frustrated, after having served his God forsaken country in Abuja, he went back to Lagos unemployed. He was unemployed for six months and one day, Bobby snapped.

Bobby always had a high libido. His only form of entertainment was watching Porn. Bobby enjoyed voyeuristic pleasure from perusing these ‘Works of Art’ as he called them. He would get a boner and this motivated Him to seek real women. It awakened a desire in him, a natural male hunger repressed by the shackles of society in the average man. Bobby escaped those chains, a common characteristic of someone insane. A genius or of course, a serial killer. Bobby was ready to lay any kind of woman, slim, fat, young, old, saggy, firm; any kind!.

His first victim was a fat girl, weighing 220kg. Her skin had a fresh,brown cholocate hue, soft and shiny. She was the daughter of a enator in the State. He met her at a suya spot. She was eating at her table when Bobby came in after parking his car outside the Inn. As Bobby entered, She stared at him, getting excited. She pretended she didn’t see him, chewing faster so as to distract her from her lustful thoughts.
“N300 beef, N200 Kidney” Bobby told the mallam. Whilst he was waiting on his order, he heard a voice coming from the other side. It was Tiffany’s.
“Why don’t you have a sit?”.
There’s something about overweight women that give them a certain confidence; a certain character trait of being a liitle too assertive, too aggressive as compared to normal sexy ladies. They do this to protect themselves of course from the image in the mirror. They loathe themselves so much then take it out on the world, acting like they know it all, seen it all, with a certain cockiness that if you were a patient observer, you’d see contradictions in what they said and what they did. They were not as confident as they appeared to be, Just trying to repress the subconscious pain society inflicted on them for being obese.

Bobby dragged a seat from underneath the table and sat down, a sly smile on his face. When he came closer to her, she got even more excited.
“Do you want one?” she asked to distract her from her raging libido at the moment.
“Yeah! Thanks!”
“I’m Tiffany.”
“I’m Bobby.”
He took a stick from her suya and chewed.
“This suya is a little rubbery.”
She laughed like she was getting tickled. The kind of laughter girls give guys when they like them. They laugh at your jokes that aren’t even funny!
“As in, very rubbery!” She said laughing hard.
They were having a good time, laughing at nothing in particular.
Bobby’s suya was ready and he was about to go.
“How about you come to my house? Its just a five minute stroll from here.”
“I don’t know about that o!”
He was just playing hard to get.
“Come on! Its just gonna be you and me! My father’s away and not coming back till Sunday! Nobody is around and there’s always light at my place!”
She had this way of speaking that classified her as rich. What did you expect? Her father’s a freaking Senator!

They got into his car and in seven minutes, got to her house on the Island.
It was a mansion with five cars parked in. They entered the house and with a press of buttons, activated the lights and A/C. She turned on the 3D 80Inch Samsung TV. ”
They’re showing Salt on MnetHD. Want to watch?”
“Sure!”
They put on the 3D specs and watched, enjoying the effects from the Bose Surround Sound System.
After twenty minutes, Tiffany quipped “Hey, I got the the new Transformers movie!”
The movie wasn’t in Nigeria yet but her father had called a friend, who called a friend, who knew a friend, and BAM! Magic! She got the movie. The power of being in the Government.

She put it on and turned off all the lights giving the room that cinematic feel, the lights from the tv, illuminating the room. They ate Bobby’s suya as they watched. After about ten minutes of watching, Tiffany said,
“Hey, I know how I could make this better!”
“How?”
“You’ll see! I’ll be right back!”
One thing about fat girls also is that they were always eager to please in a kind of desperate way!
She came back; pink light from the TV flashing on the top part of her body.
She was holding something but Bobby couldn’t really see what. She came closer and sat close to him, rubbing her thigh on his.
She was holding a bong.
‘How the hell do you get a bong in this State?’ He thought to himself.
The power of Government.
She placed some freshly cropped green marijuana; stemless, fluffy and healthy marijuana, into the purple and gold bong.
Primo shit!
He watched as she sucked and blew smoke out from her mouth and the Tv reflected a green light on the smoke giving it a surreal effect.
The smell was like nothing Bobby ever smelled.
‘The weed I buy smells like shit!’ He thought to himself.
The power of Government…again!
It smelt like a freshly mown lawn with a hint of apple flavour.

“Here, Imma light you up.” Tiffany said. He placed the bong on his mouth. Clack! Clack! The lighter moaning. It finally came on and she lit the Magic Weed. The gurgling sound came up again and Bobby was already taking the plant into his lungs. He blew out the smoke, coughing a little. He could already feel the subtle effects of the weed just from his first drag.
The Clarity!
He took about 6 inhalations before he realised he was really messed up. Tiffany by then had been laughing uncontrollably. The kind of laughter that gave painful stitches.
Everything slowed down and they felt like they were in the Transformers movie itself, part of the Director’s team, creating the scenes with their minds, merging with the characters, feeling them in first person watching them in 3D.

Bobby’s sexual urges was heightened and so was Tiffany’s. They had eaten the Suya halfway and then Bobby went for the kill. He kissed Tiffany ferociously while she took her clothes off. He admired her big, soft breasts. She took her skirt off and her thighs were joined together making her legs look like one long vertical genitalia. Bobby undressed, already hard and she spread herself for him,ready for entry. Bobby entered her missionary style and the first penetration made her moan hard like she had already cum.

Bobby was enjoying the sound but it got a little too loud and it started to piss him off. He improvised and decided to act all kinky and was eating the suya while he was thrusting her. This was so he could maybe also get it into her mouth to reduce her moans. He took a handful and put it in her mouth and her sounds lowered. He got so carried away by the sensations of sex, pounding away non-stop, he hadn’t realised she had stopped moaning.
He looked at her face and he was shocked…

Her eyes were bulging out, tears rolling out from the sides. Her mouth was filled with suya and spurts of yellow saliva dribbled down her chin.
She had choked!!!
‘Oh My God!
She Has Choked!
She Has Fucking Choked!!!
Bobby walked back and forth, hands rubbing his bald head in pandemonium about what to do. He picked the remote control, pressing all the buttons hoping to hit the light. He turned off the AC, turned on heavy rock music and it took him 35 seconds to find the OFF button.. ‘I’m gonna wake the neighbours! I’m gonna wake the neighbours’ he thought, heart racing. He finally found the switch to shut it off, then the switch to the light.

He looked at the body and it was even more grotesque looking, her face puffed up from the choking. Her legs were still spread wide open and he felt a sudden kick in his penis.
“Bobby, what is wrong with you?” He asked himself.
“But I haven’t done anything. It was a mistake! Let me call the cops. What am I thinking?? That’s fucking jail! For LIFE!! Bobby calm the fuck down!”
He took deep breaths tried to regain his composure. He looked at her spread-eagled body, this time, eyes Fixed and he got a hard boner. The attraction to the dead body that lay in front of him was both disturbing and at the same time, arousing.
‘Bobby, you are not a fucking necrophiliaci! Snap out of It!’
He paused.
‘Its Thursday. She’s the only one around till Sunday’
She had dismissed the security team because she valued her privacy.

He found himself feeling her up, touching her and felt an alien feeling within. A combination of emotions creating an unknown feeling.
Guilt. Pleasure. Pain. Fear. Joy. Power. Hate. Love. Control.
“I’m alone. She’s alone till Sunday. But what of her phone? Oh My God!! What of her phone! Bobby, Calm down!
You are alone Bobby. All alone and you can enjoy any fantasy you want. Isn’t this what you always wanted ? A life-like doll you could control, ravish totally and desecrate?”
He got violent.
He began moaning as he mutilated dead Tiffany’s private member.
Blood.
“She’s dead. She can’t feel a thing.”

The act and the will to do the act energized his insanity. He had the freedom to do something wrong. Something considered a taboo.
Something so sick.
Nobody was watching!
Oh! What you could do when no one is watching.
His face glowed with a sinister.
By this time, she was barely recognisable.
His gory work gave made him ravenous.
He picked a suya and ate it like an animal.. The suya had finished and a sardonic thought flashed in his head to eat her.
He looked at her again and suddenly stopped seeing the bloody pulp she was. He saw meat.
He took a Bite of Her left Breast, blood dripping from his mouth like a vampire feeding.
He didn’t enjoy it.

Bobby decided there and then that He was gonna eat the body to get rid of the evidence.
Great idea!
He went to the kitchen and carried a very sharp long knife and began his serial killer initiation.
He cut her into bits and pieces ready to cook her on their grill machine.
He started with a chunk of flesh from her thigh. He grilled for about 35 minutes, cut a bit of raw onion and tomatoes then had a bite.
Tasty!
He dug in revelling in his new found dietary choice.. By the end of Thursday, he had finished eating her two legs, the remaining parts, stored in the refrigerator.
Friday, he had eaten both her arms and was surprised her phone hadn’t rung.
It must be her loneliness that made her invite him over in the first place. Saturday, he ate her torso.
Only her head was left.
He carried a mallet from the kitchen and smashed her head to little pieces spilling her brain on the marble floor. He packed it and threw it in the grill. He ate the brain and it kinda tasted like shrimps!
Sunday morning by 4:30am, he got some fuel from the generator house and burnt the house down.

Tiffany’s father came home to see his house burnt down. They later discovered blackened bones from the fire but surprised they didn’t find a skull. They later discovered it was Tiffany’s body. It wasn’t till about 3 months later that Bobby started His suya business.
Nothing he had ever experienced in his life was this exhilarating.
Frightening. Wrong. Pleasurable. Disturbing. Magical.

His next victim was a hooker. A very fine hooker. They arranged to meet at a motel and after having sex with her, he snapped her neck. It was a small motel so they hardly had guests. He also killed the overweight owner of the motel. He left both of them in Room 13. The Room he checked into. He played owner, alloting rooms to guests, just two guests anyway, collecting their money and giving them rooms, except room 13 ofcourse. He got a barbecue equipment and was selling a ‘Special Suya’ in the motel. People bought and enjoyed it, not knowing it was human meat. He packed the two bodies to his car wrapped in a big black nylon normally used to dispense refuse. He placed it in the boot of his Honda and was making his way back to his house at night, almost midnight. Police stopped him along the way and with just a smile and little ego stroke,
“Officer! Well done O”
“Bros, You get something for us?”
“Oga, nothing for now O, but I dey always pass this area. I go surely see you again another day.”
“No Wahala!”
With this, he was allowed to go. He carried the bodies to his room. He decided to sell his car and buy a deep freezer, grill, a sharp knife and a shovel. This was how business started.

He sold Suya at the front of his house, N300 for a stick. It was worth it. Big and tasty, the meat having a secret unique taste customers couldn’t quite fathom.
From a fat person, he could get like 15 grand after selling all pieces including liver and kidney. Slim, he could get like 8 Grand. He was making a profit because he didn’t need to pay for the meat, unlike those mallams who had to buy goats, cattle, chicken for their business. He got his free and it was the only quality Suya Spot in that area so people patronised.

He became a big time Suya guy, employed some workers and told them his secrets getting them to sign a Confidentiality Agreement before they could work for him. He threatened to kill their children if they ever spilled his secret.
They kept quiet.

This was how Nwobu Bobby Gerald Richman became the Suya Butcher, selling people to people.
He became a multimillionaire.

The End

The Girl on the Violin


…And presenting for the first time in this esteemed hall, in the presence of this esteemed audience from the higher echelons of the society, Tana Brooks!

With a polite round of applause, the dignitaries welcomed the novice on stage. This however did not hide the skeptical looks on their faces.
A general hush fell as she set her violin to the nape of her neck, bow poised, ready to begin.

They stared at the lumpy, and simply dressed girl on the stage and the corners of their mouths rose in sneers.
They would have serious words with the director after the performance. The hallowed halls of St. Paul were made for the finest musicians from around the world! Not..not a nobody like her.

CAPRICCIO
Her bow touched the violin strings and their eyes widened in wonder.
Their hearts beat faster as tears gathered around their eyes.
This was music!
They watched transfixed as the simple girl wove an intricate web of enchantment around their minds.
She was telling a story.
She was telling their stories.
He saw himself as a young boy. She saw herself as a young woman. He saw his laughter. She saw her joy. He saw himself as a cadet; among his camaraderies feeling like he belonged. She saw herself as a young student at Oxford University.
To each individual, their own glorious visions.
They saw themselves with the love of their lives. Eyes glistening with happiness and unshed tears.

EXPRESSIONISM
Suddenly, the music took a darker turn.
Their woes.
Their anguish.
Their mistakes.
Their wrongs.
They saw them all play before their eyes.
He raped a woman.
She was an adulteress.
He stole from the public.
She had a criminal past.
Secrets long-lost in the dark recesses of the mind spilled its secrets.
They could not make it stop.
Their faces a frozen mask of horror.

ADAGIO
Suddenly, light reverberated through the chords.
Shadows were dispelled through the slow winding cadenza.
Faces relaxed as the music flowed in legato; hearts being purged of their last ghosts.
A suggestion was planted through their ears into their minds.
She released them from their bonds as the last notes resounded through the hall.

There was silence.
As one body they all jumped to their feet in applause.
With shouts of ‘Bravo’ and catcalls, she took a bow and left the stage.
Tana Brooks had won the hearts of her audience.

**********

Mrs Watson woke up from sleep and languidly turned to snuggle close to her husband.
He was not beside her.
She heard noise from the kitchen and she gingerly walked down stairs.
“Edward?”
She heard him humming a tune she didn’t know.
Probably from the concert.
She wished she hadn’t missed the concert. How Edward thrilled her with the tale of the violinist!
She entered the kitchen and switched on the light.
There he sat, eyes closed, lips pulled to a smile,humming under his breath.
Suddenly he revealed in his right hand, a knife.
Before she could ask what he was doing, he ran the well-honed knife edge across his throat.
Smiling; Humming as he died.
She screamed.

************

Tana Brooks settled her violin case on her laps when she sat in one of the empty carriages on the train to Wolverhampton.
She noticed the front page of the daily newspaper a passenger left on one of the seats.
Picking it up, she read as tears filled her eyes
.
Edward Watson, Julie Mcflew, 86 others take their own lives

She had done it again.
She slumped back on her seat, caressing the violin case.
Images flashed through her mind as she remembered the deal she made with the owner of the violin.
“…power of music; to captivate…”
“…you pay a small price?…”
“….Anything…”

She hadn’t known the price she had to pay.
Not until the first performance to her family.
For her power over music, she paid with the lives of her audience.
All who heard would die; all apart from her, the player, would not go unscathed.
She couldn’t stop playing.
She tried after her family died.
She couldn’t break the Violin.
It wouldn’t break.
She couldn’t quit.
She was tortured until her bow touched the strings. Then the angry spirits would be appeased.
She couldn’t kill herself.
She was against suicide.
She became a wanderer.
Her mission, to find the strange man who gave her his violin.
To find the Devil.

“Can you play that well?” A voice said snapping her back to reality.
A young man smiled shyly at her.
“Yes” she said smiling back.
“Would you play for me?”
The refusal on her tongue was quelled by the sudden pressure she felt on her throat strangling her.
“Sure” she whispered and felt release.
She took it out of the case, mounted it on her neck and played him to his doom.

THE END

Girl on the Violin

Girl on the Violin

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