Trapped

A short story before another episode of Chronicles Of Willy drops on Friday


  I sat in the corner of the bar quietly sipping my drink. He walked in as noisily as a rickety bicycle and he took his seat beside me. He demanded a double shot, leaned back and downed it in the blink of an eye. Looking at him secretly, I studied him, discovering the tattoo on his neck and a bulge by his side. Something was up with him, I concluded.
    I made sure not to order another shot in order to stay alert, I just swirl around the little alcohol left in my glass. I take a mental inventory of everything in the bar. The number of people around; they're roughly 30, two exits and one stage for musical performances; His next move mustn't catch me unawares. Now, looking at the faces of people more intently, I see two more like him, that makes it three men against me.
    I made to move out, making sure to mix with the neutrals, Noisy Tattoo follows me with his eyes and signals to his guys. They start to close in on me, I see another guy join them; I didn't spot him during my survey earlier. So, four big guys move in around me with nowhere for me to run to. They signed for me to be quiet, I understand the code and I don't make a fuss. We all walk outside like good buddies and they put me in the back of the sedan, taking off almost as I get in, my panic rising as to where we might be headed.
    "Cut!", Director Muyi shouts at that moment, and we all come back to reality, laughing despite our exhaustion. It's just another day on set.........

It didn't end the way you expected?  Well, It came like that. I hope you enjoyed.
Comments please!

CAP Anthology: Puncheon; A tribute to poetry

CAMPUS ASSOCIATION OF POETS'

      ANTHOLOGY, THEMED:

PUNCHEON; An Appraisal To Poetry In Respect of 

     THE WORLD POETRY DAY.

THE WORDSMITH

I'm the wordsmith of the night,

when the night fox howls

with its entire might,

I dip my pen in ink

and find my muse, for tonight,

I want to punch my name into history,

Even if it's for this one night.

For I'm a wordsmith,

Straight into your skull,

My words will hit.

        

         Mr Waduud.

THE WORDSMITH

In the furnace of a blacksmith,

Spawns the roughly fine sword;

Finely processed by the swordsmith;

A tool in the hands of sages and inklords.

The sword leads, cutlasses and hoes follow;

Father of all harmless weapons.

Inform the sparrow to give tongue to morrow,

And morrow to take barrow from bimbo.

A shout out to all my sons abroad;

Tell them to sip from my pot of knowledge.

Use me as an antidote to save lives,

As I lie beneath the poetree.

Poetry is a double edged sword,

Piercing the souls of readers and bards.

A word weaving machine,

Dispensing the thoughts with poetic cards.

         

           Esv_Keks.

We Need Help.

soft made hard

rough made smooth

sinky made strong

thanks to the puncheon

we, like raw gold, thirst for a refining caress from the creator's puncheon

so our acts may towards morality pave way. 

our garden,  green and white

now dust-turn-brown is on the verge of a "pitiable pismal-dismal". like noon handing over to dusk,  we have uncontrollably fallen off the high-heel that made us once a giant.  we need the savior's touch!

our societal ills are resistant to pills

our heads are knaves

we need a clean shave

with your puncheon... 

harden our land and make it not turn to a grave! 

look not away,  for these we crave.

       Afolabi™

MY PEN;MY PUNCHEON

My pen, my sword,

Weaving to the clock's tick,

Penetrating blocks,

Dividing bricks.

My pen, my megaphone,

Announcing to passers-by,

Breaking bones,

Soothing lullaby.

My pen, my music,

Appealing to my soul,

Enriching tonic,

Alluring tole.

My pen, my mystery,

Twinkling set of clusters,

Creating history,

Amazing wonder.

My pen, my muse,

Supplying my motive,

Providing clues,

Enhancing additive.

My pen, my puncheon,

Wielding with creativity,

Mending truncheons,

Mystifying captivity.

    

    MASCOT.

MY POEM, MY INNER TRUTH

 I lie to myself 

When I say my poems do not depict my thoughts

I lie to myself

When I say I don't get hurt

I lie to myself

When I say I like being alone

I lie and I know

But I also say the truth

They say the truth will set you free

So I lay down my truth

I love and I hate

That's what makes me human

I feel jealousy because I care a lot

I have a lot of heartbreaks which is really sad

But I hide it under my smile

The truth is I smile so you won't know my weakness

The truth is am not proud but I have a functioning Ego

The truth is i want my name to be written in history

But all I do is write in my diary.

          Mcbumnik

DIARYOFAYOUNGPOET

THE PEN; HIS SWORD

His quill is his sword 

The parchment, his shield

The words he writes on it is authority

With these instruments he fights battles and wins wars,

Against the evils of this world

Revered by all and disrespected by none

His words are law for nations

He stays true to his art even during times of adversity

Making sure to uphold the truth and nothing else

He is a poet who shapes the world with his pen.

          OLABODE TAIWO.

THE PUNCH

Alas!

The crooked road has been punched

Thus made straight

Thanks to the punch

That makes way

For the society has danced

Into flame of shame 

And all that snarled

Through the punch came

To witness the fame

In the fist's name

In the field of thorns 

The punch waded through

Now a road of torts

The punch made full

Thanks, the punch

The society renders a bunch

        KMIXERS

I AM POETRY

I am the mace,

I stand as your alibi of unity,

I am the gavel of morality,

I am the voice,

That speaks of your 'heels,

I am like liver,

That metabolizes your nutrients,

I live,

You exist.

I am the wind,

That blows truth in the world,

I stand, when some minds want to bend,

I do not jubilate at a sight of immortality, 

I do that, which will uphold the society, 

I am alive for criticism,

I detest racism,

I represent every conscious minds,

I speak nothing but the truth.

I am poetry,

The one who speaks with authority, 

Mother of creativity, 

Father of morality, 

Friend to a moral society, 

Enemy to the follies of politics, 

I am the symbol of your conscious minds.

      

          LEGACY

PUNCH ON ME

Punch on me

As little as the sun rays

A touch so soft

Yet so destructive to blaze

Far above the reach of human thought.

Punch on me:

The raw metals,

The shining gold,

the glittering diamond petals

The beautiful emerald unfold

Punch on me: 

Your nature no such felt

All creatures worth

The beauty of what's​ ought

And my search will be all sought

Punch on me

The golden knowledge

The axe of fire

The sword of justice

The boldness of heat

Punch on me

For I am here to receive

The punch of transformation

To fight the fight of truth

I am desperate for the punch.

      

       Justus Ogar.

THE SEAL

Affirmation from the elders I seek

Considering the knowledge he has gained

Widely, then was it revealed to me

The mystery behind what I seek

The affirmation is the delight I get

Ye from the bleeding of my own pen

The confidence I derive from my hands 

The pleasure I derive from adding

Oh to my own knowledge

Thou art the affirmation I need

Now that it's been known by me

What I ye needed to do

Is work harder and build on it

Lest I become a better personality

And incoming generation can also seek

Affirmation from me thereof

I DO

I do express my words in pen

I do expose the deeds with words

I do make imaginations wide

I do make sake fake seems realistic

I do configure your thought to resemble mine

I do more than you can think with my pen

I do know for sure my own is mightier than the sword

I do need to remember it needs to be sharpened often

I do need to make sure its life is retained

Hence make 

I do refill my ink

I do make sure it never hours dry.

     

        D-/PRIN'SES/

SUPREME COURT OF POETRY

A

Place

Where they 

Subtract one guilt

Add some ironic sugar

A bit of rhythmic ointment

Then garnish it with salty words

An image here and a symbol there

Personify it with the ills and norms therein

Then state their problems and woes a-lyrically

Proverbialise their thoughts or- state in clear terms

Then add Shakespeare without shaking the Sphere

Osofisan becomes the hoe to sow the sun

Then

You know

In that place

That multiplication will be the shortened version of addition

So economic paralyses becomes historical euphemism

There is no room for defending epic successful failure

Then the hyphenated characters there, forever is lost

This is how you know that poetry isn't just a diviner

It is a seer not just to command or demand

When it reprimands, that is the result

Of intellectual provocation

Then they enjoy in happiness

And

Drink this glass of wine 'cos

Poetry is just extremely divine!

MUTEEHEART

POETRY

In the beginning, God created poetry.

Poetry birthed every thing.

First line ever would  be:

Let there be light.

Never of His words would go unfulfilled He said.

His blessings and rebukes through His words.

Prints became immortal sister of words.

Piercing the soul or soothing the heart.

       AKEENS

WHAT IS POETRY?

I write in the wilderness of anger

Where i command the pen

To speak, write and proclaim

What it sees, feel and think.

Poetry sets from the North, East, South-West,

It is the mother of every children,

The one who does not have father

Yet, with many unborn generations.

Poetry is the voice

That does not have mouth

But with a melodious tone 

'Cos it wont sees not to tell but the truth.

Poetry is a soothsayer

That tells the truth

And proclaim authority

With a manifest audacity.

Poetry is a composition of verse

Exhibiting conscious attention to problems

Through the minds -

The ink through which it tell.

Poetry is the bile

That liveth  in the heart of the personnel

To correct ill manners of the society

And foster credibility of the moralities. 

       MR. PRINCIPLE

PUNCHEON

The prison is also for human beings

Saith their crappy voice against ours

And we thought we brought them on

So very better we Re-think

Forever seeking freedom; humans

Never running dry; our pens

Only tool they hate; our minds

Their first antagonist; the poets.

The long term memories

The day changing secrets

The sooth revealers

All God's works are all ours

Powerful to rip apart

Unashamed to mend souls

Hope for the weak

Medication to the mind

Medievalist we are

With just a message, she's off her feet

With lullabies in poem, he's won over

With emotional poems, we stopped crisis

With written texts, we are all over

Got the keys to the locked gates

We hold the stamp to  blueprints

Alas, the voice of a poet resounds

The works of a writer talks

The beauty in our poems shines 

And behold! Poets don't die!

I'm a poet

I'm an icon

I'm a puncheon.

SamTemmy.

AN ODE TO POETRY

You were there,  

Announcing yourself like the town crier, 

And passing a message, 

Like the sound from the talking drum. 

You are here, 

Bringing words together, 

Creating a platform, 

One that would project what you speak. 

You will continue to be, 

For words will not cease to be, 

An edifice, 

You will forever make out of them. 

Whether you stand or sit, 

In paper or in voices, 

You will execute the purpose,

For which you exist. 

     StarBabe.

PUNCHEON

 Lines, stanzas - emotion

All in one, words flow 

Anthology - attention 

They are one in spirit - the glow 

Never underestimate poem's power

It always work where it could save 

It's nothing but a life saver 

The true nature is a heart safe

I speak seventeen syllables 

All combined to give a haiku

Five - seven - five words syllables 

All fused in three stanza-coup

I'm a coup mastermind 

Punching words to pierce the mind 

Never scared of using metaphor 

To cause my opponents fall

I'm just a learner who spew poetry 

Although I can't spell onomatopoeia

Or differentiate innuendo from irony 

I'm not a faker but a word wielder

I write rhymes but worries about rhythm

Wondering if they could add up to create sonnets

Plus if poetry could be sung in church like a hymn

Maybe poetry will breed a lot of Saints.

To who that refuses to see beyond,

Survival of depression without expression 

Is like driving a car with no petrol!

Poetry is my expression and petrol!

        Emaculate Ife.

PUNCHEON

And who says a poet can be put into a dungeon?

When he has not lost his poetic lines,

Neither has he lost his muse,

He possess puncheon,

Forever with his bleeding pen.

Living with the memories of when poets are neglected,

Kept most poets in emotional trauma.

Their pens remain in everlasting oubliette,

So rusty and dusty,

Only the brave ones survived the agony of the atrocity.

Poets are meant to be celebrated, 

Appreciated and not deserted,

For from their celebrations, 

Come muse for more word masturbation,

Which produces life beautification and titivation.

            Oluwanifemi.

AN OVATION TO POETRY

Dark and frozen mysteries 

You lighten and turn up stories 

You unleash hidden truths

And teach mighty fools

You crawl into deepest thoughts 

And make minds courts

You cut through noisy hearts 

You rule over gentle minds

They rejoice in meeting their kinds

And they bring nature into art

They bring kings to meditate

And write even on slate

You hold famous legends

And can predict a good end 

You exist to help souls

If they are ready to act their roles

You do no racism 

For You join Euphrates to Mississippi

You are not god

But every poets knows your eulogy

For you are the voice of the poor 

The lyrics of every couplet 

And the power of greatest minds.

poetry!

You are a puncheon 

That sink through every mind's

And you never cease to exist 

For I heard Solomon wrote you an ode

And shakespare borrowed from thee

And I read of Oscars lines 

And am sure you'll travel till the world folds

And until the earth ceases.

        QUEEN NICY

MY POEM;MY LIFE

Deep down am lost,

feel like am shredded,

but you found me and gave me hope

of years to come.

I wallow in nothingness,

you supported me with your loving ness,

day by day I'm charged towards my slate

wherein my life dwells.

when am dejected,

I find love in you,

you know the every me,

even the darkest side is like mirror to u.

        

             Hordunlaryor.

PUNCHEON

Aged Golden Rod held  highly by world's wordsmiths,

Powerful sturdy stamp that commands both kings and slaves.

Purely colourless translucent drinkable water of the wise,

Unsavory tasteless unswallowable solidity for fools.

Faceless faces breathing heavily with bodilessness,

Call it the immaterial substance that covers space,

Call it the whispering winds in hollow sphere,

The immortality of gone mortals like Shakespeare.

Should I say it is Fairy Power or Real Authority?

Or should I simply call it what it is; POETRY!

          

          MISS LOVE

PUNCHEON

Give me this sword

Let me hold it by its neck.

Only this can show to the world

That it is I that has been ordained.

Just this I crave to have

A symbol of hope

For the nation that I have

Been ordained to dominate.

Give me my strength; our strength

Myself and Shakespeare's

This poetry is our blood

Myself and others.

This poetry is our own authority.

      KING JUSTICE

It's the celebration of poetry. I hope you enjoyed. Let your thoughts flow in.

Don't Think About It

  You,  I mean you. Yes, you there. I can read your mind, it's getting hard and you're considering dropping out. Don't think about it.

It gets better, just hold on and see it through.

Chronicles Of Willy - Episode 3

Willy's day at his uncle's office. Let's see what happened.



   It happened on my way back to Faj. I actually read at Education Building, so I passed Adminstration through White House when going back. I was about crossing the road to White House, when I heard the song, " Eyo" by Asa. Being a song I like, I turned my head towards the sound. Lo and behold, it was coming from the Me-Suya's phone and he was singing along. I moved closer to his stand, and I heard the lyrics coming from his mouth "...Leeking rand, you see all da fiful, making paces ferry cool....". I was so shocked and I actually didn't mind his diction. I approached him and discovered that he speaks good English. It's just amazing how almost everyone on campus is a scholar in his field. It was 4am when I got to my room. I fetched water before sleeping and awoke at 7. Thankfully, my water was left unused. I got set for classes and left the room by 8. I had two classes to attend and then I'd resume at my uncle's office.
    My classes went smoothly without any hitch as I kept my distance from Femi and Dozie. I entered Uncle Lanre's office at exactly 1pm. He was sitting behind the desk, working on the computer. After exchanging pleasantries, he instructed me to clear the files and arrange them into boxes in a chronological order. After an hour of working, I found the test script of one Titus Bankole. The guy actually had 30 over 40 and his script was laying beneath many old documents. "Uncle Lanre, this is someone's script sir", I said. He took it from me, looked at it and nonchalantly put it in his drawer. "I'm sure he's planning to retake the course already" he said. "But sir, you could at least try to find him and help with rectifying his result" I countered. He sighed, looked me in the eyes and said " He is not the first person, neither is he the last that would have the issue of a missing script, so don't make it sound like it's the issue of the Missing Chibok girls" he said. He chuckled softly, expecting me to catch on the joke while I stood there looking dismayed. It took much to rein in my reproach and I went back to work, completing the rest of the work in silence.
    After two hours of working, I was done and I got set to leave. My uncle bade me farewell without giving me my phone, and I stood rooted to the spot. I stood for about 10minutes before he gave me the phone making sure to dish out some admonishments. I was about leaving his office, he called me back and stretched a thousand naira note to me. I thought of rejecting it, but the fact that I barely had foodstuffs overcame my anger and I collected it. I left his office having nowhere in mind to go. I just kept on walking, deep in thoughts as to what Bankole must have gone through, and my uncle's nonchalance about the issue. I put it at the back of my mind as there was nothing to do about it. My legs led me to SUB; going there was almost a reflex. Maybe I'll just go to the secretariat, I need to pay my annual dues for the session, and I'll just chill and browse in Chukwusa(MTN network is best there). Killing three birds with a stone, yeah?
     On getting to the Student Union Secretariat, I found it closed. It is quite strange, not at this time of the day. I tried opening it, but it's locked from inside. I start to move away when I hear muffled voices, I can't pick out what they're saying so I put my ears at the door. An authoritative masculine voice is speaking in harsh tones, I can't get an hang of what he's saying. I try to listen more intently, leaning closed on the door. I hear movement on the other side of the door, someone is opening it. I move quickly away from the door, running fast into the toilet. A guy passed by, Daski, he must have been the one who left the room. He is a very popular guy on campus. I leave the toilet and try to trace him, he however has blended with the crowd. I feel like something fishy is up. The meeting behind closed doors and the muffled voices, all do not add up. I have even forgotten now about paying any dues. I'm baffled as to what I just witnessed might mean. Sooner or later I'll probably find out. It might just have been an excos meeting; excos are notorious for speaking in harsh tones during their meetings. Now that I got my phone back, I've a lot to catch up on. I remember my plan to check out girls on @lifeofoaustudent page on Instagram and soon I'm looking up several OAU girls, surprisingly spoilt for choice. There are very prominent ones such as, @Mzzie, @graeceey, @christabel. I think these ones will be too hard to get. I decide to go with the ones who don't look much like the "run-it- babes". The girl with the username @Mystic catches my eye and I quickly follow and send her a DM. " Hey pretty, I've been through your pictures and I like your page". Within seconds, she replied "Next time, use a better line, thanks tho". I like her witty reply. "I plan to use a better line next time Mystic. I'm about to unravel your mystery!!!

Cases of missing scripts is common place, and it seems Willy might have uncovered something. We will find out soon enough

Episode dedicated to the victims of the tribal clash in Ile-Ife💔

Chronicles Of Willy - Episode 2

  Good day people, Let's start off from where we stopped, to find out who Willy saw and what followed. Enjoy


  Sulking as we left Amphi, I placed the blame on Femi and Dozie. They surely should have alerted me that he was coming. "We no see am until he done near now" Femi said. "He told me not to talk" Dozie added. "If you guys were not so busy with the ladies, I wouldn't have been left all alone and I wouldn't have been listening to music". They both stared at me with puzzled expressions. Now, it's awkward, I couldn't blame them for my inability to be a ladies' man and I think I'm starting to sound like I'm  pained. "We're going to SUB carpark, will you come with us?" Dozie asked. "No, I'll just chill at Chukwusa and go on to my room from there" I replied. They both tried to shake me, and I refused, resulting in them pulling me into a bear hug, that got me laughing; an idiot in front of SUB shouted "Una wan do threesome"?. After two years, it's easy to ignore people like that.
     My uncle had confiscated my phone when he caught me listening to music in a class, He's a junior lecturer in Sociology so he's in charge of a Special Elective. He was to take his class immediately after the 201 class and he had just gotten in when he spotted me and made my day worse than it already was. He'd yanked the earpiece off and twisted my ears; right in front of guys and girls, even people that were looking at me when I entered. Uncle Lanre as I call him, is my dad's immediate younger brother and I couldn't have disrespected him when he asked that I hand over my phone. Right there, we struck a deal that I would come help out in his office the following day and only then would he consider giving back the phone.
     Later as I entered SUB TV room or Chukwusa as it's called, I wondered how I would survive tomorrow's work. "Willy"(close friends call me Willy, short for my surname Williams) I heard a voice call. I turned in the direction of the voice and I see Folasayo sitting, in the glory of her incredible figure, it amazed me how a girl like this could be so conservative in her orientation. She's about my closest female friend, those kind of friends you never even consider going into anything with; if you know what I mean. We got talking through Femi;he had been so keen on getting her at some point. Folasayo and I hit it off quite well and the rest they say is history.
   " Kilo shey eh, why are you looking so worked up" she asked. I replied with a sigh and walked her through the events of the day beginning with waking up at HSLT down to my encounter with Uncle Lanre at Amphitheatre. I left her laughing uncontrollably and I couldn't even finish my narration. "Aaaaaaw, Pele baby, come and hug Mummy" she joked. I moved closer and I hugged her across the chairs making sure to put my head on her ample bossom; it'd never for once felt anything less than good. We got talking about other stuff, gist and happenings in school. She was soon telling me about the escapades of the craziest girls on campus and then went ahead to show me pictures of some of them. She opened @lifeofoaustudents page on Instagram to show me their pictures and it was like she was opening a new world entirely. I'd never before seen the page and so was amazed by how many OAU students I'd never seen. Pretty chicks, big boys,cool guys, cheesy pictures of couples and every other thing interesting.
      It crossed my mind there that I just might have been handed a lifeline. I could get girls on this page. At least if I gamble with about 5, luck might shine on me and I'll get 1. This realization further urged me to face my quest to get the phone back tomorrow. It appeared my day could still be good after all. It was 2pm already, I thought of just stabbing all the classes I had left for the day, my mood had improved greatly by then. I hugged Folasayo, she'd made my day, I decided I'll just go to my room to rest, then go jack in the evening.
   At SUB carpark, there was an MTN show going on, A rap competition specifically, events like this were always fun. A guy stepped up with the stage name Moko. "Yo, Yo, Yo. M-O-K-O, my name is Moko, very soon I go blow like Boko, everytime I go village Mo ma n mu koko, that's why I stand gidigba bi iroko". Everyone around including me burst out laughing, we were never going to be rid of rappers like this. I'd had enough for the day. I turned on my way to the hostel, singing Moko's line as I walked. I got to my room in no time, entering in a jolly mood. My mood however turned sour as I saw Bartholomew sleeping on my bed, sweat and spittle dampening the bed. I tapped him awake with all the aggression I could muster, and chased him from my bed. Now I had to change my bedsheets. I slept till around 8pm;  freshened up , ate and went out to read
    I actually did read at length that night; for the first time in the semester. I also encountered something I'd never seen before throughout my stay on campus.


My OAU students, which OAU rapper rhymes like Moko?
Drop your answer in the comment box

Chronicles Of Willy returns next Friday
God bless

High School

 We all remember when we left High School, or if we haven't. We'd find out soon. We all made promises, felt sad and all. We just find out that years after. We simply do not know what happens to those promises.

    This is Olaniyi's story.



   It's one of those days when I just don't want to raise an arm, I'll probably stay in bed all day and enjoy the cool weather. Food will be brought by my little sister, she already knows what to do on my off days. I pick up my phone to reply my WhatsApp messages; just a checkup message from "bae" and a broadcast message from my friend Tade.
   I reply the messages and decide to go through my WhatsApp contacts, I stumble on Rachel's profile picture, I'm suprised, she has make-up on and also a pair of trousers, she had always been an "SU" back then in secondary school, always preaching the evils of dating and other worldly things. David's picture is a different story entirely, he is now a strong believer in Christ as his Bible can be seen in his hands, back then he was notorious and was always the subject of teachers' discussions.
   Before I realise it, I'm doing a full scale survey of the lives of my secondary school mates, knowing their stories through their pictures as I hardly ever talk to any of them anymore. Sade, the least attractive girl in class then is now a model and Amos, dullard of the class seems to be a Rivers State government official. My best friend, Chuks; well seems to be an "happening guy", his picture shows him with Wizkid, obviously stoned. I wish I could reach out to him but I can't. My high school love, Abisola, is married now with a kid; the cute boy as her display picture; I laugh now as I remember the childish vows we made to each other back then.
   I, Olaniyi, am here and my profile picture shows me in my 9-5 attire, my dreams of being independent as soon as possible is obviously taking sometime. I hope we all will be alright and fulfilled, and most of all still able to relate when we see again. Someday.


   I'm sure we all can definitely relate. I was a good boy back then and I still am, did you change?
 Can you score this please? Range of 1-10

P.S: Chronicles Of Willy returns on Friday. I'm super excited.

                 

Ratata & Ratania

  This is a short story of two black rats. One named Ratata, the other named Ratania



  Ratata and Ratania

   We tried being casual without any casualties, so we did know that we had to be pleasant with our pleasantries. One day, we took a tour down to Paris, strolling into a parish, where we prayed not to be preys. Leaving Paris, we went to Rome, and around the ancient city we began to roam, finding ourselves at the Vatican, the crucifix in the city standing vertical.
   On our way back to America, we snuck into the back of Nelly's car, where we drank up the water in the jerrican. From America, we found our way to Asia, by this time fighting with amnesia. We couldn't find our way home, and so we decided to stay and live within a dome.
 

  I love this story. What about you? Do you think it could become a blockbuster if it was a movie?

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Chronicles Of Willy - Episode 1

   I'm Akintade Williams, a part 2 student of Economics. I remember vividly when I gained admission, I dreamt of being like Karl Marx, David Ricardo, and even Sanusi Lamido, so I'd use my knowledge to change the world; but two years into my stay in OAU, I've barely changed the behaviour of my roommates who litter the room with clothes and books. Jide, the only part 1 roommate I've is a Small Doctor fan. It feels like every time I attempt reading in the room, is when he craves hearing the "ah ah ah ahn ah ehn" sound. Bartholomew or Mr Batman as I call him is the "slippers" of the room, always sleeping anywhere and at anytime. Gbadebo is my biggest padi, the only thing is that he's a little dirty if I must be diplomatic with the truth. We always have that rotten smell that oozes from undone dishes at the back of the room which doubles as our kitchen. I'd have told him my mind blankly but for the sake of friendship. We certainly are not four, but all my other roommates only come to sleep at night and are off the following morning. I barely know the names of some of them. I think they're about 4 in number, Boda Isaiah, Mr Julius and two other guys; you might like to call them *squatters* . I am like the flyest guy in my room sha; glasses, straight jeans, vintage and check shirts, denim jackets and a little buoyancy in terms of cash.
     It just seems that the only problem I've is I barely have a girl in my life; I mean asides the girls that always want to collect my shirts, don't get me wrong, I've girls who have come and gone, be cool for one week or two and then we go back to being casual greeters; the shirt-pirates are the only constant ones who have stayed. Not like I need girls tho but to be honest, "Who doesn't?". Sade has been my crush since Pre Degree. I took her out couples of times. It had to stop when she was always talking about her boyfriend at our dates. I mean she even used to collect "takeaway". I'm sure it was always for her boyfriend. One yeye Patrick guy like that in Accounting.
  My fate seems to have been sealed when it comes to getting a girl so I decided about a month ago to focus on my studies. I'm on a 3.95 cgpa. Maybe if I put in more effort this semester it'd be for the best. I surprised myself and all my friends when I joined the league of people who always went out to read on the first day of resumption. "I no even know wetin push me that day". I got there and I reasoned that it's not like we've done anything, or could I have read blank lines? O boy, that day I beat my high score in Zuma with my system and all the "efikos" at ODLT were just staring. I did stare back like " Do I look like Elujoba?".
    It's a week and half already into the semester. I still haven't succeeded in reading for an hour at a stretch. Yesterday's experience at HSLT A convinced me that I had to take a drastic step if I really want to do well this semester. I just hope this semester brings something good 'cause I want nothing less than the best.

 
    I've to run to Amphitheatre from Faj for SOC202 class. It's not like they'll take attendance or anything but I've to get there just when everyone is getting settled so I'll be the cynosure of all eyes. You know, in my black on black and sleek vintage tie. I can't afford to dress so good and let it waste. I actually had to let Jide off the hook when I realised there was nothing I could do to get my water back; he had to attend a 7am class at First Bank Lecture Theatre and the lecturer always took attendance during the first 20 minutes of the class. I took my bath by asking for one bowl of water from all ten rooms on my block. I'll deal with him when I get back.
     Stepping into Amphi, I go to meet my gees sitting at our spot, the "topmost top" as far away from the lecturer as possible. It's not like I enjoy sitting here but it's one of perks of being a fly guy. I definitely turned some heads when I entered and that feeling of vain pride never grows stale. Femi, the first guy I made friends with in my class and Dozie, our friend from Sociology are my gees. We three are sometimes called triplets by some members of the class. Femi is one of the most complicated people I've met, he's a very intelligent guy, one of the best in Mathematics, but his intellectual life doesn't fit in with his social life; parties in Buka, rendezvous with different girls in one night and a crazy style of dressing. I'm okay with all these. Rolling with him has made me quite popular; at least I know all the "happening guys"(even if na only greet, I dey greet them) and he also helps out with academics. Dozie on the other hand, is brilliant notwithstanding but hardly takes time out to read like Femi. He passes his exams but always has to crash-read. He and Femi always strike bets when it comes to issues concerning girls and so many times, hapless me, has to be the umpire.
     Sometimes I always feel like I'm the duff of the lot, just like now. Femi and Dozie are chatting with two pretty ladies, while I'm left to draw patterns at the back of my note. Following the lecturer is out of question as I'm too far away. I bring out my phone with my earphones plugged. Music has always been the opium. My favourite songs, Ayo Jay's Your Number, Burna Boy's Like to party, Chris Brown's Fine by me and all the others have always proved to be enough to take me away from the present. This time however, it took me from the present to another realm and I suffered for it. I was jamming Jidenna's Little Bit More at that moment with my head bent over my book, on which I was still drawing patterns. The music had gotten to me so naturally that I was nodding to the beat and stamping my feet. Suddenly, I saw a hand reach out to unplug my earphones. Instinctively, I reached out to keep them in. I got slapped on my hand. I looked up to express my anger, but it just happened to be the last person I expected to see, and I froze in shock.



Who do you think he saw? Comments below

Chronicles Of Willy- Prologue

 I'm excited. This is a new journey I'm starting. I never thought I'd write a series. Anyways, I'm ready to serve you the best. Let's hand over to Akintade "Willy" Williams now. This is the Prologue.





  Slowly, I awake. I feel so uncomfortable and I don't know why. Struggling to get my eyes to focus. I tapped my sides for my glasses, finding them in my breast pocket. I'm in HSLT A; "For how long?". My phone says the time is 6:00am, I don't believe. " Bros wetin be time, abeg?". "6", the guy beside me replied. It means I've slept for all four hours I've been out. Class is by 8, my mental alarm ticks me and I pack my stuff to leave. Another unproductive reading expenditure. Moving out of the room, the girl I scoped when I arrived looked at me with a mixture of pity and contempt. I know, I deserve it. I didn't even open my bag. All I did was sleep.
    It took 15 minutes to get to Faj, seeing the long queue at the tap. I felt fulfilled, I had fetched water before leaving the hostel. It pays to be smart; just as I made to enter the room, I saw Jide coming out of the bathroom, green bucket in his hands. Same green bucket I fetched water into!


 Have you ever been out to read all night, only to end up sleeping all through?
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LOST

 A short story below.


             

I heard a whisper from the shadows, It came from a tall figure. I moved closer to where the sound came from but I couldn't find him there no more, I followed the path hoping to find him and I wandered far and far away from my prior location. So now here I am lost in my "wanderland". In my state of anxiety at being lost. I take a deep breath, then I pause to think,I'm lost but not dead. Maybe if I could pay close attention to the path, I could find my way back. But wait, "Who or what brought me here?". It was an illusion, now it dawns on me. The voice was in my head and the tall figure, well that was my eyes seeing what it wanted to. Now I'm certain there's nothing for me here, so I dust my shorts, pick up myself and find my way back to my home;where my heart is
 
  Moral of the story: Sometimes we just need to take a step away from where we have always been to see the light

How did you enjoy this story? Comment below

CHAINGE

They came with a promise of change, Now it looks like they have put us in the Age of Chains.

 This is a piece I wrote below on the state of the nation.

Who do you think shall spark the dying flame?

Do comment

#Otwrites.