Fair justice

Fair justice

In the hot street of Lagos was the everyday told…

the rickety buses that lead to everywhere calling their various destination,

the sound of the training hooting from afar like in the american movies of the 90’s

the women whom display their wares just by the roadside crying aloud for the psserby to check them out

what a normal day it set out to be

the afternoon was so hot that the children had hit the street to make some money for their families by selling pure water

“pure water!”

the kids begin the marathon to be the one who make the money. they run so fast and fearless chasing after the motorists with a madman drive blindly right behind their heels. the thought that runs through the mind of the thinker

“ is there really hope for these one?”

like the other child the little boy run after the vehicle at the shout for “pure water”

the race began, he thought of his mother who just put to bed and unable to come out to work. he thought about his new baby sister thaat would be needing some drugs. with all his mighty he therefore aimed for the price.

that “ten naira”  victory that made the whole difference. stretching out his hands as he made the exchange. his water for the trophy.

completing the transaction he continued to the race, a chain of reaction that flowed unbroken until the darkness feel.

the day become to change into night and the children started to live the street for their homes. as they gathered at a point to account for their sale, the little boy was glad his home will have some to feed that day.

happily he bounced up and down with his bucket in his hand and his money in his pocket as he made his way home.

a joy that was suddenly brought to a halt.

“ come here!”

the voice that made him want to cry.

he thought about what would happen if he just turned around and ran.. the big headed bullies would just chase him and beat him up if they caught him. if he went to them, they would beat him and collect his money.

so he weighed his options….

run and there would be a chance of not being caught..

wait and get beaten with his trophy gone

with a twinkle of an eye to make and expensive decision…he decide to take his chances

he ran as fast as his little head could carry him…as he ran, he could hear the sound of the footsteps behind him…

closer it came

faster he ran

he could see his home not too far away

“i’m almost there,” he thought gladly encouraging himself to move faster.  he ran with all his might and got home. he stumbled a little as he reached for the gate but he did not tarry. with an inner strength he fought for the energy to finish…..

he pushed a step forward into the compound and the pain struck like the effect of thunder behind his head. his rear legs pulled back the outstretched one as his back meet with the ground lead to the fall into dark..

“you are crazy”

the voices swam through his dream like a troubled sea as he sank deep into oblivion and a dark homecoming…

 

her ache legs did not seem to bother her as she kept on peeping through the open side of their wooden window.

her little boy was not back and she wished that she had gone out herself.

it was barely four month ago when her husband and her first boy were macheted by the men of the community unreachable. the sorrow that had ripped through her heavy stomach for months as she fought for the strength to survive the nightmare. she had finally lost it and was forced to put to bed early after a near-miss failed miscarriage. the doctors had fought to fight for her and won. she was too weak to fend for a little boy that had been left without a father or her new pre-mature baby.

painfully, she walked to the side of the room that served as the kitchen to pick up the lantern as she could hear the noise. it sounded like the usual cry of trouble in the street… that was nothing new. she wished her little boy could was already back so that she could he less worried….

“mama john! mama john!!”

the call was from her neighbour,

“was there a robbery? ” she thought as millions of things ran across her mind.

“where was her little boy now’?” the time was already six 0′ clock

the noise was getting louder as she painfully hurried to the door and opened her rickety wooden door.

the faces of the people in front of her door reminded her of just on thing

her husband’s death

“wetin happen?”

the ungroomed tongues carelessly swing the name of her son

she staggered into the door

like an automated car put on acceleration, she boothed for the gate as everyone ran after her to prevent her from hurt herself.

she saw the gathered crowd and like a mad elephant pushed her way into the centre to meet her little boy. there in the eye of the wicked world, he laid so still in the pool of his own blood with his empty bucket still in his  hand tell her through his opened dead eyes how much he tried to make it home…..

“john………………………..”

she could see her little boy run to her as she reached out for him and fell

it was all over for her.

she walked through the street talking to herself about how unwise the world was..

a young girl of thirteen passed by her. the girl heard her talking to herself and smiled sweet at her. she was holding a bucket.

“john!” she whispered.

the young girl turned and looked at her with pity in his innocent eye. giving her a weak smile she turned and continue her journey.

she sat on a stool in front of her gate and watched the girl walk away. that was john coming home to her.

just around the corner, she had john scream……

she flew into the house to find a tool, someone was hurt her boy

her little boy who just passed by her and smiled

she ran blindly toward the scream and saw two boys on her boy,

“ leave him alone.” she screamed and jump at one of them from behind sending her knife through his back

the boy screamed in pain and fell to the ground as his second tried to rise from the girl to check the distraction, she plunged the knife into him pulling it out and driving it back into him like an angry butcher while the other children scream in horror as she madly continued with her stabbing even when the boy had let go of her in death.

 

“mary okondou”

she slipped back to reality as her cell gate opened.

“time don reach!” the non-caring warden scream standing over her like a roaring lion.

she rose slowly to her feet as they cuffed her hand and legs in chains

as she made her way to the execution room, she looked back at the scenario before her.

she had killed a fifteen year old boy and sent the other to coma. he was just  a little boy

a little boy who killed her eleven year old boy and walked away…

as she matched into the room and the noose put on her neck

she thought of her new baby left alone in the world

but one thing was certain

even as the chair lost contact with her feet and she began to kick for life;

she knew that if given a second chance she would stabbed that little boy over and over again



8 thoughts on “Fair justice” by horpemiohtan (@horpemiohtan)

  1. So much error. You sure can write but…so much error. Reread. You’ll get them out.

    Welldone.

  2. I enjoyed reading this even in the face of all the errors and “typos”. Very touching story.

    Please keep writing, you really can write…

  3. I couldn’t even read this!
    Delete…twice.

  4. This story is so rife with typos and tense errors that it ends up confusing in some places!

    I immediately switched off after the first ten lines. Sorry, I’m not the reader type that can read it all through with the errors like lancaster. If the errors were not too much, I may have still read it all the way.

    I can see the potential in there, you have it and its obvious you can do better…but the errors…did you proof read it before posting?

  5. Too many typos and grammar killings…

  6. The errors killed it. But then I read some kind of dead stories, and this is one. This story if told properly, would have sparked feeling in anyone who has a heart cos it’s really Sad. It’s almost as if you used a spell checker that converted every word to something wrong. Just read through this…slowly, and tick the errors you find, then set about correcting them…Pratice makes perfect. Keep at it….$ß.

  7. Sorry fellow readers! I also gave myself a big fat “F” after reading the story. Loved the criticism cos it showed me people are reading. This is actually the first tym I’m going through the story and the answer is NO! ;
    I did not proof-read before posting cos this was suppose to be a draft and not a post. Imagine my surprise at the msgs. Thanks a lot “anyways” for the comment. It is noted and the next one would be a wow- experience provided i don’t get sleepy on that too.

  8. I noticed errors. Maybe you rushed. I like the story but I believe if you would restructure it may be better.

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