Right or wrong?

Right or wrong?


As the car gunned down the highway, sirens blaring, with Gab in the driver’s seat, my mind began to reel in the memories of the past year. The calm weather today was in contrast to the state my mind was in. Everything was unravelling so fast that I was having difficulty holding on to the hard facts which had been the basis on which my decision had been made.

YES, Sharon was the leader of a new terrorist cell on the block;

NO, I hadn’t done the wrong thing by turning her in;

YES, I had betrayed the trust she had for me;

NO, I wasn’t in love with her anymore.

In fact, I had been so sure of the decision to turn her in after my discovery and had done so seven months ago until Gab showed up at my doorsteps this morning challenging my love for her. His words had kept on playing in my mind until somewhere deep inside, a wall had cracked and the truth came pouring out. “I know you still love Sharon. I know all that love didn’t just conveniently fade away because you are mad at her.”

And that was the truth, the cold hard truth. So where did that leave me? Had I, with my own hands sentenced the love of my life to death? Gab had also brought news that she was sentenced last week. I had known that because on the day of her sentencing; everyone seemed to be hiding something from me. The televisions and all the newspapers back at the bureau had conveniently stayed off and out of sight respectively. I had finally spied the news off a news stand the following day on my way to work. She had been sentenced to death by lethal injection. What I hadn’t seen was the exact date the sentence was to be carried out and according to Gab, if I wasn’t in his car speeding down this highway at this exact moment, we might just miss the execution. I realised that I might be too late but all I wanted to do was look into her eyes and know that she had forgiven him.


Even though I didn’t really believe in God I bowed my head and whispered a little prayer that could have come from nowhere else but the depth of my soul. “Lord, please let me make it in time.” With that the memories of my relationship with Sharon began to flood my mind and a tear found its way from my eyes down my cheek bones. I remembered how we had met; Sharon had always been the liberal type, doing what she wanted and fighting for what she believed in no matter the cost. I remembered her smile, that smile that I had once told her lit her corner of the world. I remembered her laugh, such genuine hearty laughter that reverberated of every surface of the room, the kind of laugh that made you laugh. Then I remembered her tantrums, serious as they were, they always got me laughing, making her swell with anger. She did stupid things when angry like crossing the road without looking out for cars with me trailing behind shouting and trying to protect her as much as possible; stomping out of her house in the middle of the night and banging the door behind her, leaving me inside (I had never understood this one. Why leave your own house instead of ordering the annoying occupants out? After all, it was your house); shouting at the top of her lungs and still claiming you were not letting her talk and you were not listening (like you could listen to anything else with her voice at that pitch). The tears began to pour profusely now, as I had lost total control over them.


I remembered the night I had found out about her dealings, eight months ago. It took me a month after that to turn her in only after seeing the news that her terrorist cell had struck again. That night would forever be etched in my memory cause it was the first night I had told her I loved her. I had burst into her apartment that day from work as I had gotten a big lead in the case I was working on. I had almost screamed at the top of my voice my love for her. I had kissed her passionately and we ended up making love throughout the night wherein she confessed her love for me so many times. We slept in each other’s arms and when I opened my eyes in the morning I was greeted with an odd sight. She sat cross legged on the bed facing me tears streaming down her eyes and a soft sob escaping her lips. An alarm had gone through my head as I made a mental check of the surroundings. “What’s wrong” I had finally asked? “I can’t do this to you any more Peter. I love you so much and I just can’t lie to you anymore cause it’s eating me up inside.” She then proceeded to tell me everything and all I could do was stare in amazement my mind all the while telling me she must be joking up until…

She couldn’t have been joking because she was making reference to some classified information that I was privy to as a result of the case I was working on. It hit me then. My girlfriend was the leader of the terrorist cell that I was hunting down. My mind immediately entered into shock and the word that kept coming out from my lips was no, slowly as a whisper, a result of my still being in denial, until it graduated to a scream accompanied with a rage I had never experienced before.


I had screamed for the better half of two minutes before I broke down and started crying along with her. At this point all I could say was why. We cried and she argued her reasons for being involved citing so many examples of world renowned persons who had first been seen as terrorists and where now remembered as heroes that had fought against the status quo of segregation, corruption, tyranny, oppression and so on. She then reminded me of how corrupt our government had been since independence and that the time had come for the people to take a stand. But why, I had asked? She then told me of all she had suffered because off the government. She was an orphan because of the government and even though she had started out peacefully, with the governments continued insistence to fight the change she was so fervently fighting for, she had taking up arms even if it meant dying for what she believed in which was the total liberation of the people of this great nation from the hands of tyrants. “Peter, I’m so sorry, but you have to understand that one man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter”.

At that point, I had gotten off the bed in such a rage, dressed up and stormed out of her apartment without looking back. That was the last time I had seen her. She had made numerous efforts to contact me but I had ignored all of them. A month after, sitting in my apartment watching the news, I saw a caption of what her terrorist cell had done and I was filled with rage once more. I stormed into the office the next day and gave out the details of everything I knew about her. Gab was surprised because he had known her. He had even teased me about marrying her. After all, he was my best friend in the agency. He had gone out with us on so many occasions, with him bringing his numerous girlfriends along. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The news then filtered out that she was my estranged lover. She had been caught a week later and sentenced seven months later, after so much bureaucracy. Apparently, her father before his assassination had been a strong opposition against the government and was loved immensely by the people. Her mum, before her gruesome murder, had been a strong activist against the workings of government and a strong propagator of the ideals of a true democracy, not what was being practised at the moment. The government had experienced a hard time deciding whether to execute her according to the laws or not. Eventually, their decision was made. I on the other hand, had lived my life in a haze justifying my decision even under the disapproving looks that Gab always gave me. I was so sure I had made the right choice up until this morning when he showed up at my doorstep with that heart rendering, earth moving speech of love. I looked up and saw that we were approaching our destination and my heart and mind went into a frenzy. Was I too late?


At the gate, Gab and I brought out our identifications and showed the sentry who had stepped up to inspect our vehicle.

“Welcome gentlemen. You do know that an execution is scheduled for today within this premises, don’t you?”

The last thing I heard was Gab replying the guard on something about the execution being the reason why we were here before I zoomed out of the car with a speed that even surprised me. I didn’t care about the formalities anymore. All that was going through my mind was a little prayer of thanks that I had made it in time. The sentry had confirmed the execution but apparently, it hadn’t taken place. I was going to get the opportunity to beg Sharon for forgiveness and see her one last time. Right now, that was the most important thing to me in the world. Running across the lawn to the building ahead of me, I began to even nurture an idea of breaking her out of here. All I cared about was of how much I loved her. Nothing else mattered. Not my job, not the government, nothing. Nearing the building, my sudden presence out of nowhere must have startled the guards. With their guns trained on me, one of them certainly the leader screamed “STOP RIGHT THERE, SIR!!! YOU ARE NOT PERMITTED TO BE AROUND THIS VICINITY.”

“It’s all right,” I said putting my hands down the pocket of my coat and producing my identification that permitted me to be around here if I damned well please. “I’m here concerning the prisoner scheduled for execution this morning.”

Putting away my ID, I couldn’t decipher the look that had spread across the guards’ faces as their guns were lowered.

Elm, you are late sir.

Yes I know I’m late but I need to see her before the execution.

My point exactly sir. The execution was completed five minutes ago.

WHAT!!! My mind was thrown into chaos. My feet gave way under me and I went crashing to the floor. The guilt poured over more in waves that made my body convulse involuntarily. The tears that had seized when I had regained hope back at the gate came back were back, this time with such force that my wailing could have been heard for miles. My last memory of seeing her alive began to play again in my mind, and this time, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I had made the wrong decision.



18 thoughts on “Right or wrong?” by ghandi (@laavidaalocaa)

  1. Ehyah…
    Really good, u just need to add quotation marks and capitalize where necessary.

  2. And also check your use of sms typing.
    Nice work.

    1. ghandi (@laavidaalocaa)

      note taken.

  3. This is a very nice story, but I don’t feel it was well presented. It read a bit rushed.

    Then that title isn’t catchy at all.

    1. thanks. what title do u think wud be appropriate?

  4. @laavidaalocaa, I couldn’t go beyond the second paragraph, but these are some observations I made from those paragraphs.

    1. You used “whether” instead of “weather”
    2. ……..”which were the basis”……..bases(plural)
    3. The personal pronoun, “I” is always capitalized. It should never be written as ”i”
    4. You used the past tense where you ought to have used the past perfect severally.


    1. thanks for the observation. wud work on it.

  5. driver sit,
    calm whether today
    were the basis
    know u still love

    Too many misplaced punctuations, word misuse and tense issues!!!
    And @admin made this an Editor’s Pick?!

    @laavidaalocaa, I am glad your profile says you’re still in the discovery process, sounds like a lot of us, but please, read and read through whatever you want to post please. You have a story but the presentation is so so embarrassing.

    Yes, I seem harsh, but this is deliberate. If I gloss over these little faults, I wont be helping you.

    Good job bro. I’ll be on the look out for more of your posts.


    1. Hehehehehehehehehehehe.

      I agree with you word-for-word.

    2. ok. thanks for ur observations, afterall, i’m here to learn. wud try and do better next time.

  6. Wow! I loved this and maybe it’s because I did that my eagle-eyed self did not detect the errors others have mentioned (and yeah, you should hearken to all of them) when I first read the story. I like the dimension you brought to terrorism as fleshed out in the girl. I especially like this line: “Peter, I’m so sorry, but you have to understand that one man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter”.

    Now some suggestions:

    1. A professional writer never plays with the exclamation mark. He uses it rarely and when he does, he uses it only once, at the end of the sentence. Only once. As in: “Please go!” not “Please go!!!” Comics and cartoons can do that (for artistic effect) but not a literary story.

    2. I think that the capitalization is inappropriate. Capital letters too are things you respect in a story. Most times they are used to show the words on signage. For me, italics would have appeared more mature, communicating screams in his head (or thoughts)

    3. I think that the subject of love wasn’t handled very well in terms of elevating the expressions of love above the bland things we hear or read.

    Well done sir. This is a good effort. Keep improving your art. there is no end to learning.

    * If you want a member to be notified of your comment, use their @mention-name. For example you type “@chemokopi” somehwere in your response to this comment if you want me to be notified that you have responded to my comment

    1. ghandi (@laavidaalocaa)

      @chemokopi thanks a lot 4 d tips. wud try and incorporate it into the next piece i work on.

  7. Halos @laavidaalocaa

    m impressed by d creativity behind d story…beautiful

    Well…2 things…first the presentation…differentiate btw thoughts, flashbacks, present time n all tht…it saves d reader a lot of brainpower

    n secondly…personally…i wd v loved a little ‘action’ @d tailend…
    par example
    “Gab was still bringing the car to a halt when I jumped out of it. Running fast across the lawn, all I could think of was Sharon. I faintly heard some guards screaming at me; I even thought I heard a whistle. Two guards ran towards me with their baton. ‘Sharon’ I muttered mindlessly as I swerved to my right, dodged the first swing of the big stick, grabbed hold of the guard’s arm and twisted his wrist disarming him effectively. As I turned though to face my second opposition, his baton caught me on my shoulder and then my knee. I screamed in pain as I fell to the ground…” bla bla bla Gab came2 tell em d dude is a cop bla bla bla they inform him Sharon is dead n gone n he cries.

    *smile* pardon me @laavidaalocaa, had to do that.
    Lovely concept though sir.

    1. @sleeickstories i actually like ur version too. thanks…

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