Insomnia

Insomnia

Musa lay face up in bed in the place that he called home – for now, at least. Home was a stuffy, cramped room on the first floor in a block of face-me-I-face-you rooms. Home was also shared with his brother, Ahmed and his brother’s friend, Labaran, along with their messy and unsanitary habits. Home was therefore completely unsatisfactory to Musa, who would have preferred a bigger space – preferably one with air conditioning, or at least a working fan. Even better would have been if home was his and his alone so that he didn’t have to deal with Labaran involuntarily stinking up the place with his bad body odour and voluntarily stinking it up with his flatulence – but when you are new in Kaduna, having only recently arrived to start a new job as a accounts assistant, and the only place you can stay is your brother’s, you can’t really be choosy, he thought.

But his problem right now was not his confined quarters or the bad habits of his room mates. It was something more immediate – how to get to sleep.

Musa had never really been a believer in the “early to bed, early to rise” mantra. As he lay in bed, he recalled his days growing up in Kafanchan, when long after Ahmed and his sister, Amina, had gone to bed, he had remained awake, wishing he could continue to play with his toys; only the threats of punishment from his father had kept him in bed. When he had gone away to university in Jos, he had delighted in being able to stay awake for as long as he liked, even if it meant him missing some of the suicidally early morning lectures fixed by sadistic lecturers. He never really saw not being able to sleep at night as a problem; if he couldn’t sleep, then he could always read, go out for a stroll, or do whatever it was that people did during the day. It became so common to see him drifting around the hostels at night that his friends took to calling him ‘Ghost’.

But now that he needed to be able to get up early to hold down a job, it looked like his ghostly habits were coming back to haunt him. This was a real job, he thought, not the charade of NYSC orientation. Then, he could get away with two to three hours of sleep – after all, who needed their brain to be functioning at full capacity when they were simply being asked to stomp their feet on the parade ground? But in a job where he was going to be asked to reconcile accounts, the last thing he wanted was to be found dozing at his desk.

As these thoughts hurried back and forth in his head, he flicked away the sweat that had beaded on his forehead under the stifling heat of the night. There was a power outage, so the table fan stood helplessly inactive on a nearby dresser. Musa cast a reproachful look at his sleeping brother; even though Ahmed had a small generator, he had decreed that it should only be used for life-and-death purposes, such as watching Champions League matches. It was not fair that he should be condemned to sweat to death, he thought, as he listened to the sound of generators in the neighbouring compounds; the irony was, while they were providing much needed relief to other sleepers, they were keeping him awake with their racket.

Musa sighed and turned over again, trying to tune out the noise. After a while, it seemed to fade away to a dull thrumming. Even then, he could just make out the different pitches. There was the basso profundo of the heavy duty diesel behemoths; the casual tenor of the regular 4.5 kVA units; and then, there was the energetic soprano of the smaller capacity generators, which seemed to be escalating into a high-pitched…

“WhiiiiiiiIIIII!!!!”

Musa jerked up from his bed and flailed away at the invisible but very audible mosquito that had rudely interrupted his thoughts. For a while, he sat up, staring this way and that in agitation, then he flopped back on the bed with a sigh of frustration. Stupid mosquito, he thought. For the thousandth time, he wondered why these insects couldn’t just take what they wanted without disturbing the owner. And he had been on the verge of drifting off to sleep, too. He thought awhile, then he grabbed a fold of the bedsheet and wrapped it around his head, covering his ears. Hopefully, that would block out any further annoying whine.

He turned again to look at his fellow room occupants; how could they be sleeping so peacefully while he was condemned to the hell of insomnia? As if in answer, the sound of a loud, ripe fart burst forth from Labaran’s bed. Immediately, Musa jumped up from the bed; from bitter experience, he knew that if he hesitated for even one moment, then all was lost. He hurriedly pulled on his T-shirt and jeans which were hanging on a chair, slipped on his leather sandals and dashed out of the room, just in time to avoid being assaulted by the stench that would shortly follow.

Once out in the corridor of the block of flats, Musa decided that there was no point in trying to go to sleep. Maybe it was the stress of not being able to sleep that was keeping him awake. Better to go for a stroll around the neighbourhood to relax; sleep would come in its own time, and if it didn’t, then… well, he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

He shut the door to the room, then he strolled down the dark corridor, descended the stairs, and soon he was out in the open air of the compound, where a gentle breeze was blowing. He looked up; an almost-full moon was high in the sky, bathing everywhere in its pale light. He inhaled deeply, taking in the fresh air, and for the first time that evening, he allowed himself a smile.

He wandered over to the gate and looked through. The street that his block of flats was located on had an eclectic mix of buildings; some were blocks of rooms like his, some were more upscale blocks of flats, and a few were standalone houses. Most were walled off in compounds. As far as he recalled from his few excursions since arriving in the neighbourhood, the street didn’t lead to anywhere particularly interesting, and he did not feel inclined to do any exploring at this time of night. He decided to just walk to the end of the street and head back; that should be enough, he thought. After all, he didn’t know the place very well, and didn’t want to get lost.

Thus decided, he walked through the gate, which was slightly ajar. As he started down the street, it banged shut with a loud clang, making him jump.

But when he turned round, there was nobody there.

Maybe it was just the wind, he thought, but he would go back and check.

To his consternation, a chain had been drawn across the bars and locked with a heavy padlock.

There had definitely not been a chain and padlock when he left the compound. Was someone playing a joke on him? Maybe Labaran had seen him leave the room…

“Labaran! Labaran! You better open that gate now, or else I will show you pepper!”

At that moment, the pale light suddenly faded into darkness as the moon went behind a cloud.

Musa looked up in alarm. What was this? “Labaran, open the gate, now…” he pleaded, shaking the gate for emphasis.

At that moment, he caught a movement at the edge of this vision. He turned round for a proper view, and saw the outline of a human form emerging from from one of the compounds across the street. It glided towards him till it was standing across the road from him, where he could see it properly. What he saw drove a jolt of fear through him.

It was a human form alright – but nothing like he had ever seen before. For one thing, it was very tall – well over eight feet. Its skeletal frame was clothed in a black, billowing cloak, and its face was almost completely shrouded by a hood. But what transfixed Musa with fear were the hands extending from the arms of the cloak. They were… long, sinewy, with claws at least a foot long extending from them and reflecting a sinister glint in the scant moonlight.

Wa ke chan?” he asked in a voice made hoarse with fright.

In response, the form shook its head slowly, remaining mute; it was obviously not interested in revealing its identity. Then just as slowly, it turned round and raised an arm, beckoning…

Musa screamed in terror as he saw them come forth. Hundreds and hundreds of dark humanoid forms, much like the first, but with eyes blazing a malevolent red; pouring out from the neighbouring compounds, racing down from both ends of the street, leaping down from buildings, all heading towards him, all uttering the same chant: kashe shi… kashe shi… kashe shi…

In a wild panic, he made a desperate attempt to scale the locked gate, yelling for help, but the bars had mysteriously become coated with a slippery slickness, and his hands slithered helplessly off. Even as he hammered on the gate and his yells reached a frantic crescendo, he could feel them converging on him, with the relentless chant of death on their breath. Then as he felt himself violently seized and dragged away by many hands, he gave one, final desperate shriek…

…and he sat bolt upright in bed, eyes rigid with fright.

So it was all a dream, he thought to himself, as the waves of relief hit him. He wiped away the sweat that was streaming down his face, and flopped back in bed. What a horrible nightmare. If that was what was waiting for him on the other side of being awake, then he would gladly stay where he was.

He flicked away more of the sweat on his forehead; the power was out, so the table fan on the dresser was useless. If only Ahmed would let us use his generator, Musa thought peevishly. But no, he preferred to hoard its usage, except when Man U were playing in Europe. It wasn’t as if he was being unreasonable; after all, everyone else in the neighbourhood seemed to have a generator running at this time of the night, even some people in this face-me-I-face-you building. He didn’t mind the deeper sound coming from the bigger generators; those could easily be tuned out. It was the sound of the smaller ones he found irritating; loud and whiny, like…

“WhiiiiiiiIIIII!!!!”

Musa cursed as he swung his hands this way and that to brush away the mosquito that had intruded upon thoughts. He stared into the darkness in irritation, then he lay back on the bed, grabbing a fold of the bedsheet and wrapping it around his head to cover his ears. Of course he was trading one source of discomfort for another, but he knew he would not get to sleep if he had to endure further high-pitched whines.

The minutes ticked away slowly, and he turned again to look at his fellow room occupants. Why couldn’t the mosquitoes torment them instead? After all, they were already asleep and deaf to any noise. A moment later, there was the loud, rude report of a fart from Labaran. Musa hurriedly jumped up from his bed and fled from the room, concluding that the mosquitoes were smart after all to avoid Labaran’s natural insecticide.

But as he stood outside the door, a thought struck him.

He had been here before. Had he not just had a dream about this?

He scratched his head, but as hard as he tried, he could not remember what the dream was about. All he could remember was that something terrifying had happened at the end. He was baffled; after all, he had woken up not so long ago. How could he already have forgotten?

Well, he didn’t want to stand here waiting for the smell to clear away. It would be better if he took a stroll outside instead. The air there would be fresher, and maybe it would relax him enough to feel sleepy. Yes… that was a good idea. He squared up his shoulders and strolled down to corridor, smiling to himself for the first time that night.



66 thoughts on “Insomnia” by Tola Odejayi (@TolaO)

  1. Warraheck….?!?!?!?!

    See trips! This man…this guy…this uncle….this ‘umpire’ as some young upstart called you…

    WARRAHECK!

    Nice one. Nice. I like the repeat-loop thingy. Reminds me of that Stephen King story…

    “He hurriedly pulled on his T-shirt and jeans which were hanging on a chair, slipped on his leather sandals and dashed out of the room, just in time to avoid being assaulted by the stench that would shortly follow.”

    I disagree that a man would put on clothes in the time it takes for a fart to spread out….but I’ve never held a stopwatch to time one before.

    Nice.

    1. Thanks, @Seun-Odukoya.

      Maybe I should say that he was holding his breath while putting on his clothes, or I could just say that he grabbed his shirt and dashed out of the room.

      1. YEah @seun, that’s true. And grabbing the shirts would be better, @TolaO.

  2. Really??
    This feels like it was culled directly from a “Stephen King” novel like @Seun said. Watch out though, your tenses…………….
    I loved it.

    1. Thanks, @teekellz. Where did you see the tense issues? I thought I had eradicated those.

  3. “brother, Ahmed…” – I think the comma should be after Ahmed.
    ” a new job as a accounts assistant” – the ‘a’ should be “‘an’
    “Even better would have been if home was his and his alone so that he didn’t have to deal with Labaran involuntarily stinking up the place with his bad body odour and voluntarily stinking it up with his flatulence – but when you are new in Kaduna, having only recently arrived to start a new job as a accounts assistant, and the only place you can stay is your brother’s, you can’t really be choosy, he thought” – I think this was toooooo long.

    Nice, liked it. Plus I feel the guy,I forget my reams almost the moment I open my eyes.

    1. Your ‘reams’…

      Hehehehehehehe. Indeedy!

      1. ha very funnu @seun..

        Meant “dreams” jor

        1. oh gosh, meant funny

          1. I understand.

            You’re high off some …

            Lol!

  4. This is an engaging read…
    We forget our dreams and sometimes it’s God or is nature’s own way of telling us of what is to come…I wish ur MC luck..he needs all he can get…
    Well done Tola..

    1. Thanks, @sibbylwhyte. Glad you liked it.

  5. Uzoma Ihejirika (@literarymouthpiece)

    A very good one.

  6. Good job, TO. A few things, however: I could guess that it was a dream a quarter way down the page; I was hoping that the description of the ghost in the dream would be different, original, something we’ve never seen before (unless all ghosts look alike); repeating the mosqito sequence and the generator noise were not necessary.

    What @Seun-Odukoya said is true. When Labana dropped the bomb, I don’t think that Musa would’ve had enough time to dress up before the thing hit him.

    I liked the contemplative, solitary foray of Musa’s in the piece. I would’ve liked him to be both introspective and extrospective, describing more of the Kaduna landscape (dreamscape?) at night.

    If this was meant to be horrifying, I’m sure that you can drop more dread into it. Use one ghost, and make it most terrifying, something we’ve never seen before. Feel free to milk the scene where the ghost comes after Musa. Let this thing wreak so much havoc that Musa wakes up shaking like a leaf.

    1. Thanks, @howyoudey.

      Once the ghost (ghost? I’m sure I never said it was a ghost :) ) appeared, I wasn’t seriously thinking that people would think this was real life. For me, the real point of the story was the foreshadowing. But I could have done a better job of making that scene more terrifying – maybe I should approach @raymond for some lessons.

      As to the repetition, I think it was necessary, otherwise the reader would not understand why he was wondering about ‘being here before’.

  7. Howyoudey made some reasonable points there. I also knew the ghost part would be a dream.
    You described the story well but I didn’t really enjoy it. Maybe it’s because of the one scene stuff and lack of conversation.

    You’re good.

    1. Thanks for reading, @babyada, and I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy it that much.

  8. Fantastic.

    This was funnier than it was horrifying though. I like the way you wove small undesirable elements like farting and mosquito noises into the story to give it humour.

    “…Ahmed had a
    small generator, he had decreed that it should only be used for life-and-death purposes, such as watching Champions League matches.” I totally loved this part.

    I would like to say though, that your punctuation wasn’t top-notch in this story. What happened?

    1. Thanks, @chemokopi. Interestingly enough, as is the case with some of my stories, this actually started life more as humorous story rather than a suspenseful one; maybe if I had set out to right a suspense story from the outset, things would have been different.

      Do you mind pointing out the areas where my punctuation was lacking?

      1. I think the use of commas in the story was a bit on the high side for a writer of your pedigree. So we have long sentences that are filled with commas; even though they are grammatically correct, they come out not looking so stylish. For example:

        “He shut the door to the room, then he strolled down the dark corridor, descended the stairs, and soon he was out in the open air of the compound, where a gentle breeze was blowing.”

        Consider this: ”
        “He shut the door to the room, strolled down the dark corridor and descended the stairs. Soon he was out in the open air of the compound where a gentle breeze was blowing.”

        Still on commas, there are places you separate adjectives with commas. I think it is not necessary. For example:

        “As if in answer, the sound of a
        loud, ripe fart…”
        I think “As if in answer, the sound of a
        loud ripe fart…” should suffice.

        What do you think?

        1. I agree with your suggestion regarding the corridor scene, but I’m not sure your suggestion regarding the fart scene makes a huge difference.

  9. I loooooove the concept of the story. Its not really horror though and the dream ghost wasn’t really scary. There’s a place where you repeated a word twice and a place you used ‘a’ instead of ‘an’.

    Good job all the same.

    1. Thanks for reading, @gooseberry. Where is is this word that I repeated?

      1. Lol. Another repete.

        He turned round for a proper view, and saw the outline of a human form emerging from from one of the compounds across the street.

        The from was repeated. Just thought remove one from where you saved it.

        1. Ah… I see. Thanks again, @gooseberry. I must take some medicine for this repeatitis…

  10. This is a nice one, i love it much. At the point where he started experiencing the horror, i aready knew it was going to end up as a dream. I realy enjoyed it.

    1. Thanks, @salami1010. I’m glad you enjoyed it.

  11. TolaO, Nwokem, I enjoyed this. Yes, I think some places need to be tightened a bit. I would also suggest that you add some dread to the little minions… True, ‘like them people all be talking before me’, I felt the dream part and knew it. It was a downer and in my mind I said ‘Please, don’t let it end in a dream.’ That prayer was answered but not with the same dread I would expect…
    I don’t know what you intend to do with this tale – whether to let it lie low or to retouch it, remix it or not. I would only advise that you see to it that you work on compression (especially with unnecessary gist at the beginning of the tale except if this is an excerpt) and an injection of dread. You are a great writer and critic any day and you keep proving it every time… Next! And don’t keep us waiting… Cheers, S’

  12. Thanks, @sueddie. Nothing wrong with ‘it was all a dream’, as long as you don’t use it as an escape mechanism when you’ve run out of ideas. In this case, the fact that he was dreaming was central to the story.

    I’m doubtful if I will look at this again, though. If I do, I might work on the horror scene. I don’t think that the gist at the beginning was unnecessary; I wanted to capture the sense of someone whose thoughts were rambling because they couldn’t sleep.

    As to the next story, I have tons of ideas coming out of my head… I just wish I had more time. :(

  13. Lol. Another repete.

    He turned round for a proper view, and saw the outline of a human form emerging from from one of the compounds across the street.

    The from was repeated. Just thought remove one from where you saved it..

    1. Hm… Didn’t I see this comment somewhere before?

      @gooseberry, it looks like you too need some medicine for repeatitis… :)

  14. I loved this. Even though I knew it was a dream before he woke up I didn’t know what would folow and that for me nailed it. Now I’m wondering if those creatures are going to appear in his ‘fiction’ life

    1. Thanks, @Osakwe. That was for me, the point of the story – was his dream a prophecy, or was he having a second dream?

  15. whiiiii….

    Hahahahahahahaha…those quitoes are terrible

    cool writeup..but i would rather you stick to a shorter script, for slow readers like me? What do you think? *wink*

    1. Yes o, @brytandre, the “Whiii” part was from personal experience.

      Not sure what you mean by ‘shorter script’, though. I don’t think that the story was that long.

  16. Nice wor TO!

    Juxtaposing elements of horror with elements of humour is serious work. I’ve always liked stories that try to merge the two.

    However I sort of guessed the horror part would turn out to be a dream…the title made me guess so. Maybe if it had been titled differently it wouldn’t have given it away. And again, I feel the apparition he’d seen in the dream looks too much like something from the western world; like the grim reaper (since he was wearing a hood).

    Maybe if it looked like something we hadn’t seen before it would be more terrifying.

    On the whole, you did a real good job building your character and establishing his predicament.

    1. Good point about the ‘western’ ghost, @Afronuts. Like I said, I didn’t really spend as much time as I should have on the ‘horror’ part.

  17. Lol, @tola. Abi o. Hope the medicine is in syrup form sha. I don’t want any bitter bitter medications o.

  18. I think you deployed too long sentences in the opening paragraph. Yes, they were grammatically correct but No, they didnt flow well from the reader’s pov. I also think the horror isn’t ‘horrorful’ enough, it didnt move me. Maybe because @raymond has kinda set a pace on the site for the genre, or the fact that it’s just not tight enough, I dont know.
    The writing was great -do I expect less?- and the pacing perfect.
    Nice one, Your Excellency!
    banky

    1. Thanks for your comments, @banky. @Raymond has a lot to answer for o – now, nobody can write horror on NS without being compared to him. :)

      1. Abi o, unfortunatley @TolaO. The guy don colonize the genre on NS o! hehehehehehe

  19. NS, compare our works? U wey be Master? Ha! Aru!

    I like the story. It made me laugh, and I liked the imagery. However, I didn’t feel the fear, and I knew this was going to end up as a dream….don’t know how I knew that.

    Now, if this had been something about a sacrifice on the other hand….

    Nice one again Boss.

    1. @Raymond, thanks for the comments. Oya now, how could I have made the horror scene more scary?

      1. @TolaO, well for me, the terror ended too quickly, for one thing. Just to suggest an alternative, rather than trying to climb back into the compound, I’d make the character make like an egg and beat it. Hightail it. Zap. Vamonos. Any language.
        Why?
        Terror. He could’ve run anywhere for safety, even if it would’ve been a neighbour’s compound, anything to prolong the chase n stave off the realization that it is/was a dream.

        Secondly, the language style used…or should I say Writing Style?

        U wrote this:
        “In a wild panic, he made a desperate attempt to scale the locked gate, yelling for help, but the bars had mysteriously become coated with a slippery slickness, and his hands slithered helplessly off. Even as he hammered on the gate and his yells reached a frantic crescendo, he could feel them converging on him, with the relentless chant of death on their breath. Then as he felt himself violently seized and dragged away by many hands, he gave one, final desperate shriek…”

        My problem with this? Transition. Horror/Terror is a transient emotion, and for us to understand, and feel the fear of the character, U need to show us his fear. One moment he was screaming, the next he was ‘trying to desperately scale the gate’. There is a blank space there. I understand that not everything should be written, but something felt lost in that area.

        Again:
        “In a wild panic, he made a desperate attempt to scale the locked gate, yelling for help, but the bars had mysteriously become coated with a slippery slickness, and his hands slithered helplessly off.”

        This phrase, I selected for the big words/phrases. ‘Desperate’, ‘Mysteriously’, ‘Helplessly’. All in one sentence. Unnecessary adjectives. Speedbumps for the emotion we must feel. By the time Ur brain is trying to inteprete how these words would feel to the human body in times of distress, the emotion, and timing would’ve passed. In situations like this, it pays to use simpler words.
        Why?
        To enable the reader’s heart beat faster. As the brain is processing, the heart is beating faster, running over every word as the reader tries to get to the next word, the next paragraph, the next scene, the next page…the end.

        Also, when writing Horror, sometimes punctuations don’t matter. Sometimes.
        Why?
        Same reason as above.

        Essentially, if U r writing Horror, U r not just writing a story; U r writing a FEELING, and sometimes feelings are hard to articulate. If U can interprete the difficulty of the articulation of this feeling Artfully in Ur work, then, U r on Ur way…

        Hope this helps anyway.
        Me and my rambling…

        1. Excellent response, @Raymond. I couldn’t have asked for a better reply.

          To show my appreciation, please accept 50 points.

          1. o_O …….x_x……….O_O…….. :D ……. \(^_^)/

            Thank U!!!! Ha! U don pass Philanthropist oh! U be PhilanPOINTist!

  20. I’m really scared for that guy! I keep wondering what would happen as he went outside after having a similar dream. SCARED!

    @TolaO, I must commend you for a job well done. I saw just a few hitches like “a account…”, repetition of “from” (clearly an unknown error), some unnecessarily lengthy sentences and the failure to italicize or enclose thoughts in inverted comma’s (correct me if that’s not an issue).

    I love this; it held my eyes to the very end. Nice suspense and very good attempt at description of the scene. Kudos!

  21. Hi @Chimzorom, thanks very much for the kind comments.

    I don’t know that thoughts need to be in quotation marks, though; I’d appreciate it if you could point me to where you’ve seen this done.

    1. Do forgive that statement. I kinda got you wrong there. I had been referring to a sentence like, [Stupid mosquito, he thought]
      I kinda thought it should be, [“Stupid mosquito,” he thought] or the quoted words italicized.
      You might have better knowledge than I, in this aspect, so do share what you know about it, ok…

      1. Hi @Chimzorom,

        I’m glad you raised the topic; it prompted me to go and find out what the convention really was on quotation marks for thoughts.

        From looking at a variety of pages like this one, the consensus seems to be that writing thoughts with or without quotation marks are both acceptable.

        The only reason I wouldn’t use quotation marks are that I don’t want people to think that the character is talking, since people are used to quotation marks used in speech.

        1. Okay, it’s a matter of choice of style. I appreciate your sharing that piece of information; really helped me.

  22. @Tola…illiant narrative,captivating story.

    Poor guy, imagine reliving your nightmare.

  23. … a truly catching story…

  24. Was this some sort of time warp or was he merely have a recurring dream?

    Really enjoyed it and I like how his thought process was similar without being identical the second time round.

    I wonder how long the cycle will go on for?

    1. @h0n3ydr0p5, sometimes, when I write a story, I like to leave the interpretation to the reader’s imagination, meaning that there are several valid ways you can interpret the story.

      – Maybe he was having a dream, woke up, and went outside, and nothing is going to happen to him. (This is the view of the reader who doesn’t believe in the supernatural).

      – Maybe the dream is a foretelling, and he will be killed. (This is the view of the avid reader of the supernatural.)

      – Maybe the loop is endless, and he keeps on waking up just before being killed. (This is the view of the reader of science fiction.)

      So take your pick. :)

  25. Uyiosa (@wordsfromuyi)

    @TolaO, “Clapping my morrafurring hands right now” great job men. I think Musa smiling at the end, leaves me to believe that he had some deep layered inclination to what was going on. I truly enjoyed how you eased the dream into the readers mind. Subtle flow, something I have been trying to do. To me, you have revealed some of your tricks. You also on the other hand put me into a state of quiescence. Easy flow writing, is what I have learned with this story. Musa is definitely a mysterious character. He might be walking on a shaky ground, dreams are not for mere men to walk on. Either ways I’m rooting for him, Dan iska. lol
    but come, na wa for Musa’s brother, even for dream the guy dey mess up and down…
    Again more inspiration to you.

    1. I’m glad you liked it, @wordsfromuyi, and I’m even gladder that you find it useful in improving your writing art.

      Thanks for reading.

  26. glow (@anyieinstein)

    My oga@dtop, great piece there. I guess the earlier comments have taken care of the helpful suggestions. For me, though I guessed it was a dream, i really enjoyed the story. And hmmmmmm, the work you gave us… To complete the story based on our imagination. Help us nah. I love your writing style

  27. @tolaodejayi. I sent a message to you some months ago but you didnt reply. I hope you honour this. I wish to have a discussion with you about a writing project. Thnx.

    1. Hi @fadehan,

      This is coming terribly late, but I have been away from the site for a while. I guess the reason I wasn’t notified of this post was that you didn’t use my handle @tolao.

      Sorry about the delay; please let me know if you still want to get in touch.

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