The Writer. Episode 1

© 2019 BY OCHIDI GRACE

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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I rushed out of my house gate in a haste.

“Shoot! I’m late. I’m late, I’m late, I’m late, I’m late” I announced loudly to no one in particular.

Looking wildly around, I searched for a cab or a bike or anything that can move fast, even a bicycle will do.

I was seriously, freaking, late.

You see, it’s really not my fault that I’m this late. None of this…… is my fault, it’s all my best friend “Sasha’s” fault.

She is wild and crazy, and funny, and friendly and wild… Oh. Wait. I’ve mentioned that already.

Anyway, this best friend of mine took me out last night. She wanted me to relax and have fun cause I’m always indoors. I hardly go out so she felt it was her responsibility as my best friend to make me or rather forced me to go out and have fun {Yeah, have fun indeed} With five shots of vodka and three margaritas going down my jugular, I sure did have fun. I was wasted before the night ended.

I woke up this morning with matching bands drumming in my skull, my mouth tasted like soured milk and it was 7:30.

My eyes grew wide as I raced out of bed and did half of my morning routine. Cause there was no time for me to do my full morning preparations which consisted of me applying one million and ten things to my face to make me look presentable.

So anyway, as I said before, I’m late.

I have an interview with one of the most respected honorable in Nigeria scheduled for 8:00 am this morning and she’s a woman. Yes, a woman. This woman is awesome. She has done so many good things for this country. And she really doesn’t care if the men in politics hate her. I won’t be surprised if one day she becomes the president of Nigeria. Now that is what I call fantastically awesome.

I stood outside the gate of my building which is a three-story building. My apartment is right at the top and I hate it. All the stress and hard work of moving up and down the stairs daily isn’t easy at all. It’s no wonder I prefer to stay indoors. Once I’m done from work and I’m home, I get comfortable for the rest of the night deciding not to step out again. The two trips of going up and down the stairs are enough for me in a day.

I live in Calabar. A very beautiful city if I must say. Its roads are marvelous, the streets are clean, and the people are friendly. Well except for the drunk that always sits right outside my building drunk out of his mind. And he is always very rude to everyone except me.

What? I’m special.

Anyway, where are these bikes or cabs? I’m really late.

I looked around once again hoping to see one when from behind me, I heard someone hiccup loudly.

I turned my neck to look at the person.

It was the drunk.

“You’re… l..l…late” he drawled drunkenly. Sitting slumped on the gate.

I stared at him.

The man was a mess.

“A.J good morning” I greeted.

A year ago, after I moved to Calabar, I encountered A.J every morning outside my apartment building. I gave up asking him why he’s always drunk cause his reply is always “Why shouldn’t I?”

That’s all he says. So yeah, I gave up.

“I…….s..s..said you’re late” he repeated drunkenly.

“I know” I replied, as I looked around in search of a bike or cab. A few days back, I was on the phone with Sasha telling her about my interview. A.J overheard me speaking to her. So it’s no surprise that he knows about my interview.

“Be care..f.f..ful, new job is n.n…not safe” he said in his drunken state.

It was a piece of odd advice but still, I felt I should heed to it. So I did.

I looked at him and a silent communication of agreement from my part passed between us. I nodded my head in a final agreement then faced back around in search of a cab.

Luckily, I got one. But it was a bike. I didn’t mind though. As long as it could take me to my destination it’s all right by me.

A while later, the bike stopped in front of a huge brownish/golden gate. It looked very expensive. I got down and paid the bike man, then I turned around to face the gate. I stared at it. Goodness me but this gate is huge.

I walked closer to the gate and was about to knock on it when I saw an intercom on its wall.

I pressed it.

Then I waited.

And waited.

Annnnd waited.

I didn’t get any feedback so I decided to do it again.

Then I waited again.

A boy on a bicycle rode past and yelled something.

I ignored him.

I pushed the button again wondering what the hell was stopping whoever was meant to reply to not reply back.

Just when I was about to bang hard on the gate, an electronic voice came through.

“Yes, who are you? And how can I help you?”

I rolled my eyes.

“My name is Ireyi. I have an appointment” I answered.

“Rolling your eyes on your first day? Do you really want this job or did you come here to just have a look around?”

What? What the….How did this person know I rolled my eyes?

I opened my mouth to speak. But I couldn’t formulate my words properly.

“I…I…I…I’m” I cleared my throat. Then attempted to try again. But instead, I heard the smaller part of the gate open.

“Get in” the voice demanded.

I quickly walked to the gate and got in. The gateman who opened the gate for me was in a uniform of which I can’t lie looked really good.

Standing beside him, I moved my eyes slowly around taking in the space of the compound. It was stupidly, outrageously huge.

About eight fleet of cars were parked side by side under an ash cool cover. These cars weren’t just ordinary cars, they were cars that looked expensive.

“Madam commot for road make I close gate abeg”

This was said by the gateman. I looked away from the cars to him.

I should get out of the way and move to where? I asked myself.

“Madam, you no hear me? You dey for road, I won close gate” he reiterated.

I kept looking at him. When I didn’t move, he hissed then began to close the gate making me get out of the way in a hurry.

Oh, that’s what he meant for me to get out of the way.

I looked at him apologetically saying, “I’m sorry I didn’t …”

He cut me off. “No wahala, just dey waka. One man go carry you go inside”

I nodded my head. Then I began to waka.



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