Posted: January 10, 2014 in PROSE, TalesMen

by Moses Olarotimi Sheyzznote (Talesmen Crew)

It was a windy and dusty evening. All the exciting and rigorous activities of the day drew closely to an end. Traders packed their merchandise, locking their stores, some humming graceful tones. Buyers and visitors hurried along, thoughts of the rush hour hastened the pace of their movements. Friends and customers exchanged farewell remarks to one another as they departed on a lonesome quest to leave the market. Horns blared from the nearby garage, beckoning invite for any who cared to take a ride in their paths. It was rowdy and noisy, many wore warm smiles; the culmination of a blissful trading day, while the unfriendly faces of some told tales of misfortune, and the rest bore a haggard expression of ‘tomorrow will be better’: hope of uncertainty.

The setting sun radiated ember light like a blushing virgin after hearing a suitor’s thrilling romantic poem. It was a beautiful-scene, but none seemed to care until a sudden bang jeered everyone to a startled shock. Baba Muniru lay lifeless in his own pool of blood, a fresh gore at the back of his head oozing out blood uncontrollably. Young Muniru sat close to the still body of his father, crying; “Why is daddy not moving again? Mummy will be waiting at home. I am hungry, daddy lets go home.”
Men and women were seen taking to their heels; running helter-skelter as if possessed by demons; so much pandemonium, the result of a sudden bang from an unknown source.

No one cared to discover what disaster had befallen Baba Muniru, except for little Muniru, wondering what could have happened to his Papa. Head gears and scarves danced about, tossed by the rhythm of the wind, flying shoes and goods were seen higgledy-piggledy all around. Everybody for themselves! Crying children everywhere, unattended to by running parents, the chaotic scene became a living hell as another thunderous bang echoed in the air making the day grow suddenly dark…


Today is 24th of March, 2006. Its two days since my first obligation as an Akonian. Let me tell you how it started.

‘Allah-hu-hakbar’, the cacophonous blare from the horn speaker of a nearby mosque jolted me back to consciousness. I found myself on my hostel apartment mattress, dressed as if I was ready for an outing. Still under the dizzy nature, I stole a glance at the wall clock and what I saw jeered me out of bed. My blur sight scanned the room, and my memory jogged back, ‘I never remembered returning to this room last night after the Akoni Conference’. I shook my head, slumped into a nearby chair to have a thorough replay of last night escapade. It’s been a fourteen hours sleep, and I have missed two lectures for today, poor me!

My head ached and I decided to go take a shower. Taking off my T-shirt revealed a startling shock; my shoulder bore the fresh symbol of an Akoni smeared into my skin. It hurt and burned so much. Now my memory played back to the events of last night. Still pondering while taking off my trouser, revealed another surprise. A note fell from my jean pocket as I pulled. “Mission 101- beneath the last seat on the left roll of lecture hall 002. Check by 6p.m”, was the content of the note.

I walked into the cafeteria like a zombie, all who saw me felt I was in dismay. I sat quietly at a corner, buried in deep thoughts of what great bizarre awaited me. Silence fell upon the hall as Moshood a.k.a Macho pranced into the scene, most of the student present began to stumble out in fear, ‘Macho don’t just walk about at day time, he is either after something, or something is going down’, goes the normal saying on everybody’s mind as they stared. He walked straight to me, bent over and whispered in my ear. None heard what was said, but the bewildered shock on my face as Macho trampled away wearing a devilish grin bore the message of doom, ‘Arinze don enta gbege with the Shivon’, muttered a voice in the hall,

‘Chai! Na Akoni number one hitman be dat o’.

The parcel was firmly plastered beneath the seat, and it took a careful moment to neatly get it off. ‘Whatever was in this parcel is definitely not going to be fun’, I remember thinking as I walked through the life-less hall, making a head way for the exit door. None of my roommates were home yet, and I felt a bit relieved for the first time that day. I switched on my rechargeable lamp once I managed to unlock the door and firmly shut the door behind me.

I sat at our reading table, and poured out the contents of the parcel; a gun and a piece of folded note. I scrambled to my feet, my hands locked together on my head, ‘I don die!’ It took some minutes of deep thinking to summon courage. I remembered what Macho told me earlier that day, and I picked up the note to read.

“Three bullets in the gun. One for the target, second for your escape, third for you if you are about to get caught. Make it a clean job, no failure allowed.

TARGET- Thunder; rivalry hitman of Da’capons fraternity, killer of our Shivon ten years ago.
LOCATION: Ajanlabe Central Market.
TIME: 6:30p.m (rush hour) tomorrow.
SPECIFICATION: Assassinate Baba Muniru alone.” – MACHO (SHIVON)


*Moses Olarotimi Sheyzznote is a writer and founder of Sacred Parchment Concepts. He is based in Lagos, Nigeria. And he believes that the world can be united through golden letters of words.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise without the written permission of the publishers.

Lyriversity — Liberty of Creativity

  1. Emeka says:

    That’s was a great write

  2. Chris Tilewa says:

    Good one. Is this a part of a larger story??

  3. Sheyzznote says:

    Wow! What an honour, my submitted story finally graced this awesome site, I’m so honoured. Thanks to all who read and took time to drop a comment, it sure would encourage us as writers.

    @Emeka thanks for reading
    @Chris am glad you found the tale exciting, that’s all so far on the story, but if there be a popular demand as to a continuation, I might do something about it.

  4. ddammii says:

    Good one dear. Keep the pen writing

  5. wizardcalidad says:

    that Timi was bestowed a sacred mind controlling sacred quills..u rock bro

  6. Abd-afeez says:

    I didn’t remember reading a story, I only remembered watching a film, that’s to tell how vividly the story expressed it’s plot, suspense was all over the place and you yet ensured every of the build up was dramatic. kudos Mr Timi, this write is top notch believe me, keep it up.

  7. Ezeamalukwuo says:

    This is a good story, one I enjoyed very very well. I feel that Muniru was shot dead, yes…because the Story told us that his lifeless body lay motionless on the ground. I feel for the case of suspense that “Lifeless” should have been removed..so that it now reads; his body lay motionless in his own pool of blood. At least that will keep us wondering if he is actually dead or something.

    Nice write up still, I wish you will write more.

  8. Anene Francis says:

    Nice story, well presented. I love the suspense… The main character, Arinze, seem to have been brainwashed and used as a zombie for cult activities. For known cult members to be parading around the institution without fear, it must be very notorious beyond the checking of security out fit there… As to the question, “wetin do baba Muniru”, he was paid with the same coin he paid others years earlier,… Arinze may have been shot also (subsequent episodes may clarify that part)… Good work

  9. timnwaobilo says:

    where the remaining naw?
    Who cut dis story naw?
    Oya, action.
    How dare you wet my appetite so, and leave me with only appetisers for main meal, and peanuts for dessert!
    More…please …fill my plate joo…ejoo.

    Mr Moses, how do I learn from you?

  10. Smog says:

    The tension feels so real like its a true life story/event I’m trying to recall…
    Well done writer!

  11. Sheyzznote says:

    Thanks friends for all your comments, I do appreciate your time to read this piece of work. Watch out for more!

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