Posts Tagged With: fear

In The Face Of Terror (III)

Sahara by Night Photograph by Thomas Young

Sahara by Night
Photograph by Thomas Young

The splash of cold water stung my face. My eyelids fluttered open in shock, and I gasped for air. I don’t know how long I was out, but I was lying on the floor and my left hand had been bandaged. The masked man was back. He stared down at me, arms folded behind him.

“My friend, are you ready to continue our discussion?”

“Sir, please, I’ve told you the truth.”

“Maybe.”

“And maybe I believe you”

He tossed a bundle of clothes on the floor, and left the room. The men barked orders at me as they stripped me of my own clothing. I smelled like a goat. One of them disappeared into a corner of the room and returned holding a bucket of water. The cold water stung me like a thousand needles. I washed what I could but I knew I would not be clean. Hastily, I put on my new clothes. A bag was dropped over my head. I heard the door open, and I was led out once again. Continue reading

Categories: In Series, Lil Pieces of Fiction | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 15 Comments

In The Face of Terror (II)

“Please don’t kill me”

“Please don’t kill me”

I kept mumbling this to myself like it were a prayer.

I no longer had any idea how long we had been driving when we suddenly stopped. One of the men grabbed my arms, shouting impatiently and none too gently dragged me out of the vehicle. I could feel the trail of hot piss flowing over my thighs as they began dragging me along the ground, again. I heard a door swing open just ahead and the floor no longer felt so rough and the voices of my captors seemed to echo as we moved along, as though we were in a corridor.

We stopped moving. I tried to raise my head, to listen, but I was suddenly slammed against a wall.

“Down!” the voice of my captor was a harsh bark. Continue reading

Categories: In Series, Lil Pieces of Fiction | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

In The Face of Terror (I)

ak-4deception-56792

 

This is not a story. So, if you’re one of those people hoping to pass the time by reading this, I apologize. Because this is right here. This is a moment in time.

It began with my last trip to the capital. The news of the day was that of a mass kidnapping by insurgents in a remote part of the country. Protests by citizens abounded, activists and critics alike called for the resignation of those in power, while the government had fingers being pointed left and right in search of the perfect scapegoat.

As an investigative journalist, it is my sworn duty to provide the public with both sides of any story. On that note, rather than follow the path tread by the greater number of my esteemed colleagues – dabbling into sensationalism with catchy front page titles, I decided to find a path that would lead me into the very mind of the dreaded insurgents.

Continue reading

Categories: In Series, Lil Pieces of Fiction | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

crybaby

“Why do you think yourself so special?”

“Weyinmi, what are you talking about?”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t understand. Everyone knows what I’m talking about, it is not you who will now not know.”

“The problem is that I am not everybody….”

She didn’t even let me finish.

“You see! You see what I’m saying!” Continue reading

Categories: Lil Pieces of Fiction | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 20 Comments

Udecide

Cross the road
You,
How long will you stand still
You can’t make it to the other side
If you remain on your side
You,
How long will you hold still
You can’t make any progress
If you make no move to progress
You,
What are you afraid of
Scared to fail
Go ahead and fail
Again
You,
Change is inevitable
You either make the change
Or face another’s change
You,
Move
It matters not which way
All you need do, is be on your way

Categories: Poetry | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

why cry

And to the least deserving of them we gave our years.
While those with honour languished in aloneness.
And our only reason was our fears.
We feared that we were unworthy of better men and purer women.
Our excuse was that we might soil these good ones with the guilt on our hands.
And so we forced our hearts to silence and thus deadened our conscience.
Gave ourselves wholly to our labour.
Grew our focus so sharp that our tunnel vision was total blindness.
So much so that when the very ones we’d abandoned,
operating on the very principles we’d betrayed;
when they brought us a chance for redemption.
We shrunk from it,
in fear that it could only be the manacles of our long-lost soul,
stretched forth to reclaim us once more.

Categories: Poetry, Private Journal | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

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