The yawn stuck in his throat and Wilfred Ejezie froze like he had just made eye contact with Medusa. Moments earlier, he had been sleeping peacefully only to be rudely awakened, the noise and footsteps that pulled him from slumber came from within the compound he shared with other tenants. It was not the regular bustle of people starting their daily hustle, it was not the hopeful remonstrations of women returning from overnight prayers. The urgency sounded like a fire alarm and Wilfred reacted like he was the warden in charge at a fire drill. Not a fire fighter by any means, Wilfred was only familiar with the matches and plastic lighters he smoked his cigarettes and weeds with. A t-shirt, a pair of shorts and morning wood were the only equipment he rushed out with.

Wilfred stared puffy and cross-eyed at the small crowd.



His strabismus was to his disadvantage, the angry mob stared at a scruffy looking young man with eyes that wandered and descended on him.

“what is going on!”
“what have I done!”

Was stifled by numerous hands grabbing and tearing at Wilfred Ejezie. His pleas were subdued as many feet kicked at him. Bewilderment and pain toyed with his senses. He wondered if he was dreaming. Relentlessly, blows fell on his head and body. The pain in his ribs felt more than a pinch. The futility of the utility he attempted to activate was completely lost to him, for Wilfred was still trying to pinch himself as he sunk into oblivion.

Angela Okoli stared at her reflection in the mirror, and added a little more blush to her cheeks. She fluttered her fake eye-lashes at her reflection as pleasure and excitement continued to build in her ample bossom. She intended to make today’s Valentine’s Day merriment memorable.
There will be no escape for Clement. Tonight she was ready to ride with him to hell wearing nothing but hydrocarbon lingerie, provided those flammable undies can hang on before they reach the depths of sheol.

Clement stared at his wife’s cleavage and his mouth went dry. She must have rubbed some of that make-up on it. Angela’s mammaries were not only bulging through the low-cut dress, they were also glowing like ‘TAXI’ on the roof of a cab at night. The more he stared, the more her breasts seem to grow out of her shimmering dress. Short and revealing, the dress clung helplessly at the mound of her massive behind, he swallowed painfully. The way she leaned forward was playing familiar tricks with his now hard schlong, he forced himself to look away.
Angela was on a mission, he could tell. From the top of her wavy hair to the heels of her Aldo peep-toes, she was definitely going to turn heads tonight. His head was already in a tumble like the final noisy spin of a washing machine, he was beside himself.

“Isn’t that dress too revealing?”

“You could change it for something more decent… Something a married woman would wear!”

Clement was trying hard to be concilliatory, but his rage made him feverish. His nose hot with a blaze of fury he could not understand.
The air was crackling with the lethal static of sexual tension, but looking at them, one would think they were being gently fanned with the pink breeze of love.

Angela tried hard to hide her annoyance by pressing her full red lips gently together one more time. She straightened up, palms on her hips and wiggled slowly from side to side. The movement made her breasts bounce as if she was experiencing a pot-hole on the back of a motorcycle.

“I’m talking to you woman!” Clement was shouting this time.

“I want everyone to see what they are missing…I also want to have your full attention tonight”
She said mischievously while still regarding herself in the full length mirror.

“I don’t want you looking at any other woman at all this night”

“No skinny bitches!”

Angela added with a chuckle as she quickly turned and moved seductively towards Clement with a small smile of triumph on her face. Something warned her not to get any closer. Perhaps it was the steam coming out of his ears, or the crink in his brow. She did not care, Clement was her husband after all, and she could handle him on water and on land.

“Come on honey!
Don’t you like my outfit”

The slap when it landed ended her advance and sent her in the opposite direction. Lightbulbs exploded in her head and she tasted salt, warm salt. Angela was shocked and speechless.

“What did you do that for?”

Angela had taken great care not to raise her voice, she didn’t want to provoke him. The last time she had tried fighting back, with sound and claws, she had ended up in the hospital with her head the size of a basketball and face out of bounds. So she spoke to herself, asked herself questions and received no answer.

Moments later she heard the front door slam.

“Please come back” she cried to the empty house before dropping on her knees. After weeping to her heart’s content, she removed her shoes. She already knew that Clement had driven out without her. She was scared of the mirror now. In trepidation she opened her handbag and extracted a small compact. The small mirror shook in her hands as it saw her swollen face. It hurriedly retreated into the handbag. With her mind fully made up, Angela picked up her Blackberry phone and called Jeffery.

(To be contd)


13 thoughts on “CROSSFIRED WILFRED I

  1. Its good, I can tell this will be a good story. However, the relationship between
    discourse and the emergence of
    syntactic structure is somewhat missing. Writing a piece filled with suspense such as this requires a correlating discourse. P.S …..came ‘from within’.. From and within, that’s an unnecessary repetition.. The 2nd part has to be better!! Apart from the writing itself, it feels like a good story.

  2. The suspense is good but the sharp intro of an entirely different scene if used often is not a good one especially as the story begins. Nice choice of words that makes it rich. Malick you are going places. I can tell just like the last one is going to be a thrilling piece.

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