Skip to main content

MALICE

By




I remember dialing'911'. All too clearly, I recall shaking like a featherless bird on a cold rainy morn. I still hear the chucked up sound the bullet made as it hit hard. I can still feel his lifeless body on mine. Just like yesterday, I can tell exactly how blood gushed from his throat, only I won't. I can still see the bedsheet soaked in thick red hemorrhage. I had killed him. I had murdered my very own father. But like lightening on that rainy morning the pain was lifted as soon as it came. I can still feet my feet go numb, lying naked beside the now polluted matrimonial bed that once was my parents'. 
Seconds... Minutes... Maybe hours.. They came for me. Their siren driving me to near madness. I was soon handcuffed and in my bloody state, driven to my cell. I recall being questioned time and time again, but no one had to know. No one. Mother had said that I was the heir now. She said it was my responsibility to uphold the name of the family. But she knew. She watched him torture me, and with tears in her eyes. She knew every bit of what happened. She had a very bad cancer, I knew that much. I reckon she explained that she couldn't please him anymore. Now and again, she'll call on me... She'll say she loves him and never wanted to watch him leave. She said I needed him as much as she did. So she let him have me. Again... And again... And again.... I was used to sustain the marriage. A marriage that had long fallen apart, only she couldn't accept it. 'No one must know', she would whisper after the torture. Now seated on this very floor, tears refuse to find its way down my cheeks, because even though my freedom has been snatched,in this cell I've found the freedom I've always sought,a place even he can torture me no more.
Okunlola Azeezat Olayinka_Zeeyola

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

VOICES WITHIN MONOGRAPHS

By
VOICES WITHIN MONOGRAPHS. In this library alone I sit, Quiet  and respite I seek, In shelved thoughts I find my muse, Every word,my spirit amuse, In delightful unison,my fingers lift, The letters ,my eyes caress, The smell of history, my heart accepts, But wait, The silence is no more, The sweet piercing silence is no more, Now I hear drum beats, No, no, heart beats, Poco a poco, Forte forte, Crescendo, In quandary I turn left and right, Seeking out the source aright, Allegro allegro, Now I hear screams, Wails and cries, Tales of agony, stories of regret, The intent screeching of tires, The deafening sound of gunshots, The screams of a woman in labour, The outcome of vengeful harbor, My blood turns torrent, My brain short of current, Buckling under me, my knees give way, On the floor I lay, in one drifting sway, Imagery holds me captive, My mind a willing accomplice, In my head, the four cardinal po...
Post a Comment
Read more

My Africa

By
Image by Majek Poet: Okunlola Azeezat Olayinka _Zeeyola
Post a Comment
Read more

NSPP - Nigerian Student Poetry Prize

By
JUDGES FOR THE NIGERIAN STUDENTS POETRY PRIZE (NSPP) 2018 Poets in Nigeria (PIN) is pleased to announce the judges for the 2018 edition of the Nigerian Students Poetry Prize. The judging panel, chaired by Ismail Bala, includes hülya n. yılmaz, Soji Cole, Kukogho Iruesiri Samson and Saka Aliyu. • Ismail Bala writes in English and Hausa. He teaches English at Bayero University, Kano, Nigeria, where he specialises in modern and contemporary poetry, and literary theory. His poetry and translations have appeared in the UK, the USA, Canada, India and South Africa, in journals such as Poetry Review, Ambit, New Coin, Okike, A Review of International English Literature and Aura Literary Arts Review. Born and educated to university level in Kano, he did his post-graduate studies at Oxford. He is a Fellow of the International Writing Programme of the University of Iowa. • Born in Turkey, hülya n. yılmaz presently serves as full-time faculty at Penn State and as the Director of Edit...
Post a Comment
Read more