Category Archives: Guest Story

Ricochet of Cataclysm – 10




“Katherine, news just reached me that ten thousand naira is missing from the managing director’s office and that you are also the last person to enter his office. What can you say about that?” Kelvin asked, sipped from his mug of water.

“What I can say about being the last person to enter his office that I don’t know of.” She met his gaze. “All I know is that he asked me to drop a file in his office, so I dropped it on the desk and left.”

“How about the ten thousand?” Kelvin focused striking eyes on her.

Katherine gave a short laugh. “How am I supposed to know as I walked in, dropped the file on his desk and left?” She couldn’t help the sarcasm in her voice.

His voice was calm. “You can confide in me, you can tell me about it. This act can mar all I cherish about you. I beg you to confide in me before it’s too late.”

Ricochet of Cataclysm – 9




Air escaped Katherine’s lungs as she stepped past the huge gate in relief. She should have known and taken a cab from home regardless of the cost. She was sure the cost was nothing compared to the embarrassment she got on her way to work.

The embarrassment, unnecessary politeness and invitation to bus chat. To top it, two guys had offered to pay her bus fare and asked for a phone number she didn’t even have.


She turned and her lips parted into an apologetic smile.

“Katherine, you’re actually the one, I thought I was seeing things.” Squinting, he scrutinized her.

Ricochet of Cataclysm – 8




“Come on, Katherine, I don’t see the part of a cleaner, is that a surprise?” Kelvin dropped the company customized fountain pen on the closed file before him.

Her gaze lingered on him before her response. “No.”

“Every child always has a dream one time or the other of being somebody in life and there is a point of realization. I think that should be happening to you.” He sat forward. “Don’t tell me it was to be a cleaner.”

“It wasn’t and I had a dream.” She replied flatly.

He couldn’t read from her facial expression and that was strange because he prided himself on being able to. “What happened?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t share.”

Ricochet of Cataclysm – 7




It was barely nine a.m. when the secretary called requesting her to report to the office.

Katherine entered the office bracing up for the worst. The secretary was filing her nails.

“You sent for me.” Katherine said, the lady never ceased to amaze her.

“You, I just don’t know what you think you are.” She hissed and took a letter already enveloped from her table. “The AD asked me to give this to you.”

“Let me have it.”

Katherine hand dropped.

The secretary jumped to her feet. “Good morning, sir.”

Ricochet of Cataclysm – 6




Basirat Adam was seated beside her brother and her body rocked as she muttered prayers with eyes shut. She was the second daughter of Moshood.

Yerima had his head buried in his palms.

Kafayat sat beside her mother with head resting on her shoulder, while her palm clung to her hand. Tears trickled down her oblong pretty face, the memory of Prince’s burial dominant in her mind.

It was four days after Moshood was admitted and only the day before, they had been allowed to see him. The depreciation within days astonished them so much that the hope they had clung to dashed into pieces. How could a strong man who had served the country with the better years of his life now have to depend on medical equipment and medications for survival?

Ricochet of Cataclysm – 5




“I’m calling from Surulere. How’re you?”

“Cool. Which game would you like to play?”

“The game with the eleventh commandment.”

“You know the rules of the game?”


“Okay, your sixty seconds start right now. What do you think of the government banning street trading?”

The ringing of the phone made Katherine sigh because the HC had to reduce the volume of the radio disrupting her best game show on radio.

“Hello, good afternoon, sir. Oga, wetin I do? You de vex with me—sorry, sir–hein—she dey—okay, okay. I don hear.”

Ricochet of Cataclysm – 4




The retired Air Marshal, Moshood Yekini was seated in the sitting wing of his magnificent mansion, sipping water and watching a documentary on TV when his wife, clad in iro and buba in a black plus greenish lace sashayed into the room. She set her gold clutch on a glass side table.

“Welcome love.”

“Thanks.” She exhaled and kicked out her shoes. “Anytime I attend their birthday parties, just seeing my grandchildren come together make me dance and dance.” She chuckled. “I even learnt new dance steps.” She set her feet on the hand-woven jute jagged Chevron rug that was hazelnut in colour, and humming, swayed her hips from side to side, flexing her legs one at a time and twirling.

His eyes widened before he burst into laughter.

She slumped into the sofa, laughing with him. “My dear, it was fun.”

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