Category Archives: TM WRITES

Who Killed Dana Bala? – 4




CHIEF Superintendent Charles Kanayo has just left the Imo State University Teaching Hospital where he’d gone to speak with the Pathologist attached to the State Police command, Dr. Denis Chikelu, on the autopsy findings so far in the Dana Bala case.

Dr. Chikelu hadn’t had much for him, and he hadn’t really expected much either, it had barely been twenty four hours since the body had been deposited by his team at the hospital. Well, however little the information he had, he wanted to update Fr. Chrys on them. So, slipping out his phone as the Police Sergeant on the driver’s seat of the Hilux van sped through the light traffic towards their Station, he dialled the Priest’s number.

“Good morning, Father.” He greeted once the call was picked.

“Good afternoon, Charles, how are you?” Fr. Chrys responded. “Are you on the road?” He asked, hearing the noisy static from the other end.

Charles pushed off the file he had on his laps onto the seat and tried to stretch forward his legs. “As a matter of fact I am, Father. Actually I’m on my way back from the Teaching hospital; had gone over to speak with our Pathologist there.”

Who Killed Dana Bala? – 3



 FR. Chrys was staring at the boy with a stupefied expression on his face. When Cyprian made a nervous sound by clearing his throat, he jerked a bit, recollected what they were doing—having a confession.

“Please go on.” He managed to say.

Cyprian bent his head once more and started to speak…


AFTER Dana had so carelessly announced to the other boys that they were… doing it and they’d both looked at him like the worst sinner on earth, he’d left them and went back to his room, pacing, fuming and swearing. And crying in between.

Anthony had looked angry.  No, he’d looked disappointed.

Hurt and wounded at the disappointment he’d seen in Anthony’s eyes, Cyprian marched to his own bed and dropped into it. The spring underneath squeaked but he hardly paid attention. Of course Anthony was disappointed and that was because in spite of all his admonitions and counsel, he’d gone right ahead and did the one thing he always warned him not to do—broken the sixth commandment.

Who Killed Dana Bala? – 2




IT was about 6:55 p.m. The Mass for Dana had ended some twenty minutes ago. With the Mass over, the entire household had gone straight into the house to begin preparations for supper. Fr. Chrys hadn’t joined them—he had no appetite. Instead he’d chosen to lock himself in his study room to have a quiet time.

He was sitting there now—inside the small room with only a desk and three chairs, a book shelf and a wood-frame hanger for his most commonly used Priestly garment. He was reading Peace of Soul by Fulton J. Sheen. He’d read it before, but usually reread it whenever he was feeling despondent. The quiet, candid words had always been a kind of soothing balm to his heart.

A hesitant, soft tap came at the door. He raised his head and stared at the dark mahogany door for a moment.

Sighing, he said. “Come in.” Not bothering to ask who it was. He’ll find out soon enough.

One More Time… And Forever – 10




He thought he had a right to her. He’d never thought so before when they were together. In those days, he thought of her as he thought of any woman he dated—only as a sexual partner.

He was a man and sex was important. Sex was natural and women were there to satisfy that natural yen.

But she’d changed that. Without him noticing; not consciously enough at least. He’d stayed with her longer than he’d stayed with any of his lovers. He’d fallen in love with her, like he’d never fallen in love before. Like he would never again fall in love. He’d run away from her and from that love. But he couldn’t escape. Not her and not that love.

And so, he thought, now, that he had a right to her. As she had a right to him. For him, there was to be no other woman. For her, he was the only man.

Maybe thinking that way made him arrogant.

All right, it wasn’t ‘maybe’, Chima granted with a snorted sigh as he smoothly overtook the Kia hatchback. He was acting arrogant. Thinking arrogant. Definitely showing himself to be self-assured and over-confident to the point of haughtiness.

One More Time… And Forever – 9




The day she found them together, Marie was astride Chima, her naked butt arched back and she riding him in a slow-fast-paced rhythm, and Chima making grunting noises that melded with her own.

The air had reeked with the smell of sex. Raw, naked, dirty sex. But it was her svelte naked body, that silhouette of lean, fluid muscles, that had rendered her immobile. For a moment, she couldn’t define the length of that moment, but for that timeless moment, she had lost her ability to breath, her ability to think, even her ability to feel.

It had looked like a slow-motion movie where the actors where doing a dance that involved undulating movements.

Then he had moved his head, he had seen her and he had called out her name.


One More Time… And Forever – 8



Chima was as moody as the devil. Moodier if that was possible. He prowled his office attached to the Dreams Table Water factory like a bear with a boil on its arse. That was Uche’s description, grunted out a minute ago and both him and his irritating comparison were making Chima’s mood worse.

“So, it’s certain now that she’s dating this Bernard guy?”

Chima growled a cuss, kicked the bin he had by his table.

That was his response and Uche took it as such. “Damn, I did say you were going to run her into the arms of another man if you hounded her too closely.” He said, then blew out a breath and added in a considering tone. “But might be she really wants this guy and is not after running from you at all.”

“She doesn’t want Naeto!” Because the temptation to stamp his foot itched, Chima planted both feet in place on the wood tiled floor. “She saw Marie with me at Zen Garden and misread the situation.”

Ndubuisi – 7

The days have been drowned in a long bout of relentless downpour. It had rained all of Sunday evening and that rain had escorted them home from Osita’s place in Idemili. The after-effect of the rain had given Ndubuisi a poor case of catarrh that had lasted until Tuesday. The catarrh was gone today but the showers of rain persisted. The school was half empty of children because many had obviously been kept back at home by their parents and guardians. “Utter laziness and lack of dedication.” Headmaster had grunted when she’d gone to run an errand for him. “Will they keep them back from the farms and markets too?”

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