A Truelove Story: My NYSC Teacher [Episode 1]



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It is 5:30 am, 30mins to my final parole. This, I am told is my last day on earth. They said a team of Rev. Fathers are coming to preach to us – condemned prisoners, to pray for our souls, so at least we can make purgatory.

There’s chain around my legs and hands, the chain whenever the draw it, peels my skin. On getting to the visiting room, they remove the chains. My fellow prisoners rush to their families with tears on their eyes. Saying their last good-byes, kissing their wives, touching their daughters and sons on the head. Telling them to be brave, the world is tough but they should struggle to survive.

My eyes water – as if someone is peeling onions close to me.

This is my last day in this world and there’s no one here for me. I am alone.

The Rev. Father is here. His hair is white. He looks hungry, even closer to the grave than I am. He smiles as I take a seat. “My Son you look well” he says smiling.

Is this a joke? Is he trying to make fun of me? I ask myself. I tight my fist ready to knock out his remaining teeth for this insult – asking me if I was well, when my hair looks like somewhere rat is doing picnic.

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This is one thing prison would teach you. To get ready to fight every minute. Inside the cell, we were always fighting –for food and against our food – especially when it is leaf mixed with cold water. With the mosquitoes at night –very fat, filled with our blood. And then the royal rumble with your fellow prisoners, especially when someone destroys the air in the middle of the night…serious world war.

Why did you do it? The Rev. Father asked. I became angry, smoke was coming out from ear. After spending 25years in Jail this old man is asking me why? I said to myself.

“What good will it do? I asked him. Just do your sign of the cross and let me die and later settle it with my maker”. Looking direct to his eyes, not looking away one bit. Suddenly, he held my hand –because he knew I had gotten angry. He held my hand as if I was a child, like my father used to do before I killed him.

…blood was everywhere. A kitchen knife dripping with blood was in my hand. Two bodies lay in a pool of blood, one on the bed soaked with blood from multiple stabbing.

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The other; Thelma, sprawled on the ground. She still looked so beautiful though she was about to die. Her laps robbed smoothly against each other by the sperm in her inner darkened thighs and blood was on her t-shirt, spreading. She lay on the ground naked except the male t-shirt she had on which was unbuttoned.

HER NIPPLE was warm and called my name Id…ris. Her stomach was inside, like a flat tray where I can eat salad from. I bent close to her, she said something. My eyes went hot, like I had inhaled cocaine. I pulled down my trouser and took her nipples into my mouth, they were hard and warm like Udara seeds under the sun. I sucked – first like I was drinking water from a feeding bottle and next like I was licking orange; squeezing and sucking. And then with my right hand, I travelled down and put one finger inside her, she welcomed it.

She was still warm and wet, thanks to the guy on the bed. When I had, had enough of her nipples, I slid inside her. She gasped weakly. Her vag-ina grabbed my shaft as if it was holding onto life. She was oh! So tight and lovely. Just like I had imagined, several times. I could feel the veins around my shaft like vegetable stems, vibrating with blood.

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I fu3ked her slowly and needy, then fast –ramming her into the bare floor, like it would be my last time. A cool gentle breeze blew around my brain, my eye balls danced. My leg stretched like I was having a convulsion. I released inside her. I got up, wore my trouser, looked back, she had a smile on her face. A cold smile – she was…

“The report said you ruthlessly murdered your victim” the Rev. Father said, in a calm voice, drawing me back to reality. My blood boiled, my nose expanded, anger and guilt roasted my whole body like bole. “That’s a damn lie!”

I shouted, “That’s not true!”

“Hey you there!” keep quiet before I knack your head! Came one of the guard who was watching over the prisoners. He wore a carton uniform with a green belt and a cap.

The priest closed the file and looked me dead in the eye. The hairs on my chest stood. For the first time his face was crumpled in a frown.

“Alright then”, the Rev. Father said, “tell me your story…”

The END!!

Watch out for Episode 2

Do have a great evening.


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