I’d gone to bed early yesterday, smiling because I knew it was a big day ahead.
The alarm sounded at 4:00 am, and off it went, I wanted to enjoy this sleep and every bit of it.

This day would be my last.

Soon I was jogging round the neighborhood.

It’s a pleasure to die fit. Gasping for breath, I collapsed into the nearest chair, allowing it feel my weight.


The clock ticked 6:00am, time for some fruits, I eat healthy you know. Lazily, I went about the chores and had a breakfast of oats and baked bean balls.
By noon, I had my regular afternoon tea preparing for the much awaited hour.

I stared at my favorite clothes, neatly ironed, lying on the bed. I picked up my phone, switched on my data and went online, I would uninstalled all social networks including insta, snap chat, and the likes.

I got through my Facebook notifications, read all messages, but didn’t reply any. Sent new friend requests and browsed through walls. The memes pages was hilarious, reacted Haha to those funny uploads that got me laughing. WhatsApp had a similar experience. Read through messages and groups, but didn’t reply any. Snapped some selfies, adding snap chat effects, did some editing and laughed at my puffed jaw. Reset to factory settings stared at me in the face, I made sure nothing was backed up as I emptied the content of my phone.

In my best clothes, an agbada with a matching fila, my Italian shoes, still sparkling as I bought them, I ate my last meal, wheat meal and egusi soup washed down with Johnnie walker, as I listened to my favorite music, KSA, Obey, and Fatai Rolling Dollar. I hit the dance floor, laughing at my funny moves.

It was the hour. How would I go? I wanted it to be gallant, but grand. Something more like, Popular psychiatric doctor and psychologist Dr. Saul Gyasi found dead, making the headlines. I had a German short gun with 3 bullets left from my time as a medical volunteer during the Zaire war years.

One bullet, is all that’s required, but I can’t get myself to use it, I might just forgive myself. What about using the leftover rat poison, it’s effective, No!

That would be too degrading I thought, dismissing the idea. The lagoon? It’ll be great dying brave but I’m afraid of heights and don’t want anyone saving me.

While figuring how I want to die, pictures of Mrs. Gyasi, and our daughters; Maggie and Donna appeared before me. As if in a trance I recalled how the Volvo car I allowed Mrs. Gyasi drive taxied off our lane, running into an incoming lorry.

Years after, here I am wanting to die. I pretended to be okay without my family, but today I must die.

Still pondering over my possible suicide option, someone tapped on me. I turned to my left,opening my eyes only to see my bunk mate asking if everything is okay, the others looking on from their beds.

Beads of sweat formed on my forehead, realizing it was a dream, I am fine, I replied and smiled to bed, happy it wasn’t real.

Written by Jefferson Waleson

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