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Elda Stories Blog

Stories that gladdens the heart

POEM: INSIDE OUT

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I can’t help but remember
The memories we shared this ember
It stays there like white part of a cucumber
And it pains to remember

I remember when I meant a lot
More than the wife of Lot
You never mind if I had a hut
Now it all but hurt

When I can tell you my worries
And we laugh like sounds of lorries
Its just now memories
More expensive than the Tories

I see that smile
From a mile
And I start missing the smile
More than Tekno Miles

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POEM: TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN

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Hello, dear
Look over here
Do you know I got love to share?
Please listen to me dear

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I’m trying my best to forget
But your walk away, I don’t get
I notice you ’cause you are not a migget
I don’t need you cause of what I get

Listen to me
I’m pouring my heart out in a meal
This is just me
I’m not a cat to meow

Listen babe
You are my only barbie
I will care for you like a baby
I will not leave you, maybe

When I die online
Would you be offline?
Trying your best to stay in line?
Or just talking out of line?

When I die Israel
With a train hitting me in its rail
Not getting your last mail
Would you remember the nail?

When I die
Though it sounds like tie and dye
I will still wear my tie
Looking so fly

When I die over there
Don’t ask for me here
Just saying you don’t care
No matter the sand in my hair

LOVE DIED

Love lived in Biafra
Till that solider fired the first shot
Even in Afara
No one could take a shot

Love lived in North
Till someone who has no nut
Siting and hiding in a hut
Started to bomb the north

Love lived Libya
Till they felt Gaddafi doesn’t live here
Shouting and shooting here
Bombing and killing there

Love lived in us
Till we started living like cat and mouse
Playing each other like a computer mouse
Now, we can’t live in the same house

REPOST: THE TESTIMONY

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I stood up and straighten my navy blue shirt and walked with the best posture that I can imagine. I joined the queue as a slim lady on black gown joined this same queue, making me the third person. I unconsciously notice the beautiful stripes on the gown, turning it a school uniform of some sorts. The nose-blocking perfume of the man behind me kept oozing. I had to control myself from leaving the queue. The man, who was on a suit, with a white shirt to match, wore a look of one who just won a lot of money. He was just smiling to no one in particular.

Our church, an L- shaped complex with a golden painting round about every wall, stood majestically in the early morning sun. The first person on the queue had already finished narrating “the Lord doings” in her life and was stepping down from the platform but my mind was somewhere else, though I consciously moved forward with the others. I have waited for years to give this testimony. I have prayed, fasted and read, though nobody seems to believe the reading part.

I tried my best to remain calm, which was difficult in my present situation. I was so lost in thoughts. Who more can I thank if not God, as my pastor, a huge man with a blue suit and sitting not more than a foot from me, will always say whenever he teaches the Word.

The lady before me was called up next. I waited on bated breath for my own opportunity to thank God. I have imagined this moment for years, animating it alone in my room several times.

With the edge of my eye I noticed some members of the congregation whispering to themselves and occasionally nodding towards me. I smiled.

That was the moment I was called. I took a deep breath as I walked up the platform. I have finally gotten my testimony.

 

 

This story is in for the Etisalat Flash Fiction Prize. Kindly Open the link and like. Click here to read.

Four girls took lift in a car full of Engineers. Since no place available, they sat on each Boy’s lap.

After 5 minutes.

Girl1: Are you an Electronics & Communication
Engineer?
Boy1: How do you know?
Girl1: Your tower is communicating with my
Unreachable Area.
Girl2: Are you an IT Engineer?
Boy2: How do you know?
Girl2: Your Pen drive is trying to connect with my USB port.
Girl3: Are you a Mechanical Engineer?
Boy3: How do you know?
Girl3: Your Piston is trying to move into my cylinder.
Girl4: Are you a Civil Engineer..??
Boy4: How do you know?
Girl4: Your dam has broken and flooded my village.

THE TESTIMONY

Angry man in suit and tie with arms akimbo.I stood up and straighten my navy blue shirt and walked with the best posture that I can imagine. I joined the queue as a slim lady on black gown joined this same queue, making me the third person. I unconsciously notice the beautiful stripes on the gown, turning it a school uniform of some sorts. The nose-blocking perfume of the man behind me kept oozing. I had to control myself from leaving the queue. The man, who was on a suit, with a white shirt to match, wore a look of one who just won a lot of money. He was just smiling to no one in particular.

 

Our church, an L- shaped complex with a golden painting round about every wall, stood majestically in the early morning sun. The first person on the queue had already finished narrating “the Lord doings” in her life and was stepping down from the platform but my mind was somewhere else, though I consciously moved forward with the others. I have waited for years to give this testimony. I have prayed, fasted and read, though nobody seems to believe the reading part.

I tried my best to remain calm, which was difficult in my present situation. I was so lost in thoughts. Who more can I thank if not God, as my pastor, a huge man with a blue suit and sitting not more than a foot from me, will always say whenever he teaches the Word.

The lady before me was called up next. I waited on bated breath for my own opportunity to thank God. I have imagined this moment for years, animating it alone in my room several times.

With the edge of my eye I noticed some members of the congregation whispering to themselves and occasionally nodding towards me. I smiled.

That was the moment I was called. I took a deep breath as I walked up the platform. I have finally gotten my testimony.

WHEN A MAD MAN SPEAKS IN TONGUES

surpriseThe other day I came across a mad man speaking in tongues. Yes, I’m sure of it! He was “in the spirit” on that day.

It was just like other Wednesday. I was just coming back from church in my usual happy self, with my Beats by Dre earphones right across my head and listening to Ready to Praise by Mike Abdul. I got to the junction leading to my house, taking care not to be splashed with muddy water by reckless motorcyclists because it had rained earlier in the day and everywhere was muddy. Trust my neighborhood. Not much to say about it. It just seems like it was abandoned by successive governments. They only remember us during election campaigns. There’s when we can’t even sleep at night. Noise everywhere.

Well, on this day, because I work in the church studio, I was late in coming home. I had to take this route, which I don’t usually take because of the reckless abandon of dirt everywhere turning the untarred road into a mud pit.

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As I made to cross to the other side, I got sight of a man. He looks like he was in his early twenties but he was dressed in a tore and dirty white shirt and a pair of equally dirty blue jeans. He was shaking like a Nokia Touch phone on vibrations and uttering gibberish. Everyone kept away from him. I tried to recognize his face but it couldn’t register.
I removed the headphones and switched off my phone, drawing closer to him to get a better picture. Nobody even noticed me on my red Alobam polo with a pair of black jeans to match. Everyone was just watching the free movie, with some ladies giggling to themselves like it was funny.
I was so engrossed in the show that I didn’t notice when a friend pulled up to me and touched me. I was startled. I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“Guy, wazzup you nah? You be winch? Stop this joke nah”, I shouted. I saw the terror on my friend’s childish face.
“Oga, calm down nah. I never met to startle you. I just notice say nah you. I come make I hail you small’, he replied innocently. I apologized and turned back to the mad man. By this time, he was on the ground, unconscious. No one seems to care.

“Oh, nah that one carry your attention?”, my friend, his name been Uche, asked after he noticed how I turned my attention back to the man. Hearing that, and sensing he knew the man and his story, I turned and faced him.
“You know am?”
“Yes nah. Nah Kingsley be that nah,” he replied to my query. Kingsley? I have heard that name somewhere, I pondered in my mind.
At this moment, the man has risen to his feet and was cleaning his body. He was just pitiful to behold. His handsome face hide by dirt.
“Madness no good ooo,” I said and shook my head, turning to continue on my way home.
“Which madness? Taaarrr! Em no dey mad anything. Nah mechanic for the other street.”
I froze in my footsteps. It then dawn on me. I remember my dad speaking about a “young man”, as he called me, who had epilepsy. So, this was the Kingsley he was talking about? I turned again to look at the man again. Then I noticed the difference.
I left my friend without saying goodbye and I walked the few metres to my house. I kept thinking about what I just saw. Nobody wanted to help him, I kept saying to myself all the way home.
When I got home, my mum, seeing my face asked, “Chi, what is wrong?”

I heaved a sigh and replied, “I saw a mad man speaking in tongues.”

SHORT STORY: KEEP MY SHIRT CLEAN

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Two guys were drinking in a bar. As they were drinking, they started arguing, one guy pounce on his friend and started beating him.

After a long beating he realised that his friend was no longer breathing, he already died instantly. Then the guy started running with his shirt full of blood. Those who were watching the fight started chasing him.
He ran to the house of a Christian man, knocked and said,”Can u please hide me, i have killed a person and people are chasing me.”

The Christian man replied , “Where am i going to hide you in my one room apartment?”

The murderer said “There is no time to waste here, just think of anywhere you can hide me.”

After a long thinking, the Christian man said to the murderer, “Give me your shirt and take my shirt but remember to keep my shirt clean”

They exchanged their shirts. Then as soon as the Christian man opened the door, people started beating him and was badly injured that he was taken to the police station. From police station, the case was taken to court and the man was found guilty of murder and was sentenced to death.

The real murderer was safe at home but was feeling so guilty that he ran to the Court and said, “Can you please release that innocent man, am the real murderer”.

The judge replied,”Unfortunately it’s too late, the man is already hanged at last”.

He ran to the police where the man was hanged and for sure he found him dead hanging.

He knelt down and cried his eyes out and said to himself, ” You paid for my crime”

He remembered the Christian’s last words:
“KEEP MY SHIRT CLEAN !!!”
That’s how the murderer repented and became a christian!

MORAL OF THE STORY

This is what Jesus did for us. He died for the crime he did not commit on the cross of Calvary.

Niyi Amuda

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