256: Cumi

My name is Deborah.
It was my first time. I only needed this time to throw into the ocean what had been an abomination to me previously. Just this one time.

I got caught... 

17, I met and started to experience these specie of human beings. The unsatisfied, the greedy, the perv Specie of the homo sapiens or like my sister will call them "Dirty Old men". I got the occasional winks. "Let me drop you by your house" and all that was fine until it became within close proximity.

18, I started an Internship. First day of work, met with my line manager, supervisor and overall Manager of the Department. It all started with little campaigns as entrusting me with the key to his office, commenting on my innocent look, asking to be his typist in my spare time leading to me earning his Trust - Maybe a little too much, so much that he left a pornographic clip playing in one of his 'Come and stay in my office while I go out' routines and said "Whatever you see there should not leave this Office"

I was wise enough to run before he demanded I do what I saw in the video clip...

I got dragged to the Master...

19, I started my 2nd Internship uncermoniously. On a faithful day, walking into his office to report some work done, He 'pinned' me to the wall in his office. Trying to convince me to kiss him, he placed his hand on his member trying to show me his hard-on.
"Look what you've caused" He said.
I managed to free myself from the 'pin down' without kissing him. Few days later, 2 cute boys and a woman with a protruding belly walked into the office, they were his family but he hadn't been wearing a ring.

"I noticed your countenance dropped when you saw my boys, you didn't do anything. You shouldn't feel bad" was what he said to me when he called me later in the evening.

I was disgusted.

I fell to my knees...

20, Messages going back and forth. I like him, He likes me. He also has a family.

We are not having an affair, we just acknowledge and a couple of flirtatious text messages and calls doesn't do anybody any harm. It was only a matter of time before we took the 'passion' out of the text messages and into reality. It felt good, good enough for me to meet up a 2nd time and a 3rd...

4:00pm Friday, 24th August, 2001

Deb: Hey You.
P: I was just thinking about you
Deb: really? What about?
P: I miss your lips
Deb: hmmm... 
P: Available tomorrow?
Deb: Yes, Time?
P: 6pm. Rm 256. Same place.
Deb: See you Then.
P: :) 
. . .

bang! bang!! 
On the door.
"Are you expecting anyone?" I asked as I stood up to open the door. Once I unbolted the door it flung open and shouts filled the atmosphere.

'Husband snatcher' 
'Useless girl' 
'They' dragged me to this mysterious looking man

I fell to my knees...

I fell to my knees in his presence drowning in the guilt and thought of what will befall me in a minute or 2, he turned his back to 'them' that dragged me down to him after saying something to them that I didn't hear and gradually the shouts died down and you could hear them leave, one after the other. I trembled and still couldn't lift up my head.

I flinched when he tapped me.
"Where are they that accuse you? Has no one condemned you?"

Still confused at what just happened or who this man is "No" I replied

"Neither do I, Go and Sin no more"

I stood up and glanced with curiosity at what he scribbled on the sand

"256"
I looked up at him again and he smiled and said

"I know all"

***Cumi is based on a true life story using John 8:1-11 as a backbone***
What stood out for you?

Have you come to an end of yourself? Have you come to a point where nothing else seems to be working out and you've tried all you could? Click to meet GRACE

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#TruthSeries: Beneath the cloak

Whats beneath your cloak?

Life as it seems we all walk the street of the earth with one story or the other with our dresses so elegant and our faces so beautiful and it never seems that we have issues with our lives but still we try and be strong have heard several cases of suicide in recent times in the country (Nigeria), this was not always the case recently it was the one that happened in a church some where in Abeokuta.

     The fake smile the child acting happy over a new shoe or a new bicycle maybe a PlayStation3 this happiness ends when you get tired of the new shoe or cloth and u don't have new CDs to play on your Console and the reason for hurt and pain is back and you realise it was never the console u required nor was it the shoes and clothes.

Who do we blame for a failed childhood? The parents or the child? In this series we will look at true life stories of kids below 18 that their childhood is not one to remember or talk about but these kids have lived with this memoir trying to forget with no one to tell or how to let the pain out.

How it all started...

Growing up was not a walk in the park as the third born of mother and the and the fifth of my father you would think I grew up knowing the right things to do and you would believe I had all the attention I could get but reverse was the case. As a young boy attention was far from me Father was never around mother spends the greater part of her day trying to make money and give us a good life but the actual life was neglected the life that should have formed the bedrock of my future having four brothers even talking about your darkest secrets of pain was difficult because they were never available to listen all my father did when he is home was give orders and when it wasnt followed we were severely dealt with. When I was five years old I had started witnessing violence there was no love in my home no where to seek solace I wouldn't blame my mum she just wanted the best for her kids I would witness my dad beat up my mum as a child of five with no love in his heart and who had no body to talk to I had just one play mate and she was my mums friends child which makes her my family friend I guess and her situation was similar to mine maybe leaving out the violence her father was never around too we attended the same primary school and I was just in primary 3 when we started the mummy and daddy charade I can still remember all the Time we spend in the toilet kissing and smooching nothing was on her chest though but nobody knew all this was happening and it was happening right under our parents nose every thing I tried with her were things I learnt from my brothers. 

This event that happened 19years ago probably started my not so proud eventful life a life where I constantly deceive myself that doing the wrong thing is right, a life where sadness engulfed so much that my mind became so dark, a life where pain is all I feel every time I remember the girls I laid my hands on violently beneath my garment lies dark secrets and thoughts beneath it lie pain and hatred for the kind of person I am underneath this garment is where my greatest fear reside. As I write this I shed tears because what I feel and how I feel tears me apart and I seem not to know who I am anymore. This is the begining of a childhood that was not so great a childhood of pain and emotional suffering. Do not laugh at my pain because many of us are not bold enough to talk about the pain we feel it took me 18years to have the confidence to write about my pain and still there is more.

Written by seun.

I am waiting for him to continue this..

Have you come to an end of yourself? Have you come to a point where nothing else seems to be working out and you've tried all you could? Click to meet GRACE

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The Brush

This was another story i wrote in those times. A big shout out to @DeboAj for pushing me even when i didn't feel like (i know i still owe you one more story), and to those of you that are reading this blog i appreciate it more than you can imagine, you'll should see the grin on my face when i know you read. it looks like this...

Thanks for that smile ;D

So, Enjoy The very short ''The Brush''
*******************************************************************************************************

I picked up the brush and it all went away, 
it was a whole new world, different from the one I knew.
All that mattered here was just my emotions, Creativity, colours and the brush.
The pain.
The hurt.
The stares.
The discrimination.
It all goes away when I pick up the brush.
I'm a man.
I'm an artist
And I'm gay.  

x_x What do you think?

Love.

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