Showing pages tagged "alewahouse"

The Night Fiend

by kemo, published 2 months, 4 weeks ago


The consistent screams from the children's room had brought you back to reality as you were long gone in a deep sleep.

But you just had to lie down there for a while to confirm if it was a dream or not.

Then she called again, but this time in that soft and mild voice: "Mummy"!

And without thinking twice, you sprung up and gathered momentum and dashed into the room with the speed of light.

A mere guess could tell she was crying, as visible drops of tears were clustering around her eye lids.

"Mum I'm scared" she whispered.

"it's okay honey, mummy is here" you said while stroking her cheeks.

But why were you screaming? You asked.

But she shook her head and said:

"No mum, I wasn't the one screaming"

"it's okay honey. where is your doll?" You asked scampering around the bed.

Then she pointed to the floor and said: "it's under the bed".

Just then you stepped down on your knee and peeped under the bed.

And there she was, your pretty daughter, shivering while grabbing her doll so tight, and she spoke with a shaky voice:

"mum there is a monster on my bed"


by elcarimwrites, published 3 weeks, 2 days ago


As the sun hit the earth’s surface, I can feel it’s burning effects. I really wish I am home because it is becoming unbearable. As I cross over to the other side of the road so I can see vehicles as they drive by. Something catches my attention, something I’ll never forget even in my next life. I am staring at today’s paper. On its cover page is a picture of Desmond Temilola, fondly called Desmond Tee. I am gripped by fear on remembrance of my tragic experience with him.

It was sometime in January 2019. A week after my diploma exams. I was home and bored. AlI I did all day was, eat, sleep, chat, play games and write poems. I had no friends. I was always alone, especially when mum and Dad left for work. I decided to spend time on Social media. As I logged into my Facebook account, I saw that I had a friend request. I seldom get friend requests so I had to check this one out. It was from “Desmond Tee”. I went through his profile and I discovered we had a lot in common. We had the same birthday. We were both lovers of poetry, music, and a lot more. I accepted his request and in less than a minute he sends me a message and I reply. After five minutes of chatting, we were engaged in a conversation. I was having fun. It had been a while since someone kept me so entertained and engrossed in a conversation. Facebook had become my escape from boredom because of Desmond Tee. From chatting on Facebook to WhatsApp, and from WhatsApp to phone calls. Desmond was gradually becoming a friend I couldn’t do without. We made late night calls, sometimes talking all through the night. Months had passed, Desmond and I were still forming a connection and we were finally ready to meet each other for the first time.

Desmond Tee stayed at parliamentary at the outskirts of Calabar municipality local government area of Cross River State. He texted me his house address and on getting there, I discovered Desmond was different from who I expected to meet. The Desmond I met was so rich, owned six Luxurious cars of different models, a power bike and a bus. He lived in a duplex with multiple people in his employ. He never flaunted any of these on social media and it took me by surprise. He looked simple in appearance. I asked what he did for a living but Desmond kept evading the question. Being blinded by money and affection, I decided to stop pushing for answers and enjoy the moment.

Three months go by and Desmond finally told me the kind of business he was involved in. He said he was an black market organ dealer. He would transport organs taken from his victims to be sold at very high rates in Saudi Arabia and China. I was scared, but he promised never to hurt me on the condition that I tell nobody. His friends would always tease me about how much Desmond loves me. They told me he finds his victims on Facebook, makes them fall in love and become vulnerable, skins them alive in his slaughter room which was built underneath his garage, takes the internal organs while they’re still fresh and preserves them for exporting.

Three months had passed and everything seemed to be going fine, but I couldn’t accept what Desmond was doing and tried to talk Desmond out of it, but he refused and warned me never to talk about it again. I was really scared and decided to report him to the police. Unknown to me that Desmond had some police officers working for him. Desmond was livid when he found out i betrayed him. He sent hitmen after me. My life was in danger and I had to tell my parents about the mess I had gotten myself into. My father made arrangements for me to go stay with my Aunty at Victoria island, Lagos state.

Six days later, my mum calls telling me my father has been murdered. He was attacked by gun men on his way back from church. He died the next day after undergoing surgery.

I had so much hatred for the Desmond Tee I once loved but I was also very scared.

Desmond was arrested and his premises was searched but there was no evidence of the claims that were brought against him. The charges brought against Desmond timilola was of first degree murder and kidnapping.

It was a relief to me and my family and I returned to calabar.

It is four months after Desmond’s arrest and here I am, staring at a newspaper that says Desmond timilola has been found not guilty of the charges that where brought against him and will be allowed to go home.

I said to myself, “It’s time to run”!