Shot in the Heart
23rd June, 2015

This was the start and spark of my first love; I fell hopelessly in love with this girl, bombarding her with calls and texts subsequently. Sometimes, I’ve to save money meant for my meals to make calls and send texts; my impecunious situation was never a setback. She reciprocated, and I fell head over her ready to make her the woman I would spend the rest of my life with. The relationship was blissful although it came with its ups and downs, but we were ready to break up and make up. The funny thing was that, this love turned me into a moron, begging her even when she was wrong. Just like Carl Max “Religion being the Opium of the Masses.” Love was my opium in this case; I was ready to be imprisoned by love. Six months later, she agreed to come to my house, so intoxicated I was, I felt like queen of England is about visiting me. One week of my upkeep was spent on preparing to receive her; I never cared, even if I had to spend my school fees on her.

Saturday, 25th June, is the D-day. Patiently I waited for hours before I heard a knock at the door. First I chuckle, rush to the mirror, comb my hair and proceed to the door to welcome my bride. “Brother good morning.” The little boy, looking poverty-stricken said. “My mother sent me to ask you to please give us matchstick.” That’s my neighbor’s son. To kick him like a football was the first thing that came to my mind, but on a second thought, “get this hell of matchstick and fuck off my abode.” I ran back toward the kitchen and brought the whole pack of match boxes I had and handed them over to him. “Go, if you want, use all of them.” His leaving my door is my concern. Then I retired on my bed waiting for my bride, just like the enthusiastic ten virgins waited for their grooms. “ko, ko, ko, ko.” A light knock at my door, it’s in my dream, but I woke up, the same, sounding at the door. The knock is so soft and light, I knew it was that same little boy coming to return the matchbox I lent them. This time, my anger has gotten to my nostril; I jumped up picked the broom, ready to flog the boy for his disturbance. “You, little boy.” I shout, opening the door aggressively. Behold my bride standing elegant in blue denim on denim pant and top. “Please will you marry me?” If I had a ring that moment that would have been the exact words I would I’ve said. “Please come in.” I said at last. “Sit down and make yourself comfortable.” Her bold smile is sending a chill down my spine, I felt as if I was receiving anointing from heaven. “What do I offer you?” I’m already at the door to my kitchen, to unleash all the goodies I bought for her. “Don’t worry.” She said still standing up. “I am sorry; I am inviting you to my wedding, on the first of September, 2013.” She hands over an envelope to me. Continues…………

Anambra, Nigeria
  • A romantic story captivating and suspenseful, replete with life lessons.

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