10th October, 2016 Writers

Dear Sleepless girl on pink pajamas,

The clouds are dark and mummy just pecked you good night. Somewhere in your heart you scream 'stay mom! don't leave me in the dark' but her eyes are veiled with sleep. She tucks you in like every good mother would. You look deeply into her eyes, calling out to that part of her that could possibly read minds. She walks out of the room with a smile only a proud mum would wear.

Its just you now. Your shadow is gone. The silence of the night creeps into your room and swallows up every possible sound. Your eyes are wide open as though you were expecting a monster. are.

The door grumbles as a strange being lays his hands on it. You have been hushed by fear so screaming is not an option. You feel strange under the blanket. There's an alien in bed. You struggle to push this hand away but he lays another. You fight in silence with teary eyes begging for mercy. He covers up your little mouth with his giant palm, burying every plea down your throat. He thrust himself into you like a sword, piercing your innocence and beheading your conscience. He slips out of bed like an oversized pant on a toddler's waist, bends over and tells you 'tell mum and you're dead'. Your courage though as little as a mustard seed turns on the light and there he is, the devil himself clothed in human flesh,staring at you lustfully,wanting another second of the torment and just then, mummy steps in to pick her cell phone. 'She had a nightmare' plays on the background like the soundtrack of a comedy skit'. Mum holds you close and tells you it was just a dream. She ushers the monster out without cutting off his limbs first for walking into your room or even stabbing his heartless chest till he bleeds to death for sending you to the grave before you even turn ten. 

Its morning already. Your white sheets now have a touch of red. Mum is happy cause she believes you have just been matriculated into womanhood. She throws a party to make you feel better. You're standing with a knife ready to cut your cake. He's standing beside you playing the 'father of the celebrant'. Your clean palms are ready to have a touch of red. You make a wish and cut your cake. He turns around to hug you but meets the cold hands of death. You are but a little girl and was told murder is a crime. You run away from home for fear of being arrested and imprisoned. Mum has disowned you. The world has forsaken you. 

You're curled up on a bench, alone in a deserted road in the middle of a cold night, wishing someone could hear you. The cloud seems to have swallowed up your prayers. The walls have gone deaf. You're tired of life. The blade is sharp enough to split open your wrist. You take one last look at the world you were born into. You watch as the shiny object kiss your skin as your thoughts feeds their passion. Its slowly finding its path into her. 


Before they finally crown their act with sweet bliss, look up to the sky. There's a hand reaching out to you. Its been there this whole time but pain won't let you set your eyes on it. Take hold of it, break the chains of fear, take a flight away from fright and rewrite this story, dear sleepless girl on pink pajamas.

Abuja, Nigeria

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