A ROSE THAT BLOOMED ON UNDER A SOFT SUMMER SUN

 
                     

 

        About the egress of summer in the year 2012 on a softly sunny monday morning, Frank Falana, after a mare infested night,woke up in a worn out manner, to kiss the lips of dawn. The morning breeze came caressing his frame through the partly opened French windows which ventilated his room, And as he stretched the stress of the night mares that marred his night, he felt a little doze of relief course through his nerves with crackling cacophonous sounds escaping his body. Finding his way into his convenience, he applied a large line of paste on tooth brush, in a bit to brush off the stark sourness and bitterness that pervaded in his mouth, the paste however tasted like dung as he felt himself struggling to hold back the mounting pressure of puking. For all he knew, the night mares he had had caused the strange strings of emotional irregularities that reflected in his actions and in actions . Finally, after having a warm bath, he felt much more relieved of the aura of disgust.
          Few, minutes later he mopped his muscled frame- that speaks of the body of an Athlete rather than the body of a press man, as the thought of the fact that he had missed his morning exercises and would require a make up for it later in the day downed on him.Really, keeping up physically with walk outs, push ups, press ups and a host of other body fitness exercises had a great effect on the personality eyed by every ladies man. And he famous for such frame wouldn't let down his guard on having regular exercises. Suits were his favourites ., and this very day he tried a grey french suit coupled with an Italian flat soul jax shoe with wonderful dark coloration .Picking up his brief case ,He gave himself a final examination in front of the mirror that hung in his closet- he felt good,seeing how he looked.
         Frank's office(City News Entertainment TV), was a thirty minutes drive,away from his residence and checking his time, it said quarter past eight-which in every sense meant LATE.Glad he wasn't on any special program and shift, he shook off the nudging feeling of lateness.Besides, he ranked highest amid their high profilers and meant everything to the owner of the establishment -Mr Eni Earnest Eja.

        He got into his Toyota Corrola car (2010 model) and fired the ignition but as he engaged the gear he could see his retired neighbour -Mr Bassey, wave him good bye. He reciprocated with the blaring of his horn. Seconds later he was fast snaking his way to his office.Frank ,for reasons he couldn't explain sped like hell,whenever he handles the wheel.And as he drove to his office, at incessant intervals he could hear angry drivers heaping curses on his head for his reckless driving- all that didn't matter to him, for he loved and enjoyed their lousiness, but to most their pain- to him it was justice for their mannerless behavior.
The traffic travelling through the same route to his office was maddening and the fact that Calabar amongst other state capitals in the country boasts of civility and mega-ness yet adorned with dirts displayed on my every corner of the street made him feel utter disgust for Calabar. His most striking point of hate ,however was the fact that crime could be easily percieved and seen as blood thirsty people now act real live action movies chasing one another with guns about the streets of Calabar with no specific reaction from the government in place to curb such diabolical madness.
At about two minutes past nine he negotiated his way into the parking lot of his firm,finding the most suitable spot-his usual spot so to say.But something was a bit off,someone seems to have swallowed pestle and thinks he can stand in his space and place.

An excerpt from my novel
         

(C) ifeoluseyi Ifeoluwapo Ifeyemi