Okay, hello everybody! It’s two days till the End..hope you’ve sewn your Rapture clothes and made your Rapture Brazilian.. 😐
Bad joke.
Anyway, was looking through my old blog, again, and I saw this post I wrote on a very slow day in those days of early February while I went through severe heartaches and minor breakups, and well..I think you should read it.
For the Original post follow

For the rest of us lazy folks and of course, those with limited MB, here it is..*sic*..


It sounds like; “Help me..” but it keeps getting fainter and fainter, the sounds disappearing as though vanishing into some unknown abyss. And then without warning, the deep voice echoes out of the darkness; “She’s mine now..” Then the voice laughs, a cruel, hideous cackle that chills my bones and jolts me awake.
It was a dream.
But it was reality.
Pushing away my blanket, I stretch my hand to the other side of the bed. It is cold. Cold and empty. She’s gone. Gone right before my eyes. My heart grows sad and a deep pit forms in my stomach. Thus begins my day, as it has been for weeks now. Breakfast is a blur. I eat the food, but I don’t see it. Spoonful after spoonful of cereal entering my mouth in programmed motions. I am conscious of hunger, but I have no appetite. The simple joy of eating has fled me, and what I once loved is now mere activity.
I keep remembering that day. I keep seeing her face. It was all my fault. As she walked out the door that morning in March, I knew. I am not clairvoyant, but I swear I knew as she walked out that she wasn’t coming back. She wasn’t..not except I went after her.
Except I ran after her.
But I didn’t. I am stubborn and now I see where that has gotten me. I remember that day.
Tears warm my cheeks as I drive to work. My concentration is split, but experience and instinct prevent accident. Not like I care. What do I work for? Who do I work for now that she’s gone? Why bother? I smile a little. Those were my thoughts in those late days of March; Why bother? I drowned myself in alcohol then though, with a cluster of friends and a bevy of ladies to assist in drinking my booze and spending my money. Those were hazy days, the hours merging into one another. The stupor helped me forget, until morning and night were only differentiated by hangovers. Until I saw her.
A car is honking behind me. It seems I am driving too slow. I don’t blame the driver, he never had and lost what I had. No one else did. No one else… When I saw her, I stopped. I was in one of my more lucid moments when I saw her. I saw her in a picture. A picture of me and my Bessie. My partner.. The memories come flooding in. I and Bessie had been together for so long. We understood each other, we spoke a language only us could understand. At first my friends didn’t approve of her and our bond, but in time they too grew to like and love her. We went everywhere together. She protected me, I loved her; it was simple. Until that day.
The memory hurts so much I squeeze my eyes to hold back the tears. The job had been telling on me. I was working late hours and Bessie didn’t like it. She let me know, but I wouldn’t care. Then that morning, she just walked out. I called her, but she ignored me. I called out her name, but she just looked at me with those big brown, puppy eyes and kept moving. She wanted me to get up from my desk. To come after her. But I am stubborn. I stuck to my Microsoft Excel sheets and I waited for her, but she never came back.
It’s been four weeks now. She never came back. My cheeks are wet again, the tears flow freely now as I drive into my office parking lot and remember our picture. We had taken it right there. Right by that wall. The picture of me and my Bessie. Me and my dog.
Bessie the dog…

I have had no relations with any animal of any kind, whether canine, feline or amphibian. The last dog I ever had was called Boots and he was blind in one eye.
PS: Though there was this night with this female of certain questionable mammywater characteristics, but that is another tale.

Thanks for reading!

Follow on twitter @janus_aneni


The Last Friday

So..Tangles! is over. ( ._.)
It’s really sad for me you know, ending a series and all, but ten episodes and about twenty weeks takes its toll. Anyway, was looking through my old blog and I saw a post I wrote for Friday the 13th in April. It didn’t get quite the publicity so I decided to post again.
Especially since the world ends on Friday..

So uhm..sit back, do what you usually do, and uhm..enjoy!

In case you’ll prefer reading the original, here’s the link..
The Last Friday

The Last Friday..
#np Skin to bone – Linkin Park

I never really believed in ghost stories. I had heard them since I was a little kid, but I knew the truth. Those tales were just a bunch of crap to scare children with. And I wasn’t about to let myself get scared. So even when Mum died three hours after her twin sister, my friend Femi keeps waking up in places he couldn’t have been able to enter, and Dad gets those phone calls from his dead best friend every New Year, I still wouldn’t believe in ghost stories.
That is, until today.

When I woke this morning, everything was normal. My alarm rang on time, the sun rose perfectly and the birds outside were chirping the usual song. My phone notification light was blinking, so I checked the messages: same old, Friday the 13th spoofs. As I swung my feet over the bed to the floor, I woke again. My alarm rang. As I looked out the window, the sun rose and the birds started chirping. Everything was the same. Picking up my phone, I read the messages. The same. Chalking it up as de-javu, I threw off my clothes and walked into the bathroom. Nothing was going to foul up my day.

If only I knew how wrong I was.

Friday has my most lax timetable, so I took my time preparing for class. After an easy shower, I turned on the stereo; time to psych myself for the day ahead. It was while I brushed my teeth, the metal sounds from Linkin Park setting the theme for my day, that I felt the chill. In all the movies, when a ghost is about to appear, everywhere fogs up and the hero’s breath curls out of his mouth in mists. Not in real life.
Without warning my lungs suddenly felt dry, like an icy hand was squeezing the life out of my chest. I would have screamed but I had no breath to. Stumbling out of the bathroom into my room in search of an inhaler, I heard a voice.


The voice seemed to rise and fall in a sibilant whisper. All else was silent, the sounds of the birds and Linkin Park all muted to the background. All I could hear was that scary voice and the slow thumping of my beating heart. Then as quickly as it had started, it ended. The hand seemed to lose its grip on my heart, and I fell to the floor right in front of the speakers, as Linkin Park blasted out, “Easier to run”. Heart pumping wildly, I picked myself from the floor and grabbed my inhaler. As I inhaled deeply, the cool air giving life to my lungs, I thought to myself: “It was just an attack, it was just an attack..” I had no idea how true those words would prove.

In the back of the shuttle bus on my way to class, I kept replaying the mornings events in my head. I could not help the feeling that I was being warned. But by whom, and for what? My phone beeped. It was another Friday the 13th broadcast. This one however had a most sinister twist to it. Apparently, every Friday the 13th, a 2nd born and 13th grandchild in any family was claimed by the Devil. Usually, broadcast messages are not specific, but it was not only the specificity of this message that got my attention. I am the 2nd born of my parents! Though, I am the 11th grandchild; my father’s parents had only 12 grandchildren. Breathing a sigh of relief that somebody invented family planning, I deleted the message and relaxed for the first time since I stepped out of bed. At the most, Friday the 13th was a day of bad luck, and the worst was over, the day couldn’t get any worse. I closed my eyes.

The sound of screeching tires snapped me out of my reverie. Throwing my eyes wide open, I stared out through the windscreen. Right in front of the shuttle, a truck carrying iron rods and building materials suddenly lost control. Brakes squealing, the vehicle smashed into a drain at the side of the road, spewing bricks, wood, nails and rods into the road. The driver of the shuttle, swerved to avoid the still skidding truck, but was too late to dodge the contents. The bus rode over a bed of nails and the tires exploded, dragging the vehicle into a spin before crashing into a signpost. The windscreens exploded, showering glass everywhere while the passengers screamed and struggled to get off the bus. And then suddenly, like before, all went quiet and my heart ceased to beat. In the window was a face. She was young, and pale green. Her hair seemed to wave in the breeze, thin tendrils that crossed her face and reached down to her neck. Her eyes were holes; lid-less sockets that seemed to beckon me into the darkness behind. As I stared in disbelief, blood rushing down the side of my head, the ghostly apparition disappeared and my heart started to beat again.

The whole Friday the 13th thing has got to be a joke. There is no way a trail of bad luck could just be following someone; could just be following me. It just had to be coincidence. Those were the thoughts in my mind as I walked out of the Emergency Room at the Health Centre, a gigantic bandage wrapped around my head. Nevertheless, I could still see the face of that girl, her hollow sockets which had stared and stared at me, the face contorted like she wanted to scream at me, but she had no tongue, no voice. I shivered.

It was raining outside. The dark clouds covered the sky, angry and foreboding, unleashing torrent upon torrent of angry rainfall. I stood beneath the porch, my hand resting on the wet wall, contemplating whether to brave the weather and try to get a taxi to take me home. Then a taxi drove up, releasing its passengers. Seeing my chance, I made to dash through the rain when suddenly, a large rat jumped out of the hedge in front of me. The shock caused me to reel back. The rat saved my life. With a flash of white light, lightening sizzled down from the skies, striking the very spot I would have been standing. The electricity crackled the air, the current rushing up the wall where I rested my hand, the force tossing me 3ft into the air. As I landed on the floor, there was a dull thud beside me, and right in front of my eyes were the charred remains of the rat that saved my life. I screamed. As I blacked out, I could hear the rumbling echoes of clashing thunder.

I woke up in my room.

My friend had brought me home in his Mum’s car. The storm had subsided now and he had to return the vehicle. He put on the TV and promised to come back immediately. So I lay on the bed, covered in bruises and bandages, wondering how my day had deteriorated so badly. The morning had been perfect, how could everything have gone so wrong? As I sobbed softly, I decided to call my Dad. He always knew what to do. He picked almost immediately, and I told him everything that had happened since I woke.
“Why is this happening to me Dad? Why me? I’m not even the 13th grandchild!”
Even as I said those words, my mouth froze in mid-scream. For, right there on TV was the girl who I had seen, the one who had called to me. It was a ‘Missing Persons’ report. She had been missing since January; January 13, and there was a reward for whoever found her. But no one would ever find her, ’cause she was dead. And I knew how. I tried to stifle a sob. And then I heard my Dad’s voice on the phone:
“..technically, you are the 13th grandchild, two of your cousins died before you could know them..”

I heard a loud crack, but I didn’t look up. My eyes were fixed on the TV but I knew what had happened. The ceiling fan had loosened from its place and the blades were falling and spinning out of control, spinning in their deadly cycle, aiming for my head.
On the screen, the girl was smiling. Dead and smiling. Dead..

I woke again. The alarm rang, the sun rose, the birds chirped..


Uhm..c’est fini!

*I have no knowledge of any such Friday the 13th prophecy. Nevertheless, we know the world would end on Friday!( ˘˘̯)

Hope you had fun! Leave your comments and follow on twitter @Janus_aneni and do subscribe to le blog!


Tangles! X – Season Finale

First of all, I want to apologise to all who waited for this final instalment. The delay, and any others previously experienced were not entirely my fault. The rumours concerning my incarceration at a certain State CID cell are nevertheless, not entirely untrue. That haven been said, please read on, enjoy, have fun and uhm..yes, this episode is gonna be quite long..but then, it’s the last episode!

#np Skyfall – Adele

This is the end.
‘All things that begin, end, all flowers that grow, die..’ I read that somewhere once. I write it down now, so I shall read it again.. The writer scribbled on, the words coming in bits and spurts. The dim light from a Nokia Torchlight phone illuminated his orange diary, leaving his face in shadow. His mind churned, the gears whistled, and as the ink flowed, the characters lived and did and died.

These events occurred simultaneously between the seconds of 12:15:24pm and 12:15:49pm.


Paul dropped the i-Pad on the bed and twisted to get a cup of water from the bedside table. A cold and yet hot shaft of pain suddenly tore mercilessly through his back like the steel edge of a wicked blade.
“Arrrrgh!! Nurse!!” He screamed.


The car swerved suddenly.
“What’s wrong?” Tony asked sharply.
“I don’t know,” replied Rebecca. “If I didn’t know better I’ll say my baby kicked.”


“Let me go!” She screamed, but all that came out was a muffled sound, the words choked behind the mouth gag. She squirmed in her bondages, he hands and legs well trussed and lashed to the burglary proofing on the window. The muslim man continued what he was doing.


It is advised that you read the previous stories that led up to this if you haven’t before. And here are their links..
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX

Tangles! – a tale of twisted emotions.

The great Noetic scientist and crank billionaire Paul Temple, believed that thought processes rule the world. Freud also theorized that emotions are key to our individual and group psychology. He qualified this under sexual urges and quantified the force as libido. In the Bible it is called Faith. In this world I call it Fate.


He was frozen in place. To lean back was to invite excruciating pain, to lean forward any further was to suffer mind-numbing aches.
“NURSE!” He hollered again. He was out of breath. He couldn’t take in a single breath. To breathe was too painful and he could take no more. Two nurses rushed in, shocked and pale as white sheets. Somewhere in his pain-wracked mind, he realised it was the pretty one with the nice massages that entered first.
“15ccs Demerol,” the second nurse cried. “And call for Dr. Akpan.”
The injection was jammed into his neck and immediately he began to feel woozy. The pain vanished and then, all feeling went too. Before his eyes the faces of the nurses swam and his last coherent thought before he blacked into void was, Am I going to be paralysed?


“Your baby..” murmured Tony.
Rebecca glanced at him, her hands on the wheel. “What..?”
Tony grinned. She didn’t. She knew that grin. That was the grin for when he wanted to say something essentially foolish and he wanted you to think it was a joke.
“So you really wanna keep it?” He grinned.
“Of course I wanna keep my baby! And don’t call my baby a it.”
The car was in silence for a few minutes. Rebecca took the Oshodi turnoff.
“I’m sorry,” Tony apologised.
“It’s alright. I’m pregnant you know, all emotional, like PMS,” she smiled.
Tony grinned.
“So have you told the Senator?”
“Hell no! Not yet. Dad would kill me.”
“You do know you have to tell him sometime..”
Paul doesn’t know either, thought Rebecca.
Tony was thinking the same thing. How on earth did she plan to do this? Take her ex-boyfriend in tow while she broke the news of her pregnancy to the father of her unborn child as he lay on his sick bed. He would fall into a coma.
“What did you say?” He asked.
Rebecca trafficated. “Where is your mind? I said, I really wonder who Sharon is.”
Sharon?! “Huh?”
“Sharon na! The girl I told you called me with Paul’s phone. I spoke with her a couple of more times. Her name is Sharon.”
Tony laughed. What are the odds?
“What is it?”
“Oh nothing,” he replied. “Don’t worry your pretty head. She’s probably his sister.”
Rebecca sped up as the road cleared. That’s exactly it. As far as she knew, Paul had no family.


Dr Akpan pored over the charts. What had they missed?
The patient lay on the bed, the tortured expression on his face detailing that despite the sedative induced sleep, Paul was definitely fighting demons in that head of his.
There had been some strain on the spine as the patient was retrieved from the crushed vehicle, but the swelling had reduced.
Oh God! He should have ordered an X-ray.
Where the hell was this man’s girlfriend at a time like this? The visiting needed to be called off! Not today!

There are certain paths to life. Each man is born at the fork of the road. The path which he takes is his choice and his alone. But a man must be decisive and choose his path or with the flow of other travellers it would be chosen for him.

Silver Cross Hospital

“Shh..” He murmured even though he knew she could make no noise. “Stay still, you don’t wanna ruin this do you?”
Sharon’s eyes widened as she saw what he was holding.

2 hours earlier…
The thought had been paramount in his head.
We are who we are. We do what we do because we must. This is who you are. This is what you must do.
Then she stepped into the vehicle.
“Silver Cross Hospital,” she said.
She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Her hair glistened in he sunlight as the strands wafted in breeze as the taxi zoomed down the streets.
He had muttered prayers under his breath, seeking answers to his weakened resolve. And finally the voiced heard him.
“Silver Cross Hospital,” he heard himself say.
Perhaps it had been the way he said it, but whatever it was, she had become spooked. He could see it in her eyes; distrust had suddenly begun to radiate off her being.
His new life had begun a few years ago with a bump to the head. Not everyone can claim they joined a fascist militant group after being hit by the car of the benefactor, but that was his story. Two years into the group and it was his first mission. The Muson Centre. 2:00pm. But that was before he met this girl. It was a sign. He would be used as an instrument to return the sick souls to his bosom.
Abdul spliced two wires together and plugged them into a socket. The digital readout came on. It was armed.

Silver Cross Hospital – Upstairs

The tunnel pulsated with an eerie light and the sound of rushing air and water, such as one hears when listening to a sea-shell. He couldn’t see his feet, maybe he had no feet, maybe he had no body, but somehow he knew, somehow he was aware. Childhood flashed by in a blur and he was reminded of all achievements, all joys, all losses. Love, guilt, fear, sadness and triumph flowed through him as one and his heart beat rapidly. Or maybe it didn’t. He had no heart. But there was a severe pain in his chest and he suddenly felt breathless.

Dr. Akpan pounded his chest again.
“He is flatlining!” yelled a Nurse. The pretty one.
The doctor was flabbergasted, but he kept his cool. Already, the patient’s face was beginning to look gray and pasty. Recognising the signs of suffocation, the doctor opened Paul’s mouth, tilted the head at an angle and blew air down into the man’s lungs. The EKG whined.
Warris all this?

Mile 2 – Badagry Expressway

“We’ll pass this way,” announced Rebecca.
Tony nodded. His phone rang.
“It’s me.” It was her. The pretty girl.
“What’s up? I don’t have this number.”
“I know, I’m calling from a payphone.”
“Okay…” Tony frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Don’t go with her Tony, I think something is about to go wrong.”
“I don’t understand.”
“If you go with her, your ex, something bad will happen.”
Tony rolled his eyes; jealousy.
“Nothing bad would happen, okay? I think I wan control myself reasonably enough. I’ll talk to you later.”
He ended the call.
“Who was that?” asked Rebecca.
“A jealous chick,” he replied, staring out the window at the Festac boulevards.

Silver Cross

Abdul strapped the vest on Sharon. The bands of wires twisting from every corner, red, blue and green, ending in circuits which were connected to fused diodes. The fuses in turn encircled the two sticks of dynamite and plugged into the 20g C4 explosive. The satchel lay on the floor, empty.
Sharon wept.
The tears flowed freely out of her eyes as she contemplated the end of her life. Oddly in those moments, she didn’t think of Paul or of Tony or of any of her previous boyfriends. She didn’t think of GOD or Jesus or attempt any prayer for salvation. Despite her hardy outlook on life, she didn’t even envision escape or make any such plans. And it never crossed her mind to wonder at the loss of life that would be evoked in the hospital, or the carnage which would ensue as her body exploded. Sharon thought of her father, the Bishop. For no reason at all.
As the tears slowed down her face, her misty eyes imploring the muslim man, her hands tied helplessly behind her, her thoughts bent to her father. For no reason.
She didn’t remember him playing with her, or dancing or even talking. She just remembered him. Frustration tore at her very fabric, she was helpless in her fate. She would die this day.
Abdul saw the tears. They didn’t move him.
“Tears are a part of life. They are the last proof we are human. When we cry we cleanse, when we cry we purge, but most importantly, when we cry we regret. You are past human, my son. You have been mandated by God. You cannot regret. You do not know tears.”
Taking out the gun, he checked the magazine. It was full. Twelve rounds. It was enough.
“Let’s go.”


The patient snorted. Dr. Akpan sighed in relief. One of the nurses fainted. Another nurse blurted “Halleluyah!” But Paul was back online and breathing, although shallowly.
The door opened and an orderly wheeled in the respirator machine. Dr. Akpan just glared at him.
“No more morphine!” the doctor barked.
Until the understood the reason for the crash, this patient was staying off all barbiturates and painkillers.

The lights of the tunnel had vanished. All seemed calm now. For some reason though, he felt he had to wake up. Wake up from his dream. There was something to do. Someone to see. But who?


Sharon regretted. Instinct had warned her right from the can, but she had ignored it. As she stepped out of the cab at Silver Cross, he had followed her. She had heard his footsteps closing in as she walked down the corridor behind the staircase. As soon as the corridor was empty he had grabbed her from behind, clamping his hand over her mouth to cut shut the scream. He then dragged her into an empty room. Her head had crashed against the door jamb and she blacked out. When she came to, she was lashed hands and feet to the burglary proofing with a gag over her mouth. Try as she might, no one could hear her scream. The door was locked and he was making a bomb.

Silver Cross

The doors opened and Tony and Rebecca strode into the lobby of the hospital. The air was saturated with disinfectant and the sickly smell of drugs. Upstairs, Dr. Akpan watched his patient breath raggedly. Suddenly a woman screamed. Tony looked up and saw Sharon wearing some sort of bomb vest, a bearded man in a small prayer cap stood beside her, holding a gun. The sight of the bomb on Sharon and the image of the gun had barely registered when the muslim man raised the weapon and fired at the orderly beside the door. The report was deafening. In the ensuing silence that followed, broken only by the sound of the orderly sliding to the floor, his body leaving a trail of blood across the wall, three things happened at the same time:
Dr. Akpan cursed and ran for the door; the patient, Paul, jerked suddenly and in Rebecca’s stomach there was a violent jolt as her baby seemed to kick.
All this while, Tony stood transfixed, staring across the lobby at Sharon’s tear-streaked face, her mouth gagged, her eyes imploring.
The muslim man shouted; “Allahu akhbar!”
Tony lunged.


(In no particular order)
Miss Azee
And every other person who might have helped one way or the other with the creation of this story so far.

* I never really knew what I was doing with this piece. The characters just seemed to grow by themselves and well..I hope we had fun.

Thanks for reading!
*sniff sniff*


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