This is a short piece on how a man fought to find love
It was a crisply warm afternoon. The sea was at its greatest calm. I had chosen this perfect landscape, or would I say waterscape as an escape route from the hustles and bustle of city life. Here, there was no smoke, No carbon and lead emissions, no hooting horns, no yelling market women, no muggers and street thugs. Just water, sky blue water and the fine seashore stand I sat on with just my black briefs. I relished the pleasure of the Saturday afternoon sun, as it gave my dark skin that golden tan. My lungs were almost silent and calm like the sea before, but I felt my heart taking in the sweet savour of the salty water. Hours rolled by, the intensity of the sun waned, and the sea I had so admired it’s calmness busted my bubble as it began to oscillate, to the sky and in soft thuds to its base – the earth. I mused at my thought of it trying to have a grip of what was left of the golden yellow sun.
My phobia for swimming wouldnt let me join the teenagers and young adults who laughed gaily at the mild centripetal grip of the sea to keep them in its circle.
The still air gradually gave way to the insurgent tides of the evening. I stood in between two thoughts, that simultaneously told me either to leave or stay. The one that told me to stay had the highest votes. There were hundreds of exhilarated faces, both young and old, male and female alike, still immersed in the feel of the tussling of the waters, at ferocious speeds – so I thought, that cut my heart.
I tried to ease the paranoid feelings deep in my soul that someone may never come out of that water alive. My struggles with the heating emotions and the tightening of my bowels, disappeared all together at the site of a beautiful woman just few hand throws away from me to the left.
The sun continued in it golden yellowed intensity, steeply into oblivion, but more captivating was the luminosity on this girl. Two years to this moment, after my relationship fall out, I never had a reason to remain transfixed on any woman. I could only determine the growing wind intensity in the flow of her long hair, dark and fluffy, huge strands sailing in their loftiness on the paths of the bustling wind. My relationship with Elizabeth had thought me boldness, smartness and hardness – not criminal hardness. And her break up thought me to have strength, patience and hope. Moreso, I was delighted with the peace of mind attached to being single. I was free from being pressured to make the three-time dosage call, the disappointment, resentment and anger that the love texts of other guys on her phone brought, the insecurities of losing her due to poor financial standards. She couldn’t stand it anymore and she placed that dagger on my heart. I call it the break up dagger.
Different women of various shapes, sizes, skin colours and heights have crossed my path. I have loved and unloved, but I couldn’t explain this attraction I felt within me at this moment. I hadn’t improved much or as I wanted financially anyway, but I have realised that the best improvement a man could ever encounter is that of the mind. The fact was that I wasn’t exactly the same as Elizabeth had left me. What I achieved in the two years of her absence in my life, justifies the means. And now I felt the urging need, to emerge from my cocoon. I took my time in surveying her bikini body which stood tall, rigid but I felt it would carry a soft heart. I saw it in her smiles – not at me, but I was determined to get them for myself. She was alone, but I needed no seer to tell me she had great company with the seas activities. I walked up to her eventually, with the “its better to try and fail, than to never have tried” motivation.
No matter how stolid a woman can be, you can always get their attention with the right attitude. A blend of politeness and friendliness. “Good evening” I greeted confidently keeping my eyes on hers. I could feel it was working out as she took my hoarse hand in her soft slim hands. They were so beautiful. And as a bonus I got that smile for myself too. We exchanged names and for the first time I realised that the parent who had named her “Ebony” wasn’t off the gun. Her dark, glowing skin colour justified the name.
Weeks ran into months, the love grew, the attachment intended as friends, but I never knew why shed turn down my advanced for a serious relationship. I was in my late twenties.
My ex had settled down and had her first child, and so many of my mates. Wedding pictures flooded my timelines, but I quickly realised that it wasn’t “wise to plant maize with a rainy season that wasn’t mine.” Yet with Ebony, I was so sure I wanted a future. I saw in her that completeness. “Ebony, I love you so much. Since you came into my life, everything has changed for the better safe my marital status. Please I want a future with you in it.” I had never been so terse. We resonated in the same burning need. I could see it in her eyes. But there was something beyond those milky brown eyes, and I was determined to unravel it. “Dayo I love you very much, really I have every reason to be with you but....” I was getting excited. An excitement that was short-lived by the gory news that shattered my heart.
“But what?” I quizzed with quivering lips. But I soon braced myself for whatever reason the response would be. “Dayo I have just three days more to kill you, else I would be killed.” She sobbed heavily on my shoulders. I wasn’t sure of my feelings. One feeling looked around to see if there was actually no knife or gun at my back. The other feeling was a blend of hurt pain, resentment. Infact I couldn’t ascertain which was there in my heart.
As I held her in my arms, the tides seemed to pour the questions on my mind. The waves were nothing compared to the ones in my soul. Who and why on earth would desire so much to see me go six feet below and even pay for that? I have only a room to myself. No ride. Only a bank account – salary account precisely. So who have I offended so much that only death could resolve? I can’t kill you Dayo. You have been so nice to me. Right now, I’m under surveillance. They know of my feelings for you, and it’s no longer safe, especially for me.” It was getting gloomy. Outside the only one, rented room where this conversation was going on, it was cold, but inside – it seemed as if it was a goldsmith’s furnace. Just when I thought I had found love, I realised I was toying with my grave. “Dayo” she raised red and swollen eyes. I could see a heavy soul. It was so awful. I didn’t even know if I muttered a response.
“I love you so much, and you are too pure to be killed. You need to forget about your present job at chevron oil. You need to go far away. As for me, I accept my fate. I would rather die that you may live. By this time tomorrow, you must leave.” She got to the entrance, and I held her hand. Those beautiful fingers at the beach would have been my pointers to my grave. I imagined how it would have clutched a gun, pull the trigger, and off I’d become nothing but a memory. Maybe I’d be poisoned or stabbed with those lovely fingers. “No. I can’t let you go.” “But....” “no buts. Your willingness to let me live, shows you truly love me. And I won’t let you down. So we are going through this together.” I assured. The look on her was far from the one that had hope of surviving the situation. She had been intimidated beyond that. I had to act fast.
Immediately, I called my friend while she slept. Nathan had been a very good friend of mine, right from high school days. He had unbeatable intuition, and was interested in busting crimes. Now a first class graduate of criminology at the open university, and the chief marshal at the CID technical department he was the only one apart from God who could save me from the “fire under my roof.” I narrated all my ordeals and the information given me by Ebony, real name – Sarah Johnson. “Don’t worry man, I and my team got this covered.” The voice at the other end was confident as always.
The police and CID swung into action, and after a fierce battle of wits, Frank Azikiwe, “the caterpillar that devoured the vegetable” and the Bororo gang were nabbed. Frank and I had been intimate colleagues. A senior colleague though, until It dawned on him, that I would occupy his office as the general manager for casual staff at chevron oil. “But life is indeed funny. Frank was promoted at that time. He still had a higher post than mine. But just because his brother James wasn’t the one to occupy his former office, he felt eliminating me was the only way out.” I said gaily, as I kissed my wife’s beautiful baby bump and gave her water in a bowl to soak her swollen legs. “Hmn that’s life for you my love. And sweetie.” “yes” “thank you for not giving up on me. I am not lucky, but rather I’m blessed to have you as my husband.” She said against my chest as I held her close. “you were willing to sacrifice yourself for me. That was and is true love. So I had to fight for it. Afterall, I wasn’t sure I’d get anything like it.” We both reeled in the “happy ever after exhilaration.”
As I read I thought this might be a memoir. But then I realized, when there was the threat of death, that it was fiction. You are still making the usual errors in writing by using the wrong words, most obvious was saying that his hands were, "hoarse," when you meant, "coarse."
Your story is full of holes and, while quite wordy in some descriptions, cuts to the chase too quickly when you get to action. Remember that you must start a new paragraph every time the speaker changes. Those paragraphs will be very short, but easier to read if they're separated from long paragraphs.
You need to focus on how the bad guy, bad guys, were tracked down and captured. Not make it a simple quick solution.
Hundreds of excerpts from the archives of the Narcissistic Abuse Study List regarding Pathological Narcissism, relationships with abusive narcissists, and the Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD).
It was a crisply warm afternoon. The sea was at its greatest calm. I had chosen this perfect landscape, or would I say waterscape as an escape route from the hustles and bustle of city life. Here, there was no smoke, No carbon and lead emissions, no hooting horns, no yelling market women, no muggers and street thugs. Just water, sky blue water and the fine seashore stand I sat on with just my black briefs. I relished the pleasure of the Saturday afternoon sun, as it gave my dark skin that golden tan. My lungs were almost silent and calm like the sea before, but I felt my heart taking in the sweet savour of the salty water. Hours rolled by, the intensity of the sun waned, and the sea I had so admired it’s calmness busted my bubble as it began to oscillate, to the sky and in soft thuds to its base – the earth. I mused at my thought of it trying to have a grip of what was left of the golden yellow sun.
