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Short Stories

Untitled by Victor Oyewole

Rating: 4 out of 5.

Rose was struggling with her feet as she forced off the heels she wore to a date. John had earlier invited her that week for a date after work on Friday which she agreed. She wouldn’t stay a little bit longer with him at the restaurant because she had just received a call from Joseph; his younger brother about the money she kept with her granny, and how some robbers attacked her at home and took away the money.

She planned to use the money for her new business project in Oklahoma. The thought of the news her younger brother just informed her was stuck into her heart, she became uncomfortable and nervous. She reached out to John and said to him “hey dearie, I’m gonna give you a call tomorrow, I have to leave now”. She took her bag and left the restaurant.

John wouldn’t interrogate her before she left because he was thrilled by the music buzzing solemnly from the stereo few meters away from him. It was a song by Don Williams. His love for Don’s and Westlife’s songs is exceptional, he believed both singers are big guns in the world of music.

Rose hurriedly left the restaurant and on her way to her granny’s house she was soliloquizing “she should have kept the money in the bank, after all she knew she is not safe having such a huge amount with her at home”.

She hit her right foot against a Goldberg’s can rolling from the nearby local restaurant, she was hurt and she bent down to pull off her heels when shockingly she heard a masculine voice called her name. Still in shock, she looked up to see the man addressing her, the man was a little bit taller than her, he was a black man probably a South American because he wouldn’t speak British English fluently.

He said to her “hey Rose, be in the lobby of the Palace Hotel at midnight”, before Rose would ask any question, the strange man had hurried away. She checked her wristwatch, it was just few minutes past eight post meridian, she was confused.

It seemed she was in a dark room grasping for oxygen but no one would help because she was in the dark. “Is it a plan? Was that the robber? Probably he want to have a taste of me, maybe he knows the robbers” she thought as she continued her journey totally confused.

Copyright Victor Oyewole


About The Author

My name is Victor Oyewole. I’m a Nigerian writer and poet.

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