Lucky roughened his face as the harsh cold
kissed him hard at the forehead. It has been a rough night. He dragged his feet
but managed to walk across the boulevard that led to his place. It had never
occurred to him that his last hangover would hand him over to the school of
hard knocks.
Lucky has just awakened
from a slumber beside a gutter. Life is unfair, Lucky concluded. He spat. He
twitched his nose and gave a long sneeze. Bouts of fresh undefiled air caressed
his nostrils. He had been abandoned by his friends after a long drinking spree.
As he staggered home, he
could barely remember why and how he got there. He had been gulping few bottles
and was slightly tipsy when his friend, Charles, threw a challenge at him, “You
cannot finish 12 bottles of beer.
“Of course I can! Lucky
shouted. “I know you can’t” replied Charles “What do you mean? Don’t you know
that though all beer may be equal in volume, all men are not? Barman, bring me
eight more.” Lucky ordered. “What! Shouted Charles… “My five thousand naira for
a bet, Charles added as the other friends watched.
It was the sixth bottle
that broke the Camel’s back.
He began to vomit and to misbehave. Before long, he was deserted by his friends who could not stomach all the trash. The swiftness of all the happenings was grossly puzzling to him. To him the gutter was most suitable for his state of mind. In the morning, he was home bound, weak, worn out and fagged out.
He began to vomit and to misbehave. Before long, he was deserted by his friends who could not stomach all the trash. The swiftness of all the happenings was grossly puzzling to him. To him the gutter was most suitable for his state of mind. In the morning, he was home bound, weak, worn out and fagged out.
Everything had been the way
he left them when he left the night before. His windows were still half open.
His keys jangled in his pockets. He brought them out and began to try them.
Silently, quietly and unalarmed, he unlocked the door, went inside and sprawled
helplessly on the bed. He took a deep breath and his eyes roamed the rusty
ceiling fan that has rarely functioned. The energy remaining in him would not
allow him slip voluntarily into oblivion.
As his mind jockeyed
slightly away from his weak body, he was startled by the sound of his mobile
phone. At first, he sighed, turned away from the phone, like one in deep
depression, and tried in vain to recapture the nap. The phone rang about 3
times before he decided to pick it up. The voice at the other end spoke with
frenzied expectation. Lucky could not understand clearly.
“Are you not coming for
exams? We are already in the hall”. As the caller at the other end, Chinedu,
dropped the call, thousand of echoes began to reverberate through Lucky’s head.
Drudgingly, he stood up,
brushed both his teeth and his hair, collected a shirt and fastened to his fat
body. As he hurried to meet up, sweat trickled down his cheeks and his buttocks
slapped each other beneath his flabby trousers. He resolved to use whatever
residual knowledge he could gather to pull through.
In less than 3 hours, the
examination was over. Students discussed in low tones. Friends moved in groups
and consoled each other on account of the tough examination. At different
corners, long faces were seen looking into thin air as though remembering a
forgotten answer.
The boys discussed
football, the latest Champions league encounter between Chelsea football club and Manchester United.
Lucky heartily joined in the discussion in a vain deal to better his plight.
He knew what a dismal
performance he had put up, yet he believed providence would lend him a passing
grace.
Day by day, time dissolved,
day and night chased each other in a viscous cycle of weeks and months. Life
was miserable, to say the least.
To Lucky, his lecturers
supported life in its miserable effort to frustrate him. To him, the lecturers
were wicked, mean and some unfortunate academic misfits who stumbled unto the
act of lecturing by a sheer stroke of luck. If anyone was Lucky’s worst
nightmare, it was his lecturers. Hence he consoled his grudge with an addiction
to alcohol. His five thousand naira drinking spree money was a factor that kept
him afloat for days after his last hangover.
Six weeks later, on a warm
Tuesday afternoon, the sun cast a lethal long spell on the earth below.
Expectations were high as people went about their businesses. Lucky wore a long
face. His spirit was in doldrums. He could only stretch the limits of his
imagination for a possible explanation of his result. He had scored a mind
blowing F. This was the first failure in his results. He began to hallucinate.
When he reached a nearby
Convenience, he went in. Surely, he wasn’t pressed. Yet he felt he could
urinate away his problems. He unzipped his trousers and began to urinate.
Silently but loudly, the sound of the trickling urine aroused his curiosity and
he suddenly felt he was urinating upon his very life. He sighed, zipped up his
trousers and hit the busy road.
He could hear himself ask
to no one in particular, “why now?, why me?, how come? Like a speck of thunder,
everywhere went blank around Lucky. Darkness howled and embraced him in a
careful intimidation. All around him, darkness roared, smiled and rejoiced in
joyful triumph. Lucky had been hit by a car.
Different kinds of shouts
rent the air, Jesus! Hey! Oh My God! He’s dead! What a wicked devil! Lucky’s
hallucination had incidentally played a major role in the accident. While
people shouted and gathered and tried to resuscitate him, Lucky could see
himself looking at himself. He could see people crying, shouting and carrying
him into a certain blue car. He could not understand the mystery. The only
thing that puzzled him was how light he felt. He could feel his mouth muttering
the same questions, “why me? How come?
He was hemmed in on all
sides by loneliness. Suddenly, he passed through a dark tunnel and a speck of
light carried him to a point where he met a man at the gate of a solemn
assembly. Everyone in the assembly wore white clothes. Lucky looked around, he
was scared. He could still not figure out where he was. He buckled some
courage, went to the man at the gate and began to cry.
Tears flowed down his cheek
as he tried to unravel the remote cause of his problems. When he narrated his
story, the man at the gate pointed at a room and said.
“Go there and you will find
the man who is behind all your troubles, the architect of your misfortunes.” He
beamed with smiles at the emerging rays of hope and entered the room.
As he opened it, he saw a
glass coffin with opaque sides. Fearfully, he went nearer and peeped at the
clear glass surface of the coffin. Startled, he ran back to the man at the
gate,
Sir, I don’t understand
what I see.
“Go back and look closer”,
the man said feeling unconcerned. Lucky came back with tears in his now weak
onyx of an eyeball,
“What did you see? The Man
asked “I saw myself” Lucky replied. “But sir, how could I have seen myself? “He
asked sobbing.
“That which you saw is the
answer to your problems. You have no right to blame anybody for anything. You
are the architect of your misfortune. If a man can conquer himself, conquer
alcoholism, smoking, procrastination, lust and other vices, he can rule his
world; but woe to many a man who would blame another for his misfortunes. He is
yet a babe and not worthy to stand. Life is a challenge thrown to you;
challenge, it back and you get what you bargain.
Lucky was confounded. Hot
tears serrated his chubby cheeks as he tried in vain to unravel the mysteries
spoken to him. He mustered enough courage and asked, “Sir, but where am I”
The man took him to a
smaller gate and continued
“Mend your
ways
Number your days
It goes around, that which comes around
And stays to abound
To recount stories once told
That all that glitters is not
gold.
After the man at the gate’s admonitions,
Lucky took a few steps past the small gate and suddenly regained consciousness.
He smelt realities. He found himself in the medical center under a life
support. His sudden sneeze brought nurses and doctors around him and he could
hear shouts from them,
“He made it! He made it”…
(This short story was first published in 2009 when I was in the University of Nigeria, Nsukka in the Microbiology Student Magazine when I was the Editor)
excellent
ReplyDeleteWhat an inspiring and well crafted write-up. Keep it up.
ReplyDeletegood one,keep it up and keep keeping on
ReplyDelete