Battleships, Yachts, Sailboats, Cruise Ships, Canoes, Kayaks, Fishing Boats, Ferries, Trawlers, Catamarans...
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Stories are all works of fiction. Names, characters, place and events are the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events and places is totally coincidental
He was sitting quietly on a long bench made from thick wooden slats, the bench stretched across the whole width of the cell and was firmly embedded into the wall at both ends. His head cradled in his palms as he stared at the floor, Fafo was full of self pity and regret. His immaculately shined shoes was at one end of the bench while he sat at the other end.
It had been impossible to get any sleep because of the noise coming from an adjacent cell. The police officers had stopped checking up on the female occupant who was raising hell with her banging and shrieking. Her yelling only confirmed to them that she was alright, so they ignored her shouting, but she never gave up, the noise continued till dawn. They looked in on her more frequently now, because she was quiet.
"This wasn't supposed to happen," he thought, all the planning, assurances and precaution seems to have been for nothing. The door opened, a policeman walked in carrying what was obviously breakfast. The officer put the tray next to him and left just as abruptly as he'd entered. The cell door slammed shut and he was on his own again. The last thing on his mind was food, in fact, it was the least of his problems as he considered his options.
Fafo stood up, yawned and stretched to remove the stiffness and creakiness he felt in his joints. He strolled over to the stained toilet bowl, unzipped and did his business. He went back to the wooden bench, sat and continued contemplating. He heard the door of the adjacent cell being opened, the female occupant was now swearing at the cops, "fucking assholes, bastards," and other words that were completely alien to him. She was now being escorted out of her cell to somewhere, he was surprised at the fortitude and patience of her escort. Where he came from, she would have been beaten to a pulp by now.
His breakfast remained untouched, the food and this environment were entirely alien to him. Even if he had been hungry, he still would not have eaten the meal. Where he came from, nobody trusted policemen, especially those who never react to provocation. They were usually the worst of the whole lot, the calm exterior usually hid their cruel intent. When coppers are this polite, they were usually planning something unpleasant.
There was still some hope that he could get himself out. All his possessions was taken, he had been searched but they hadn't found the charm, and he planned on using it to escape at the first opportunity that came his way....
On The Planet Is sitting up in his bed. His mind is in a turmoil, whirring in a hundred different directions all at once. H...
HOT TOPIC And Fake News Are trending. So, "what is the difference between a hoax and fake news?" They both seemed very simil...
Remembering Ambrose Campbell The quayside was where most of the seamen hung out while on shore leave. From that section of the Lagos wa...
http://musicartindesign.blogspot.co.uk/ Great Art, design and creative works that takes my breath away!
Short stories, Hot Topics and relevant information on Music and the Arts! The official Blog page for Bodederek.com seeking to educate, entertain and inform. We invite aspiring writers to showcase their talent here. Read short stories for free here!
By mid-morning he was with detectives in an office within the station. Two plainclothes officers sat opposite Fafo, while one spoke, the other seemed to be sizing him up. Their questions were numerous but they were not getting any answers out of this prisoner; if only they knew what was going on inside Fafo's head, they would have left the questioning until later.
Apart from confirming his name, date of birth and that he had been a passenger on the flight from Lagos, the prisoner kept his silence. From time to time, he would mumble sounds that seem to be words in a foreign language. At one point, he stood up and raised his left leg. Alarmed, thinking he would get violent, the detectives also jumped to their feet and firmly asked him to sit down.
"Do you realise how much trouble you are in?" one of the officers asked, he got no reply. They asked about his contacts in London, where he intended to stay in the city and how long he planned to stay and got no answer but mumbles. The officers were totally at a loss by the time they returned him to his cell at lunchtime.
Fafo sat on the wooden bench in the cell and for the first time, the gravity of his situation hit him. He buried his head in his hands and began to weep. He wondered what would happen to him thousands of miles from home. What would his friends and family say? He was also beginning to doubt the effectiveness of the charm that he had so confidently depended on. He had been guaranteed that the charm would get him out of a sticky situation if one were to arise. Now he wasn't so sure anymore.
He had been offered the services of a lawyer which he had ignored. Now he was thinking seriously about asking for a lawyer. What would he say to the lawyer or anyone, how could he rationally explain his bold decision to carry a suitcase full of class A drugs and travel to Heathrow airport without any attempt at concealment. People would think he was a stupid fool (which he knew he wasn't) or he was a crazy lunatic who belongs in an asylum (which he now thought could be the answer). He made a decision to ask for a lawyer next time the cops come to question him.
Short stories, Hot Topics and relevant information on Music and the Arts! The official Blog page for Bodederek.com seeking to educate, entertain and inform. We invite aspiring writers to showcase their talent here. Read short stories for free here
Third World the group toured Nigeria many decades ago. A versatile band that captured the essence of Nigeria of those days with this song "Lagos Jump."
The band supported the Jacksons, and toured with the Wailers at the beginning of their career. Their 1977 album "96 Degrees in the Shade" had a few hits on it and struck a chord with Nigerian Music lovers (who were just recovering from FESTAC).
Third World were more fusion oriented than most bands and this probably contributed to their longevity. As far as I'm aware, they are still performing.
I'm posting this because I just found out today that the lead singer William "Bunny Rugs" Clarke is ill
After FESTAC i.e. The World Black Arts Festival in the 70's, an occasion that brought to Nigeria, some of the most talented acts of that era. Third World came to Africa on tour and rocked our socks off. They memorialised the tour with the track "Lagos Jump."
"We, the People, recognise that we have responsibilities as well as rights; that our destinies are bound together; that a freedom which only asks what's in it for me, a freedom without a commitment to others, a freedom without love or charity or duty or patriotism, is unworthy of our founding ideals, and those who died in their defence."
Both are gifted orators, have plenty of followers and shed loads of charisma. Their views on incarceration in America are almost identical...
"No society wants you to become wise ~ it's against the investment of all societies. If people are wise, they cannot be exploited. If they are intelligent, they cannot be subjugated; they cannot be forced into a mechanical life to live like a robot. They will assert their individuality. They will have the fragrance of rebellion around them; they would like to live in freedom. Freedom comes with wisdom, intrinsically, they are inseparable. No society wants people to be free." ~ Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh (Osho 1931 - 1990) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rajneesh
What are your views on drugs and incarceration? Both are inexorably linked as policy on one affects the other. I'm curious to know what you think.