THE MORNING AFTER –THE STUDIO

The Morning After
The Morning After

He was not sure if he should do a short story on it.

Maybe he should -just one post- but how do you manage events unfolding live in front of you?

He had no idea as he paced around in his studio.

It was a love story, but not in the regular valentine sort of way -it was about Funmi, and she had just been raped.

He should just do a piece on fast love and let it go

That made a lot of sense, at-least it will call people’s attention to not only her situation but also the evil called rape.

He would call it ‘The Morning After’, after-all, that was when she realised that a valentine date could go so awry.

He set pen to purpose.

He gazed at his finished work, he liked it.

‘You should put this on Naija Stories too you know,’ she said after reading the work.

Should he?

The fun of the work was that he was putting it out, the morning after valentine, would it qualify to be so named on Naija Stories seeing that they wouldn’t publish immediately?

He put it on Naija Stories.

The feedback comments were mostly good but one by Afronuts struck his heart, more so because it exposed the flaws in his seeming masterpiece.

Then in this line —> ‘Funmi, you’re a virgin?’ Dunni asked as she saw the pints of blood on the bed sheets.

You need to be sure of your usage of words….a pint of blood is quite a lot of blood.

‘What was I thinking?’ He muttered, very displeased with himself for not seeing that blemish before putting out the work. A pint of blood was quite a lot of blood, how did he miss that?

That bothered him.

That means the work wasn’t as beautiful as he meant it to be.

It became his challenge.

He bit his upper lip like he usually did anytime he was at cross-roads. The question was gnawing at his heart.

Should he do this?

Should he follow up and keep reporting about someone’s life because he wanted to prove a point?

His pen moved as he took notes in the studio -he had made his decision and there was no turning back.

He watched and wrote, describing everything he saw with the best words he could conjure.

Every week was a new challenge. He was connected with Funmi but he felt an obligation to feed the readers her story.

He felt her pain, cried her tears and wished he could step in and change the course of things, but no he couldn’t.

All he could do was be a spectator and write everything he saw as they lived it.

‘Bode is a bastard,’ he grunted as he watched the boy’s joy at causing pain to an innocent girl.

And then Bode gave him a back room pass to his past.

He saw the make-up of the monster. The boy had been hurt too.

But was it enough to hurt an innocent girl for?

Hurting people, hurt people.

As he watched the live performances of 2face Idibia’s ‘African Queen’ and Wizkid’s ‘Joy’ for BBC Africa on his phone in the mornings, his appreciation for their art, conditioned him to write, his fingers usually wrapped around his pen as he worked away feverishly in the studio -penning down words for the pictures he was seeing.

And then it all stopped.

He could see them but he couldn’t write a word, no matter how many times he played music, whether foreign, 2face or Wizkid.

He ripped off pages after pages in the studio -the words on them not good enough for the pictures he was seeing.

The story deserved to be told better.

He had sleepless nights.

Hellooo!!!

Where is TMA!!!

The readers screamed to know why their connection had gone burst. This was the echt version of the ‘Truman Show’.

‘Lord please help me,’ he prayed.

And then it happened, exactly two weeks after the stop, the words began to flow insync with the pictures again.

Connection had been restored and the studio was back to its bubbly best.

I’m Funmilola Bad-ejo and I’m a warrior.

After thirteen long chapters, this sounded like a good last line. It looked like a good place to stop reporting and let personal lives finally remain private.

He smiled. He had given his best and so was satisfied with the work. He closed what he could now call a manuscript.

As he rose up from his chair to take a stretch, he saw it. His eyes opened up in a mix of shock, surprised at the pictures unfolding before him.

…her finger ran along the desk, memories of countless escapades on top of the desk flooded her mind but the memory of the first time, stood out from the others -it was a classic.

We can’t do this,’ she pleaded, as they took a break from their long kiss.

‘Why?’ he asked, his eyes fierce like that of a predator.

She thought of a reason why they couldn’t do it and all of a sudden there was none, after-all she wanted it too. ‘You’re a man of God,’ she said almost in a whisper. Cursing herself deep down for the words that just came out of her mouth and hoping that he didn’t hear them.

‘You’re right, I’m a man of God,’ He said, his hands still wrapped around her waist, eyes staring deep into hers. ‘But I’m first a man, before I’m of God and right now, the man in this man of God wants this beautiful lady,’ he whispered into her ears as he lifted her up from the ground, sitting her gently on the desk…

This definitely was worth reporting.

He took his pen and wrote down what he felt would be an apt title -Shades Of Deceit.

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Catch the Premier of the new A! Series, ‘Shades Of Deceit’ next week Saturday, the 13th of September by 10:00am or get V.I.P access to an early screening, by next week Thursday by filling out the form below and clicking on the follow button. Tickets to V.I.P screening close by mid-day Wednesday.

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Shades Of Deceit…Man is a complex animal.

N.B – The Morning After is currently rocking the TheNakedConvos and is featured every Thursday by 10.00am, click here to see the debut and relive the experience!

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