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“Goddamn it, don’t die on me Ann.” He mourned, pulling her head up. “I am sorry, I didn’t mean it, would you please wake up”. He ranted like a madman, but Ann had already crossed the thin line that separates the living from the dead. She was cold dead. Feeling defeated, he dropped her head slowly on the rug and bolted for the phone. He picked up the receiver and punched some numbers. It was the area police department number. He listened to the buzzing sound coming from the other end, with his heart thumbing viciously against his breast. He discovered that his hands were shaking vigorously, he tried to calm them but it was of no use. He held his left wrist to steady the phone receiver.
“Hello, area police department, this is desk sergeant Ken. Who is on the line?” The voice was tough and masculine.
Mick was about saying something when an idea dropped into his mind. He stiffened like a statue, his mouth agape. The idea tripled his nervousness and he felt a strange weakness creep into his legs. What was he doing? He thought, if the police arrived what will be his story? If he told them the truth of the matter he would be tagged a murderer, and murderers get nothing but execution or if he is lucky would be charged with manslaughter and that means ten to twenty years in penitentiary.
“Who is on the line? Say something.” He barely heard the voice from the other end.
“Who are you yelling at Ken?” Mick heard a female voice ask from the background.
“They didn’t say anything. Some freak just dialed our number but wouldn’t say anything. Can you believe that Juliet.” Ken answered. “Hello, are you mute?”
Mick shivered as the words hit his ears, breaking his line of thought. He slammed the receiver back to its cradle violently and moved back from the phone as if it was a ghost.
“Damn.” He cursed; what a foolish mistake he would have made. Even if he escapes execution he definitely would not escape being locked behind bars if the police found out about Ann’s death. He looked across the room to Ann’s body, the sight was sickening. He realized that he was sweating profusely in spite of the air conditioner that was turned on in his sitting room. He felt a lump in his throat and thought he should take a glass of drink. Slowly, on rubbery legs he walked to his liquor cabinet.
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kevin M
I am a Nigerian and an avid reader who also take great pleasure in putting pen on paper. I believe that with the right expression of words written with my pen people could change for the better and correct or curb some ills eating deep into our system of government or life in general. Poverty and corruption have always been Africa's most dreaded diseases and Nigeria is no exception. I write fiction and non-fiction and also write articles on any subject, especially that concerning the well-being of the poor masses. I wish to be an acclaimed writer and author and a motivational speaker
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