The diagnosis


I was half dead to the world so I overheard them converse. I whipped my head around the room to see if there was anyone who might as well have heard what I heard. To my utter dismay, I was the only one in the room, lying on that sick bed. Was I suffering from a flu or meningitis? My heart begun hammering. Meningitis was one disease I feared most. It could easily take away all your precious life without leaving a remnant. I asked myself in a faltering tone if I was going to die. If I died, I would blame my parents for they delayed me in the house all in the name of divine healing. And if not for anything I knew at all, at least I knew that the bacterial form of this disease was a fatal and unmerciful one. It decides in whim to take your life as fast as it could. My heartbeat could not abate, but to only keep pejorating.
I laid quiet on the bed sobbing within my soul, when the door opened. It was a man in a white overall. He was tall and dark. His moustache and beard were scary. I doubt if he came purposely to treat me. He paced across the room, intermittently spying on me. 

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“Hey. What’s your name again?” He turned to face me while tousling his beard. He approached me and passed his right palm across my forehead. 


“Fine. We need a diagnosing machine to be able to detect what actual disease it is that is affecting you. But it happens that our only machine is faulty. We may have to transfer you to an equivalent hospital as big as this,or even bigger than this so that you could be diagnosed of your disease.” 

“My disease? Sir, am I going to die? I overheard a conversation about one matter being either flu or meningitis. Was it referential to me?” “That wasn’t about you.” he sighed greatly and continued, “erm…honestly it was about you. Your condition alternates between that of a flu and a meningitis. Which one in particular, we are not sure. But I assure you that you are going to be fine.” 

“You haven’t even been able to diagnose my disease. Yet you tell me I will be fine?What if the causative agent in my system is multiplying at a faster rate than my body can control? Won’t I be dead by tomorrow before sunrise?” I spoke with a burning heart. I held and pulled his tie, until he choked before I released him. He coughed hard, and left my presence. My mind could not become stable. I was so disturbed and distressed.

 At morning the next day the door opened; this time around, it wasn’t him alone. He came with one other professional. He also had a white overall. He was not as tall as the first man who came, but he was fair with no beard; only a moustache. He pulled an armchair from under a table and made himself comfortable. He asked for my hand and assisted me to sit up on the bed. 

“Alright. You shall be fine. For now, there’s no diagnosing machine to use, but we will perform a small exercise.” 

His tone of voice started to make me feel strong and hopeful. I nodded to his assertion.

“I would want you to bend your neck slightly.” He instructed me. They all were quiet while they watched me try to bend my neck, but I could not bend. There seemed to be a discordance between bending my neck and the twitchng of my knee and hip. When I tried flexing my neck, it was my knee and hip that flexed. He looked at me nodding his head in a confident way. 

“Thank you. We shall perform another last exercise and that will be it for your diagnosis. And then, you will start medication.” I smiled after hearing him. 

“In this exercise, you will have to lie in the supine position, and extend your leg after flexing it at your knee and hip.” I laid flat on the bed, flexed my leg at my knee and hip. Upon extending my leg, I felt a sharp pain in my thigh that I couldn’t extend it fully. He smiled and pat on the other’s shoulder and left my presence. 


Flu and meningitis are known to present with the same signs and symptoms– stiff neck, severe headache, fever etc. However, the simple difference lies in their diagnosis, of which in meningitis, a physical examination will suffice.

Brudzinski’s sign- flexing the knee and hip when the neck is actually supposed to be flexed. 

Kernig’s sign- extending a flexed leg at the knee and hip present with sharp pain in the thigh.



The lecture room was draughty, and its chairs and tables were also  dusty. Students trickled in with mincing steps as though they were shy of the students already seated. Myopics and hypermetropics intermittently removed and cleaned their lenses for a better view. I could hear birds sing and chirp on the trees nearby. 
The door opened slowly, then widely. It was the lecturer standing in the door. And I being at the far back of the room saw him first before the whole class. He was in an amazing plight. 

“I will be teaching for only 30minutes. I promise. We are discussing geometry today, and in this I will expound a recondite to you. I hope you enjoy it…Alright, mathematicians have told us that all real objects existed in three dimension. That is, objects with length, breadth and height could only exist. We-all, through the natural infirmity of our flesh, have believed this for so many years. But here i am in a surreal positon to disprove this long-lasted theory.” 

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After speaking at length, he sighed greatly. We all sat quietly and listened with rapt attention, although a few yawned portending either hunger or tiredness. But I guess they yawned because of the former (lol). 

“Let me continue. There seem to be another dimension of space. A critical look at the theory of general relativity will reveal a new dimension. The dimension of time! This new dimension of space seems to explain why we-all exist, in one way or the other. To make it simpler, can an instantaneous object exist? Well, i shall explain this later in the study.”

 The lecture seemed to be becoming interesting. At the pose of his question, most sleeping students woke up. Most of us began folding our arms across our thoracic. One clever student undistractedly gazed at the lecturer, nodding his head in a way that showed he was following the lesson. I was also in a pensive mood, but could not grasp whatever he said and meant because, at a point, I lapsed into an introspection, probably thinking about something. Something that I can’t put too fine a point on. 

“Erm, I think Yes. Because I have heard that anything that has a name exists.” George answered to the lecturer in a funny way. The whole class burst out with laughter. 

“Alright. Well tried. Another analogy from the three dimension of space explains that we are free to move in any of the dimensions, the easiest going either left or right; forward and backward; and little of upward because gravity limits us. But let’s look at this: 

If you sit in a chair for your whole lifetime without moving, will you still experience growth? Of course yes. But in this scenario the person will not be moving along any of the dimensions of space. So the question is, ‘which dimension of space will the person be moving?’ Obviously, he will be moving in the dimension of time! Interesting, isn’t it?” 

A smile flickered across my face. I began nodding in unison with the idea of the time dimension of space. 

“Einstein must have reasoned fast! What an intellect!” I mumbled these under my breath. 

He turned his watch to look at his time. It was closing time already. So in conformity with his word, he paused and closed us. 

“We will discuss this some other time. Enjoy your week-end.” 

This short story is to elaborate shortly on the fourth dimension of space–TIME! So that you will appreciate astronomy. 


  The Red Rose

 In a garden are flowers along the periphery

With different scents and colours, 

But my soul did pine to one 

‘long stemmed red rose’

How I wish I could groom this flower 

To make it mine forever, 

But it had an ambiguous fragrance 

That put thine in the repose position

The world would utter, 

‘time and tide wait for no man,’

But I just can wait to have this flower 

To groom and make it mine forever



She got into a car with Johnny and Raina, a seemingly nice, young couple with a baby, while hitchhiking to a friend’s birthday party. She never got to the birthday party. 

About fifteen minutes into driving, Johnny pulled off to a dirt road. He held a knife at her throat, and threatened to kill her. He bound her, bagged her and put a homemade box on her head. 

“What’s your name, and where were you going to?” Johnny asked her while she still had the homemade box on her head. She was quiet without any answer. 

“Hey, you slut, I am talking to you.” He mouthed while he smothered her through strangulation. 

“I am Nancy. I was going to a friend’s birthday party and I decided to hitchhike, and believing you to possess compassion and radiate kindness to me, you rather proved me wrong.” She whined. 

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She was squeezed into a coffin-like box, and kept under a water-bed. She spent all but an hour in the box. A day never passed without her facing humiliations like scolding, rape, and assaults. 

Being at the end of one’s tether in conditions like this is a next-likely thing to happen. But she restrained herself because the result of that is just an exacerbation of the illicit actions of the those involved- The captors. 

In the light of this, although her life was in limbo, she spent all her twenty-three hours traveling around her fondest places in her mind. It was something that made her happier and immune to the harsh conditions she faced. 

One night she was freed from 11pm-12am. Johnny had awaken her to warn her. 

“I belong to a child-trafficking fraternity. They know about your presence here. Don’t try to escape in an attempt of self-manumission. Otherwise I would be killed.” 

His countenance, coupled with his assertion, was true but she couldn’t believe at that time because he had lied to her earlier. (He had told her earlier that they help and care for strangers.) Without any evidence to the contrary, she decided to stick to his ‘plan’. It was only that night she enjoyed one of the nicest wines the couple had sipped early in the afternoon. 

She could have threatened him with his ‘plan’ though. But she decided to remain sober. After all no position is permanent! 

How could someone in a deep well like this presume so? 

On her arrival at their quaint appartment she had asked if she could get the bible, and Raina said to “be her guest.” Raina hadn’t been warm for several days. She had told Nancy before that her demeanor was none of her business so she didn’t bother probing further. 

Nancy either did one or both of these while she was cooped up in the coffin-like box: 

Either she read her bible or wandered around her fondest places in her mind. All was meant to achieve the same result-feel gay! She forwarded the preponderous of her thoughts to the bible. She prayed most of the time for a divine intervention to liberate her from this state of oblivion.


In the wake of tension and incriminations, probably due to her long prayers, Raina walked up to her one evening and told her that she needed to escape before taking her to her parents’ home while Johnny was out of the house. Even though it seemed Raina was helping her, it, in one way or the other, helped her in return. She had been scared of her husband’s endeavour, and that she had sought for a way to protect herself before her husband turned to her. She quickly hurried to the police to make her statement.

My 2016 realisation


Growing up, I have come to realise the momentous importance of meditation. During the zeitgeist of my teenage years, I condoned this realisation, even though I heard people talk about it several times. 
In the latter part of 2016, when I was frantically perambulating in search of knowledge, God being so good, I came across a book by Joseph Murphy, PhD.,D.D.- Think Yourself Rich. 


At my first sight of the book, I thought it was ‘one of those’ motivational books, but upon delving much into it I realised it was not any book, but a book that unleashes a certain God-given power vested in you. In this book, he highlighted a particular term- The subconscious mind. 

As a growing scientist I was familiar with this terminology, but did not know much about it. I probably saw it to be more of a philosophical term… 

Perhaps, there are some of you like me, and you have not had the opportunity to read such a book or any book tailored in that wise. That is why I decided to scribble down a gist. For those who know very much about the subconscious mind, I encourage you to judiciously tap the great power it harnesses. 

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An excerpt from the book: 

“You are here to…the treasure house of infinity is not to be found in a bank vault or a pirate’s trove. It is within your own subconscious depths. Begin now to extract from that marvelous gold mine within you everything you need- money, a lovely home, beauty, companionship and all blessings of life. Whatever you need, whatever you want, you can bring it forth when you learn to apply the proper technique.” 

The subconscious mind tends to work with some sort of mathematical exactitude (sort of boolean algebra). Whatever you impregnate it with, comes out as a magnified product. That is to say, in simple terms, when you think or put positive thoughts, you reap postive things. In the same way, when you think or put negative thoughts, you reap negative things. 

The subconscious mind is that part of the mind used in meditation-a time where you either reminisce or feed your subconscious mind with positive thoughts. With faith backing, people who meditate achieve whatever they are desirous of. I would bring the curtains down on this with: 

“Trust thyself: Every heart vibrates to that iron string. Accept the place the Divine providence has found for you, the society of your contemporaries, the connection of events. GREAT MEN have done so, and confided themsleves childlike to the genius of their age, betraying the perception that the absolute trustworthy was seated at their hearts, working through their hands, predominating all their being”-Phil. Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Realise and with faith backing, unleash the harnessed power of your subconscious mind.



       Growing up under the weight of bigotry

                          leaves all uneven, 

         and every thing is left at six and seven 

       Silence, sometimes mistaken for sullenness, 

               may be an enemy to bigotry 

        just like the Lawd to His old vassal 


               For art is long but life is short.

Suspension of disbelief

                  [Police cars beeped… 

There was a great stampede again; this time it was a lifeless lass lying prostrate on top of an over-head pass. While others watched with sorrowful eyes and heart, others were nonchalant about the situation. I saw professional photographers take pictures of this lifeless being. Maybe, they – the pictures- were needed for their Newspapers headlines.


After the policemen arrived and did whatever they had to do, two people descended from an SUV car -a man and a lady- all in black suit. I was wondering what these people were, and what they arrived there to do? I was so curious that I sauntered behind the police cars only to get some metres close to them. There, I heard them introduce themselves: 

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“I am Chloe, a police detective,” She mouthed while showing her ID card. ”

“I am also Ellis, a forensic pharmacist.”

Does the presence of a forensic pharmacist give us any clue on the kind of issue at hand? Or, was someone behind the death of the victim, who had to be arrested? 

They walked up to the dead body. I saw the detective search the pockets of the dead body. Maybe she needed more clues to the identity of this victim. Luckily for her, she got hold of a purse-like object, she opened and found an ID card.

 “What is that?” The forensic pharm inquired. 

“it’s an ID ca…” just when she could mention the word, the forensic pharm pulled the card from in-between her fingers. He looked critically at it, and finally mumbled under his breath, “Green Street.” He then beckoned on the detective that they leave. On their way they took a detours to an eatery to have lunch. 

“Hello Ma’am. You must be the mother of this girl, Bestylove?” He mouthed while he showed her the picture on the ID card.

“yeah. That’s my daughter. She went to the pharmacy…and the next thing I heard was about her demise.” She blubbed while frantically pacing. 

“We’re sorry, Ma’am…please tell us something about her health.” Both the detective and the forensic pharm asked in unison. They looked each other in the face and smirked.

“She’s being battling hay fever for the past four weeks or so. So, as usual, she often visits one pharmacy by name Star Pharmacy” 

“Star Pharmacy!” The forensic pharm re-echoed under his breath. “Thank you, Ma’am.” They showed gratitude and departed.


“Hello. Is anyone here?” The detective demanded while she pat the surface of the counter. The forensic had taken a look at a drug on the shelf in a jiffy. 

“Yeah. I am the in-charge here. The pharmacist.” A masculine voice retorted with a foody mouth. It was a rotund blubbery man in a nice striped shirt tucked-in to a brown corduroy trousers. 

“Do you remember this girl?” The forensic pharm questioned while looking him in the eyes. 

“She came into my Pharmacy not long ago. Is something wrong with her?” Mr. Ashley, the Pharmacist, also inquired. 

“She is dead. And you are the cause of her death.” The forensic pharm frivolously threatened him. 

“I couldnt have done such a thing. I have been working for the past thirteen years, and besides her condition is not too serious as others. I gave her…” 

“Gave her what?”

“She came into my pharmacy complaining of hay fever. I gave her chlorpheniramine, but a week later she came back complaining of dry mouth and feeling tired all the time. So I swapped to terfenadine 60mg/d. She was here one week later and reported about a successful treatment. During their holidays, she developed candidiasis and treated that with itraconazole. Is there something wrong with my protocol?” Mr. Ashley explained.

 The forensic pharm listened with keen interest, but said nothing after Mr. Ashley was done talking. He beckoned on the detective that they leave. They disappeared without a word to Mr. Ashley. 

What really was the ‘element’ that caused her death? And where from it? 

They returned to Eunice, the mother of Bestylove, after two days to inquire more. 

“Good day, Eunice.” The detective added ” What did Bestylove eat?” 

“She took coffee for breakfast, and then ate rice at lunch.” 

“Is that all you can remember? Nothing in-between meals?” 

“Erm, No.” She responded while she still tried hard reminiscing… But that was all she could remember. The forensic pharm frantically paced biting his lips softly and finally moved to the window to take a view, while he still wondered. While they all wondered, Mavis, a friend of Bestylove, broke in from nowhere to inquire of Bestylove. She was oblivious of what had happened. 

“Old girl, can I please see Bestylove?” That was how the friends of Bestylove called her mother. It was how they all called their mothers. Eunice, upon hearing the name of her daughter again, and thinking about how Mavis and Bestylove were such good friends, she couldn’t help herself out but to sob deeply. 

“Can anyone talk to me?” Mavis whined while she held a look at the guests she met there. 

“We’re very sorry.” 

Mavis wept and curled up unto the sofa chair. 

“Did you see Bestylove eat anything?” The detective questioned Mavis. Mavis paused for a while thinking through and finally divulged her part of the story: 

“After school, Bestie and I, together with some friends of hers, passed by the pharmacy- Bestie had explained to us about going to the pharmacy. After, on our way home, Dorcas gave Bestylove some smoothies…we got to a T-junction and we departed…and now I am here to see her.” 

Eunice then recollected a bad blood once between Dorcas and Bestylove. 

“Smoothie???” The forensic pharm screamed, and departed from the premise to allow the acquittal of Mr. Ashley, who was kept under police custody. Aside his professional expertise, he liked and knew more about food. In simple terms, he was a foodie.

“Dorcas must have deliberately killed my daughter!!” She exclaimed. 

To whom it may concern: Some smoothies contain grapefruit as an ingredient. Grapefruit is a larger yellow fruit with somewhat acid juicy pulp. Grapefruit, in drug-drug interactions, is known to inhibit metabolism of terfenadine, a second generation antihistamine. Increased terfenadine plasma levels results in cardiac arrythmias, which probably culminated (in the case of Bestylove) in some few hours, causing the death as experienced by Bestylove. 

Those taking terfenadine should avoid grapefruit!

Good Vibes

In my reverie, while I sat in a chair rocking back and forth, I decided to stop the pencil at the margin…

But after bouncing back from exhaustion it pricked me to write a story just as any writer will do… 


Widdup was an average person, who did not earn so much from his work, but tried to chill at the club, at least, once in two weeks to have fun and be relieved of stress that has compounded in him. One friday, he was at the club, and there he saw one beautiful lady in a short mini skirt, exposing her soft, enticing thighs…with a vest-like tank top that exposed her cleavages and her navel area. 

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“Hey…I was so enchanted by your beauty that I ran into that wall over there. So I am going to need your name and number for insurance purposes.” That was his pick up line with the girl he met at the club. He said with a smile.

 “haha…you must be an interesting guy.” She said while she bit her lips lightly.

 Honestly, Angelina was a beautiful girl that not anyone at all could approach, let alone to start up a dialogue with her- she was approached by rich handsome men. 

Who was Widdup to have approached her? He wasn’t that handsome; he wasn’t earning that much- a dual menace!

 Although Widdup was the least of men, he had the confidence to approach any lady of his choice, and vibes to melt their hearts at first sight.

 She pulled the lady to one corner of the club, sat round a table with her and ordered for some drinks from the bartender. They chat and had fun.

 “Ladies first. So you’ve got to tell me your name, uhuh.” 

“You seem to go with chivalries. Anyway, I’m Angelina.” 

“Wow, nice name. Next is me, uhuh.” 

“I’m Widdup.”

 “Do you live around here?” 

“No. I’m on the next two streets from here- B street.” 

“really? I’m also on that same street, the picturesque flat on your right.” 

During their conversation, occasionally, Angelina tapped his shoulders while she laughed. Was she falling for this average guy called Widdup? Or, perhaps, it was just an act of flirtation? Well but sometimes it is difficult seeing the end from the beginning so let’s not bother imagining the end- time is the best teller. 

After having a nice time with her, he asked to be excused- he had nowhere important to go though. Maybe it was part of his ‘women-conning adventure’- I’m only thinking. 

“Would you hold this while we go for a walk,”  He mouthed with a cajoling voice while he stretched forth his right arm. He took her contact; they rambled and finally returned to the place where he met her. He hugged her warmly and kissed her cheeks, saying in a very low tone: 

“It was nice having you. Catch you later.” 

That small act of Widdup sensitized Angelina that she wished she could get hold of him for that whole night. But… 

She watched Widdup closely while he departed, intermittently waving at him. 

Albeit Widdup was an average person, he always tried to look as presentable as he could. His hair was curly, and he had a light-toned skin, which made the hairs on his arm very visible; his nose was flat; his upper lip was pouted.


Angelina entered into the university, pursued her program of interest and finally became married to Widdup, who then became an aide to the manager of his workplace.
Where you meet a girl does not matter. Life is what you perceive and want it to be…

        Her Ordeal    


                                     SEASON 01 EPISODE 02 

EVERY HOUR you woke, you would hear students arguing. From one corner to the other, tapping shoulders, filliping ears, flaunting various shoe brands, laughing loud, and making sure. 

The friends of Ade were no exception. This time it was about their achievements… 

“…, but juxtaposing their achievements, it is quite lucid that she overs the former long tennis captain. 4 cups against 2!; 4 finals against 3!; 3 semi-finals against 1…!”

 “And even still counting. There is absolutely nothing you can laud her for, except for her height. Yeah, height!” Cecilia backed Ade.

 It was a friday, and class was almost up. The students in the various teams had started meeting up, with some changing themselves into their sports attire. The fun games was up again! And gaeity was the mask on the faces of all students.

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 Ade, who is a member and a captain of the long tennis team, was also preparing with her friends. She wore an elbow pad, put on a hair scuff, and got her long tennis racket, which she kept in her locker. (Of course she had her sneakers on.) She had informed her boyfriend about the fun games a week or two ago. She wanted him to see her play the tennis. Probably, it would be a source of motivation for her, One might say. But the worst could also happen in his presence. Sometimes, being too optimistic can be devastating and unhealthy. 

“hey, the fun games is almost up, and would want you there. No excuses this time,” Ade vehemently said.

 “Ok. That’s fine. I will be there to support you,” Larkin said with a slight straightface at the end of his utterance. Could his jittery remark mean he wasn’t going?

 A moment there of they set off for the pitch. The pitch was highly flooded with students; people from all walks of life gathered there to watch and enjoy that pleasurable aura, and to probably see the winners of the various sports.

 Some years into the past, much attention was given to football and volley ball. The novel paradigm shift to long tennis only occured in recent years, when Eneola, the immediate past captain of the long tennis team, out of passion and dedication, made an unprecedented historical mark of winning twice in a roll, all against males. 

“You are one of a kind. Congratulations, and keep it up,” the headmistress lauded her, and added. “We wish to have more of your kind.” 

The games had begun. Concerning the long tennis, it was Ade against the business school’s winner, Michael. He was such a brilliant player, who won two cups for his side; won a medal, and a golden boot. Based on their achievements, Ade was undoubtedly better than Michael. 

“25…19,” the scoreboard registered. It was Ade trailblazing. The funs of Ade were celebrating with much noise; whistling; and beating drums… 

The game went on and on and on until somewhere in the final end of the first half something hideous and uncommon happened… 

After a shot from Michael, which saw the ball move towards Ade with a deflection, Ade motionlessly was locked, and the only option left for her was just to hit the ball with her racket. It nearly could have been an ace, but she correctly hit the ball crediting her with a point mark; however, her racket rolled back and hit her in the face right under her right eye. There was a deep cut, and a heavy down-pour of blood. The funs were obliviously jubilating, hailing Ade for her incredible hit of the ball.

 Within some few minutes, Ade was slowingly moving down. Gibbrit, one of Ade’s friends, noticed the slow sinking of Ade, and notified one of their teachers. Ade gradually went down until she was caught in the arms of the teacher. 

She was hurriedly rushed to the school’s clinic. In all this the time took, Ade was unconscious. Cecilia sneaked out of the pitch to follow up on Ade. On her way, she stopped by a phone boot and dialled the number of Larkin to divulge the incidence: 

“He-l–lo Lar–kin,” she said with gravity and a break in her voice, ” It’s about Ade. She correctly hits the ball, which won her a point, but her racket rolls back and hits her on the face right under her right eye, stunning her…At the moment, she’s at the school’s clinic.”

 “Hello Doctor.” Larkin added ” Please how is Ade?” 


 They exchanged words while they walked through the long hallway, heading to the Doctor’s cubicle. 

“yeah. The girl who was admitted here last three days with a cut under her right eye.” 

“Ok. I remember now but cool down, huh.” He nodded and mumbled few words under his breath. 

“You must be her boy…strange boyfriend, uhuh?” He mouthed while stifling a yawn. 

“You can take a seat over there.” The doctor said while he went through the patients’ folders stashed on his table.

 Larkin slightly furrowed his eyebrow while he looked up from the desk to the eyes of the Doctor. 

“I am her boyfriend, but not a strange one.” He gasped. 

“Your girlfriend is admitted in the clinic and you come here after three solid days to inquire of her, and you think you are not strange?” The Doctor objurgated rhetorically. Anyway, she’s coping and we are yet to stitch her laceration. If you want to see her, take the route before you reaching the end of the hall way. Her door is to the left.” 

“Thank you.” Larkin jammed from the chair without asking for the room number and hurdled to see Ade.

“Room 24M.” The doctor chirped and finally grimmed.


This was the third time (the first somewhere at a pool side) Larkin did not show up on Ade on crucial moments. Moments that any two people who are an item would love to meet, and cheer one up just as Ade had wanted it to be… 

Did Larkin have tangible reasons for his absenteeisms? Or, he was just a fickle lover? 

The story unfolds… 


                                    SEASON 01 EPISODE 01
                                  It all began with a coin toss. 

                          The coin came up tails; she was heads. 

Had it gone her way, there might not be a story at all. Just a sentence in a book whose greater title had yet to be determined.

                                  Sometimes a girl needs to lose. 

Ade has always prejudiced to be an orphan, and that everything she knows about orphanhood is limited to what she has been told by her parents and then by what they were told, which was sketchy at best: a week old baby was found in an empty typewriter case in the second-to-last pew of an Eastern orthodox Church. 

Was the case a clue to her biological father’s profession? Did the church mean her birth mother was devout? Until now, you will not know that is why you should not choose to speculate.

 When he was told about her(for lack of better word) accident, he felt horrible. Not horrible in the sense that she was hospitalised, but because he now knew the reason for her hospitalisation, and that he was not ready, anytime soon, to disclose what really happened. It was late in the evening when he received the message. He was caught between the devil and the deep blue sea: His woozy stomach had begun that evening. And the roads were scary, and it hadn’t been long since an attack incident happened. So after considering all the pros and cons, his going to see her that evening became dead in the water. 

The next day in the afternoon, he arrived at the hospital. After receiving directions, he was able to locate her ward and, fortunately or unfortunately for him, he met a Doctor and introduced himself: 

“Sir, I am Larkin. Unfortunately, her family is not here, but I am her boyfriend.” Larkin appeared at the hospital in a neatly ironed, short-sleeved shirt and a pair of jean trousers. He entered and saw Ade lying on a bed with normal saline solution being pumped into her veins. She felt very weak, and her eyes were closed. He warmly took her by the hand, caught them in his fist and kissed her forehead. He was emotionally disturbed; he was impassive. What was he going to tell Ade’s family? How was he going to say it? All these ground swelling questions were boggling his mind. The more he thought about them the more flustered he became. 

“Hey. It’s me, Larkin. You’ll be fine. Yhh.” The name, Larkin, sounded familiar to her; she couldn’t remember exactly who Larkin was to her. He had to start introducing himself all over again, describing clear memorable events they had together, and even raised the issue of the coin toss. But all these had no root in her brain. He felt more fretted and wondered what on earth could have resulted after that small twist on the staircase. He couldn’t bear what he was experiencing so he uttered few inspiring words and ended with I LOVE YOU, and excused himself. 

If I had the chance, I would call this second dude evacuating the ward Will. Because the first dude, Larkin, who entered the hospital in an aggressive manner was not the same larkin leaving. The experiences he went through remoulded him into the so-called illusionary Will. 

Ade, who used to weigh around sixty-eight kilogram was now weighing somewhere 40kg, and her plump body was turning into something else. Her blazing eyes were dull and sunken. An intelligent girl as Ade had turned into a moron already.

 What really was her medical condition?

 Larkin appeared in the hospital three days after to find out about Ade’s medical condition. This time, he was in a checkered shirt and a pair of black trousers. He was refused his request. The Doctor, perhaps, needed the parents of the casualty. Larkin was also growing lean and weak. All his details could be clearly seen, spur of the moment, on how loose his trousers were on him. He was just becoming a bag full of bones.

 One afternoon, Ade’s parents found their way into the hospital. Thanks to a nearby bystander who saw Ade being rushed into the hospital-They had roamed lots of hospitals. They located her ward and hurriedly went to see her. They felt surprised at their first sight because they couldn’t recognise their daughter. She was completely changed. Funny or scary enough, their daughter could not remember having any or such parents. Her parents felt disappointed. They couldn’t believe their eyes and what they heard. They sought for an explanation to everything. Everything they could not comprehend. When she was admitted, and the cost of her bills was what the Doctor could tell them- Diagnosis was still on-going.

 Some four days after, larkin decided to visit Ade. He wore a neat, polo lacoste. Incidentally, he met her parents and the Doctor at the ward. The on-going diagnosis was half-way through. The medical condition was resolved. In a faint whisper, the Doctor unleashed the condition: “Your daughter is suffering AMNESIA.” The parents of Ade gazed in bewilderment. Silence filled the room, and larkin finally released the dispatch: 

“I can explain; I’m not the cause though. We are students in the same department- photography. I was told, onetime after work, on her way home with Raina, a co-worker, they forgot to pick up a camera. No one was willing to climb the long stairs. So they had to toss, and unfortunately she lost. On her way down the stairs, her legs twisted and she dashed her head against the floor.” Her parents were sad on hearing the news. But the Doctor assured them of their daughter going to be well. Larkin sobbed and excused himself. Ade’s parents followed later… 

Ade, who was a photography student, now became a student in the occupational therapy department at the hospital. She was taught to aquire a whole new memory. Her usual three-course meal a day was now changed to a six-course meal, with Complamina serving as a ‘sweet-after-meal.’ 


Complamina — A trade name for the drug, Xanthinol nicotinate, a potent vasodilator used in amnesia treatment. 

Occupational therapy– The section of a department concerned with the re-formation of memory in amnesiacs. The health person in charge is the OCCUPATIONAL THERAPIST.