8:59: When the Only Certainty Is a Mirage

By Ubong E. Eton

This is a story of a boy driven by dreams. When an encounter sparks his curiosity, little does he know of the events that will follow as he heads down a lane where two parallel events usher him into a coma of doldrums. What started out with a simple question will end up becoming destiny-defining.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Oct 10, 2014
• ISBN: 9781490842929

Ubong E. Eton

Ubong Emmanuel Eton is the founder of 30thC DEVELOPMENT, a startup outfit seeking to develop tools and solutions that support the championing of the cause of emancipation, enlightenment, and empowerment in Nigeria.

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Copyright © 2014 Ubong E. Eton.

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ISBN: 978-1-4908-4292-9 (e)

WestBow Press rev. date: 10/06/2014

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Epilogue

Inspired by real life experiences.

CHAPTER 1

It is wishful thinking for a man to present himself in a perfect state. If I may choose to paint my portrait in that manner, its ultimate significance: vain glory!

[Silence]

How can I distance myself from the story?

How did I get here?

[Silence]

A dramatic performance, I concurred.

He wore a hood and never looked at me since our meeting.

He was a small man, about five feet five. We met at the bus stop, and ever since he had gone on a rampage of speeches.

Every now and then he will burst out and then quiet down.

He spoke finely, so I didn’t consider him totally out of order.

I pulled out the bus schedule from my messenger and glanced over the times. I was sure there was a shuttle to the train station before 9:00 a.m. I checked my timepiece; it was only a few minutes to it. The rampage began again, but I had my own reflections wearing in.

It was years ago. My father, in casual talk, made mention of starting a church. The idea was so out of the blue, and I couldn’t figure out what a town planner and a church had in common. I was nine, and well, that wasn’t the dream I had for my father. But here I was on a homeward bound to establish a…

How did I get here?

How…?

The man interrupted my cogitation.

He was now on his knees, weeping softly.

This caught me, and somehow I was moved.

Stepping toward him, I contemplated what phrases to say. When I got to him, I knelt and tapped gently on his shoulder, hoping he received it as a comforter, but all I met was a belch, She took them away!

And then he looked at me for the first time, eyeball to eyeball, tears running; there was something now familiar about the man.

She took everything!

Gone! Gone are my dreams!

Don’t let her get you!

I was shaken looking at his face.

Run! Run!

Those were the last words that echoed within my subconscious. I was fully awake and had seen his face. It was a mirror.

The alarm went off. It was 8:00 a.m. on a Saturday.

The rally would begin at 10:00 a.m. in a fully packed gymnasium. In less than a half hour, hundreds of volunteers will pour out of the gymnasium and head up a flight of stairs to a parking lot known as The Blacktop. There, people known as Site Leaders will pick up the needs for their various sites