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Drifter . . .: A Collection of Short Stories
Drifter . . .: A Collection of Short Stories
Drifter . . .: A Collection of Short Stories
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Drifter . . .: A Collection of Short Stories

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Drifter is a collection of tales spanning romance, thriller, horror, paranormal, action,comedyand lifestyle. Fiction is the word, as I never saw any of the stories unfold in reality. Maybe someday I will.
LanguageEnglish
PublisherAuthorHouse
Release dateFeb 13, 2017
ISBN9781524671648
Drifter . . .: A Collection of Short Stories
Author

Daniel Omizu Ojadua

DANIEL STRONGWILL OMIZU OJADUA is one of Nigeria’s best storytellers. Having written under a pseudonym for years, this is his first novel under the name. He has brought his expertise as a scriptwriter and social commentator to the various tales of suspense in DRIFTER. A computer programmer with a passion for the arts, he lives in his country home in Sapele, Delta State.

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    Book preview

    Drifter . . . - Daniel Omizu Ojadua

    DRIFTER…

    A COLLECTION OF SHORT STORIES

    DANIEL OMIZU OJADUA

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    AuthorHouse™

    1663 Liberty Drive

    Bloomington, IN 47403

    www.authorhouse.com

    Phone: 1 (800) 839-8640

    © 2017 Daniel Omizu Ojadua. All rights reserved.

    No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

    Published by AuthorHouse 02/13/2017

    ISBN: 978-1-5246-7165-5 (sc)

    ISBN: 978-1-5246-7164-8 (e)

    Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

    and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

    Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

    Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

    Contents

    Acknowledgements

    My Childhood Crush

    Adesuwa’s Unsung Tales: The Triumph of Deceit

    This Is the Life

    The Rose Tattoo

    Wet Saturday

    Point of No Return

    Harsh Realities

    Till The Last Minute

    Adesuwa’s Unsung Tales: The Footsteps Man

    The Last 600 Seconds

    Siren

    For you Madam Victoria Avwerute Ojadua.

    You live in my memory forever, mum.

    Acknowledgements

    I have always had a compulsion to write. I wrote my first book when I was 13, ‘Sydney and The Golden Colour.’ Though it never got published, it served as the jumpstart I needed and helped me develop my creative writing. And then I have always had a mischievously imaginative mind, always looking at things from the larger picture. But as oft with most writers, I was hit by the writer’s block many times until I met Muna and Jenny who brought out the writing streak (from wherever it hid) in me.

    Drifter, as the name implies is a collection of tales that went through my head all these years of my sojourn in this time space. Fiction is the word, as I never saw any of the stories unfold in reality. Maybe someday I will.

    To ALMIGHTY GOD, THE FATHER OF ALL, I say thank YOU for giving me talent.

    To all my friends who have been sources of inspiration in my life, I say thank you. Chinedu, OkpeGee, Janice, Chigozie, Tom a.k.a The Prince, and the many others whose name I didn’t mention.

    To the woman who loves me the most in the entire world, my better half / best friend and ally on this journey called life; you inspire me and make my life even more beautiful each passing day just by being in it. Thanks Ebere for being my greatest fan.

    How can I forget you Dr. Egbuson? You remind me of my mum. It is a privilege to have to have you as a big fan. Thanks for being there.

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    My Childhood Crush

    M emories, fate, the divine hand of providence. I have always been a strong believer in the saying Whatever will be will be. If it is meant to be, it surely will.

    It was my first day at this new school. I was only nine years old but then, I had the wits and sensibilities of a nineteen year old. My dad made me change school. He wanted to give me a stronger sense of independence and came up with a grand plan to send me far from home to a boarding facility.

    And so I was shipped off, even against protests and persuasions from my mum. She had to concede to my dad’s decision just like always, in line with her ever submissive nature. She was a good wife and the best person my dad ever knew. So he always said until he passed. She followed suit a few years later. God bless their souls and reunite them in the world after.

    Way back then, I had always wished my mum could have done something to make dad change his mind. But all that ceased on my first day at this new school.

    I got to Kafanchan on the evening of March 21st, 1971. It was a four hour drive from Zaria where we lived. I enjoyed the trip in company of my parents and was more excited at the thought of going somewhere I had never been. All that excitement fazed off when it was time for my folks to bid me goodbye. The reality of the matter dawned on me and I cried just like every other child would at such a time.

    They left all the same, even though my mum would have stayed back or taken me with her if she an option.

    I didn’t cry for too long as I settled in sooner. It was my first weekend away from home and I went through it less routinely.

    Monday came and I resumed school with the rest of my peers at the boarding facility. I had just three classmates who were not boarders as it wasn’t mandatory for all pupils to stay in the school’s boarding facility.

    I got to school and saw her. Instantly, I felt a heavy crush. The feeling that enveloped me was one I couldn’t explain at the time. I was nine years old. Looking back now, I can explain what the feeling was – I had an instant crush on this girl. She was my classmate and sat on the next desk to my right. Her name – Aisha. That much I got to know while I was introduced to the class by our form teacher Mr. Bruce Nnamdi. I don’t think I concentrated all through that day.

    There I sat, going through the motions of adapting to a new environment, alienated from my parents, relatives, friends and comfort zone. And there she sat close to me – looking like the healing balm that could make me miss home less and yet I felt jitters run down my spine just by looking at her.

    Even though we were same age, I had a feeling she knew the effect she had on me right from the first day.

    It wasn’t until the end of my first school week that I summoned enough courage to walk up to her and say hello. It happened during the Physical Education Session. We were randomly put in the same team. After that day, we became good friends. I got to know she was from the Fulani North. She had two siblings, a younger brother and sister. She was all beauty and brains.

    At the end of that term, she beat me to the 1st position and I came 2nd with a distant margin. For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel bad losing to a woman at school or in a competitive setting. We had become the best of friends. That was all that mattered to me. But I couldn’t deny that I still had a crush on Aisha.

    December 1971 came. I wrote the Common Entrance examination and passed. My mother’s joy knew no bounds. I had been admitted into the prestigious Nigerian Airforce Secondary School, Zaria. I was happy until I remembered that I wouldn’t be seeing Aisha anymore. Christmas came and went, New Year too. And 1972 began. The rest of my life continued. And the young boy with a deep crush on Aisha grew into a man.

    The year is 2007. The date – September 30th. I am living it all. It took me the whole of 45 years to get to this point but I don’t mind. As they say, better late than never. It has been a journey. How did I get to this peak

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