Writers

They did not know that on most nights, I would wake up crying then I would stay up praying. Asking God for the strength that I will need to walk through this very dark valley then I would walk out smiling into another day.

The man beside me looked like a hardened criminal; he wore a black singlet and had muscles like Arnold Schwarzenegger. Fear gripped my very soul. How was I supposed to challenge him? The last time I fought was in Primary four when a girl gave me a hot slap and three identical stars fell from my eyes. In my heart, I began to pray in my Awka-etiti dialect, Chukwu nwa Florence, okwo ifu go? Otua ka m yesi Noro onwe m, ekwensu na umu ya ebulu ochuchu na okwun'uka butelum. Doo, bia zoba kwam! (God of Florence's daughter, have you seen? This is how I will be on my own and devil and his children will bring troubles to me. Please, come and save me).

Annie turned back, trying to figure out if everything that had happened was real or a dream. She moved slowly away from the queue and was wondering if anyone could explain the embarrassing situation to her. Surprisingly, no explanation from any one seemed to be coming. She was left alone to figure it out and deal with it. She smiled sheepishly and moved on.