Writers 
IN HIS HANDS
BY
BASIL IGHEDOSA
CHAPTER ONE
“Beep” went the most annoying cause of nuisance in my life right now. Raising my hands I thrust it out of my ears with brute force, “slam” it went and fell to the ground the glass shattering into pieces. The old dusty alarm clock was the only thing that I had in memory of my foster father. I never knew who my parents were nor did I know of any relatives as I was very little. So I grew up with foster parents. My foster dad was a jerk, with no striking personality and of no consequence. His wife was worse though, she was a glorified whore, bossy, never felt a bit of shame, was rarely home, but she was beautiful, yeah I could give her that. They had died in a ghastly train accident, and since that night, I lived alone.
Reluctantly, I got up from the squeaky bed, dragging my feet with much effort to the toilet. With no care in the world, I lived anyhow I wanted and wherever I liked as long as I could afford it. The house of my foster parents was brought down by a terrible flood. It was bad luck for me, always. I managed to find myself a house to live in. it was owned but not occupied. Looked like a cabin to me. The bathroom was separated from the rest of the rooms, literally all the wood works were squeaky and infested with termites lurking inside of them. The panes of the windows were broken and the net flew lousily to the direction of the wind. I had nothing to fill the house up with apart from foodstuffs and a few cooking utensils, and a couch. I lived opposite a thick forest, it was lonely and quiet.
My source of livelihood was from a vetenary where I worked after school on an evening shift. Then I jog my way down to Judge Fredrick’s mansion. Judge Fredrick was a widower, a father of four, a judge and a supposedly good man at act. I pleaded to let me work with his security personnel’s guarding his children and his property. My night shift began at 10:00pm till 5:00am the next morning; after which I stroll my way home, slump on my bed and I’m off to la la land where my life’s different until my now vanquished enemy brings me back to reality. And that’s basically my life, I thought, as I wiped shit from my ass and flushed out the dump.
Took my bath, had breakfast of breadfruit and milk and off I was, to school, walking the lanes where the school bus stop usually was. I saw this bald guy on black jacket staring as always and I never found any reason to be suspicious of him or I just didn’t care. The bus was late today, probably had to refill its tank with some gas or change its old loose tyres, which ever, I could care less. Another day of learning and boredom, I sighed as I thought to myself. Despite living on my own, I never really skipped school, foster dad always said, “with education, there’s a bright future ahead of you” and I sticked to that.
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