Welcome to the fourth duel of the second round. All results will be announced after the eight duel of the second round.
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Today Emudianughe Prudence and Eleanya Ndukwe Jr. attempt to bring the thunder. And the theme is Samuel(they are to pick a story from Samuel’s life and retell it). Word count is 500 words.
Let us ride:
Certain things bothered Samuel as he sat down to take his breakfast that morning, one was Saul, his latest act of defiance had turned the State apart. The second problem was how he was going to get to Bethlehem; he knew Saul had kept a tail on him after what happened at Gilgal.
He took his phone, opened his email and read the instruction again.
‘Tell them you need to go for a fund-raising at Bethlehem…’
The instruction was short and precise, this was however not the first time God had sent a short and precise message, the last time had created Saul; his nemesis. His phone bleeped, he unlocked it and read the message from Jesse.
‘Good morning Sir, I received your message with great delight. I am so hono…’
‘Famz*’ Samuel muttered as he scrolled up
‘…I would gladly grace the occasion.’ Samuel closed his inbox, —that was what he needed— stood up from his dinning chair, grabbed his Agbada and briefcase just as the chef approached the table, usually he would stop to tell her about the saltly food, how it was bad for his hypertension but today he ignored her.
‘Good morning Daddy’ his driver said as he stepped outside ‘…where are we going to tod—’
‘I’m going alone’ Samuel snapped, then he added ‘take the day off.’ he knew he had sounded harsh but was he to grovel to his driver? He watched him leave before jumping into his car. Nobody could be trusted.
‘Welcome Sir, I am…’ Jesse said as they sat down waiting for his sons, he was rambling again. Samuel had no time to listen, he had to get down to business.
‘So, where are they?’ he asked impatiently.
‘They are here; I can bring them close…’
‘That’s Elijab, my first son’ Jesse said pointing to a young handsome man holding a glass of champagne.
‘Blue tuxedo?’ Samuel asked.
‘Yes, blue tuxedo’
Samuel looked at him again, he was strong, the perfect size to defeat Saul.
Samuel’s phone bleeped, it was an email from God,
‘Sam, i know what you are thinking and I do not agree with it, Jesse’s youngest son David would be here in a few minute. He’s the one I want. Don’t …’
‘And here is David, my youngest’ Jesse announced.
Samuel turned to face David; a curly haired, cherub faced boy with arms as thin as matchsticks. When the boy opened his mouth; A high girlish sound rang out.
‘God! are you freaking kidding me? Samuel cussed, Go get me Elijab!’ He edicted angrily ignoring the clangorous bleeps.
Today was the day he changed everything and he had no time for another dorky mistake.
*Being over-friendly with someone you don’t know.
For someone whose mother had been branded a “prostitute” for her incessant desperation of going to different ministries for prayers all in her quest to conceive a child, it wasn’t a surprise to find young Sam in the house of God, serving the General Overseer, Eli in the mandatory Worker’s Training. Even much more on the basis that his mother, Hannah had vowed to “give him back” as a “gift to God.”
Such risky vow. He sighed.
“Just negodu. My mama don already decide my life before she even born me sef. Mtcheewww.” Imagine. He exclaimed to himself regrettably.
That one aside.
Now, how would he even know he was being “called” when so many young people wanting to “blow” were claiming same unusually with the menace known as MTN sending endless notifications to OPT IN to one yeye group? He needed to find out ASAP.
And so it happened. On a cold, rainy night somewhere in Umungasi, Aba when he was almost drifting off to sleep, he got a call.
He woke up abruptly. This was no time to toy with someone’s sleep especially with a missing President running a once fluid, economic boom into recession and making everyday a ‘hustle’ for all Nigerians.
“I dey here.” He muttered under his breath, running off to his daddy in the Lord, Prophet Eli.
“I didn’t call you Samuel. Go back to bed.” Eli told him.
Shebi you see why he had never liked rough plays, particularly during his sleep time? He went back to bed.
The calls kept coming. The last time he picked, running to the man again, the GO finally sensing it could be God calling him told him to reply, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.”
Samuel found it hard to memorise the line, being semi-literate having spent all his years at the ministry.
So to make it easier, GO told him to reply to the next call thus: “Speak Baba. Your boy dey hear you wella.”
Confam! He smiled.
However, he wondered why it was necessary to reply in such manner. Anything for the GO sha. After all, if this statement would launch his ministerial career – as he had seen it fetch the prophet international recognition as a much-travelled, celebrated “Man of God” and also turned his two sons, Hophni “Hophygod” and Phinehas “Phyny Finest” to Facebook celebrities even though he didn’t like their excessive flamboyance and arrogance like partying and smoking with “slay queens with okpokoro Ishi” (his choice words for girls with low sense of esteem, worth and intellect), while posting them online as dede Hophni had shown him on his latest gold-plated Iphone 7 just last week – he would repeat them.
He repeated the “Call Response” in his head for the umpteenth time as he made his way back to his room and to his rickety hand-woven mat. And waited.
Finally, the call came through his Nokia 1100 Torchlight again as “UNKNOWN NUMBER.”
And Samuel picked his phone…
Let the voting begin.