I wake up to the rumbling sounds of hunger. As if that’s not enough, the alarm clock begins to blare, adding to my inconvenience.
“Oh, shut up!” I fling my wine glass at the clock, shattering it into pieces.
“Damn,” I mutter, enclosing my face in the cups of my palms. I step out of bed, throw on a white linen robe to cover my nakedness, and glance down at the mess I’ve made. Shrugging my shoulders, I tell myself, Well, it’s something a couple of dollars can easily fix.
I turn on the plasma television and pace around, brushing my teeth. Suddenly, I stop. The news catches my attention. I pick up my phone and call the only person who’s ever cared about me.
“Hey, Mum, did you see the news? There’s massive inflation right now in the country. You know what that means?”
“What does it mean?” she asks, her voice as calm as ever.
“It means we’re gonna be fucking rich!” I pause, waiting for her ecstatic response.
“Yesss! Come on, baby!” I exclaim when I hear no reaction from her. My voice echoes around my six-bedroom duplex, a fact that often convinces my neighbors I need psychological help.
“Hey, Pete, did you drink last night?”
“Oh, no! Come on, Mum, don’t ruin this precious moment. I’ve—”
“You know I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. You’re all I’ve got left,” she interrupts.
I take a deep breath and sit on my bed. “Mum, I’ve told you, it’s my only path to sanity.”
“No, it’s making you crazy! Can’t you see that?” Her calm, sweet, motherly voice sweeps through the air, reaching deep into my soul. But the effect doesn’t last long.
She continues, “Jesus is the only—”
“Mum, please stop!” I snap. “Can’t we have a normal conversation? All I ever hear from you is Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.”
“Oh, come on! Give me a break,” I reply. “You know what? Let’s talk about this tomorrow, same time, okay?”
“Alright. I love you. Mwah.” I hear the familiar smack of her lips.
“Love you more,” I say, yawning.
My gaze shifts to a portrait high on the wall. A smile spreads across my face. It’s a picture of me and Mum back in Africa. I’m shirtless, carting a wheelbarrow loaded with large water cans, while she balances a calabash on her head. I marvel at how that boy became a successful businessman in the United States.
Indeed, time flies, and change is inevitable, I think to myself.
My eyes drift from the boy in the portrait to my mother, her dark-skinned elegance radiating warmth. My pupils zoom in until I travel back in time...
I was a hustling kid raised by my mum, a single parent. She was my world, and I was hers. But how could we be each other’s world when we couldn’t even taste the beauty it had to offer? The streets weren’t friendly. We survived day to day, living hand to mouth. I sold drugs and scammed the wealthy to get by. They’d never help people like me, so I gave them a taste of life’s cruelty. Survival was my only motive.
A sudden phone call pulls me back to reality.
“Hey, how are you? It’s been a while since I—”
I cut the call immediately. It’s Tressy, my ex-fiancée. If she cheated once, she can cheat twice, I tell myself.
Tressy was a lesson. Up until two weeks ago, I thought she was the perfect one—the icing on the cake. But she was in it for the money, like everyone else.
I remember the cold look on her face when I asked if she truly loved me or if it was all a mirage. She responded with silence. But I got my answer. Life teaches lessons every day, revealing the true nature of the universe.
The next day, I decide to surprise my mum with a visit. Upon arrival, I see a small crowd gathered, phones in the air, cameras flashing. I step out of my car and notice police vehicles and detectives barricading a house near my mum’s. I walk toward the scene, then pause. It’s her house.
Adrenaline kicks in, but I stay calm, considering all the possibilities.
An officer places his hand on my chest, gently pushing me back. “Sir, could you please step back? We’re handling a homicide case.”
My ears ring. My heart pounds. My mouth hangs open. I’m like a living zombie, paralyzed by shock and pain. The writing is on the wall, but I refuse to read it.
It isn’t long before I see a body covered in a black sheet being wheeled away on a gurney. I crane my neck for a better view and spot her grey hair tied with the ribbon I bought her for her 64th birthday.
Tears stream down my face. I drop to my knees and look toward the heavens she always preached about.
“Wh... why?”
I cry like a baby, but this time, it’s the cry of a man who’s lost everything.
It’s been a week since my mother’s death, and my voice still echoes around my duplex. But this time, hers isn’t there to intermittently break the silence. I drink to fill the void, but no amount of alcohol can erase the permanent vacuum her absence has left.
My phone buzzes with condolence messages. I scoff, pressing my thumb against the screen so hard it cracks. Friends? I laugh bitterly. There’s no such thing as friends when you’re successful.
First Tressy. Now my mum. The weight of guilt breaks me every time I remember how I failed to repent of my sins—her greatest wish for me.
I stroll to the cathedral one evening, pushing the heavy doors apart. The place is empty, silent except for the faint echo of my footsteps on the polished floor. My gaze fixes on the sculpted crucifix at the altar.
I have two choices: kneel and fulfill her dying wish, or walk away and let life take its course.
I kneel before the holy image, clasping my hands together as memories of her prayers flood my mind. I recite the lines she taught me as a child, my voice trembling.
But then I remember.
He didn’t give me a chance to say goodbye. He didn’t let me hold her hand one last time or hear her voice whisper my name. Anger floods my chest, and I feel my resolve slipping.
I stand abruptly, my heart pounding, tears brimming in my eyes. “After all,” I whisper to the empty hall, “we all have our lives to live. She lived for Christ. And me... well... only time will tell.”
I push open the cathedral doors and step back into the night, walking against the harsh storm.
And for the first time in my life, I feel truly alone.
Posted Using InLeo Alpha
This story is a clear remainder that life is a reality and not a dream and the only way to confront this reality is facing our fear no matter what. I enjoyed this piece of yours @chuksmeezy , well done dear friend.
It isn't a dream indeed. Thank you dear❤️
Hello @chuksmeezy,
One of our trusted AI detectors came up with 100% AI score on your story. Did you use any AI editing programs to help write this?
Thanks for your response.
The idea, draft and writing here is mine. I only used AI to only correct any wrong spellings, missed or improper punctuations.Greetings @theinkwell
I write my stories solely from my inspirations. I've never used Ai to formulate a story, and don't plan on doing so.
Something you're doing in the edit is triggering AI detectors. It seemed like an original story. Maybe it's the punctuation. You have to be really careful about editing with AI.
Alright... I'll be more careful next time or I might as well just go back to the manual style of editing.
Thank you for the feedback ✨
Life do reminds us of the reality we facing now
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A story with a sad ending, but very interesting. That's life, as real as your story. Greetings.
A sad ending indeed!
Thank you ✨
Indeed, you ran the chinua achebe thing... Story is lit man
😂😅...Thanks bro✊
Anytime