On Writing and...On The Beach Man

When I started writing The Beach Man, I had in mind to write a short story of 100 Words. I’d seen the 100 Word Stories Series in Uzoma’s Blog. I liked it, wanted to do something like that, and so I started with the first sentence that jumped in my head: The killer doesn't lift his eyes off me as he grabs the dagger on the table. And this first sentence began a horror/suspense series that would span 13 weekly episodes. The Beach Man was a fun, and sometimes difficult story to write, but the comments the wonderful readers always dropped kept on pushing me to finish the project.

I’ve always been scared about sharing my work for people to see. Waiting for Dami’s Whistle was the first story I ever shared on this blog, and somehow I love that it didn’t get any comments. That story needs some fixing, but then I’ve decided to leave it as it is. I want to have something I can look back on someday and say, “Oh, this was when I was an amateur writer.” No, I’m not saying I’ve become a professional. English isn’t even my native language, but I keep striving every day to see that I get better in my writing and in my life as a whole.

And then it makes me happy to know I have friends who’ve encouraged me in one way or the other to better my writing.

So, I want to say thanks again to everyone who followed The Beach Man: Robyn, Athina, Uzoma, the honorable Doc. Christopher, Omolara, Jennifer, Ezike Nwadiuto, Neso, E-face, Felix, Florentine, Bella, Chinyere. To Saka, for providing the picture of the beach man—the one you see in the cover.

I might have missed some people but I appreciate everyone who has ever stopped by this blog. By visiting this place, you’ve all being an encouragement to me. So a big “THANK YOU” to you! :)

Ps: I want to use this medium to request for critiques on The Beach Man if you have some time to spare. Robyn and Uzoma have suggested that I turn it into an e-book, so I’d love to brush it up. I’ll appreciate any and all comments. Thank you!

Book Review: The Associate by John Grisham

The Associate
Author: John Grisham 
Released Date:  January 1st 1999
Publisher: Century

It's a deadly game of blackmail. And they're making him play.

Kyle McAvoy is one of the outstanding legal students of his generation: he's good looking, has a brilliant mind and a glittering future ahead of him. But he has a secret from his past, a secret that threatens to destroy his entire life.

One night that secret catches up with him in the form of a deeply compromising video of the incident that haunts him. Kyle realises that he no longer owns his own future - that he must do as his blackmailers tell him, or the video will be made public, with all the unpleasant consequences.

What price do they demand for Kyle's secret? It is for Kyle to take a job in New York as an associate at the largest law firm in the world. Kyle won't be working for this company, but against it - passing on the secrets of it's biggest trial to date, a dispute worth billions of dollars to the victor.

Full of twists and turns and reminiscent of The Firm, The Associate is vintage John Grisham.
*Goodreads Blurb*

MY REVIEW

The Associate is my first John Grisham read, but I did not wholly enjoy it like I thought I would.

It tells the story of Kyle McAvoy, a twenty-five year old about to graduate from Law School and plans to work for a public-interest firm. One night a man appears with an incriminating video, secretly taken by a cell phone, which reveals the details of a drunken party few years earlier. The video contains evidence that some of Kyle’s friends may have slept with a girl who may have been unconscious at the time. There’s actually nothing to incriminate Kyle except that he was in the video, drunken and nude. And that’s embarrassing. Thus begins the blackmail: in order not to release the video to the public and to stop a potential rape allegation, Kyle has to work in one of the biggest law firms in the world and steal documents related to a lawsuit between two defence contractors.

Well, the blurb says the book is reminiscent of The Firm, but I haven’t read The Firm, so I can’t compare both books. The story spans a period of ten months. The beginning and middle of the books sets up the story in a fairly slow pace, showing what the life of a first year associate is like at a big Wall Street firm. Then the ending moves in a very fast, non-stop pace. I like John Grisham’s style of writing; there wasn’t too much legal jargon, but I was pleased to learn a few. The book is mainly set in New York, but we are transported back and forth to Pittsburg and York, Pennsylvania.

I liked the main character, Kyle McAvoy, felt some sympathy for him and the grave circumstance hanging over him. Although contemplative at times, I thought he was brave to match the blackmailer’s schemes. I think he’s the only character with enough depth in the story. I liked other characters like the beautiful Dale, who wears fine dresses; Joey Bernardo, Kyle’s friend from Yale University. But I didn’t connect with them. 

My put off with this book, however, was the ending. The last pages seemed rushed and there were lots of unanswered questions. It left me with a feeling like I’d eaten a good meal, but without any water to wash it down my throat. In other words, the meal got stuck in my throat and I couldn’t digest it.

Well, because I couldn’t digest this meal, I’m giving it 3 (***) Stars.

I’ll still check out other meals in the Grisham Restaurant. I think I’ll go for the ones prepared in the early nineties.

Ps: This is my 100th post! :) Thanks to everyone who's every stopped by this blog. You rock!

The 400-Word Story: The Beach Man #13

Ifeoma

“You’re so naïve, Ifeoma,” the killer says when I stand before him. “You created me. Now you want to destroy me?  Why not think about what we could achieve together?”

I grip the handle of the basket harder. “I did not create you!”

“Your potion turned me into this. You’re to blame for everything I’ve ever done.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “My potion was for a peaceful transition to life after death. You should have walked away and be reincarnated like me. Yet you stayed back.”

“To avenge your death.”

“You killed everyone involved. Why didn’t you leave?” I spit on his face. “Because you’re evil!”

He scowls. “I’ll hunt you—”

I don’t wait for him to finish. I reach inside the basket, scoop a handful of salt, and hurl it at him. He shrieks, swings his hand towards me, but the entrapment chalk stops him. I reach for the salt again, toss another handful at him.

His body drops to the ground. He curls ups, shivering and whining. Like a dog.

I empty the remaining salt on him. He stiffens. Then, from his mouth, a cloud rises, forming a vague human form above the dead body. I take out the bowl of garlic, set it on the floor. I strike a match. Light the garlic. Then retreat backwards and stand beside Shola.

She reaches for my hand, and together we watch the killer.

He floats about in his true form, seeking for an exit. But soon the smoke from the garlic wears him down; he drops to the ground and begins to fade, until he is no more. Banished from Earth forever.

Shola hugs me with a sigh, and I put my hand around her as she sobs against my back. Tears roll down my face, dropping to the sand.

Finally, this torment is over.

In silence, we hold hands and walk towards the village, alone in the dark night.

The villagers would relax now. People would come to the beach on Sundays, without the fear of being killed. My bag is packed already. I know where to go next.

The hospital.

Because he didn’t want me devastated, Uchenna lied to me about our parents—they had actually sustained some burns in the fire and were in the intensive care unit now.

They need my comfort in this difficult time.

And my healing hands, as well.

THE END

Footnote: This is the final episode of The Beach Man, a 400-Word Blog Series. I hope you enjoyed it. For the first episode, click HERE.

Thanks for reading! Thanks again to everyone who’s followed the series. Can I say another thanks? Well, thanks.

Okay, a special post comes up next Monday.

The 400-Word Story: The Beach Man #12

Ifeoma

A cold wind blows against me as the killer closes the gap between us. Staring at his new borrowed body, I steady myself, careful not to reveal any trace of the entrapment chalk underneath my bare feet.

“Look who’s here.” He grins, brushing my cheek with the back of his palms. “My sweet Ifeoma.”

“These people wronged you and…” I swallow hard. “They also wronged me, but please stop the killing.”

He shakes his head. “You should try it.”

“What?”

“I mean, try piercing a dagger through someone. Watch their lifeblood seep away.” He smiles. “And then that fearful look in their eyes…oh, it gives me this feeling of pure ecstasy. You really should try it.”

“I’m tired of…I’m just…” I break into a sob.

He puts his arms around me, patting my back gently. I lean against his chest, and an overwhelming feeling of familiarity settles upon me—there used to be a time when he’d return from hunting, and I’d prepare his kill for dinner. He cared so much for me then, even resisted pressures from his family to marry a new wife because I couldn’t bear him a child. He was a good husband.

Now he's…a killer.

A demon!

Suddenly I remember. Under my feet. Chalk.

Holding him closer, I slide my left foot around him in a curving motion, making sure it doesn’t lift from the sand. I do the same with my right foot, until it connects with the arc from the left.

The killer looks at me, sober expression in his eyes. “I missed holding you like this.”

I swing a punch at his jaw and jump backwards.

He tries moving towards me but stops in mid-action. He looks down, sees the chalk circling him. Then he looks at me, his eyes wide with fear.

I smile. “Tricked you fool.”

Just then Shola emerges from the cluster of coconut trees in the right, clutching a small basket. “I thought I’d totally lost you to the past.”

“Let me do the rites.”

She hands the basket to me. I look inside: a bowl of salt, another bowl of dried, sliced garlic, and a box of matches.

Salt ejects a demon from its host body. Smoke from burning garlic weakens the demon and banishes it from Earth forever.

The killer begins to tremble as I walk towards him; he knows I’ve done this so many times.


Footnote: This is the twelfth episode of The Beach Man, a 400-Word Blog Series.
Click HERE for the next episode.

Thanks for reading! And stay tuned for the thirteenth episode next Monday.

Book Review: The Cobra Event by Richard Preston

The Cobra Event
Author: Richard Preston
Released Date: August 29th 1998
Publisher: Ballantine Books

Five days ago. a homeless man on a subway platform died in agony as startled commuters looked on. Yesterday, a teenager started having violent, uncontrollable spasms in art class. Within minutes, she too was dead.

Dr. Alice Austen is a medical pathologist at the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta. What she knows is that the two deaths are connected. What she fears is that they are only the beginning…

*Goodreads Blurb*

MY REVIEW

It begins with a common cold. You find yourself blowing your nose every moment. You sneeze occasionally. You take some cold syrup. The syrup doesn’t help. You feel even worse. You're drifting apart. Someone’s talking to you, but you aren’t paying any attention. You feel weak and weary and disoriented. And then you suddenly drop to the floor, thrashing around violently. You feel strange blisters in your mouth. Next you begin to chew your lips and the insides of your mouth in relish. You know you’re hurting yourself but you just can’t help it. Then your spine begins to curve backward and backward, until you…

Sounds creepy, right?

Well, I’ve just described how the Cobra virus works.

The Cobra Event is a realistic science fiction. It’s about a virus, Cobra, which affects the brain and turns one into a monster, killing oneself from inside.

A homeless man dies on a subway platform. Days later, a teenager dies under strange circumstances. Dr. Alice Austen of the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta is sent to New York to examine what seems like an outbreak of a disease. Along with her fellow scientists, she discovers this disease is actually a virus, released by an unknown terrorist, with strong indications of a bigger release to come soon. What follows is a flurry of scientific activities as they battle to discover the properties of this new virus, because doing that would help identify the terrorist.

This is one of those kinds of books I refer to as edutainment. I learnt much scientific stuff while reading. I was entertained by the chilling story as well. There were lots of biological and medical stuffs I liked in the book. I was distracted, though, by some of the expositions. The author seemed to explain everything, and with too many details, the reading experience felt like science lecture sometimes. I was detached a bit, but I kept on reading because I wanted to see how everything ends, though I predicted rightly who would and who wouldn’t survive.

About the characters, I didn’t really connect with any of them. I felt they didn’t have much depth. The bad guy, a scientist-turned-terrorist, however, was a real bad guy.

Overall, I’d say The Cobra Event is a wonderful read. I loved the chills it gave me—sometimes I stopped to wonder what if the air I were breathing was filled with virus particles. That’s what this book does to you. It shows you what a bioterrorist attack could look like today. I’d have given it more stars if the first part of the book didn’t drag out. The last fifty pages, with its fired shots and explosions, were the best parts.

I recommend this book to anyone who loves a good medical thriller and who doesn’t mind lectures while reading fiction. The author has some really great nonfiction books.

You’ll love this book if you’re a Michael Crichton fan.

So, here goes my three (***) stars to The Cobra Event.

The 400-Word Story: The Beach Man #11

Ifeoma

The sniffling from the other room stops after a while, then Shola emerges through the door, holding a notebook. I feel a stab of déjà vu as she settles across me; her twin sister had sat just there yesterday, listening as I told her about my strange dreams.

Wiping her eyes with a handkerchief, she places the notebook on the desk.

“I’m really sorry about your sister,” I say.

She shakes her head. “It isn’t your fault. Perhaps if she had been patient, none of this would have happened.”

“How do you mean?”

“Folakemi wasn’t supposed to start a private practice yet.”

I stare at her, confused, and she continues.

“Spiritualism is a difficult practice with different stages. My whole family practices it. There’re five levels of experience in spiritualism. Level one is the beginner stage, while level five is the master stage. In Nigeria, we have just few level five spiritualists.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “What level are you?”

“I’m Level four,” Shola says, regretful look on her face. “But Folakemi was only Level two. She wasn’t patient to learn gradually. She was always eager to reach the fifth level and start her own practice. My father’s a Level five, but it took him thirty-seven years to get there. She renounced our family after a quarrel with him four years ago. Then she started travelling and was always keeping ears open for strange spirits. I guess that’s how she landed here. I’ve been here once to persuade her to return to our family, but she closed the door on me. She was mad because I supported my father in the fight.” She wipes her nose noisily. “But last night she called out to me telepathically, and I knew she was in trouble, so I took the late night bus to get here. Now from what I’ve seen in her notebook, she underestimated the beach man.” She leans forward and holds my hand. “You see, the beach man isn’t just a spirit but a demon who’s grown stronger and stronger over the years. We must stop him quickly.”

My heart races. “We?”

“Yes.” She nods, her eyes flashing with desperation. “We must stop him tonight.”

“Tonight? But I don’t—I…”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. I’ll teach you to become Level five again.” She squeezes my hand harder. “Ifeoma, you were a Level five in your former life.”


Footnote: This is the eleventh episode of The Beach Man, a 400-Word Blog Series.
Click HERE for the next episode.

Thanks for reading! And stay tuned for the twelfth episode next Monday.

The 400-Word Story: The Beach Man #10

Ifeoma

When I wake up, I find myself still sitting on the chair in my room. I grab the towel beside me and wipe my face, trying to recall the dream I just had. Few feet away from me, Chika folds the last of my clothing and slips it into my backpack. She zips up it and looks at me. “I’m done. Emeka’s waiting for us at the motor park.”

I shake my head. “I told you I’m going nowhere.”

She frowns. “See, our lives are better than this NYSC. Two corpers left this morning. Everybody knows this place isn’t safe anymore. Please brush your teeth and let’s leave, okay?”

I look away, and then she walks over to me after a moment of silence. She begins to say something, but I cut her off.

“Leave me alone! Why do you even care now? Go away. I’m not coming with you.”

I expect her to walk away, but she just looks at me and wipes the tears flowing down my cheeks. Then she gently pulls me up and hugs me. “I’m very sorry. I wish I’d listened to you when you first told me about the dreams. Please let’s—”

Dreams!

Everything comes back to me and my body stiffens against hers.

She steps backward. “What’s wrong?”

“Call Emeka. Tell him to come back. We’re not leaving.”

“Why?”

“We’ll die if we try to leave.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The dream I just had. The beach man was the bus driver. He plunged the vehicle into a river, and we all drowned.”

Chika opens her mouth to say something, but then thinks better of it and closes it.

“You’re thinking, what if you leave alone with Emeka?” I say. “Not a good idea.”

She stares guiltily at the floor for a while, then looks up at me. “So what do we do now?”

“I’ll go to the spiritualist place and check around. I need to know who Shola is.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No, you’ll stay here with—”

Someone knocks on the door, and Chika crosses the room to open it before I can stop her. My stomach drops when I see the woman by the door: heavyset, dark chocolate skin, piercing eyes—a replica of the spiritualist.

“Hello, I’m Shola Adeniyi,” she says, looking at me, and then as if noticing my shock, she adds, “Folakemi’s twin sister.”


Footnote: This is the tenth episode of The Beach Man, a 400-Word Blog Series.
*Click HERE for the next episode.
NYSC: National Youth Service Corps. A one-year national service in Nigeria for graduates, aimed to bring about unity in the country and to help youths appreciate other ethnic groups
Corpers: Popular name for graduates working under the National Service scheme, although an appropriate term is “Youth Corps member.”

Thanks for reading! And stay tuned for the eleventh episode next Monday.