GIVE IT UP | Chronicle by Dominion Ejiofor

The sun was mild and could sense the alarm ticking for it to go home. I slid my hands into my black jacket's pockets and slightly held the handle of the pocket knife waiting for it to be fed.

I sighted a prey, I needed to act like a natural. Some could say it was my first time, and some would say I was a charming devil. My prey was female, she was pretty, tall and young- in her mid twenties and her hair had an entrancing wavy flow anytime the wanton wind romanced it.

She wore a pellucid long jacket, it was a gossamer that embellished with hibiscus flowers. She didn't notice my presence; my absence and distance were proof I had watched lots of crime movies. I swallowed a lump of saliva as I increased my paces, before she slipped through my fingers. I avoided the crowd as she entered a street filled with purdah. The perfect place to carry out my deeds.

I controlled my breathing as I felt the knife rim for the last time. I brought my steps to a pause as she opened her bag to take out something. She was making a phone call, her laughter and voice sounded fresh and bright. It made me want to carry my deed faster. Ooh, I couldn't wait to devour on her reaction when I carried out my actions. Her life and fear would be in my hand soon. I needed to taste her fear, and her pleas. She put the phone in her bag and I watched as she took a turn and I continued the stalking. I looked left and right. Then looked across my right shoulder and lightly furrowed my eye brows.

I wasn't a professional but my expression was good at convincing anybody. I needed to corner her, needed to make sure she couldn't slip through my hands easily. I licked my lower dry lips as thoughts of her frightened intertwined. I prevented my footsteps from echoing. I approached her from behind-with the knife at her back. I loudly whispered that she should give everything she had. I could feel her body shimming, I was sure her heart had risen to her throat.

I sniffed the shampoo in her hair and her cologne was nice. "give it up, give everything you've." My voice injected more fear into her. Her bag slipped through her fingers and gave a heavy thud as it hit the ground. The final thing that remained to be given up was her life. I could sense her heart and nostrils palpitated. Her pleading, her expression, her shouting was an epic sight. I loved how she didn't struggle or acted who was boss.

"It's all a prank. Hey look at the camera. It's all a prank." I shouted as I held her quivering arms "the knife is a table knife. Not even sharp."
She covered her face in her sweaty palms the moment she sighted the camera. A frisson of surprise shot through her. She sniffed, hissed and nervously chortled. Then a laugh came after she threw light punches on my stomach. I picked up her bag and opened my arms for a warm welcoming hug.


Perfection is not of man, correction is a headstart

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