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The Sunset Meeting

In the serene village of Jato Aka, nestled along the coast of Middle Belt Nigeria, Sewuese lived a life of routine simplicity. She worked as a primary school teacher, guiding young minds with patience and dedication. Though content, she often dreamed of a love that would sweep her off her feet, much like the tales she told her students during storytime.

One evening, as the sun began its descent into the horizon, casting a golden hue over the landscape, Sewuese decided to take a walk along the beach. The gentle waves lapped at the shore, and the cool breeze played with her braided hair. This was her favorite time of day—a moment of tranquility where she could reflect on her thoughts and dreams.

As she strolled, she noticed a figure in the distance, standing by the water's edge. Curiosity piqued, she walked closer and saw a tall, handsome man gazing out at the ocean. He turned as she approached, and their eyes met. There was an immediate connection, a spark that neither could deny.

"Good evening," he greeted, his voice rich and warm.

"Good evening," Sewuese replied, smiling. "It's a beautiful sunset, isn't it?"

"Indeed it is," he said, his eyes twinkling. "I'm Tersoo, by the way."

"I'm Sewuese. Nice to meet you, Tersoo."

They walked together along the beach, talking about everything and nothing— their lives, their dreams, and the beauty of Jato Aka. Tersoo was an artist from Lagos, visiting the village to find inspiration for his next project. He spoke passionately about his work, describing how he captured the essence of life through his paintings.

Sewuese was captivated by his stories, and Tersoo, in turn, was enchanted by her kindness and intellect. As the night deepened and stars began to dot the sky, they sat on a driftwood log, sharing their hopes and fears.

"Sewuese," Tersoo said softly, "meeting you feels like fate. I've traveled so far looking for inspiration, but perhaps I've found something even more profound."

Sewuese's heart raced. She felt the same, but a small voice of doubt nagged at her. Could this be real? Could a chance meeting truly change her life?

Over the next few weeks, Tersoo and Sewuese spent every moment they could together. Tersoo's art flourished with Sewuese as his muse, and she felt her heart open in ways she never thought possible. They explored the village, laughed with the locals, and shared countless sunsets on the beach.

One afternoon, as they sat under the shade of a palm tree, Tersoo turned to Sewuese, his expression serious. "Sewuese, I've been thinking a lot about us. My time here is coming to an end, but I don't want this to end. I want you to come back to Lagos with me. We could build a life together."

Sewuese was torn. She loved her village, her students, and the life she had built. But she also knew that her heart belonged to Tersoo. She had never felt so alive, so seen, and so cherished.

"Tersoo," she began, her voice trembling, "I love you. But I'm scared. Leaving everything I know, starting anew in Lagos—it's a huge step."

Tersoo took her hands in his. "I understand. But think of it as a new chapter, a chance to pursue your dreams and our love. We'll face the challenges together."

Sewuese gazed into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and love reflected back. In that moment, she made her decision. She realized that love, true love, was worth taking risks for.

"Okay," she said, her voice steady. "I'll go with you."

The day Sewuese agreed to leave Jato Aka was the day that changed everything. She bid farewell to her students and the village she loved, embarking on a journey into the unknown with Tersoo by her side. The villagers gathered to send her off, their well-wishes and blessings echoing in her ears as she and Tersoo departed.

Arriving in Lagos, Sewuese was overwhelmed by the city's bustling energy and vastness, so different from the tranquil life she had known. But with Tersoo's guidance and support, she slowly found her footing. She took up a teaching position at a local school, bringing her passion for education to a new group of children.

Tersoo's art blossomed in the vibrant atmosphere of Lagos, and he gained recognition for his work, often crediting Sewuese as his muse and inspiration. They navigated the challenges of city life together, their bond growing stronger with each passing day.

Their love story became a tale of courage and transformation, reminding them both that sometimes, the greatest adventures begin with a single, bold step into the unknown. And every evening, as the sun set over the horizon, they would find a quiet spot to watch it together, just as they had in Jato Aka, cherishing the memories of their sunset meeting and the journey it had inspired.

©

Kenneth K. Terwase 

"It was a cold starry December Night and I lay on the bed, half asleep. My daughter was sleeping soundly. Even as a teenager, Eugenia had not lost the ability to fall asleep almost immediately laying on her bed, and she slept ever so soundly that she was completely oblivious to whatever was going on around her. I sometimes wished I could easily fall asleep in that manner, but it rarely happened and so I made peace with the fact that the luxury of a deep slumber was not meant for me.

"That night, as I tried vainly to summon the somnolence that eluded me, I wondered how I would raise money for my rent. It was due in two months, but it didn't seem likely that i would have the amount before then. I sighed and hoped for a miracle. Lately, I found herself believing in the supernatural a tad too much for someone who had declared herself an atheist. If there was a God, it was high time he proved himself. Life as a single mother had drained my faith. My finances were dwindling and my relationship with my adolescent daughter was rocky at best.

"My thoughts were suddenly disrupted by a knock on the door. I was startled. I looked at my phone, it was 9:18pm. I ignored the knock and hoped that whoever it was would go away, but the knock came again, this time louder, and accompanied by a familiar soft voice.

Obim, are you in there?

"I felt like the world had come to a sudden stop. It couldn't be. I lay still on the bed, paralysed by the shock, then energised by the sudden rage that overwhelmed me. How dare he show up to my place late at night after 18 years? I found his audacity sickening, and with unsteady motions, jumped to my feet and headed for the door.

"I hated myself in that very moment for even remembering the sound of his voice, I had tried so hard to forget him and everything about him. Obim; that was what he called me back then when he professed in no uncertain terms, his undying love for me. It was what he called me as he asked me to let him make me a woman. It was what he called me before proceeding to announce to me that he would be traveling to Europe for further studies. It was what he called me when he slipped crisp notes into my hand and asked me to terminate my seven week old pregnancy because he wasn't ready to be a father at the time. It was what I called him when I begged him in front of both our families not to deny a pregnancy he knew all to well to be his. It was how I referred to him in the letters I sent him in his early years in Germany, letters he never bothered to reply. Heck! It was even what I called him mentally as I heard his soft voice gently request me to open the door.
"There was so much I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him how he was such an evil person for letting me suffer, for abandoning me when I was carrying his child, for depriving Eugenia of her father's presence, for never bothering to reach out, for letting me raise our child all by myself, for making me an object of ridicule and for just about every misfortune I had suffered.
"But Alas! No sooner had I opened the door than he collapsed into my arms, blood soaked and cold. I don't know how he got my address, or what he wanted to tell me, or what must have happened to him. All I know is that I was frightened and in my fright, I attempted to pull out the knife. That was when Mr. Lazarus walked by and flashed his light at me.
"So you see, Mr. Detective, although I would have loved to have the pleasure of killing him, someone else beat me to it."