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Ozila's Adventures

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STORY LIBRARY

Adanna: The Mysterious Aba Girl || Brouhaha In The House Of God || Brouhaha In The House Of God2: the guardian angel || Fucking With The Devil || My Woman My Everything || The Carpenter, The Witch And The Mysterious Mirrow || The Mysterious Twenty Thousand Naira || There And Back On Time: Germany Dilemma || Adanna 2 : Seeds of Adanna || Deji The Pool Boy || The Private Lesson Teacher || The Tales Of Ozila Laveda And The Bank || The Preachers Son || Adesuwa || There And Back On Time Season 2: Europe Wahala || Brouhaha 3: Road to hell ||Sex And The City || Fausat The Fish Seller || Who Love Me Most || Witches And Wizards || The Magnificent Brothers season one || Confession Of Funnab Yahoo Boy || Honest Illusion || Sex Robbery And Delivery Service || Once Upon A Nite Stand || My I.T Sexcapade || Murica My River Wife || How I Cherish My Sister || A Clarion Call To Confusion || Adanna3: The Sacrifice || Secrets And Scandals || The Magnificent Brothers 2 || Sins Of My Past || Diary Of An Assistant Girlfriend || Allen Avenue: Story Of A Call Worker || Cassandra || Church Rats || The University Prestos || The Curious Case Of Boda Meko || Dark Tears Of Babylon || An Ace For Oscar || The Coffin Of Errors || A Merry Chrismax || The Nemesis Of Daddy || Me And My Supernatural Girlfriend || The Road To Stardom || Three Days To Remember || || heart of a lucifer || Murica 2: How Do I Return || Three Days to remember 2 || Brother Paul || My Imsu Desire || Diana the mermaid || Belinda: tender beauty || The Darkest Hour || The Darkest Hour 2 || The Last Smile || Omolara's Faith || Blinkered || Behind Her Smile || Bukky Alakara ||Intermission: The Love ||The University Prestos || M.A.R.Y || The President Son And I || Abominable Act || In The Dark || Act Of Faith || Act Of Faith 2 ||Mr Rajas Daughter 2 || Shattered Dreams || Adanna 4: Unavoidable Nemesis || Brouhaha 4: Die Another Day || Brouhaha 5: Judgement Day || Brouhaha 6: Political War/a

An Ace For Oscar (chapter three)

An hour and a half later, we drove out of the
house to kidnap another man’s daughter. We
drove to her school, University of Lagos. As
we drove on, I wondered how Anastasia would
be located among the multitude of scholars in
that institution. But still, it seemed like
Dada had everything under his control. We
were dressed in black attires; our sartorial tint
complemented the colour of the vehicle. It was
a sheer miracle that we didn’t encounter any
police officer to pull us over for driving a
vehicle without license plates.
When we got close to the school, Mr Dada
stopped the car and relinquished the driving to
me. All I had to do was drive; he would
grab the girl. I was all too glad to oblige.
The time was already 4:15pm when we finally
stopped at a quiet spot, somehow awaiting the
arrival of our prey. The plan seemed dumb to
think about. How would a prey just walk
towards its predator? Where we were parked
was even one of the least plied roads in the
locality. I suggested that we drove to a more
likely place we might find our subject but, as
usual, Mr Dada was adamant. He was
convinced that this was the route Anastasia
always took after lecture. I didn’t dispute
that; evidently, the man had done his
homework well, but I wondered why the girl
would choose to take the road, of all the
roads that led to the school. There was only
one reason for that: this was the shortest
route to wherever she lived. In life, even the
shortest routes are less paved.
It was already many minutes past five but
Anastasia was not spotted. I had been given
the picture of the girl, so I knew whom to
expect. I scanned the face of each female
that passed by but none looked even remotely
like Anastasia. The girl in the photograph was
fair-skinned and had a somehow pointed
nose. The clothes she had on in the photo
accented her hourglass figure, and the smile
plastered on her face was genuine and
beautiful. For a moment, as ridiculous as it
might seem, I think I was falling in love with
the photograph I was holding. When I’m not
near the person I love, I love the one I’m
near; in the case though, I was near a
photograph. Go on, call me a cad. See if I
care.
Just then, we saw the image from the
photograph approach us.
We were parked at the side of the road. We
quickly reached into the car and pulled out our
stocking masks. Donning the mask, I sat
behind the steering wheel. Mr Dada was
already at the back seat; his gun was drawn
and he was ready to attack. Anastasia walked
slowly towards us. She seemed totally oblivious
of our presence because she had earphones in
her ears and was somehow gyrating to
whatever music was playing from her
BlackBerry. One word for Anastasia:
Gorgeous! She was dressed in a yellow shirt
and a pair of blue jeans trouser, a flat-soled
yellow and blue Prada adorned her feet. She
had the curves any man could die for. She
was totally adorable. She moved gracefully,
she could as well be walking on air. When
she reached close to us, Mr Dada stepped out
of the car, yanked the earphone off of her,
pressed the nozzle of the pistol against her
temple, and ordered her to enter the car.
Anastasia’s face immediately registered fear
and she was already weeping, begging my
partner to spare her life. Mr Dada gave her a
nasty slap and ordered her to keep quiet;
quite an unnecessary thing to do. Within
seconds, the left side of her face turned red
from the assault. He sat in the back-seat
beside the girl and ordered me to drive. The
man was becoming too authoritative for my
liking.
It was hard trying to focus clearly on the road
with an oversized mask occasionally veiling my
vision. But when I checked the rear-view
mirror and saw Mr Dada take off his mask,
I did the same. The two sat together in the
back like a couple, and I felt like a common
driver. The man had his gun pressed against
her side, and the girl continued whimpering—
scared. Mr Dada was busy smiling at
something funny I failed to see. Soon, I
stopped pondering over what could be hilarious
to Mr Dada and occupied my mind with the
hope of arriving safely at our destination. A
vehicle without plate numbers would make us
too conspicuous than one with. What was Mr
Dada thinking to have gotten rid of the plate
numbers in the first place? A dumb
precaution, actually.
TO BE CONTINUED AFTER COMMENTS

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An Ace For Oscar (chapter two)
Updated: October 16, 2016 — 6:06 pm

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