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An Epic Short Story

“Ejimole, you have to stop crying. All these tears won’t do anything.”
“Mother, don’t tell me to stop crying. This isn’t fair, you know that.”
“Nothing is fair in love or war, you know that too.”
“Maybe I should just die. There’s no point in living if I can’t get married.
“Why do our people find it hard to accept me? Why do my suitors never grow to become my husbands?
“Emenike, Chukwuka, Ejiofo, Ekwueme, Aniegbu and now Osondu.
“They all proclaimed how much they loved me, but then couldn’t marry me because their families reject me.”
At this point, she was sobbing uncontrollably.
Olaedo watched her cry. She let her vent her sorrow for that was the only way she could get relief.
Suddenly, Ejimole jumped up and asked:
“Mother, am I not beautiful enough?”
“No, you are very beautiful.”
“Okay then, do my eyes blaze fire? Do I have horns? Hei, Chi m o.” (Oh my God)
She looked at her daughter and felt broken by her grief.
It was really affecting her reasoning.
Olaedo hated herself for failing as a woman.
Now her daughter was suffering unnecessarily.
If Ejimole’s father was alive, he could have explained things to her.
The task ahead was too burdensome for a single mother to bear.
She walked to her daughter and gently pulled her up:
“Keep calm my child, for the time has come for you to hear my story.”
PAUSE: They avoid me like a plague, yet my skin is supple.
Even while they love, they aren’t strong enough to want me.
They call themselves men,
Boo, look at babies tied to their mothers’apron strings.

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