Monday, 7 August 2017

Winton By Glory Ada


Winton, that's her name. Winton, the bitch.
I have never really liked Winton, not for once, since she moved into our compound and started staying downstairs, just below me.
Yesterday was like every other day, slow, routinely, as I walked out of the gate , Winton sat there, her cold stare poring into my soul, tearing my being apart, killing my heart. I mustered courage , stared back at her , for a few seconds, something passed between us, a feeling I couldn't name, maybe it was understanding , for it wasn't love,  I took my eyes off her and walked briskly out of the compound.
Once, I had thought I could like her, just once , but that once wasn't really worth it, Winton was cold, really a cold hearted bitch and I hate coldness. That once, I had seen her lay there and had stretched forward a hand of friendship , she whined and starred coldly at me, like a wild dangerous beast and I backed off, not because she was cold , no, it was because I smelt underlying danger in her actions.
I began to hate my neighbours, I mean, how could they bring home such a cold annoying thing to share our house? Just how? Considering the fact that our compound had always been safe, I didn't see a need for an angry beast, there was no need for Winton and we all knew.
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Yesterday , as I walked back home from work, I Walked into the compound and I didn't see Winton. I felt bad, not because I didn't see her, but, because the chain of routines have been broken.
I got in to hear the news of winton's death, of how Winton had tried to catch a hoodlum who stole my generator and a vehicle had over-ran her.
She tried to save my property, she wanted to help me , in bid to help me, she had died. It dawned on me, I was the cold one.
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Today, we are burying Winton, my lost hero. Tomorrow, I would buy another dog for the compound and call her Winton.
Winton, my hero.

Written by Duruem Gory Ada 
Psalmadaobi@gmail.com

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