Rose reclines on the tough, leather seat which has certainly been dealt with by the passage of time as evidenced by a rugged topography overstated by random tears here and there which gapes and smiles with ferociousness at everyone who dares to look at it.
"Pheww!" She is going back home at last. Life has not been easy. Life in Lagos was certainly exaggerated to her ears as what she saw was a far cry from what she was made to believe. The story-tellers she had come in contact with seemed to all tell the story of Victoria Island. No one seemed to make mention of Ajegunle or Lagos Mainland or Ojuelegba. Damn! Ojuelegba. She crinches at the thought of that very name. The memory of a young lady of her age who disappeared with her tightly-held handbag would not leave her cortex soon; neither will that of a man who pointed a gun at the crown of her head in broad daylight and collected every penny from her while passersby went about with their normal business. Lagos is a place she woudn't want to visit again, even as a jail term.
After almost a full day journey, the white coaster bus negotiates into an ultramodern motorpark and Rose alights. She recovers her luggage and has a difficult time chosing from a number of eager kekeriders who appealing call out to her in an attempt to win her patronage. After what seems like eternity, she finally picks on one.
"Caritas Estate," she announces.
"Get in," The tricycle rider orders.
That voice sounds a little bit deeper that normal. That voice suggests recent contact with "weed" but Rose does not care. "What can he possibly do to me?" She mutters to herself. "Does the Scumbag know the horrible things I have been through already?"
She drags her luggage along and climbs into the tricycle. The duo are just 7 minutes into the journey when a seemingly desperate pedestrain flags down the vehicle.
"Mile 1," He announces.
"Get in here!" The tricycle rider once again commanded.
The average aged man seems to have some difficulty climbing in. He is with a pair of clutches and Rose wonders whether she should help or not.
She watches with the outskirts of her eyeballs as the man struggles and struggles. She finally summons up the willpower to help. On getting closer, she notices the roughness and lesions on the man's face. Some parts of her limbs are also swollen and uneven. His right leg has been completely amputated and the left one doesn't look good either. To be frank, this man is as ugly as a monster.
Two weeks ago, Rose's pastor told her that her uncle was aware thaat she was going home and as such would be scouting for her life.
"This must be him," Rose quickly thinks..
"Haba Unku. You coudn't even wait for me to reach home?" She yells
"My Daughter, I don't understand." The man manages to spin out, with a trembling voice.
"Ooh will you Shut up?" Now let me tell you. No weapon fashioned against me shall prosper. I am covered with the blood of Jesus. Die by Fire." She screamed as she tries to yank the man out of the tricycle which was already moving.
The man is both surprised and confused. The tricycle Rider is as confused as the man himself and at this point, is too afraid to look back.
"Die by Fire! Die by Fire!" Rose keeps screaming as she repeatedly tries to forcefully push the man out of the moving tricycle even as the man uses the last atom of his strength to hold on to the vehicle to safe his life.
After a terrible long fight, Rose succeeded. Mr James falls with a giant thud on the tarred road and is alacritously crushed by a fast moving trailer.
Mr James was not a monster.
Mr James didn't do anything wrong.
Mr James was not a wizard transfiguration of Rose's uncle.
Mr James was just surfering from LEPROSY.
Let's stop the Stigma. Leprosy patients need our love and empathy. They have already gotten a bite of the distasteful part of life. They don't deserve any other bite.
Kindly support this project by donating as low as 0.1sbd. You can also support by commenting, upvoting and re-steeming. God bless. 
@originalworks
@steem-untalented
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