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Hush 🔫 By 🔫 thegrapesurgeon

Hush 🔫 By 🔫 thegrapesurgeon

Story Highlight!

“Hush now dear” his voice echoed as the sound collided against the walls of the dingy backroom that I had called home for the past few weeks of my life
*TRIGGER WARNINGS *
*RAPE
*SELF HARM

Mr. Patriot EC Akoma, officially known as Colonel’ Patriot Usman Abdirahman’ in the 009 movie. He’s a Share Owner at 009 Corporation. And now he is promising Artiste/Writers globally, to stand in the gap, representing them overseas, while bringing out the star in them…

Hush 🔫 By 🔫 thegrapesurgeon is brought to you by 009 Corporation.

Starting

Just Keep Running
⚒️⚒️⚒️🛠️🛠️🛠️⚒️⚒️⚒️⚒️⚒️⚒️⚒️
My hands scramble for something to grip onto, my body desperately looking for some form of stability as my lungs scream for oxygen from within.
I hear sirens sounding in the distance, bringing me a tiny rag of comfort and euphoria from thoughts of finally being able to escape. But that rag is cruelly ripped away, as the sirens continue to distance themselves from me
As the sirens get further and further away, my heart begins to beat faster and louder, periodic gunshots in my head. Sweat travels in rivers down my face, mingling with the shallow scratches etched on my skin. The burning sensation reminding me that I’m still here, still trapped in this bottomless pit of a nightmare and still on the run from him, no, not him, it. That mangled, disfigured piece of shit didn’t deserve to even entertain the idea of being the same species as me.
I push my body away from the wall, my lungs thankful for the brief rest, and allow a fresh wave of adrenaline to consume me as my legs carry my unwilling body ahead. The sharp stabbing pain in my head allows for short relief from the sounds of the trailing uneven foot steps behind me.
Sorry this chapter is a tad short, I have exams and didn’t have time to write up the rest – Drei

🏹🏹🏹🏹🏹🏹🏹🏹🏹🏹🏹🏹🏹🏹

The Wheels On The Van Go Round And Round
Image 5.4K Image 67 Image 13
by thegrapesurgeon
Thoughts were racing through my mind as fast as my legs were propelling me forward, presenting images of my somewhat normal, yet mundane life. So many memories breaking past the flood gates, scenes that I would gladly give anything to be in right now.
A cocktail of sweat and tears forming on my face as I’m drowning in visions of the past.
My train of thought suddenly disapates when I realise that the only sounds to be heard are the pathetic sobs bubbling out of my mouth and the drum beat of my heart.
The sound of clumsy footsteps seems to have vanished into thin air.
My knees drop to the ground, aching from running for what seemed like an eternity. As I fall to the ground, I feel the blisters around my ankles erupt in unison, mini party poppers celebrating its victory in escaping that waste of flesh. My ribs heaving up and down, pumping oxygen into my ravenous lungs. I weep along with the blisters on my ankles.
I prop myself up against a rotting fence, not caring when the splinters pierce the skin on my back. Darkness engulfing my line of sight as I begin to drift off.
I’m awoken by the humming of a close by engine. Slightly dishevelled and pissed off, I rub my eyes and allow my eyelids to flicker open. My line of sight is blurred from the deep rest that I had been wrapped up in. Blinking a few times helps to rectify this though.
After all this effort, the vision that dares to greet me will (i’m sure) leave me forever vexed. He reaches for my fringe and like the spoilt two year old he is, grips it and jerks my head back. “fuck” I whisper in a sorrowful tone, unknowingly provoking this walking vegetable to respond with a playful yet menacing “pEeK a Bo0”

🔓🔓🔓🔓🔓🔏🔓🔓🔏🔏🔓🔓🔓

Making My Way Downtown….
Image 4.8K Image 51 Image 19
by thegrapesurgeon
My skull produces a fine thudding noise as it softly collides with the rusty, metal walls of this tin can on wheels.
A cascade of giggles cuts through the thick silence that had been present since the journey began. “Boink, boink, huehuehuehuehue” he trills, though the sound could easily have been confused for the last wheeze of a dying donkey. Nails caressing the surface of a chalk board would be a more pleasing sound.
“WAKE UP DUMB ASS”
The shriek of an alarm clock shoots through one ear and out the other. A beam of light enters my eyeball. A groan escapes my lips as I blindly search for something, anything to save me from this torture. Soft cotton graces my fingers as I flail about; I grasp it and fling it above my head and just as I do so, a door is kicked open with an almighty creak
“REAGAN, GET THE FUCK UP”
I look up and see a flustered, yet familiar face, my mother. She stands there, cradling a rolling pin in her arms as she waits for me.
I sit there, not moving a muscle, remembering what I had heard in wild life documentaries about not angering short tempered mammals.
This goes on for about a minute before she begins to once again berate me. I flinch backwards, startled by the noise, my mind struggling to believe that David Attenborough could have lied to me.
I slowly drag myself away from the warmth of my bed, tendrils of heat struggling to cling to me, my mother leaves the room just as fast.
The floor boards groan underneath my weight as I close the distance between me and the mirror. I stand there half expecting it to shatter in front of me. Once over the initial shock of it not doing so, I begin the self judgement of my reflection.
A rather plain looking face shadowed by untamed wisps of dark brown hair. A set of Hazel eyes peer back at me with a look of disappointment, though without even looking at my reflection I am fully aware that I’m still as ugly as I was the day before, so these feelings of disappointment and self hatred are quite unwarrented.
I feel a slight breeze tickle my shoulder. Abruptly turning around, I come face to face with an undecorated wall and a bed, nothing unusual. I feel the breeze again, no, not a breeze, it felt to heavy to be a waft of wind;It felt like finger tips brushing against my bare skin. A sharp stinging sensation clouds my face. I swiftly bring my hand up in pain, shielding my eyes.
The sound of an engine fills my ears once again, I bring my hand down slowly as I realise that I’m still trapped, still chained to the walls of this rusting van and that I’d spent one of my few moments of peace lost in a sea of hatred for myself.
How pathetic.

To Be Continued

Message from Ms. Stella Yetunde Akoma! Leading Share Owner/ CEO at Matrixglobalcorp corporation.

Hello guys, if you wish for this story to continue on MatrixglobalCorp; please leave your comments.

My name is Stella Yetunde Akoma. However, I am officially known as Stella Powers in the 009 Movie. I am the President and founder of Urban African Heritage. Somehow I decided to come up with this foundation’ term as Urban African Heritage’ as a succeeding subsidiary coverage under 009 Corporation, for our African children. And is basically to give hope to our African hopeless children. And the hope that I have for our African children is for them to live their lives without hunger or trouble, and a life of which they can see a bitter tomorrow. Before I took this decision to create this foundation, I saw hope in the eyes of our African children. Though the light surrounding those hope I saw in their eyes was dim! However, I chose to be strong for them because they’ve done no wrong’ but they are just the reflection of choices made by our government and sometimes the families they came from. So as an individual or a cluster, I beseech you to think of this African children who needs you and need us all so much. That penny you can donate through this platform to that lost child, can go a long way, keep a child from starvation and restore morality in every of our African countries and nation children’s life. I am Mrs. Stella Yetunde Akoma, the voice of the lost African children. Together with my team’s from different African countries, we gather funds and send to the lost African children with the hope of redeeming their serenity and give them the future the deserve. Help us to protect our African Children in emergencies. They are scared and hungry, but I and you can do something about it…

Donate
Bank: GTBank
Account Name: P-MATRIX GLOBAL ENTERTAINMENT
Account Number: 0149931103

Thank you for transferring 🍞 bread to that lost child’ through this donation you’ve just done.
Today, you’ve just save a child and no matter how small you’ve given out today, you are a hero.
THANK YOU.

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