Stones and Pebbles

Facade

This is my very first attempt at prose fiction. It may be fraught with errors and inexperiences, I hope that with love,you will want to see me get better by helping me with the corrections.   However I may not be able to guarantee the free flow of idea from my piece to the intended reader's mind, but hopefully, there is the assurance, however shaking, that you find it interesting and gripping.

I think I woke up by the wrong side of the bed, the dirty duvet laid beside me. It looked like someone has shared the bed with me.
I muttered some words of prayer and committed the day in the hands of the gods as I was taught by the priest.

I fumbled through my bumbag for my toothbrush and three minutes of searching, I couldn't find it. This is something unusual, I  then remembered what my late mother told me of superstitions.
I tried to scrutinize the filthy room I dwelt in, savoring the thought of a better residence.

Looking through the window panes made of hard wood that seem impregnable for bugs and thieves, I saw the inner cubicles of the room and two giant rats having a nice time in a corner.

                  Pray for me mother,
              Right from the stream of
      Sleep, harken unto me from the dome
        Of spirits and out ancestors, trace
      My steps and my foot, albeit stained
          May lead me safely to destiny.

       
I went back to my business of tooth brush search, and finally saw it at the foot of the bag I took to the priest's hut yesterday.
This gave me severe thoughts. Had someone come into this room, or are the newly installed hunters  up to another trick like the previous ones were, always picking on villagers by raising fictitious alarm of thieves,  Or the rats had called a meeting and my  room was so lucky to be chosen as  the venue?

  I waved off all thoughts with the assumption that it mistakenly fell off its place since I am a veteran warrior of sleep, who fights several wars in sleep, ever victorious and miraculously coming back to the original position I was before the war.

                   Feel for me, Mother's spirit,
              Be a companion to this orphan
           On the way to success, yet, shaking
         With fright at the result of her deed.

      I sauntered into the bathroom to have a quick bath before having a meal of pap and bean balls and trekked the four mile road in black long robe and flat sandals to the client who was to assist me with my visa to Lagos.

My friend whose elder sister is now an established worker in a brothel in Lagos told me she had an instant visa through the help of the same priest which I  went to his hut yesterday to try my luck, perhaps, I can become another successful harlot.

  The priest gave me a small container of powder to apply to my eyes whenever I see a man. He said it will procure favour for me in his eyes.

He assured me of its efficacy, and then I left it in my room, almost half way through my destination, I ran back to my room.

Being a slender girl and  born in hardihood,  I was able to run very quickly. The villagers who just woke with the early morning sun, not like me who had to outwit the cock because of a trip which will pave way for my success, were perplexed at this sight of a slim, sand colored, swarthy haired and swift moving girl, whose voluptuous bristols flapped as she breath hard, groping for air, yet in a race that seems like a do or die marathon.

I looked at them and wished for them that they had my luck, saying good bye to this village of superfluous rectitude. They could correct Satan with the aim of transforming its evil ways.