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The Answer || 𝑏𝑦 𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑦 𝑂𝑘𝑜𝑑𝑢𝑤𝑎

UNCLE PAULO IS DOING IT AGAIN—compressing his cigar-darkened lips into a furtive pout. It's his way of saying I have gone overboard again, boggling him with my outright inquisitiveness. But I refuse to acknowledge the fact that I have read and understood the lines in between, so I ask him again, adamantly: “Uncle, what did the doctor mean by—”
“Don't pester me, Odion,” his baritone cuts me, causing me to resign with a droopy countenance. 
It takes a while before I process and decipher it, this choking smell. I throw a glance towards the direction of the smell—the kitchen. The sight that greets me is fiery. It pulls a scream from my mouth. “Uncle!”
Uncle Paulo jerks; he grabs my hand and makes for the exit. But in that fleeting moment, I get the answer to my earlier-asked question—by narcolepsy, the doctor means uncontrollable attacks of deep sleep. I glare in shock at my now fast-asleep uncle, then at the fast-approaching fire, and lastly, at the door.


DESTINY OKODUWA is a creative writer, and an emerging storyteller. He spends his time joggling between teaching primary school pupils and weaving words into stories. When he's not doing any of the above, he is weaving hairs into beautiful patterns to alter the appearance of women and turn them into an embodiment of beauty. 
His writings mostly center around adolescence and teenage life. His works has appeared in Fiction Niche, Eboquills and elsewhere.You can find him on Facebook as Destiny Okoduwa.

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