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Without a Voice

Akintomide Ifedayo Adigwe

Copyright 2013 – Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author and the publishers

ISBN - 9781301400331

Chapter One


It was a cold evening. The sky overcast with thick cumulonimbus clouds. A moist earthy scent hung everywhere, an evidence of the recent rains in the area.

Ginika Odogwu stood quietly, sad and forlorn, her hazel eyes filled with unshed tears. The ragged black dress she wore rustled in the slight breeze as she sighed taking a lungful of cold air.

She was average height, about five feet two inches tall with a lean angular face, full red lips, brooding eyes and thick eyebrows. Her hair was long, crinkled and curly as was natural of the people of African descent. It covered her head like a shroud, round like a halo.

She was pretty; not in a loud distracting way. Her prettiness was wholesome, natural like fresh dew on an early morning; not dissimilar from a rose in full bloom. Her looks almost always got her more than a few male appreciative looks, like the looks she sometimes got from her stepfather.

That thought stiffened her spine and she glanced at the tiny hut behind. Loud snores emanated from its depths. The small decrepit looking hut was her home and she lived there with her stepfather, her mother and her five younger siblings.

Another sigh burst from her lips in a whoosh and she turned, her sad gaze settling on the small settlement several hundred meters below. It was called Iseluku. A village on the outskirts of Delta state in eastern Nigeria.

The village covered a five acre area. It was a motley collection of huts built in a wide circle with a narrow road meandering through its center.

The snores increased in tempo; she turned, facing the hut once more. They (her family) slept early today. Sleeping time most days never came before nine pm.

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