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So my grand plan is to not go out into the sun. It makes me look like a half-baked witch when all my vanity wants is to resemble some Nubian beauty princess who has all the rich princes trying to get the glass slipper on and she doesn’t have to work a day again in her life.

I’ll try to not go out, I mean the government are basically begging us not to and I’ve heard rumors of curfew so perfect. I’ll drink only detox water. If I must go out even within the house, I need to have on sunscreen. I’ll exercise because Ciara body will not make itself. I want step out into the world after my estimated three months and look like a glossy ‘Vanity‘ magazine cover come to life. Y’all are not ready.

There’s however only one problem, my vanity is so vain and poor hence my quest for money. I need to utilise this lack of work period to venture into money making things that aren’t necessarily as deep as yahoo yahoo but kinda deep. I need an entire wardrobe overhaul because I want to attend rich people weddings and meet rich people friends and just bask in rich peoples glory even if for a while before I eventually get tired like I do with everything.

I need to purchase the baddest assest skin and hair care products so I can rock the baddest assest skin and hair and bags! I need fancy bagssss of life. I need lipgloss because they are an absolute necessity. Apart from having naturally dry lips, Iipgloss make me have an attitude. This baby is going to be born again.

But before all that, I need to open my eyes, get off this bed, greet the wicked stepmother and her husband who happens to father my siblings and I, get pissed by them for all of three minutes because I am tired of their pissful attitude, call my mother to calm me, piss some sister off or vice versa, eat a big fat burger and suya , gain weight and await apocalypse. 

Awesome! Sounds like a solid plan for a good day.

Fafa is up when I go to the parlor. Sometimes, it’s like she never sleeps. You go to her room in the middle of the night and the lights of her phone will be reflecting her face. You’ll think she is doing something reasonable then 5 hours later, you are on Twitter and you discover your sister had tweeted in the middle of the night how she can’t sleep because of mosquitoes or how she’ll die if she doesn’t eat seafood that night. Then one Arewa Twitter person will tell her to go eat crayfish from her mothers kitchen and she’ll laugh along on the timeline but will call him bastard in reality.

‘Oh! You are up’ she says after glancing at me.

‘Nope. I say with a yawn. ‘I’m fast asleep. It’s called somnambulism; sleep walking’.

She lets out a loud fake laugh then almost immediately dons on a blank face.

I walk to the kettle and fetch her pre-boiled water- because I know there’s always hot water where there’s Fafa as her constant high is one god-awful tea concoction or the other- I pour a teaspoon of Apple Cider Vinegar and hold my nose as I gulp.

‘What’s that meant to do? Spark up ulcer?’ Fafa the intermeddler asks.

‘Weight loss’ I reply shortly.

‘All I see is ulcer’ she shrugs.

‘Just because you are fighting your internal battles-literally’ I add with a smug smile ‘- doesn’t mean we all will’.

She shrugs. ‘Whenever you feel the heartburn rising, just know that I have Mama’s puke-worthy concoction for that’.

‘You and Mama always have one medicine or the other for everything in life’.

She smiles enigmatically. ‘What can I say? It’s a gift’.

I roll my eyes. ‘Any food from the other side?’ I ask her.

She shakes her head without looking up from her phone. I sigh and look for something to eat from the kitchen; some bread, some mayo….will do.

Where’s Yasmin? I ask Fafa after the gulping my last spoon of cereals and internally wondering of what use the vinegar is since I just ate bread with mayonnaise and a bowl of cornflakes.

She shrugs. ‘Probably on the other side’. I contort my face to mirror Fafa’s. Apparently Yasmin is so loveable even the wicked stepmother likes her. The wicked stepmother liking you is the biggest deal; equal to winning a nobel prize for likeability.

There’s a knock on the door. The messenger has arrived, I think. What does she want now, someone to back her while she dazzles Baba with a spell?

I open the door expecting to see Umaima, Mommy’s somehow relative who is always the one sent with messages for us. My eyebrows shoot up when I see the tired person standing by the door.

‘What brings you here this early morning?’ I ask him.

He frowns, pushes himself in and settles on the couch.

‘You too? It’s my father’s house last time I checked’.

I almost roll my eyes. ‘I mean isn’t it too early… never mind’ I stop myself. Everything you say will be definitely misconstrued and be given a negative meaning by him.

‘Good Morning Yaya’ Fafa greets him. He merely nods back at her.

‘Aren’t you going to school?’ He asks

‘Baba says it’s not safe, besides it’s closing on Monday.’.

He snorts and shakes his head. ‘As if he cares’. 

I shake my head at the ridiculous dysfunctional family I have and go back to my room to freshen up.

Baba is on everyone’s not-good book. But he is definitively on my brother, Abdullah’s bad book. We call Abdullah, Yaya as he is the eldest in the house but he sure doesn’t act like it..

Yaya doesn’t stay in the same house with us, he left with Mama upon the arrival of the (Wicked step mother) WSM; short. She literally kicked them out.

The story of my family’s fall from the grace of one single unit to a dismembered chopped off family tree started some 6plus years when my father decided it was wise to join politics. Then maleficent set her eyes on him, then he fell in love and everything came crashing.

When I come out, I find Yaya lounging on the couch. Yasmin is back from her visit to the other side and Fafa is on the phone with her loud friend Naima. No one needs to be told when Fafa is talking to Naima because Fafa’s throat also gains an amplifier and they start a shouting match trying to be heard over the others din.

Like calm down sisters it’s called a phone, they don’t do town criers anymore.

‘Good Morning Nana’ Yasmin greets me.

I answer her and she intercepts me before I ask where she was. ‘Mommy sent me a text asking me to help her with some calculations of her record of accounts. I think something is fishy, her staff may be shortchanging her’.

I stare at her for some time before I nod. ‘Okay Sherlock’  I say loud enough for her to hear.

Yasmin is the only one among my siblings who relates well with the WSM and with Baba because one;

She is the young sweet one (to them)

She is the smart one

She is unrebellious 

She is the one who has so much potential they had better gotten her on their side so they can claim their accolades when she joins NASA

She is just the model child, miss-goody-two-shoes, forgive-everyone lets-live-in-peace-and-harmony. *Eye roll*

Sometime I see her as a traitor, sometimes I feel she isn’t being true to herself, she is trying to conform to what everyone expects of her, she is trying to be liked by everyone except of course we, the siblings. With us, she bring out her thorny side.
But you of course can’t say a thing because everyone will say it’s envy. I am older than that brat with 5 years and I sure am not jealous of her for nada. I Just can’t live a life of ‘yes’ to everyone and everything, I’d rather be fed to the crocodiles, neither can Yaya. Fafa is in the middle, rebellious but useful enough to be liked or at least tolerated. I don’t even try pleasing them, it pisses them off. 

It’s possible it’s because when the WSM crashed my family, Yaya and I were the most affected because we were more mature and we saw what it did to our mom. Whatever is the case, I just want a way out of this environment. And something tells me marriage might be the only way. Sigh!!!!!!! My non-existent love life you say? That’s a story for another day.

Next time I come back to you dear journal, I’ll pick up the pieces of our family book and put the puzzle together so it all makes sense. For now, just know that our middle name is ‘dysfunctional’ and our lingua franca is ‘drama’.

See you next time.

If you are here to read about how I excel at solving mathematical problems (I suck at Math), or how I’m a pro basketball player or how I can read minds, or something equally uninteresting and eww-inspiring that only simpletons do, then you shouldn’t move on from here. My life is not that serious and honestly I don’t want it to be. 

Now that that’s out of the way, lets move on to the 12 totally amazing and awe-inspiring things I excel at doing😊.

1- Thinking incomprehensible senseless stuff right before I sleep off – My gibberish creative time and space is right before I doze off  or when I’m between consciousness and sleep… that time, my brain rolls films of nonsense that makes sense to my brain and that I’ll not recall after I’m fully awake.

But I swear when that is happening, I feel so inspired I can write a book.

2-Washing toilets- Is it weird that this is the first thing I actually typed (brought it down to seem more normal)? Because I think I was washing a toilet when this topic came to mind. I was washing and thinking, damn! You are one good toilet washer. In another life, I could wash toilets for celebrities and charge €1000 per session (clean toilets only).

I just really hate to see that I’m done with a toilet and it’s not very clean so I use up a whole bottle of Kleanit (best toilet washer ever.. my sister sells it), use brooms, plastic brooms, soft and hard sponge, Jik, detergent… everything until the toilet looks like Trumps teeth.

3- Sarcasm – In my mind or verbally. I cannot stand people who don’t get sarcam. If the snide sarcastic remarks I make in my head are to be revealed for a day, I wouldn’t have a single relationship with anyone I know afterwards. We say the most sarcastic things my head and I.

The remarks may be orally said but I have to be comfortable with the person first and I have to be sure the person will 100% get what I mean and so far, only 2 people get my ostensibly sarcastic, dual-meaning, exaggerated comments. Whenever we are together with one of them, she calls me mad like 4 times on average. 

4- Elite humour- I’m sorry if you don’t get my humor. It’s elite, you are not. Since people always use the word elite for even the most inappropriate of things, why not?

When you see me smiling alone for no reason, most likely I just thought up a super funny joke or scenario or I’m engaging myself. Telling this scenario out loud is never a good idea because it never sounds half as funny so I just keep it in my head and laugh … alone… like I’m crazy.

5- Writing fast- Maybe because I learnt how to read and write late (in my primary four; before then, I’ll write letter by letter as in alphabet by alphabet as in if the word on the board is ‘fringe’, I write ‘f’, look up at the board, write ‘r’, look up…) much to the chagrin of my classmates and teachers… so when towards the end of primary 4 I was hit-in a moment of epiphany-by the reading formula, I became a torrential writing force.

 I write so fast, faster than I process the word, faster than my brain processes the word. 

In classes where lecturers talk in the stead of lecturing or dictation, I usually have notes while my classmates complain about not even being able to jot. Even though the notes are not comprehensive to others apart from me.

Because of that, my handwriting is horrible.

6- Being inconsistent- I’m sorry but this blog is suffering for it. When I start (any new project or commitment), it’s all fun and games and I have enough ginger to make tea for a village but before you say ‘ginger’, my steam has run dry. Sigh!

7- Overthinking/ Over analysing: I over the top think through and think back on everything imaginable. Whether its a fact or an incident or a person or something said and done or something I said and did or a movie I watched, a book I read, the little baby crying in the bus, the man driving the Napep I entered today who looked like he has herpes, the woman in the market who might have shortchanged me, the intentions of people and their trustworthiness….. etc. Endless list. Some are deep, some are vain. 

And I analyse all these things from every angle possible.

8- Over looking things- You can do something to me that should elicit an explosive response and I’ll over look, but that just means I don’t really rate you or I don’t want to indulge. I can overlook and downplay serious things and choose to react to ones that may seem trivial…

9- Typing on the phone- I take notes in class on my phone sometimes and I usually keep up, I wrote my two books on my phone, my University project, over hundreds of thousands of words… and I type really fast.

10- Changing topics- You think you’ll loop me in a conversation I don’t want to be in, you need to have another thing coming. I can change topics so subtly… you’ll notice, if you are smart, 4 minutes later.

11- Daydreaming – Why do you think I fail a course? Because I’m a listener, I understand while listening better than reading, so in class, when I should be listening, I’m usually daydreaming about another world, therefore I’m not listening , therefore I fail to utilise my listening learning capacity… it’s sad.

12- Making parfait- I am at liberty to once in a while market my brand and I’m saying this with my head high that I make the meanest greek yoghurt and greek yoghurt parfait that has ever graced your taste buds. And this is me not even selling myself.

Do you relate to these things or do you find some weird. What are the things you excel at? Share, share lets see.

You reading this can post all the things you wish to post about your life but I defiantly will not believe you because I’ve been let down so many times by people i thought had it together but are so full of it.

The reality is that It’s not all picture perfection and rosiness as is always the case on social media (I mean who will show you a picture of his failure and hard times?) because social media life and reality are as far apart as Spongebob and sense. 

Many events and people and situations were responsible for the reality check that knocked my sense to proper functionality because I too- like many others- had, once upon a time assumed that to a very large extent, the width of the smile on a persons face on his/ her social media pictures and videos are a reflection of reality. Boy was I  wrong!

Turns out for some, it was the only place they had to smile, it was the only way they could feel a flicker of happiness which soon dies and in a bid to revive it, they need to post more pictures, tell more lies, spread more rumours and pretend they are fine.

Social media (using term to refer to situations whereby people live-literally breathe on -and because of social media) is a sickness, a mental disorder and many are suffering from it directly or otherwise. 

Remember that Middle-Eastern British couple that were the perfect muslim couple personified? Remember the sham there lives were and how in reality, one had even attempted suicide? (Even though they are back at it now)

All because they had to portray a perfect life on social media and they couldn’t keep up because no one’s life is that flawless and in pushing to do so, they lose themselves .

There are the rich ones who are in fact broke or are fraudulent. Or the ones who body shame and flaunt their perfect bodies which in reality are photoshopped, or the ones who are easy-breezy-life-peasy but their lives warped AF. 

They are all masks, a facade; believe at your own risk. Social media profiles are in most cases the only aspect of people’s lives that they can control (before hackers come for that too), and of course they’ll paint it pink and lavender.

It is sad how we spend hours and money at the expense of a real social life all so that we can lose our souls to the internet in exchange for a clowns suit, because only in the clown’s world is it always full of laughter and merriment.

There are plenty more people I’ve admired, Nigerian socialites, motivational speakers, celebrities whose real lives look like a dull shade of black. 

Motivational speakers are the worse because behind all those words urging you on is a broken spirit roaming about a dark cage but the worse part of it is that they do not know. They see from the inside out so as far as they are concerned, you are the broken-spirited person in need so they try to heal you who needs little healing by giving you bits of the spirit they have left.

If social media where to be away for a little while and people are to try and really please themselves no matter the condition away from the eyes and expectations of others, then life would have been so much easier because many will find themselves.

I’m not painting social media bad, far from it; if you know how to utilise it for good. I’m not saying don’t post your pictures even if you are fake smiling (fake it till you make it right?). I’m not saying delete your social media account or don’t listen to motivation, I’m just saying; wise up, know what to believe, know who and what to emulate, do not compare yourself with others, do not kill yourself to measure up to those who probably have less. 

Be you. The people you see on Instagram should never be the scale to judge your life and successes on. Many are sham.

After careful consideration of all entries by three judges, three top stories have been chosen out of 36 delighful creative pieces of fiction.

Congratulations to the writers of the stories. The absence of your name does not discredit you as a writer, it just means there’s always room for improvement. 

And as a writer who will eventually face the world, it’s all about trying till you make it. I hope this will serve to strengthen your writing spirit to make it. Therefore congratulations to everyone for being brave enough to put his/her writeup out there.

Winners List:

1st Runner Up- Rabi Lawal, Entry 4 (N2,000)

2nd Runner Up- Oyeniran Tofunmi Eunice, Entry 15 (N3,000)

Winner- Ruqayyah Saghir Nabage, Entry 14 (N10,000)

Honourable Mentions:

Annie Ifinedo

Hauwa Hala Nuraddeen

Ishola Ubaydah

Jesutofunmi Fekoya

Dela Azojani Adeorike

Yunusa ibrahim

Gift Ukay

Aisha Mahmud

Watch this space for more contests and mentorship opportunities.

Thank you for your participation.

Meet one of our Judges, Inufin Ayomide D’great. He is a poet per excellence who has excelled in and mastered the art of making English conform to his writing whims.

Owing to his writing prowess, Ayomide has recently been profiled by Wikipedia as a globally recognized poet.

Some of his 12 achievements are:

* 2004 Goshen Boys & Girls writing competition (runner up)

* Best orator and winner 2015 Professor Atinmo oratory competition, University of Ibadan

* 2016 MidasMinds Literary Inc winner Short story category

* 2017 PCG Dynamite Awards Overall best poet, most creative writer, best Poetry collaboration

* 2018 runner up Poetry & Prose Hood Valentine competition

* 2018 PCG Dynamite Awards Overall best poet, most creative writer, best Poetry collaboration, King of the year, Poem of the year with the poem *Ayo has a boyfriend*, writerolic of the year.

The list of the top 20 stories to qualify for the judging stage is ready. The list was compiled following five-day the voting process where some stories had almost 300 votes to their names.

Shortlisted writers for Flash Fiction Writing Contest:

1. Dela Azojani Adeorike

2. Stephen Ezennwa

3. Jesutofunmi Fekoya

4. Hauwa Hala Nuraddeen

5. Umeh Prisca Ijeoma

6. Deborah Johnson

7. Nana Khadija Yahaya

8. Mary Emmanuel Bawa

9. Eniola Balogun

10. Idris Ayanfe

11. Chiziterem Chijioke

12. OYENIRAN TOFUNMI EUNICE

13. Ruqayyah Saghir Nabage

14. Yunusa Ibrahim

15. Gift Ukay

16. Ishola Ubaidah

17. Annie Ifinedo

18. Rabi Lawal

19. Aisha Bint Mahmud

20. Khadija Musa

All 20 shortlisted stories were beautifully relayed but only three will winners will be announced on the 28th.

The judges will judge based on story line, theme, how well the rules were followed, diction, punctuation and many other factors.

2nd Runner up- N2,000

1st runner up- N3,000

Winner- N10,000.

May the very best story win. Best of luck to all.

Aisha Madaki

Sandra was raped by some street guys at the age of 14 when she was in High School, she was expelled because of the pregnancy she got. Both her parents were dead so she lived with her neighbors because her relatives weren’t there for her. She was sent out of her neighbors’ house because of the pregnancy and the society wasn’t there to protect her. She took care of herself despite so much difficulties moving from this job to another. After giving birth to her baby girl, Ana, she made it her biggest priority to protect the girl. She met a guy, Andrews who usually visits the cafe she works at then. When the baby was 3years old, They got married. He’s a commercial Driver. He took care of her and her Daughter. Sandra got the chance and went back to school. They were living a contented life.

Ana is now 8 years old, she’s growing well and started going to school. Her Mother protects her in all possible ways. 

One unfortunate Night, Andrews got back home very drunk, Sandra was helping him relax when she found gun inside his pocket. She was deadly scared, he wasn’t in his senses so she hid the gun inside drawer. He woke up later and couldn’t ask her of the gun, he thought maybe he dropped it in the car they robbed together with his friend.

“I’ll get it in the morning” He concluded 

Sandra was in dilemma, she trusted and loved Andrews so much, buh seeing him with gun scared her. 

“what was he doing with a gun?” “How do I know the truth?” She was very confused. 

“I need to protect Ana” She added

Andrew woke up early as usual, he kept smiling without reason. Sandra was scared wether he found out the hidden gun. He cleared his throat and to her surprise he wasn’t talking about the gun

“Today is our 5th anniversary if you’ve forgotten, I want us to go out for dinner in the evening” 

Sandra was very happy to hear that, she hasn’t forgotten about it, but the night was an unfortunate one. 

“Thank you Andrews, we’ll be ready by 7PM ” She said 

Ana was very happy, it’s the first time she’d be having dinner outside with her parents. 

Andrew went back home around 6PM, Sandra and Ana were already set to go. He went to change when someone called his phone. The phone kept ringing, Sandra took the phone and at that instant a message popped in.. 

“You can never disappoint us after waiting for good 5years, it’s either you bring that girl to us or we kill your wife together with your 3 kids” she couldn’t stand again, she fell down in tears. Ana rushed to her asking “Mum what happened? Is anything wrong? Tell me please”

“Ana you must leave this house, go to our Neighbor Miss Blessing, I’ll come and pick you there” 

“What do you mean Mum, we are going out for dinner with Dad”

“Don’t call him Dad again, He’s a wicked Person, listen to your Mum okay. We don’t have time, tell her that she shouldn’t tell anyone you are there, I’ll come myself to take you, if I didn’t she should keep hiding you there please” 

“Mum…”

“Ana run, we don’t have time, he can be here any second. Just run” she pushed her out of the house

“Let’s go, wait where’s Ana?” Andrews interrogated 

“I sent her out” 

“What do you mean?”

“What are you planning on doing with my daughter? Who are you giving my daughter to? Did you married me because of my daughter? Who are you?” Sandra Shouted in tears giving him his phone

He grabbed her by neck and said “Now that you figured it out tell me where that girl is, it’s the only thing that will spare your life” 

“Even if you’ll kill me I won’t tell you”

“You think I won’t? Let me tell you, I’ve never loved you for a second, I have a woman I love with 3 Children. Can’t you see I couldn’t have a child with you. You are nothing but trash, with nobody in this earth to help you, I want your daughter at this age to make sacrifice and become billionaire, after that I can think of making you my mistress”

Painful tears kept dropping from Sandra’s eyes. She regretted the whole of her meeting Andrews. Her heart was shattered. Her breathe seized. She was in all of Shock and Agony. Five years of marriage, only to find out the Person she sees as Husband is a monster. She kept solving puzzles; He works every day and night, sometimes for a whole of a week, month and even more. He’s been definitely going to his Family. Not only that he’s a Robber, he now wants to sacrifice my only child, the only reason I’m putting a strong face as if my heart isn’t burdened..

“Where is the Bastard??” His shout brought her back to life. 

“Kill me and I’ll tell you in Hell” She muttered 

“I’ll end this today” He angrily went to the car he drove. She ran and brought out the gun she hid. He came in with nothing only to find what he was looking for in her hands. He’s now the one in shock. How did she get this? What the hell is this? He suddenly remembered last night; she took it then, he concluded. 

“Don’t think of pulling this trigger, you don’t know the consequences” 

“I don’t care wether I’ll end up killed or imprisoned as long as I’ll protect my daughter”

“Sandra don’t, remember how I took care of you, I was the only person that took you in. I protected you and provided you with everything you wanted…” He kept reminding her of the good deeds he did to her

Sandra was confused, He showed her love and care, He gave her so much Happiness, Her only daughter sees him as Father…” But it’s the same daughter he wanted to sacrifice now, he’s taking her away from you, he’s going to kill her and then kill you” she told herself 

She looked at him as he knelt pleading her to spare his life. She finally made a decision…Smiling, She pulled the trigger….

Title: Time Flux

By Deborah Johnson

This was it, she thought. This was the beginning and end all at once. Everything she did in this moment would define her future, past and  present. 
She’d been stuck in time before, it wasn’t pretty and right now, if she didn’t stop this monster of a man from activating the quantum accelerator, it would be the end of the world as she knew it.  
She swallowed her tears at the thought of her son and yelled. 
“Stop!”At the mad scientist, holding up a gun which she had picked up during one of her fight with the guards. 
“Stop or I’ll shoot”She yelled again, more forcibly 
“Never”He said, laughing maniacally  as he hit the activation button on the accelerator, ducking behind it for safety. 
“No! “She screamed, she couldn’t let all those people die. But that would mean she would die instead, because of the countless experiments done on her, she was connected to the machine, this was their plan all along!. 
Time slowed down as she struggled to make the hardest decision of her life. 
“I’m sorry”She whispered with tears in her eyes, to no one in particular and smiling, she pulled the trigger.

By Bilkisu Musa


“An eye for an eye, nothing more. He shall taste the bitterness of a bleeding heart, an eye for an eye!”  

Amina’s voice was audible enough to wake the dead. “He will have a taste of his own medicine”. With her mind all made up she drew the duvet to herself. Her head sore from all the tears. At her parent’s graves, she had took a handful of sand, with a firm intention she promised. “I will put Alhaji Adam in his grave while you are still fresh in here. Wallahi!” she swore. All grieved, Amina planned her revenge. she had heard his voice while mother stuffed her underneath the bed prior to her dead. Now, full darkness is all she awaits for punishment to be served. He’s still here amidst her family mourning the same people he killed. Slowly she crawled out of bed and headed for Alhaji Adams room. With the gun she had found on her father’s lifeless body held in her palm, she twisted the door handle. He was sitting on the bed, “Shhhhh!” she pointed the gun at him. Smiling, she pulled the trigger. 

By Michael Metu

Seventeen ways, that’s how many ways I imagined killing her. She completely ruined my childhood and left me with nightmares. The first time she abused me, nobody else was at home. She did terrible things to me like stuffing her breasts in my mouth, and later telling me to lie down on my back while she sat on my face. Her Vagina smelt like fish. I never forget the smell because I hated the smell of fish. Her hands were rough on my little penis, it was painful. She told me not to tell anyone about it, I never did. I was six and stupid. Dad was a hunter and Mum was a trader. My parents never suspected anything. Every night she waits for mum to start moaning, and then she comes to abuse me. I prayed to God on most nights, nothing happened. She always leave me with a painful erection so every morning I woke up with a sore penis.One night I threatened to scream and she brought Dad’s hunting gun to scare me. I knew she could shoot and was scared, but when she started touching my penis, I could not take it and I screamed my lungs out. I must have woken the neighbourhood. My parents rushed out and caught her pants down. Dad rushed at her with rage, she was still with the gun and maybe because she was scared of Dad, she pulled the trigger on Dad. I was screaming the whole time. 
Realizing she was going to be lynched, she pointed the gun to her head and smiling, she pulled the trigger.