FlASH5: RESOLUTION. FINALE.

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*The Lights come on to Common and John Legend singing 'Glory.' Hymar and Soogun are already in the ring. The Crowd goes insane with chants. Soogun is smiling. Hymar looks pissed*
Announcer's Voice: Welcome to the grand Finale of Flash5. Without further let us get on with it. It is a NO Theme contest of up to 1000 words.
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THE RULES REMAIN:
1. Read both stories and say what you think of them. Criticisms? Critiques? Famzings? Badbelleisms?.
2. Vote your favourite of the two(eg I VOTE story 1)
3. Edited comments to change votes are considered void.
4. Do NOT mention who you think wrote which. Such comments will be deleted. Mentioning names will foster biased voting.
5. Do NOT copy and paste the stories and absolutely DO NOT BLOG them without permission. Beware the Block button
6.Soogun and Hymar are only allowed to comment to tag their friends.
7. Tag your buddies, do not whine about tags. Tag yourself.
VOTING ENDS FRIDAY BY 12PM.

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Let The Madness Begin.
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CLOSURE.
The new couple sat beside each other on the bed, unwrapping their gifts with glee. Minutes ago, they were locked in a passionate kissing session that had taken forever to break.
Now, peeling off the wrappers, they commented on the different gifts. They weren't too surprised at what pastor Benson had presented to them with so much pride. A big black bible. The presents piled up in one corner. Baby wears, shoes, bags. Soon, they opened one that had both husband and wife rolling with laughter. A book about sex positions, given by the bride's mother.
"Mamaaa." Somto stressed, with a wide grin.
The rustling of wrappers continued till a ribboned box appeared from the lot. Somto stretched to grab it. Loosening the black ribbon, she lifted its lid and froze. Lying comfortably inside the case was a revolver. Beside it, a little note.
"What in God's name is this doing here!" She cringed.
"...who presented us with a gun?"
Alarmed, her husband snatched the nameless box and gaped at the revolver. Quickly, he picked the note and mumbled out its content,
*I'LL KILL ONE OF YOU WITH THIS VERY GUN TONIGHT. THIS MARRIAGE WILL NOT STAND.*
Their eyes locked. This must be a joke. To confirm, he lifted and examined the gun. Heavy, it felt real. It was no joke.
"Darling! What do we do!"
The wife sprang up, grabbing her breasts.
"Did you have a fight with someone, your ex or something! ....why will someone threaten our union!"
She yelled at her still transfixed husband.
"Did you!"
He responded with another scream, clearly troubled. He surged up and moved towards her. Placing a hand on her waist, he began calming her down.
"We'll get past this darling, no one will die... Now, pack a few things, we're staying in a hotel this night. Tomorrow, we visit the station."
* * *
Minutes later, their door closed. With tiny boxes in hands, they with all stealth went past the rooms of the relatives who had come to stay. It was their decision to inform no one. If the enemy was close, he or she would be outwitted. Little words were said as they sped along the highway. A hotel soon came into view. They pulled over and hurried inside the three-storey structure, occasionally checking their backs for any hooded or familiar figure. The receptionist wasted no time in giving them the key to room 425.
"John, I thought I saw a car following us..."
"That was your fantasy, my dear wife..." He smiled, dumping his box on the mattress.
"I'll just go shower..." He continued.
A knock was heard on the door and they immediately spun to face each other. No one responded. The knock came again. Fear gripped both as Somto raced to take cover behind her husband. She shouted from behind her cover,
"Who are you!"
"Room attendant please, I came to be sure you don't need anything.."
"Go away! We need nothing." they replied simultaneously, relieved.
"I'll just go to the bathroom now." John heaved again.
"I don't think you'll need that..." She breathed from behind him.
"You'll have your bath right here, right now, in your blood!"
Disturbed, He turned and saw an impossible nightmare: a revolver, pointed at his head.
Silence.
If anyone blinked, John would have heard. Dazed. He began feeling his heart pump its way into his mouth.
"Step back." She said softly, standing easy but alert.
He obeyed, almost jumping out of his cloth.
"Wha..wha...what's this madness Somto!"
"Haha... You should see the way you've been whining like a baby. You! You slept with my sister and got her pregnant! I should have killed you the moment I got to know yesterday... I should have poisoned your drink or something. But boo, I thought; I needed the pleasure... you should be played just as I have been for four years!"
"No.. No baby, I can explain... I swear I can."
He heard the whine and realized it was coming from his throat.
"Quiet!" She bellowed, gun still in her hand.
Then her voice became gentle, too pleasant for the words she spoke.
"For four damned years, I loved you... there were times I feared I might be breathing wrong, and it would somehow displease you... I did everything for you bastard. And what did you do? You put a baby in my sister... I'll kill her later anyway..."
Her eyes shifted from the revolver to the jittery man before her with an intensity that could halt his breath. And in a flash, she pulled the trigger. He dropped.
Wiping the gun and gripping it with her dress, she moved towards him. No remorse. No regret. Only a deadly calm.
She bent, took one of his lifeless hands and wrapped it around the trigger.
She began to scream. He had just committed suicide.
***
HUSSAINA'S SPRINT.
In his sister's dream, he saw mama die, trapped inside a roaring inferno and screaming his name and Hussaina's.
He woke up shivering.
Morning. As mama sorted pepper and tomatoes in baskets, preparing for the market, he stood by the door, watching her, noticing for the first time the trancelike way she moved. Like her body wasn't hers anymore.
He wanted to tell her about Hussaina's dream, but, what was a dream when reality was worse? It was three weeks since baba was killed in the last Boko Haram attack in Bagada. He'd heard the explosions from miles away, had seen the sky blanketed suddenly by smokescreens, had held his twin sister's hands as they ran.
Hussaina used to have baba's quick temper and raucous laugh. After baba was killed in the Bagada attack, she seemed to have taken on their mother's silence and a new aloofness all her own. Nothing about her reminded him of baba anymore.
The only thing that didn't change was her dreams, no, their dreams. Every night, he would wake up trembling from Hussaina's nightmares.
That's why he stood there, hesitating. Would she believe they shared dreams the way they shared books, pens and friends at school? Would she understand?
" Mama," he finally said.
"What?"
" Go well."
She smiled; a tall, woman with tribal tattos. Absently, he thought her breasts seemed bigger.
***
"Take care of your sister," she'd said.
Guilt nagged at him as he followed her, keeping behind the crowd of early-risers who thronged the road leading to Bagada's main market. But he couldn't stay back and put himself through the tortue of waiting. Of repeating assurances of her safety to himself.
They passed scenes from the last attack: rubbles that used to be houses; smoke-blackened walls standing alone, shattered windows leaving yawning holes in them; the stench of ruin , the smell of fear.
He followed mama, unsure of what to do, content with keeping her in sight, with the knowledge that she was still there.
As he walked, he scrutinised every face, looking for signs of a possible threat to mama; too much beard, strangely-shaped bags, too many men at once. Signs of the unusual.
That's how he spotted the car parked by the road, away from the market's gate. Five men sat inside.
He saw one of them point, the hand veering towards mama. Then another man got out of the car and started walking towards her, hands in pockets.
His heart started pounding, his trembling suddenly had nothing to do with the cold.
He had to warn mama, to reach her before the man did. He sprinted, zig-zagging past throngs of people approaching the gate, toeing the slippery, rain-ruined road.
He was few paces from her when she turned, basket on her head.
Her look of terror made him freeze, " Hussain!"
" Mama, that man..." he turned to point, but the man was nowhere in sight. His eyes darted around.
His mother was staring at him, her face filled with such dismay he was terrified. Then she screamed, "Get away from me!" and gave him a mighty shove that flung him to the ground. Before the stunned boy could recover , she threw away the basket, its contents spilling across the ground. Then she ran.
***
" Allah requires your son to fight this war. He will be rewarded in paradise." the men told her as they stood outside her house one evening.
Numb, knowing it wasn't a request, they never make requests, she knelt before them, "I'll do it. My son's too young."
That's why she was running with a bomb strapped to her chest, trying to get far away from her child. Allah! What ill luck!
***
He ran after her, but his energy seemed to have dissipated. That push had taken something out of him.
A figure shot past him. At first all he saw was a blur of white till he wiped his teary eyes and saw Hussaina sprinting hard, bridging the distance to mama.
She'd followed him and he didn't realise. He remembered Hussaina before baba died; fast mouth, fast fists, faster feet. That was the Hussaina he's staring after.
His hopes rose.
***
"Mama!"
Oh God, that was Hussaina's voice. She stole a quick glance backwards and saw her daughter sprinting after her. For a moment, she wanted to stop, to turn and wait like she always did whenever her twins saw her from afar and raced towards her. Pride always filled her, not in Hussaina winning, but the way they would laugh afterwards, the way Hussain would wag a finger and say, "One day, yet." The way they knew no resentment; only friendship, only love.
She ran harder, towards the car .
"Allah," she prayed, "trip that child."
***
They saw her coming, Abdul had already set off the timer. It'd counted down to five seconds. What's she doing!
" Start the car!" Abdul yelled at Kasim.
But Kazim was frozen in his seat, trembling as he stared out the window at the woman holding her chest and running towards them. Imminent death approaching.
" Allah, forgive me," he mumbled. "Forgive me."
***
Before his eyes, his nightmare- and Hussaina's- came to life. Mama exploded into smithreens of fiery chaos.
A man dashed out of the car just as it, too, exploded, the flames turning him into a walking bonfire. He did a mad dance, clawing at his clothes and howling.
One thought screamed across his mind, HUSSAINA!
***
He never left her bedside.
She didn't dream, or maybe she still did ,but he couldn't share in it anymore..
Her face and most of her body was covered with bandages. There's an empty hole where her left eye used to be.
He sat by her bed, his hand in hers; the one the blast hadn't ripped off, hoping she could draw strength from him even if he couldn't draw her pain from her.
Sometimes, the memory of mama would come and he would be filled with rage and bitterness.
Then he would feel Hussaina's hand squeezing his, and the anger and the bitterness would leave his chest, freeing enough room for forgiveness. And love.