The Village Square Storytelling

Author: Friendy Okeke
Pages: 104
Language: English
Publication date: 01/05/2017
1.91 €
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At the retreat of Nkana Devils, Okigbo pursue them and perish!
At the retreat of Nkana Red Devils, in pretense of surrender, the entire Arochukwu army pursue hard.
“What a cheap surrender, come on Aro Okigbo! Chase these cowards! Chase these rats! Chase them to their holes now!’
One of their commanders cries out.
Nkana Devils follow their war tactics to the letter. Out of the blue, the soldiers in ambush pour out into the roads and put the enemies in confusion. The Aros flee in diverse directions, looking for cover. Those who have entered the Kingdom gate to attack Nkana are the worst hit. The Red devils that are hiding in this territory waste no time to swoop on them.

There is no hiding place. They slice the tongues of some soldiers and slash the ears of many alive. Cries of anguish and smell of hot blood fill the air! And now sun, moon and stars hurry out together in the sky to witness the mayhem. Prisoners of war are taken and Survivours crawl back to base to sooth their wounds and mend their shattered hearts. Shall Aro Okigbo rise again?

Welcome to the book that will help you to unlock the power of fluid storytelling. Copywriter, novelist and any pther creative writer will find useful tips in this book. I am not telling you about storytelling in this book; I am showing you how we do it.
This book will show you how stories come and from where they come. It will teach you how to record with clarity what you see, hear, taste and feel as the inspiration flows.

If you major in Oral Storytelling, you will learn how to control the atmosphere when your story group is in session. This is a helpful guide for all forms of creative writing. Writers’ block will be a thing of the past. You will understand howField Marshall jumps up, beats his chest and challenges Kamalu, the god of war. He ridicules the mysterious voice of Chief Ibn Ukpabi; and in his own arrogance unleashes a weak army against Nkana Kingdom.
El vendedor asume toda la responsabilidad de esta entrada.
I loved the sight, feel and smell of books more than biscuits when I was a child. I can still remember the day I conquered the literary world as the three years and a few months old child. Keep your doubts dear, I am serious. Consider the challenges: firstly, I could recite the alphabets from A to Z without stopping at that crucial point. You know the crucial point? Okay, but don’t raise your hands yet. At that age I knew which one, whether it was M or N that comes first in the order of alphabets. Shortly before then, I had developed a craftiness of pausing deliberately on the letter M. If I heard N, I had to scream it with all my strength, with clenched fist.
Secondly, I could spell my father's and my mother's names, and mine too, without being tensed up and stammering.
I joined other children, in groups, to hear folk tales. My elder sister’s group turned me away twice on two counts. The girls said that I asked too many questions at the same time. They were right. They also said that I had no right to question why there were no modern stories beside those tortoise and other animal stories------the tales by moon light. I disagreed.

The night they let me in again, I shared my two stories which delighted them greatly; so they asked me for a repeat. I did, but ended each story differently from the first time. Some parts that were not there before, which did fit in properly though, jumped into my heart. I added them with bold sincerity. This action earned me a permanent expulsion from their elite story group. I left without remorse at all.

“These are my stories, original stories,” I boasted, “and I reserve the right to end them anyhow I like.”
They answered me:
“We also reserve the better right to dismiss you from our group any how we please. Don’t come back here again.”

I was on my way to writing the kind of stories I wanted to hear. People ask me why I chose writing, but the truth is writing stories I have never heard before chose me. I like historical fiction. I have realized that civilization has changed the way we communicate: either by phone or transport. It has changed manufacturing and every other part of our existence that man can control. In all of this, it has not changed our inner qualities. Hatred and love, benevolence and stinginess, war and other vices are still alive and well. Historical Characters display their strength and flaws of many years ago. Whether they lived millions or thousands or hundreds of years ago, they still fit properly into this century. We can actually learn from them.

I live in Lagos, Nigeria. Although I have spent the greater part of my life in music as songwriter, singer, guitarist; writing has never left pursuing me. Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I surrender now.
As I write this moment I am filled with nostalgia of childhood, those things that pointed to my writing life. Although I did not consider them true then, they never stopped to hunt me every corner, wherever, I have been.

Let me tell you this also: I loved those tortoise, lions, other animals and Cinderella stories. I loved to sit down with other children at the feet of a good storyteller.

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