The Price Of Life (Short Story)

The Talk Room

What is the price of a life? It was almost midnight and I had already made it up in my mind that I would wake up to a bad news. The phone would ring at about 7am and I would answer it, I would say ‘hello’ and would wait for the voice of a lady or a man (oh I pray it be a lady. There’s something about getting the blow from a woman), they’d say: ‘Chike, we did all we could, but she couldn’t make it. Your mother is dead.’ I would say thank you because I wouldn’t know what else to say. The line would go dead and I would start to cry. At the same time, I prayed for a miracle, anything, really, anything. In my drunken thoughts, I find myself in a deep sleep, a strange land and with strange creatures I haven’t seen in my twenty-seven years of living. --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/the-Michael-faya/message