On: How I got my superman scar. 


It was a beautiful morning. My brother and I ran straight from the bathroom, through the corridor, past our room to the sitting room. I can’t remember what the excitement was about that morning but we had our towels tied around our necks like super heros. Then we started running around the sitting room. Imitating superman, jumping from the single chairs to the settee. In between these two was a low table whose top was made of glass. We would jump on it like it was nothing. Two times we went round and nothing happened. The third time I jumped on it, the sound of shattered glass was so scary it felt like it came from far away. I was petrified with fear because all I could think was “Daddy is going to kill me.” At that point he was yet to drive out of the compound, so I wrapped my naked self around the curtain, crying and waiting for him to come in to investigate. My heart was pounding like crazy. Instead, it was my mum who did. Thankfully, he had left. It wasn’t until she shouted I realized the curtain I had wrapped myself in was soaked with blood. My blood. A big shard of glass had lodged itself on my right thigh amidst other minor cuts all over my body. I was rushed to the clinic where i had to get stitches. I was so paralyzed with the fear of punishment I didn’t feel a thing. Instead, it was my mum who was doing the crying. The doctor felt I was strong. My mum felt I was “odaju” (Hard hearted or something.) My dad never replaced the table top. My mum still tells people the story and it’s super embarrassing when she does. I don’t remember if my brother and I ever got punished. So yeah, that’s how I got my super hero thigh scar. Good thing it’s not visible. *wink*
The End.
#ONwithYemi 
#maymemoire 
#writer 
#writersofnigeria

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