Bolaji is trying to open his eyes as wide as possible in order to see clearly. But all he could manage to see is a blurry sight of people gathered around him. He blinked his eyes quickly out of panic in the bid to get a clearer vision. He could barely identify exactly where he is. That being the first of his problems, he was silently praying and wishing that his sight be restored. He suddenly began to notice excited cheers at the background urging him to open his eyes again.
Who could these people possibly be? Bolaji began to query his thought. It was at this point he became aware of his consciousness. What is he doing here and how did he even get here? Bolaji can no longer wait to uncover this mysteries. He flung his eyes wide open again. This time, he could see better but not as clear as he wanted; Clear enough to see everything before his very eyes though.
As he tried to wipe off his face, he noticed his right hand was a little heavy than usual. Not really bothered at that point though, he reached for his left. He rubbed off his face with the level of aggression his strength could possibly allow. He tried opening it wide again. This time, it worked.
He noticed a group of guys cheering by the side of his bed. Although he can’t really identify who they are or why they are here. He looked to his right and found on his hand a brown plaster connecting a syringe to his body. He traced the latter to the point where he discovered it’s dripping colorless liquids. But nothing makes sense to him yet.
Bolaji has just recovered from a serious attack. He was rushed into this hospital by his gyrating friends at the party some days ago. He was soaked in blood and fully unconscious. It happened that some notorious gang attacked and stole every of the valuables on him when he went out to receive Motara’s call. They left him for dead that night. This had left him unconscious for a while now and everyone has been hoping to see him alive again.
Read also: Fiction: A Jolly Good Fellow (Episode 1)
They smiled at him in amazement. He smiled back sheepishly as both parties exchanged gaze without oral communication. He tried to sit up but the defying headache immediately sent him back to default position. His head became heavy all of a sudden. He felt a very sharp pain in the head.
“argh!”, he screamed.
“take it easy” and “sorry” were well chorused from all angle of the hall.
“let me get the doctor”, one of the onlookers said as he heads straight towards the exit.
It is at this point Bolaji realized how sick he is. He stared at his onlookers again hoping he could identify them this time but his memory failed again. He wants to know all of it. He seems to be like an alien in their midst. Why is he even here in the first instance? He took a scanny look at every face and asked: “How did I get here and who are you guys?” But he couldnt get any response still. They all looked at him in shock and pity. A voice finally answered from the rare:
“you’d be fine bro. It was just an accident”, he thought.
The Doctor walks in in a white lab coat and with his stethoscope around his neck. Bolaji’s gaze was fixed at him as he walks hastily towards his bed. He looks like he is in his early 30s with all elements of youthfulness written all over him. Along with him came two young nurses in very short white gown. To Bolaji, who could no longer receive this drama, all these needs clearer explanation.
He kept staring at every face around. Perhaps, one of them might look familiar. But ‘worry and panic’ seems to be written all on these faces. The all look scared, hopefull and troubled. Is there something this guys are hiding from him? What exactly does he need to know? Bolaji seeks answers.
The doctor moved closer; assessed him for a while and decided to quiz him up.
“what was the last thing you remembered?”, The doctor asked.
“nothing. Really, I can’t remember anything at all”
“can you recognize any of these guys here?”, The doctor continued.
Bolaji looked around once again. “No one”, he said. “Not a single one of them”, he added.
Everyone in the hall sighed and murmured speeches to one another in shock. The doctor went further: “Can you tell us anything about yourself?”
Bolaji kept mute for a while. He took a deep pause hoping to remember at least the simplest things. He tried harder but not even a clue strucked his mind. He slowly and regrettably shook his head to the left and to the right.
“I don’t even know who I am”, he concluded.
The doctor turned back to the guys shaking his head left to right as well. He said to them: “I am afraid, your friend has lost his memory. One of you should see me in my office”.
Don’t miss out on the next Episode. A Jolly Good Fellow is a series on the Muzzammilwrites blog. Watch out for the next Episode next Sunday. Do not forget to share your views and criticisms with us in the comment section. You can help us to serve you better.
A Jolly Good Fellow is authored by Ola-lawal Mu’az Abolaji. He is a student of Law at the University of Ilorin, Ilorin. He has a good flair for writing. He has series of poems and articles to his name.
Written by Ola-lawal Mu’az Abolaji.
Edited and Published on Muzzammilwrites;