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IN SANITY
A Short Story
Oluwaseyi Oso

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In the beginning was the end;
and the end was in the beginning.
But the end was espoused to the beginning.

“The sun is a noisemaker. He blows the trumpet of hotness” I thought as I watched the sun
emptying its scorching noise into the evening sky; the sky too was opening its mouth of darkness to
lull the sun into a transient sleep. As I watched this gleam of nature creating an art in my heart,

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apprehension movingly drew closer to the voice of my thought; moving nearer and nearer like the
sun was moving closer to his temporary grave—sky. As the sky was growing dimmer, my thought
began to shift its shape from slight darkness to dark darkness until someone tapped my shoulder
and hackneyed my name into my wandering ears. It was Suchet.
II
She had read in The Nation Newspaper about how I was going to drug myself to death, in
the early hours of the day; during the midnight hour. I picked up my phone when the night was
cuddling my body for sleep, scrolled through it and opened my Twitter app. Thereafter, I wrote:
“When I flashed back to my original home which was my mother’s womb, I suddenly
realised that I had crawled out of that shell into hell. That hell is life. I didn’t realise this
until a bus named ‘knowledge’ transported me from innocence to adolescence making me
wander through the scene of life. Now I have noticed that this world does not belong to
me. Everything has been fleshed with hurt towards me; and that’s why I must drug myself
to death this very moment. If anyone is reading this, tell my dead parents that I am coming
to meet them. Tell Suchet, my girlfriend, that we would meet and love ourselves in our
next life since it seems this present one has impregnated love with strife. Tell all of my
relatives that they did a good job in keeping me alive. But I have discovered that life is the
real death and death is the real life. Good bye world…”

I stopped writing, moved my eyes through the wall clock at a corner in my room. It was
ticking fast: as it ticked, my eyes moved along with it until it arrived at a destination. The long hand
placed its strength on the sixth figure before it slowly withdrew itself from it—it was 12:30. “Life is
time and time is life. If I refuse to enact my plan, I’ll wound myself around extreme failure. I am
very certain this will lure her to me for a short eternity. I love her. Maybe she has no idea how
much I do.” I said in my silent room, creating a little kerfuffle that startled the moving hand of the
wall clock. As the ticking—of the wall clock—continued parenting and noising the silent night with
its drumbeat, I posted what I had typed for probable eyes to read and marvel. It was short but I
knew it would write a novel in the mouth of many Nigerians when they wake up to read it. It was
then I remembered what happened heretofore in Kwara state. A father had killed his entire family
including himself after he was struck with the sufferance that raided his small mind after raping his
daughter and getting caught. His wife was infuriated like a drunkard that had drunk excessively to a
state of stupor. She was spaced with no other option than to swerve her words left and right; and in
anger she shrieked that she was going to expose the man to the world. He was aghast with fright
and smell of disgrace before he decidedly captured the wife, killed her; butchered her like meat;
and placed her head in the refrigerator. He went into the room to slaughter all of his children
including the raped one that was sobbing inconsolably on her bed. But he was dissatisfied with
what he had dawned into reality. He wrote a short piece on a paper and pasted it on the door for
anyone who comes in to read and understand what had happened. He went into an unknown part
in his house—a room without a door—and brought out a gun, wrapped in a kerchief. He looked
closely at the gun and shot himself on his forehead. It was the sound of gunshot that shot
neighbours with shock before The Punch Newspaper confessedly shocked the whole of Nigeria

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with the news, leaving many with inundating cups of assumption. Some accorded it to Esu, an
evildoer. They were not knowledgeable to decipher that Esu is just a deity in Yoruba land who
would give you what you deserve with a punishing law if you decide to go against that law before
the Christian Yoruba bible translator decidedly replaced the English’s Satan with that deity—whom
they think shares a great affinity with the English evildoer—Esu. They didn’t come to think of it that
Esu is not Satan. Some also fixated their words on depression. It was the latest news that moment,
steaming from the mouth of almost everyone.
“But this moment, they’ll be greatly surprised when they read my own short note. They will talk
unceasingly. They could even wet the ground with their saliva. Mine would be different: they would
say that life had raped me, raped me of everything good.” I said, whispering those words into my
inactive ears.
The clock was still watching me when the fixity of my eyes touched it. It was writing me a
letter: a letter that wanted to enchant me with sleep. “I won’t sleep this night until I do the
needful.” I thought. I moved my eyes from the wall clock, like the long hand that was moving away
from the numbers on the clock. My gaze became glued to the screen of my phone as I exited the
Twitter App and prodded my finger toward my WhatsApp to message my friend, Collins, with
whom I planned my thought an action. He was offline. Sweat began to crawl out of my palms like
it was raining the fear in me. I cleaned my hands and the wetness on the screen of my phone. I
exited the WhatsApp and proceeded to dial his number. It rang for about three times before he
picked the call. His voice was gruff and unclear as he spoke. He must have been sleeping before I
woke him up with my call. I reminded him about all he must do to make the plan achievable,
telling him about how he should be the first to arrive at my house early in the morning, pretend to
be my doctor and lie to everyone that I will soon be okay. “When you realize that Suchet comes
in, announce my death! Okay? I would then sneeze out and propose to her.” I concluded, thanked
him before wishing him a goodnight.
I dropped my phone like a lifeless body on the bed, and navigated myself into the
bathroom where I had a relieving bath. The water was warm, too. Thereafter, I put on my pajamas,
laid on the bed; raised my phone to life as to set an alarm that would wake me up by 5:00am
before Collins would arrive to act my drama with me. I placed the phone behind my pillow so I
could hear the sound of the alarm when it rings. The night grew old silently with darkness whilst I
grew old with sleep waiting to move closer to my grave when it’s daybreak since it is widely said that
we move to our grave every day.
The wall clocked ticked and ticked until the sound was thinned with my sleep. I could have
snored; and it would have been a competition between the wall clock and me—its ticking and my
snoring. The alarm clock was obsequious to my command. It rang with a vibration, stealing out of
the nightmare I was having. “That was a bad dream.” I said as I moved toward my window, opened
the curtain in a slight way before I heard a knocking on the door. I sprang up from my bed, left the
room and drew closer to the sounding door. It echoed inside my belly like I was being hit. It was a
continuous knocking. “Who is there?” I asked shockingly. “It’s me, Collins.” The voice replied.
“Whoa, you’re a friend, Collins.” I said, as I opened the door for him to come in. His perfume
pervaded the living room as we exchange words of greeting. He had on a suit with a brown shoe.

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He held a polythene bag that alerted suspicion. He sat on a sofa, stared at the ceiling as if he was
counting something upwards before he coughed and spoke again. “Let’s get started before time
steals our plan. He said, disrupting that early morning silence once again. “What’s in that
polythene bag?” I questioned, pointing at the bag on the chair. He glanced at the bag, took a deep
breath and replied, saying “That’s the fake doctor’s dress I would use to perfect our pretence
today.” He said, smiling at his own words. I picked up the bag, dipped my hand into it to survey
the dress. “This would draw their attention!” I remarked. “Absolutely!” Collins replied.
I was about sitting when the door bell rang. That moment I almost thumped. Collins
countenanced in a way that showed he was struck with amazement. I walked towards the window
on the left side of the living room and peeped to see who had made the uproar. I was on the verge
of screaming before I finally called Collins, through whispering, to nail himself to the cross of what
I couldn’t resurrect from. The whole place was spectacled with my relatives and friends when I
gazed through the window. They all wore black clothes. They must be waiting to take away my
corpse. The alarm continued to ring; and as it grew, sweat began to steal away dryness off my
forehead. My palms were getting sweaty and soused in it. I beckoned at Collins for the next
solution because they could break through the door if no one came to open the door.
“This will ruin my proposal plan.” I thought.
“Be calm”. “What will happen is this: lie on this sofa; and be stiff. Don’t utter a word at all. The
equipment we need is with me; so there isn’t any need to fear. I have acted several stage plays while
I was in school. No need to fret.” He said.
“I didn’t see Suchet among those that were waiting outside. Maybe she has not read or heard the
news. I hope she comes as planned.” I said, with confusion pitching a tent on my face. Suchet was
my girlfriend. We were great childhood friends before we started to date at the university.
“That’s nothing to bother about. If she truly loves you she’d be here for you, Fred. Just make sure
you don’t fail to act well.” Collins said. “That’s impossible. I’ll do all I can to make people belief I
died. Before then, I need to go to my room to get something.” I said. “What’s that thing?” Collins
questioned. “Let me go. There is no time to mention.” I said, running into my room.
When I arrived at my room, I knelt beside my bed, stretched my hand underneath and
brought out a small wrapped knife; placed it in my back pocket. Thereafter, I opened my
wardrobe, where it stood still staring at my activity, opened it—causing it to make a subtle sound—
brought out a ring box, removed the dazzlingly dazzling ring in it and sped back to the sitting room.
Collins had put on his Doctor’s dress before I returned. He arranged the sofa like a hospital bed.
Upon my return, he gave me some tablets to put in my lips in a way of pretence. He spilled some
of it on the chair as well before I decidedly shut my eyes, stretched my body like a dead man.
Thereafter, he moved toward the door and opened it for people to come in. “I’m Fred’s doctor;
and I’ve been trying my best to bring him back to life since I read his suicide note on Twitter
today. I want you all to take your time. He should be alright in a moment.” Collins said, gasping
heavily. “No! He’s my nephew. You’re just his doctor. That’s all. I have come to take him to the
hospital…” That was my Uncle’s voice: Dr. Damola. “He must have been queasy since he read my
post.” I thought.

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 Uncle Damola had sponsored my education since my parents died while I was barely a
teenager. Some of my relatives who detested my parents rejected his supposition when he pledged
to take care of me. Every one of them called my parents the hostile breed. But Uncle Damola, was
not like the rest of the devils. He was a gentle man who refused to remarry after his wife died of
cancer a few months after their marriage. He brought me up as his own child; and I almost forgot I
had parents who once loved me with all their heart. Uncle Damola could gift me his heart if mine
were about to fail. Despite his tearful situation, he would nourish me with words that could cause
the rock to release its grip off the earth. I would have had no childhood without him.
“You must not allow yourself to drown in the sea of life. Life has so many ships. Some of these
ships are to shipwreck us and give us lessons because life is a place of lesson with different lessons
to lessen our lessons. Also some ships are designed to transport and transfix us in a glowing land of
greatness. These ships, no human being can escape boarding them in the sea of life because life is
a sea. Fred let this words of mine haunt you forever in a good way.” He would hackney those
words into my memory almost always after the morning prayers. It was later I grew up to realise
that he was a talented writer.
As he conversed with Collins—shouting in a sorrowful manner—his voice filled the whole
place; and I could feel fright and rage in it. “Sir, you need to be calm.”
“I have been here for a long while since I read Fred’s post.” Collins spoke. The whole place
turned into a hullabaloo as everyone attacked Collins. I could not conjure, in my sickened mind,
what would eventuate in a few moment from that time. As the boisterousness continued, I felt a
gentle touch on my head. “I think he’s still alive! He’s warm! He’s alive! Let’s take him away! To
the hospital!” My uncle barked, calling some folks to help him in carrying me as Collins protested.
“No! No!” Collins mouthed angrily. “This would traduce my plan.” I thought regretfully. As the
noise progressed, I heard a voice. It was Suchet’s. She squeaked; pushed everyone aside. I could
feel the warmth of her body as she came closer, her usual perfume too. Her tears dripped and
dropped on my cloth. “Fred! Fred! Fred! Why have you done this to me? Why? You told me you
were going home to relax last night. Yesterday refused to tell me you would break my heart apart.
Come love all I need is you; to see your face and smile at you. Fred! Come back!” She cried.
She kissed my lips deeply; my forehead and cheek, too, before someone tried to pull her
away. She wailed in protest, leaving everywhere cold with her own speech breaking the net of
silence. They must have left her due to her emotional state, I cogitated. As she was about standing
from her kneels, I held her hands, sneezed and sprang up from the sofa. “What! Ghost!” Some
people shouted intermittently. I could see some people bursting out of the living room. Some
watched in awe. Suchet couldn’t speak. You would think her lips were sealed; I could read
aghastness in her countenance. I knelt before her saying “I know you really love me, true?” “Yes.
Beyond your thought.” She replied. I dipped my hand into my pocket, brought out the ring and
said “will you marry me?” Her face was costumed with surprise as she screeched before she
excitedly blurted out “Yes”. The whole living room was parented with noisy noise as I inserted the
ring into the fourth finger of her left hand since it was believed, by the Romans, that the finger has
a vein that ran directly to the heart; and all I wanted was her heart. I had read that in a mythological
book at the library while I was an undergraduate student. “Is this a dream or a film?” Someone

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shouted inquiringly. “Why did you ignite our hearts with the fire of fear, Fred?” My uncle said. His
eyes were twinkling.
I was silent. I did not bother to answer any question since I had achieved the first part of
my wish. I held Suchet tightly to myself. Her body was warm; and I could feel her heartbeat. Her
heart beat. Her heartbeat was speaking to my heart. Maybe it’s true that the fourth finger of the left
hand has a connexity with the heart. She was staring deeply into my eyes. I closed my eyes for a
moment, blinked twice. The silence that cascaded the living room was impregnable. I could read
confusion on everyone’s countenance as they watched what would happen next. We were still
staring at each other before I broke the seal of silence. “Suchet! Suchet!” I said repeatedly. “Fred!”
She said, smirking.
“I want to show you how much I truly love you. I will not survive in a second without your heart,
your love is magical, Suchet. But I want you to ask you this question: will you give me your heart”
She looked at me confusedly, smiled and said “If there is anything beyond my heart, I’ll give to
you.” “Really? I mean your heart, Suchet. Your heart.” I said. “Fred! Yes. I promise you.”
The whole place was filled with whimsical whispers of men and women. I slipped my hand
into my back pocket, brought out the knife and began to stab Suchet in her chest. I was going to
have her heart. She continued shrieking helplessly as I threatened to kill anyone who came closer
to me. They were running for their dear life, including my uncle and Collins. “Fred, what has
come over you?” Collins Shouted as he was running out of the living room. Everyone ran
quiveringly; and the whole place was becoming empty. I was hitting hard into her ribs; unveiled her
white shirt, licked the blood on her breast, they were soft and succulent. She was dying fast and her
voice was getting thin. I continued to probe the knife into her chest, trying to reach my
destination—her heart. The ribs were not making it easy. Bit by bit I broke the ribs. I was
searchingly searching for her heart. She stopped breathing but I continued butchering her body
into pieces. I stopped when I realised that I was left with her corpse. I placed her on the sofa,
dashed for my room and removed a sack from my wardrobe. I was excited with passion since her
heart would be mine. I severed her head from her body; kissed her cold lips. She was still smiling
at me even in death. I carried her head and placed it on the center table. She was smiling at me
and my gaiety knew no border. I licked the blood on the knife and continued my busyness. I
unlocked the joints in her shoulders. Her hands were apart. I glanced at her left hand; the ring was
still firm on it. I cut off the left hand from the rest of the arm and placed it on the centre table close
to her head.
But I was not close to her heart. The ribs impeded the knife. I lifted the rest of her body
from the sofa with blood dripping heavily. The sofa was painted: painted with her blood. “Should I
mate with you now, my love. This would be the first time we’d make love.” I said looking at her
head as she smiled at me. My heart was invaded with whispers, telling me to have a sexual
intercourse with her corpse. “No, that would be in the evening. Is it necessary?” I replied the
subtle voice. I returned her cold headless body to the sofa and continued butchering the chest until
I finally arrived at her heart. The ribs had given way. I carefully separated her heart. It was pretty
and strong as I held it in my hands. “I have your heart, my love. I will go beyond the sky of
thanksgiving to appreciate you, Suchet.” I said, glancing at her head on the table. This time she

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spoke, telling me to bring her heart closer. She wanted to see her own heart. With effervescent
pleasure I placed it on the centre table for her to see; and began to butcher the rest of her body
into parts. I placed everything I had severed into the sack I ejected from my wardrobe and tied it
up. “Suchet truly loves me. I love her too; and this is how I can express how much I love her—
having her heart” I said, facing her once again. “If there is anything beyond my heart, I’ll give you.”
She said, echoing her former words. “Yeah! You told me that and I trusted you Suchet.” I replied.
I was about to lift the sack, filled with her blood, flesh and bones when I heard strange
sounds. For a moment silence snaked out of the living room. It was the police siren. “What are the
police here for? Have I committed any crime? Is it a crime to have the heart of the one you love?
Maybe they missed their destination.” I thought. But my thought laughed wickedly at me when the
door was forced open after several bangs. As the door banged, my chest was thumping; my
heartbeat did that. You would think it my heart was about to force itself out of my body to meld
with Suchet’s heart so we could fight the evil ones lurking behind the door and banging continually.
But, it happened. Happened. Happened. The door changed into living bodies with black
uniforms, caps, boots and terrific guns. They were policemen. As they approached me, I could see
some of them shuddering and twinkling their eyes toward me like they were watching a star as it
twinkled. That was when they pointedly stretched their guns forward at me before a very slim one
among them, blurted out, with the voice of talking drum, saying “Halt! Halt! Hands up! Don’t
move! You are under arrest! Handcuff him. Handcuff him.” He said, pointing at a policeman who
was watching the centre table tremulously. “What have I done wrong? Suchet can’t you see this
policemen trying to set us asunder. They don’t want to see us marrying. What a wicked world.
Everyone is endowed with turpitude!” I said, facing Suchet’s head smilingly smiling on the centre,
at me. “Suchet you shouldn’t be smiling. This is a grievous situation. Is this how you’ll show you
love me? The police are taking me away for doing nothing. This country is known for accusing and
indicting the innocent.” I said, frowning at her as she continued; continued; continued smiling
without giving a pause.
“Oga, dis one don craze oh!” One of the policemen said in befuddlement. “If I may ask,
what’s my crime?” I said “You’ll know when you get to the station, murderer.” The policeman
barked at me. I was disconcerted as they moved me out of the house with Suchet still smiling and
smiling. I guess she was laughing as I faded away from her sight. Yes. I could hear her laughing
mockingly at me. Maybe she plotted everything that happened. She must have accused me of the
grisly crime. I kept on cogitating in my flurried state. I was combing the forest of my mind that has
been templed with trees of confusion for the right answers to give the questions I was asking
myself. But non came. I was staggering as the policemen dragged me down the stairs. They were
about ten; all in their uniforms. Some of them had stayed back inside my house. Maybe they
wanted to search. When we got outside I found the police vehicle at a position. That was when I
was struck with great anxiety. “So this is not a dream. What are they going to do to me? That
policeman called me murderer. No, this must be a dream in a dream.” I thought confusedly.
They pushed me into the back of the police van. Four policemen sat beside me as well.
They were watching vigilantly as the car started moving with a seemingly endless siren racing with
it. The car progressed whilst the policemen fixated their eyes on me.

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 But, unbeknownst to me, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked back and saw a creature. It
was Suchet. I gasped shockingly. She had on a blue jacket, a trouser with a kerchief tied on her
head. “Fred! You look frightened; I was searching for you until I remembered that you love
watching Nature when it’s evening, close to this lagoon. But you seem lost. Were you thinking?”
She asked. “I’ve been crafting a horrific story right here. I want to make it my next novel. Right
here, where nature has been nurturing me in sanity, I’ve been painting insanity.” I said, chuckling.
She burst into a short laughter and said “You are a crazy person, Fred!” “Let me show you more of
my craziness. I said. “How do you mean?” She asked. “Watch!” I changed the shape of my
eyeballs like a wild creature, brought out a knife from my back pocket; moved it threateningly
closer to Suchet, as she screamed helplessly, and…

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