Hurry Daddy Hurry

The clouds were a dark grey. The rain fell with the doom of a flood. Whittling noisily into the windscreen, daddy drove on unperturbed. He drove on speedily. He would almost come to a stop in front of every speed ramp and shift the manual function pickup truck to the second gear, after which he would make a quick ascent into the fifth gear where he resumed top speed through the rain. Sometimes, we screeched to a near stop in front of a ramp; other times it seemed to me as if we flew over them.

I sat by him in the passenger seat. Fingers punching and re-punching the phone’s screen.  I shivered uncomfortably. The rain was cold. But I wasn’t feeling cold, I was sorely nervous. I still had not been able to reach mama.

“Don’t worry son, we’ll make it by 6 o’clock,” daddy tapped me reassuringly; all a very weak show. I felt his hand tremble slightly on my lap. He was scared himself.

Mom’s cry for help still resonated in my ears. “Tell daddy, I can’t breathe,” was her only cry in the two-second phone call she placed. I had checked the time immediately. It was five-forty pm.

So home we went, a saviour and his son. 

WRITER: Emmanuel Twumasi

IMAGE: Google

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