Short Story: The Frame Up

Welcome everyone to a brand new work week. We hope you had a fun weekend. As always we have something special lined up for you, and today is no exception.

Remember when you were a kid and your mom tucked you in, gave you a kiss then read you a short story? I bet it was pure bliss! Well, you won’t be getting a kiss from me, but you will, however, get a worthy and riveting fictitious tale that should help you relax and hopefully put you to sleep in a good way.

Kicking off our first short stories section today was Ben Ochuba K, our guest writer for the week who wowed us with Big Fishes Own The Sea No More earlier today. For those who missed it, it’s very much available in our short stories category.

Meanwhile, I hereby wish you a good night’s sleep with one out of a two-part thriller of my own, titled The Frame Up.


The Frame Up

“La tristesse, la colère et la peur m’a quitté il y a longtemps,” Bryan repeated the French proverb he’d come to know and love for the tenth time that day. “Sadness, anger and fear left me a long time ago.”

Ironic that he would think that, he mused. Sadness was as part of him as the need to breathe was. Fear was what he had for breakfast every day, being a man who was on the run, driven by the paranoia that he was being watched all day, every day. And anger? Anger was his driving force. A rage so bold and blinding it threatened to incinerate anything in its path. Anger was what kept him going. It was the fuel he used to drive the sleek cold car of vengeance, one that he was about to park right now at his enemy’s doorstep.

The red mansion, as it was fondly called was a magnificent feat of architecture and wealth that stood as intimidating and regal as its owner was. Even now, guests crowded the yard of the Osborne Estate residence. Bryan knew they were there either out of blackmail, fear, or the compulsive need to gossip. Marcus Obaje had no friends. He doubted there was a single soul in the world who could claim to love the ruthless monstrosity of a man. He gritted his teeth when he saw Marcus dash out to greet a guest. Thanks to him, Bryan was being hunted down for a murder he didn’t commit. And thanks to him the only shred of evidence that could have vindicated him was now a couple of thousand feet deep in the ocean. If he couldn’t get the evidence he needed, then he would settle for taking the b-----d’s life. He was already branded a criminal anyway, why not make it official? Marcus fingered the gun in his pocket and stepped into the melee of chattering guests, making his way to his target.

She rolled her eyes in disgust and looked at the dainty looking thing in a glass again. Cocktails, Sandra cringed inwardly. She was a beer kind of girl and it was beer, straight from the bottle she preferred to have while surrounded by a mirage of pretentious chattering ladies that ‘oooheeeed’ and ‘ahhhdddd’ at every little thing.  Not for the first time that evening did she give her friend Kate a deadly stare. Kate shrugged and patted her on the shoulder.

Honey you need to relax and have fun. That’s why I brought you here,” Kate cooed in assurance.

Really?”, Sandra quipped. “Is that why you brought me here?” Her tone was candy sweet. Anyone who knew Sandra Dennis knew she was never sweet. Fortunately, Kate was one of those people. She swallowed hard and made a dismissive wave of her hand.

Yeah you know, just us pretty girls here having fun where a lot of fine gentlemen are”, Kate replied.

Just because they’re in a suit doesn’t make them gentle,” remarked Sandra.

Kate sighed in exasperation. She didn’t have the time or energy to get into the whys and why not’s that Sandra’s arguments were always bound to dredge up. She wanted a break and found one when she spotted a friend and ran off to meet her.

Traitor”, Sandra mumbled. This was not her idea of having fun and she would rather watch Netflix and chill than remain here for another blasted minute, She thought.

It was while she hurriedly walking away from the party that she saw him. Sandra paused, unsure, unbelieving. No, there’s no way he was here. He couldn’t be. He was far off in some island or country or the other, she’d made sure of it, hadn’t she?

She turned and scanned the crowd. Suddenly she was urged by her instincts to go into the house, to which she listened. She was probably missing him. Yeah, that was it. The man she loved wouldn’t be so stupid or reckless enough to show up here, not while he was still wanted. Not after she had risked her career as a lawyer to organise a jailbreak, got him a fake identity and passport, and sufficient enough for him to make do while starting a new life somewhere far away – very, very, far away. If truly he was here, it was only for one thing.

Oh, God. Oh, God. The feeling that had been in the pit of her stomach earlier while she stared at the sorry excuse of a party was now replaced with dread. Sandra prayed she was wrong but she already knew she was right. She dashed into the house, intent on stopping a murder.

It worked. The disguise he’d donned before coming to the house had actually worked.  Who would have thought that an old, bald, beardless albino could get into anywhere he wanted, least of all the most high class, most secure mansion in the country? At least it was supposed to be. If he of all people could get in, didn’t that mean it was just as much a lie as the man who owned it?

Bryan limped on cue as a couple waded past him, content that all they saw was an old bald man and not the former accounting executive of Obaje Enterprises. Bryan had once had it all. A well-paying job, a home of his own and the freedom and benefits that came with being a happy and content man. All of which were pale in comparison to the way Sandra made him feel.

He loved her and she loved him. They were going to make a life together. That was all before Marcus ruined their lives by murdering a top shareholder of his company who was going to out him for fraud, and then framing Bryan for it all.

He paused and stood at the entrance to Marcus’s office. Bryan uttered a prayer and slid in unnoticed.

Sandra was frantic. She had to find him and get him out of here now! Three bathrooms, a verandah, an attic and four rooms later and she still hadn’t found him. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh God, Sandra thought. Where the hell had he gone? Or did she make a mistake? Was it someone else who managed to look like him? No. It couldn’t  have been. No one else could have made her feel that rush of energy and joy, that giddy sensation that left her breathless. No one could make her skin prickle just by being in the same room with her. It was him. And he was here. Okay, Sandra think. You’re a genius of an attorney and a smart woman. Where could he be? Where would I be if I wanted to murder the man I hated the most in his own house?

She gasped as the realisation hit her. Unfortunately, she was two floors below Marcus’s Obaje’s office.

She took off her heels and tossed them aside. She didn’t bother to turn around when she heard a loud “Ouch.” Sandra ran up the stairs and realized she could have used the elevator. No time to turn back now, she mused.

She ran, breathing hard as a myriad of images filled her head. Every possible and terrible scenario she could envision engulfed her mind’s eye.

Yes!” She sighed triumphantly when she finally reached the office door. No sooner had she touched the doorknob did she hear the deafening sound of a gunshot. Sandra recoiled in shock and terror and against good reasoning, burst into the room.

“You’re too late,” Marcus gasped, gun in hand as they watched Bryan slump to the floor.

Sandra ran to him. “Bryan, Bryan. Open your eyes baby, please open your eyes.” The tears fell now as they lay in a pool of blood, gushing out from his side.

What did you do? What did you do!”,  She yelled at Marcus.

Marcus gave her a sly smile as he heard footsteps bounding up the stairs.

I didn’t do anything, sweetheart. You did.” Marcus put the gun to his arm and pulled the trigger.

Sandra screamed and leapt at him, as realisation struck her.

She reached him as he stumbled to the floor and pried the gun out of his hands, a mistake she realised could cost her everything.

The door burst open and the security guards dashed in, weapons drawn. They were yelling, talking, but she couldn’t hear anything.

She knew she was being moved, yet she didn’t feel anything. Somehow her legs worked. Somehow she felt her hands held behind her back with a strong grip.

Sandra looked at Bryan one more time and her world went black.

Sandra Dennis fainted.

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30 thoughts on “Short Story: The Frame Up”

  1. I read and actually saw myself in the story world. I could feel every scene as if it was real as I read. Please part 2. I can’t wait! This is of International standard just like the movies I would watch in a cable TV channel! Bro you’ve got some ink in your blood. Let it flow!


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