DRESSED TO KILL
She entered the cathedral dressed to kill, or so she thought. To her, all
the guys were in danger. She was set to slaughter them, but it eluded
her that she was in fact dressed up in WAR.
She had taken an age to journey into the deepest of her wardrobe to
unearth all shades of colored clothes;and as she came out,a
rainbow hung above just like in those epic battles.
On her,the colours stop to riot,they gave WAR duel. They slashed at
one another,killing their mates just for personal prominence and the
result was a thick sweat that lined her brow.
Her face,brow and lips were blotted with colors, like a toddler tried
his hands on painting. She looked like a polished Arondizuogu
Those were not all.
She stood on a 12 inches mountain of doom, hoisted up to look like
a modern day daughter of Anak, deluding herself into thinking she
wore shoes. Her ankle ached. The attention getting koi-koi sounded
like the Ogbunigwe from the deepest of the Udi hills during the
A cursory look at her head would send a little child scampering. On
it sat a medieval fortress which depressed on her so much so that
she had to suave her head right and left, just to relieve the weight. A
wig does not kill, she thought.
Her ears accentuated her armour. On them dangled her shield of
sheer metal. One could see her ear lobes stretched beyond
elasticity. They shrieked for help. She shushed them,while her golden
sword pierced her nose in crude fashion, but she flinched not.
Her neck was strapped with the necklace of valor, choking her breath
away. She struggled, swallowed and beamed a plastic smile.
She couldn`t complain, a general doesn`t. She was the ideal fashion
general, dressed to kill, but one wonders who would truly be dead
Written by Ogbu Godwin.
This write-up is the imaginative creation of the writer.
Special thanks to Godwin Ogbu for his contribution. Contributions should be sent as Microsoft Word attachment to firstname.lastname@example.org