My uncle was a humble and honest man, “one of the good ones” you might add. His moral compass was like no other and he lived his life on a principle, “to do no evil and to always be grateful for what you have”. He was a mentor and confidant to most and a friend to all, he was never really a religious person, he didn’t goto church or mosque, but he understood the concept of good and bad.
On the 23rd, of August 1934, he and his family (his wife, 2 beautiful kids and their dog Tim) were on their way back from a family vacation at a resort in Lekki Peninsula. As they approach the highway of Ruxton and 4th, suddenly a drunk driver lost control of his mobile vehicle and swerved into the middle of the road crashing into my uncle’s vehicle. My uncles attempt to avoid this eminent accident was futile as he and his family ended up in the river underneath the Ruxton Bridge.
The Medic and the officers of the Lagos state Search and Rescue team got to the scene of the accident as fast as they could, but the accident left no survival except my uncle. The shock from the collision killed my uncle’s wife on the spot, while the dog and children died later from drowning.
The actions of a drunk man, even though didn’t kill my uncle, committed him to a life of pain, torment and total sadness. Everyday after the day of the accident, all my uncle did was obsess over how he should have done more to save his family, a once cheerful and jovial man became a shell of himself as the silhouette of his families image hunted him.
My uncle was never the same again after that tragic day as he shut everyone out and lived his life in solitude.
This is my second fictional story btw, I hope you enjoyed it. ADIEU! ADIEU!! ADIEU!!!
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