@Bilqees 11 February 2022 edited

My beautiful signatures, Lol. Lovely friends . I am so sorry I couldn't visit your articles yesterday, honestly I was not very well. I really appreciate all of your support and thanks alot for your understanding. 🙏 I first stumbled on a signature when I was eleven years old. I think it was on a Saturday, there was no school and there was no children around to play with, so I went in search of an interesting novel to read in dad's locker. Dad really had alot of books! Dad even said that some of the books were older than him! Thank you sponsors 🙏 I was still looking for a good book that a child of my age might find interesting when I saw some papers, which I was later told were called "documents". The beautiful handwriting caught my attention and I was tempted to read through them. Then at the bottom right corner of the paper, I saw an ominous inscription I couldn't possibly read. With a childish frown on my face, I wondered what they could possibly mean. I later came to the resolve that daddy's ink was running low when he was writing, so he probably tried to bring the pen back to life by vigorously walking it on a little spot at the side of the paper. Just like how me and my friends would do in class when we desperately try to energise an almost dead or old pen that had ceased writing. I concluded in my mind that this must be a "***nonsense***" and I didn't think more of it.

A month later,the headmistress of my elementary school came to our class to issue me a receipt. She usually gave it to dad whenever he comes around to pay my school fees. Maybe dad hadn't remember to collect the receipt on that day, so she handed it to me and instructed me to give it to dad when I got home. Once again, I saw this ominous inscription at the bottom right corner of the half paper. This time around, they were a little bit different from the one I had seen in daddy's box. Now my interest was piqued. When dad returned from the office, I showed him the receipt and a immediately asked in a sharp little voice "Why is it that some grown-ups end up writing nonsense?". I demanded ( I was very talkative in childhood,Lol) . For a moment, dad couldn't understand what I was talking about and I had to indicate the spot where the signature was written. Dad understood at once and he burst into a loud, rich laughter. I waited patiently for him to finish as I transferred my weight from one leg to the other, already exasperated. Dad told me it was called a "signature" and said that everyone have his or her own unique signature. Dad brought out more of his books and showed me all the places he had his signatures and they were all alike. He tried his best in explaining to an eleven year old what a signature means and signifies. I only have understood what he was saying . Now, I was hungry and bored with the long talks. Then he announced that I could also have signature too. I brightened up immediately. I was very excited when he told me that I don't have to wait till I'm all grown up before creating a signature. I asked Dad to teach me how to do it. "I don't have to teach you that too, bilkisu. Just go ahead and write whatever short ***nonsense*** you feel like writing". Dad laughed. Although, he gave me a Clue by telling me to start with the first alphabet of my name. I brought out a book from my bag , with a shaky hand, I tried moving a pen haphazardly on the back page. I showed it to dad and he said it wasn't bad. I tried again one more time. As soon as I had got the idea, for the next hour, I kept trying out different styles of signature. I showed some of them to dad and he kept nodding his head in approval. Dad soon got tired of me and declared that he was going to bed. I didn't even hear him, I was so engrossed in the technology of discovering newer models of signature writing techniques and development. Soon, I got tired of writing on sheets of papers and I began to decorate the tables, chairs and walls with my beautiful signatures. I signed on virtually everything in our sitting room until my ink dried up. I stood up proudly and admired my works all over the sitting room. The smile I had was big enough to tear my face into two. The following morning, I was awaken by the screams of mother. She was shocked beyond words at the level of desecration in her sitting room. As soon as I came out of my room, she rushed towards me with a slipper in her left hand, ready for a good whipping. But dad quickly came between us and tried to calm her down. On my way to school, I couldn't wait to teach my friends how to write a damn good signature. Lol. We spent most parts of the break period under a mango tree as we kept discovering more revolutionary and cutting- edge signatures. Later in the evening, long after I had returned home from school. I brought my assignment to mother who always assisted me with them. Mother was more shocked that over three-quarters of my assignment book have been conquered by signatures, both the good and the evil ones. Mom immediately became weak and couldn't say a word. She kept looking at me for a long time. She was still looking at me when i ran out of the house. **An** **amazing** **fact : Do you know that my signature is almost thesame to that of president Barack Obama. Hehehehehe.** PS: The above story is only a figment of my imagination ****************************** Thank you for staying with me ♥️