Trapped in a story.

Her hair and her bulk and her sparkly top would pull eyes to her huge frame anywhere, her ear rings reflected every stray ray of light and I worried about the integrity of her earlobes and if they could survive a full day of carrying that weight.

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Becoming A Mrs – Part One.

There is a time in a woman’s life when it becomes shameful to still ask who her parents are instead of asking who married her. This is because a woman is like an exotic bird that flourishes best in captivity with the eye of a careful groom, it sings thrilling songs for the ears of her master only. She… Continue reading →

Heart Gone Rogue.

She had often been accused of lacking a heart. While her haters and detractors had never gone as far calling her heartless, even they had to agree that she was kind and a little selfless but they agreed that she was incapable of being straightforward in the affairs of the heart. It puzzled her that they all said the same thing of her, they didn’t even know each other, the fuckers. Continue reading →

Friday Fiction- It will not Kill you

My neighbour’s girlfriend is pounding yam again, the echo of the thud of the pestle on the yam slices against the mortar seeps through the concrete decking into my room, the vibrations make my windows rattle. She pounds every day, rattling my window in the mid-morning when I try to catch the second wave of sleep after losing the first round in the hours after I return from my night shift at the factory. Her pounding always delays that second round of sleep but I smile when it starts, it means I would eat baby-face smooth pounded yam in a few hours.

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Friday Fiction- The Stripper.

Lekan was dead.

There was no doubt in my mind that he was in a mortuary or his body was floating in some river or slowly rotting in the boot of an abandoned car, the possibilities of his location were endless. I had forgotten how to do probabilities and permutations, they were part of my favourite things to do at secondary school maths, along with longitude and latitude calculations. I liked Maths in secondary school and would spend hours poring over the topics. Anything that wasn’t surd and matrix. Continue reading →

Fling-2

I do not know why I carried my phone with me on deck duty that Wednesday morning, was I planning on taking a selfie to send to Naomi? Well maybe, but I had already sent her a dozen pictures of me on the rig at sunrise and several others at midday when the sun struck the Atlantic at the angle that turned it into the golden sheen of sapphire and emerald that makes want to fall on my knees. It never gets old. Continue reading →