Let's Play A Game

Hey beautiful people, so I've been suffering a seemingly incurable bout of writer's block but on the train last night I think I was finally cured! Wrote a short story so read and comment please! It's partly inspired by Rihanna's "Russian Roulette".

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She could feel the sweat dripping down her face as she slowly regained consciousness; small beads forming on her forehead and then trickling down her face slowly, like lazy raindrops on the window, eyes flitting open. “How did I get myself into this mess?” she wondered. Her head was pounding where someone had struck her. Hard. “She’s waking up boss” she heard a man say in a voice that was too high pitched to be respectable. She wanted to laugh but her breath caught in her lungs. Her chest ached. Looking down she realised had been bound hands and legs, and there was duct tape firmly around her mouth. “What should I do with the haggard thing?” the voice said again. Ashleigh tried to remember how she had gotten here in the first place, the last thing she could remember was getting into a rich guys car. He drove a Maserati and she felt lucky to be the one to service him that night

“Hey Mistuh, you need a lady friend for the night? I only charge £1000 till the morning and I can do you nine ways from Sunday,” she cooed in her southern drawl, shoving herself through the open window, cleavage first. It was well after dusk and the streets were cold. Business was slow and she would do anything to climb into this matte black car and be carried off into his swanky apartment somewhere uptown, never mind what she might have to do for the next few hours. “Really? All nine ways?” his voice was a rich deep alto and she could feel the vibrations in her ear as he spoke. “Yessir, maybe even more” she offered, snapping her gum and smiling flirtatiously, playing coy because she knew what men like this wanted. It wasn’t that she liked doing this… ‘job’, but sometimes there was simply no other way to pay the bills. She only worked the streets when she needed to, when her three year old could no longer eat broth consisting mainly of water and cried for some meat or bread, sadly this was becoming more and more frequent, she even had a couple of regulars. “Well hop in then, but I’m only giving you £300 no more.” He said with a smile “That’s still higher than some f*ckers offer so I’m in.” she thought as she clambered into the car, feeling the cold leather seats on her thighs.

Now the same alto voice was saying “Leave her for now, wake them all up first.” For the first time Ashleigh realised there were other people around her. Girls dressed almost exactly like her; scantily clad, some stripped down to their underwear, obviously ladies of the night. She saw the guy with the high-pitched voice, he was stout and dressed like an undertaker, even including the hat. He went around the room brutally kicking and slapping all the girls until they were all on their feet. There were about 8 of them, all tied up with lips that had been sealed. “Now, now Caleb, don’t be so harsh, they have enough punishment waiting for them.” The alto voice said, reverberating through the room.

Ashleigh wondered where they were, all she could make out was that it was unfinished and the concrete on the floor grazed her bare legs constantly, there were also a few sparsely spaced windows. It must be a warehouse of some sort. The voice sounded even closer than it was before as it spoke. He was standing in front of one of the girls. “So tell me your name sweetheart” the hooker stood shaking before him speechless. “Very well then, let me explain the rules of my little game to you.” Emerging completely out of the darkness to reveal his 6 foot 5 frame, with a wry grin he said. “It is my job as a bearer of the light, to rid the world of all things sinful and all things immoral and you my dear, all of you,” he says looking intently at each one of them “are both sinful and immoral” Ashleigh watched as he ran a finger carelessly down the hookers face and stopped right at the end of her breastbone, in between her breasts. “Because of your undignified means of living, I have chosen you to play this little game with me, oh don’t cry darling, it might all be quite alright in the end.” He smiles slightly as he watches the hooker shake with fear, then he jab her forcefully in the chest with two fingers. The girl doubles over and falls, completely out of breath. “You simply must choose between 2 options. Caleb, show them the games rooms.” With that the lights went off again and there was an image cast on the wall directly in front of them. From what she could make out, there was a table with a gun on it.  She could hear the baritone voice explaining the rules of the game, and the game was Roulette. There was only one cartridge in the gun. Anyone who managed to survive would be allowed to leave and everyone else… could finally meet her maker. The only catch was a pack of rabid dogs just through another door, waiting to devour anyone who took more than two minutes to pull the trigger. Ashleigh felt sick to her stomach; this job cannot be the reason for her being here right now.

She closed her eyes and began to remember all the decisions that had brought her to this place. Dating Chris, the neighbourhood bad boy even when her father told her not too. Falling out with her mother after she failed to side with her. Isolating herself from all her siblings as she claimed they had all never been in love before. Her decision to move out of her parents house at the age of 17 and live with Chris instead. Loosing her inhibitions one night and indulging fully in his pleasures. Staying with him even after he beat her continuously. Getting pregnant and dropping out of school to have his baby. Chris eventually kicking her and her baby out of the house no matter how she pleaded. Meeting a woman who got her started in the ‘business’, getting her her very first client. Wondering to a perfect world in her mind while different men constantly filled her womanhood; old, young, poor, rarely rich. Nothing good had come out of this and all Ashleigh could think of was her baby girl, sleeping in the dingy apartment. She could only hope someone would save her.

All of a sudden there was a loud bang and then a thump on the floor as the first girl’s body went down. She saw Caleb drag the lifeless body out of the room “Feed her to the dogs” the alto voice said. “Yes boss” answered Caleb. Shivering convulsively and crying at the sight she shut her eyes tight again and thought of her perfect world. Another bang and another thud. Dreams of bright summer days and white Christmases were interrupted by a hand placed firmly on her shoulder. “You’re next” She looked at him with all the light left in her soul and pleaded with her eyes for him to let her go. Her deep brown eyes swam in tears waiting to fall at the bat of an eyelid, but all she was met with were cold black eyes, devoid of any emotions. Caleb grabbed her roughly and she wriggled and thrashed about trying desperately to be freed. Four slaps in rapid succession met her cheek, life had dealt her a heavy blow. Now locked in the room she stares at the revolver, her only escape. Picking up the cold lifeless gun like the eyes she had just seen her hands begin to shake. She stares into the barrel and realises they look exactly like the eyes she has just seen. Her knees buckle and she sinks slowly to the ground. “Only 1 more minute before my puppies come in to play.” says the voice through the speakers. “There are some truly sick people in this world” she thought as she spins the cylinder. “Better to take your chance with the gun than the dogs.”

“30 seconds”

Clicking the cylinder into place, she wills her hand and her heart to be still.

“20 seconds”

She raises her eyes to heaven and says a silent prayer to anyone who might be listening.

“10 seconds”

She lifts the gun slowly to her temple and feels it ice cold on her skin.

“9... 8… 7… 6…”

Slowly and deliberately she squeezes the trigger.

Red Skies

One of my more recent poems, would really appreciate some feedback so leave some comments please! :) 

Red skies at night, sailors delight;

Thoughts of azure mornings,

Stretching for thousands of miles.

In his eyes I see love, desire and pleasure

Sure as the days promised light,

Nothing can spoil this,

In him, is the rest of me.

Red skies in the morning, sailors warning;

Clouds, dark and roaring take over the skies.

What has become of my lovers tongue?

Should he spew venom alone?

Of lust, anger and debauchery?

Whatever happened to his warm eyes?

I do not recognize him.

Tonight my sky is starless,

Charcoal as the demon,

That painted it so.

My heart is restless,

It beats an unsteady rhythm like the lips of my lover;

One moment cursing,

And the other caressing.

Oh how I long for the dusk to come,

Where I shall reunite with my scarlet knight.

First Date Nerves- Response

So one of my favourite things to do in writing is to take a piece written from a male perspective and then re-write it from the female's point of view. I recently came across this amazingly detailed piece written by Tayo and I knew I had to accept the challenge! The original can be found here and more of his amazing stories/poetry can be found on his blog, TayoMichael. Enjoy.

He asked me out. Saturday he said. Saturday at 6. Just a casual link up, it doesn’t have to be a date. It took him long enough; he’s had the green light for a while. What to wear, what to wear? Are jeans too dressed down? A dress too dressed up? Maybe he hates yellow. I should go with black. Black leggings. Tan boots. Mickey tee. No, not Mickey, he might think I’m childish. Betty Boop? Too slutty. Gosh I hate my wardrobe. Where is my fairy godmother already? Nail polish is chipped. Hope he pays no attention to the detail. Mickey or Betty? Betty or Mickey. Come on girl, it’s 5.50. Too late to train it, call the cab. Make-up is acceptable right? Understated is always better. I pick Mickey, hmm how about Tweety?

6.00, I’m late already. He hasn’t text me yet. I wonder if he’s there. He did say he’d be a little late. Where the hell is that taxi? I’m starving, haven’t eaten all day. Quick, make a sandwich before the taxi arrives. Ham, mayo, bread. Phone rings. Taxi is here. Grab the sandwich. It’s chilly outside, should have brought a scarf. In the taxi now, I text my sister. “I’m so nervous, I really like him already!” Oh no, no no! This cannot be happening. There’s mayo on my leggings. My phone buzzes, it’s him “Hey, where are you?” Shit! I can’t reply just yet, I look a mess. Eyelids heavy with tears; blink girl, blink. You’ll ruin your face. Finally there. Overpaid the driver, no time to wait for change.

Jump out the cab, head straight to the ladies. Some water on my face would do right now. I wipe the stains, why won’t they go away! Frustrated. Exasperated. I just want to go back home. Breathe in, breathe out. I’m here now, too late to cancel. Text him back ‘I’m in the cinema’. One more slick of lip gloss and I’m ready to go. My hair looks crazy but it’s too late for that now. There’s a little girl in here, “Mummy, I want to look like her one day.” She says. She’s talking about me. I smile. I beam. I’m ready now. I think? Step out of the ladies and back to the entrance. Should I say hi or hey? Hug or wave? Oh Lord, my heart is doing 60 miles an hour again, I hope he can’t tell. I’m not even normally shy.

I see him. He’s literally yummy. Tall, dark and that boyish grin; oh boy. “Hi-ey!” My goodness, did I just cross hi and hey? Awkward hug, wave, shake thing. This is a disaster. “Sorry I’m late” he says. “Oh it’s okay” Do I let him know that I was late too? No. No point. What film to watch? I don’t know what he likes. Do I even know him at all? The silence is getting awkward. I wish I wasn’t so nervous. Butterflies in my tummy and cat’s got my tongue. Film doesn’t start for an hour. What are we going to do till then? My tongue is still paralysed, I’m starting to sweat. Oh small talk why have you failed me so? After what seems like an eternity, he says. “I want to show you something”. Show we something huh? Boys will be boys.

It’s cold outside. I really wish I brought that scarf. I cross my arms across my chest. That looks defensive. Uncross. Can I hold his hand? He might think me forward. At least he’s talking now thank goodness. I respond. We laugh. Laughter is good. I like boys who make me laugh. I like him. Walking side by side, why does the space between us feel so vast? It’s probably the cold air. But this is nice. He’s not too forward, such a gentleman. We’re still laughing. He’s such a joker. Playful shove. Finally we’re closing the space! I’m completely at ease now. “Where are we going?” I ask. “You’ll see” he responds. We get there. It’s beautiful. I must say I’m surprised. For a “London” boy he definitely has a softer side.

Film time now. Do we really have to go back and sit in silence? He’s paid for it already, might as well. Film starts. Silence I said? Far from. Elderly couples glaring at us. Hey! It’s not my fault I’m having a blast. The film’s boring, or maybe he’s just much more entertaining. He leans towards my neck, my heart’s going crazy again. I could have sworn he almost kissed me! No? Maybe next time then. Now that’s all I can think about, is he going to try or not? I hope he does. Pretending I can’t hear him, I lean a little closer. Come on, this is your signal. He wants to kiss me; I can read it all over him. Nothing. The moment’s lost now; he’s still being a gentleman. Almost too gentlemanly? Well I tried, maybe next time.

Film’s about to end. This can’t be over yet. I need more time. Definitely giving curfew a miss. I text my sis hurriedly ‘Is dad home yet? If not text me when he’s back’ ‘No, kk I will’ she responds. Score, I can stay out later. “How are you getting home?” he asks. “I don’t want to go, let’s walk” I say. There’s this space between us again. It took so long to break it last time. Again, can I hold his hand? Or is that far too forward? I breathe in deeply and reach out. I grab his hand. He holds mine immediately. Oh such bliss, I never want to let go. We slow down to a stroll and stop walking, watching the boats go by below the bridge. Does he know how much I want to kiss him? He can’t or else we wouldn’t be talking about boats. Resigned but happy, I squeeze his hand a little tighter. It’s been a while since I felt like this.

From nowhere, he holds me closer and leans in; I know exactly what is happening. Eyes closed. We kiss. Exhilarating! Completely exhilarating! His lips are warm, he tastes like Fanta fruit twist. Mmm, this was definitely worth the wait. He looks at me, I think I see my future in his eyes but I can’t be sure. Another kiss will tell. His arms go to my waist, mine to his shoulders. Perfect height, I don’t have to bend too low or tiptoe too high. We keep kissing; he’s amazing. I cheekily flick his tongue. My phone buzzes. That can only mean one thing, daddy’s home. I have to go. “I had an awesome evening” he says. “So did I” I reply. Heaven knows I don’t want to leave. This has been the best first date ever. Taxi is here. We kiss again and say goodbye. This time when he looks at me, I’m sure I see my future in his eyes. Perfect night. Perfect boy. Perfect time. Perfect personified. I’m ecstatic.

First date nerves? Pshh, they are such a waste of time.

Morenike.

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TayoMichael: First Date Nerves

This post was written by one of my dearest friends, Tayo. I read it and loved the attention to detail and the telling of the whole story. So classic. I had to reblog it and also try and do a response which you can find here. Hope I did it justice, but for now, here's Tayo's piece.

Hands sweaty. Knees weak. Arms feel heavy. Ate barely 2 hours ago, butterflies in my tummy. I can’t control this feeling. Never been on a date before. Genuinely never met a girl like this before. She’s way out of my league, what does she even see in me. Will she understand me. Rhyming slang and a london accent. Will it annoy her? Look at my hair in the mirror. Suddenly need a new shape up. I should have cleaned my Vans.  Nah. I should have worn my Converse. My chinos don’t look ironed. Should have worn jeans. Such an idiot. Fuck. Sh’e gonna laugh at me to her friends. I feel like such a muppet. Should have shaved shouldn’t I. What was I thinking. Too late now. I’m here now. 20 minutes late. Never keep a girl waiting. School boy error number one. This could be the worst evening ever?

The cold air slaps my face as I stand outside the station. I needed that. Now to find her. I’ve never called her before. Do I text her? *sigh* I’m  a mess. Breathe mate, just breathe. Need cash, I’m supposed to pay for everything on a first date right? Why is this queue so long. Group of ladies in heels are laughing in front of the machine. Come on girls, get a move on! Look around anxiously, still no sign of her. Check my phone every 6 seconds. Why won’t she text back. Has she gone? I wouldn’t blame her. Who’s late to a first date. My tummy turns. I want to throw up. I close my eyes. Breathe kid. You’ve got this. My turn. Cash out. How much. Do I really need £50? Yeah just in case. Ok, lets find her.

Lips are dry. Can’t open my vaseline tin. This is awkward. My hands look dry. I just creamed them! Lick my lips and exhale. My phone vibrates. ‘I’m in the cinema’. Suddenly I wish she didn’t text back. I don’t want to go no more. Standing in the middle of the road. It’s now or never mate. A man brushes past me aggresively. That knocks me into life. Let’s go. Walking to meet her. I’m practising my greeting. ‘Heyyyy’. Nah, ‘Hey you alright’. Nah, ‘Hi’. They all sound moist. smh. Walking towards the cinema. I can see the door. Now my heart is racing. What should i do?! Full body Hug? Kiss her cheek? This is harder than I thought. [Yes it's my first time, don't judge me].

I see her. She’s stunning. Tall, slim and glowing. She smiles. I melt. ‘H-h-hey’. Half Hug, half I don’t know what to call it. Awkward. You idiot. Shocking is disrespectful to the word. That was apologetic. ‘Sorry I’m late’. ‘Oh its ok’. She seems so calm. We look at film times in silence. Thinking of a joke in my head to break the ice. You’re funny man! Say something. Nope. None. Zilch. Zero. Nothing. Kaput.’Nothing comes to my head. Film doesn’t start for an hour.’ Good! This isn’t how I want it anyways. I have a plan B . ‘i wanna show you something’ I say.

Outside. It’s chilly. Wanna grab her hand but I think its too soon. Nah mate. Way too early. There’s confident and there’s arrogant. Let’s be neutral for now. Be easy. Just talk. Don’t even remember if this is a date. Maybe she just wants to hang out. Fuck it. At least leave a good account of yourself. I’m better than this. We talking. She’s laughing now! Get in! I’m mocking her. Playful shove. 1st contact since the hug thing. Yep I’m counting. I’m calm. She’s responsive. Hasn’t touched her phone either. Can only mean she’s interested and there’s nothing to tell her friends about yet. This is nice. Pretty with a personality. What a touch. Reached ‘Plan B’. It’s always awesome. She likes it. Brownie points for me no doubt. Good work fella. This is going better than I expected!

Look at the time. Film time. Neither or us wants to stop walking now. But we go anyways. Film starts. Still talking. Laughing lots now. Whispered jokes. Concentrating folk hissing ‘shhh’. We laugh it off. Film sucks. Inches from her face. Do I lean and kiss or lean and miss. Is it worth the risk? Toss a coin in my head. Nope, can’t leave it to probability. Still skeptical. I actually like her. Rejection would make for awkward viewing. Not worth the risk I say. So I lean towards her neck in an ‘i’m yawning’ fashion. Smell her. Rihanna Reb’l Fleur. Yum. Wonder what she’s thinking..Wish I had more bottle. 100% attempt made to kiss ratio. I don’t wanna lose now. I can wait. Besides, I want the first one to be romantic. Sorta. None of that in the rain moist stuff. Just not in a cinema I guess. Perhaps a goodbye kiss? Yeah. Definately…..maybe. *sighhh*

Film over. Pretty decent in the end. Home time? I ask how are you getting home. Relucatantly. ‘I don’t want to go, lets walk’ she says. Can’t believe my luck. Look to the heavens. Thanks Big Man! Walking and talking, she grabs my hand, I clasp and don’t let go. Ectasy. Doing cartwheels in my head. Words don’t do my feelings justice. I’m guessing I should have done this ages ago. I’m shy. Bite me. Walking and talking. Clear dark skies. Perfect weather. Perhaps a touch cold. Her hand keeps my entire body warm. We stop at a bridge. Look aimlessly into the water and people walking on the river bank. I really want to kiss her. Just got to find the right moment. I know I’m going to. I just don’t know when. Devil on my shoulder – don’t bother you suck. Angel on my right side – ignore him, he’s a pest. Silence. She smiles. I smile. It’s not awkward but there’s a funny feel about it. We’re talking about boats. Really? Enough is enough. It’s show time boy.

I hold her and lean in and close my eyes; she responds. We kiss. [One finger skank. Gunshot salute]. WHAT!! Amazing! Seems like forever. Warm. Moist. She tastes awesome. Where have you been all my life. Lips part. She looks at me with’about time’ eyes. ‘I’ve wanted to do that all night’ I say. She laughs. We kiss again. and again. and again. I’m a good kisser I know that much. She’s not too bad either. Bite her bottom lip, she’s misbehaving with her tongue. Everything has fallen into place. Feels like a weight has been lifted. This definately should have happened hours ago! It’s alright I say to myself. I’m happy now. Perfect spot. Perfect night. Perfect girl. Perfect time. Perfect personified. I am buzzing.  ’I had an awesome evening’ I say.  ’So did I’ she replies. I’m planning my future with her already. Call me crazy. We cuddle. I don’t want to let go. Nights like these should last forever. I stare at her for ages. She is beautiful. We kiss again. I’m calm on the surface. Inside I have won the lottery and found the girl of my dreams. Home time. She has to go. Put her in a taxi. Not before a final kiss. If I died today. I’m calm. She’s drives off. I text my friend ‘pulled! haha x’. Home time for me. Best night of my life.

First date nerves?? Don’t know what you mean mate. This was all part of my plan ;)

Tayo Michael.

TNC Competition- The Waxen Saviour

So I was doing my usual blog rounds and came across this competition of The Naked Convos. The challenge was to take the start of a story that they provided (the bold text) and by dating back in time increments of 2, complete the story in 1200 words. I must say it was a challenge; I’ve never tried to write in reverse before and I find word limits tedious but here’s one of my responses! Anyone can enter this competition, just read the rules on their website, The Naked Convos- Competition: TWO and if you do enter, remember to reference me! Enjoy.

Now

Aigbe smiled callously as he watched Esosa tumble backwards onto the floor. He thought to himself that she quite looked like a fish out of water – flailing about, reaching for support that would not be forthcoming. His smile very quickly evolved into a cruel laugh as he watched the back of her head crash onto the cold, tiled floor with a sickening, wet sound. Leaping astride her semi-conscious body, he rained three solid blows onto her torso, working his way from her lower ribcage to her sternum. She yelped, shook and choked with each blow, unable to fight back.

“You are the one that will die, not me, Stupid Harlot!”

He spat into her face as the last blow landed and she choked violently, jerking with the impact of the blow and recoiling from the glob of projectile spittle that had hit her face.

“You!  Are! A! Mad! Dirty! Prostitute!”

Each word was punctuated by a slap that sent waves of pain coursing through Esosa’s head. She could barely speak or shout or scream in protest, much less move. She felt herself start to slip into a numb blackness but she tried to hold on.  Aigbe wrapped his hands around her neck and muttered.

“Witch! Harlot! Your plan has failed!”

Esosa closed her eyes and let the numbing darkness take her as her husband choked the remaining life from her, his wedding ring pressing into against her carotid artery.

2 hours earlier

Esosa smiled to herself as she poured the brown powder into the bottle of Merlot. She re-corked it and shook it violently until the powder began to dissolve. She knew Aigbe was already on his way home.

“Aunty, can I bring your tea?” she was momentarily startled by the voice of Stella, their house-help. Composing herself, she tells Stella that she would not need tea. Returning to the bedroom that she once shared with her husband before he built an extension to the house that included a master, master bedroom, where Aigbe no doubt, hosted the lowlifes he called his friends and their concubines, she removes her aso-oke from the latest wedding she has been made to attend with her adulterer husband. She had left before him with her driver as usual. Getting into bed she swallows her little white pill, the same one she takes every night and calls Funso. Aigbe was not the only one that knew about adulteration.

He stumbles home minutes after his wife and in the living room pours himself a glass of Merlot. Stella is waiting for him and in her hands is a wooden trinket he recognises to be Esosa’s. It had taken a while to convince Stella- not to become one of his mistresses; that was easy enough- but to watch her madam closely and report everything she did in the house from the moment she rose to when she fell asleep. He did not trust his wife.

It was through this surveillance that Aigbe found out about the ‘poison’ Esosa had poured into his wine, Stella had saved his life, but never mind that. More enraging, was the discovery of this wooden box and the exact nature of the white pills it contained. He barged to his wife’s room, his glass of Merlot untouched.

2 Days Earlier

“Do you have enough? Should I bring some more?” Funso asked Esosa early that morning. “No darling, it’s just sugar, if I need more I’d send Stella.” “Okay, it’s just that this plan has to work out, I can’t wait any longer to be with you, you got brown sugar right? The colour would make it less detectable.” Esosa laughs, “Stop worrying, I have it all worked out. I love you.”

Hanging up, Esosa sits languidly in the living room as she waits for her husband to make his ceremonial exit from the house. Aigbe had risen later than usual this morning, not that it matters seeing as he is the oga pata pata at work. Turning lazily on to his side, he sees the naked bodies of Stella and another equally young girl whose name he cannot recall. Smiling he remembers the activities of the night before, he has proved to himself again that he is as able as he ever was. Completely consuming not one but two harlots.

Aigbe knew this one would hurt his wife more than any previous infidelity she claimed to know about and he couldn’t wait to casually let it slip. He relished the thought of seeing his perfect wife who never had a hair out of place go completely schizophrenic. Her inability to bear children was the bane of his existence. At 52 years old, he was the only one of his friends to have no children, none he cared to acknowledge at least. What was the point of marrying a woman more than 20 years his junior, if she could not even give him a child?

The strong, proud man that Aigbe Duncan was, he had no time for the frivolities of adoption. In fact the only weakness he had ever shown was in the genes he inherited from his late mother that caused him to be a Type II diabetic.

2 Months Earlier

“So how has everything with the new pill been so far? Not too many side effects like the last one I hope” Dr. Caleb enquired. “None at all, thank you very much for your time.” Esosa replied with a smile. “Now just remember to stop taking it for 7 days every month to allow nature run its course.” “Of course, thank you so much Dr. Caleb”

Esosa could not remember a single day that had passed in the 18 months that she had not taken her waxen saviour, she would never have Aigbe’s child, her womb was waiting for the day her and Funso could be together to carry out exactly what it was created for.

“Actually, one more thing doctor” her face crumpling in false despair “I’m worried about Aigbe, he seems to not be adhering to your rules of sugar intake lately, what is the ultimate worst that could happen to him?” Dr. Caleb replies solemnly, “He could go into a diabetic coma and if he doesn’t get immediate care, it can lead to his untimely demise.” “God forbid!” exclaims Esosa, looking distraught “Please doctor, don’t tell him I asked you about this, we both know how touchy he gets with this topic.”

2 Years Earlier

“No Esosa, you can NOT get married to that charlatan of all things artistic, do you think I don’t know what is best for you? Funso Akindele will never amount to anything!” her father’s voice boomed through the house, reverberating off every wall. Contrary to what you might think he was not shouting, that was simply how he spoke. Her mother and siblings with their various ‘perfect’ spouses were all present at the dinner table.

It was Easter Sunday and Esosa had just delivered the news of her engagement to her father. Evidently, he was not pleased, “It’s about time we accepted Mr. Duncan’s proposal; I’m going to call him to set a date for your wedding, people like him don’t wait around forever!” Four months later, she was Esosa Duncan nee Akerele.

The Dream Chaser

Hey guys, so this piece was recently sent to me by a cousin and friend who I just found out is also into writing! The words pretty much speak for themselves.

The Dream Chaser

The Colours In Your World Have Faded

Your Only Source Of Life Is The Misery You Created
You Are Enslaved In The Cage Of Your Dreams,
You Are The Dream Chaser
You Once Knew A World Colourful,Full Of Life
But Now All You Know Is Torture,Pain And Death,
You Plead To Your Maker To Make Your Dreams Come True But He Doesn't 
You Chase Them Like Butterflies But Your Net Of Hope Is Torn,
You Painted A Picture Of Strength But Your Weakness Destroyed Them All,
You Once Encourged Dreams And Hope But Now You Seek To Destroy Them All,
You Are Becoming Your Worst Enemy,
You Were The Dream Chaser,
The Maker Of Dreams
The Giver Of Hope,
The Lover Of Love,
The One Who Endures,
The Painter Of Pictures,
The Colour Of The World,
The Father Of Songs,
The Pleasure To The World,
But Now You Can't Find Yourself Anymore,
And So You Call Yourself The Destroyer,
The Hopeless One,
The Fear Of The World And The Dreams You Chased: The Pain Of The World.

Anu Omololu.

Hope you guys liked that as much as I did! Please leave some comments/feedback for her on this piece, thank you! :)

P.S.: You can send me short stories/poetry or anything else that you would like to see featured on here, like it on facebook at Through Hell and High Waters and send me a message.

Jasmine Mans - Alysia Harris

So I was just doing my usual internet browsing and I came across this blog, one of the posts was on these amazing women who do spoken word/ poetry and I've been hooked ever since, you guys seriously should listen to this, sooo sooo moving!

 

Dear Ex- Lover by Jasmine is another of my favourites! <3 <3 <3

Burning Emotion II

Ever since her mother died when she was 12, Angela had vowed to always live openly and honestly, just like her mother and the tattoo on her inner wrist reminded her of that promise daily. Now as she lay in Chris’ bed and traced the outline of the tattoo slowly, she tried to remember where all the secrets and lies had begun.

She remembered when Chris had offered to drive her home that day, the first time they met, so kind of him. Mr. Ayodele had gone to ‘eat’ at a nearby booker but they both knew that by the time he got back he’d be too high to drive in a straight line. So she had agreed, and she hadn’t objected when he asked to come inside to use the bathroom. “You know, you really are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.” He had said to her, she blushed fiercely turning red under her dark skin. “You should give me a call sometime, I’d love to help you out with that application.”

That was how it all started and it wasn’t long before Chris started dropping her at home everyday, with her fathers’ approval of course. As far as he was concerned Chris was a bright young man with promising prospects, and also the reason all his daughter’s recent applications had been met with great news. Truth be told, he was slightly in awe of him, and so was Angela. She loved the deep tone of his voice, how his fingers moved whenever he was thinking, like he was tapping out his thoughts and most of all how his lips felt the very first time they kissed.

It had escalated quickly; starting first with what she thought was an accidental brush on her breasts. Chris had apologised but she hadn’t minded, she wanted to feel his touch on every inch on her body, and so she initiated the first kiss, just like she had played out with her friends from school a dozen times. He stepped back and looked into her eyes, asking her if she was sure this was what she wanted. Nodding, she closed her eyes and kissed him again, delving into the sweet, soft lands that were his lips. He kissed her back this time and she felt the passion burning in her stomach. Undoing the first three buttons of her school shirt, he said to her “Don’t tell your dad, he will surely have me fired.”

That was two months ago. Today she is in his bed, still half naked and not entirely sure what just happened. There is only one question on her mind “Is it still rape if I a part of me wanted it and relished it?”




                                                                                                                                                                
Hi there readers! So i blame the turn on this story for far too many episodes of Criminal Minds! Hope you guys are enjoying it so far. What do you think of the characters? And of Angela's disturbing thoughts at the end? Please use the comment box to share your opinions, I'd love to hear from you!

Morenike
xx

Burning Emotion

Okay so a couple of days ago I went to see Daley, an R&B-ish singer, live in Manchester and he was AH-MAH-ZING I must say! (Download his mix tape “Those Who Wait” for free and give him a chance.)

Anyways, his lyrics always ring so true to me but this inspired me to write a short story:

“We spend emotion, it’s the currency that we burn to get love in return.”

I don’t really know what it’s about yet tbh but read on and we’d both find out soon enough!

Angela was 16 when she met Chris, the dashing young entrepreneur. It all started at her father’s office, he was the CEO of a multinational company based in Abuja. She stopped by everyday after school to bring him lunch and tell him all about her day, they were close like that. Her mother passed away when she was 12. Cancer. Devastating to their entire family. Her dad had always been her whole life, and she was his.

His smell hit her first, that heady feeling you get from a mixture of cologne and cigarettes caused her to turn around, wondering where it came from. Next she heard the footsteps on the hardwood floor, they were brisk, long strides, like an army official. She did love men in uniform. She was already fantasising about what he would look like. Her dad was speaking, saying something about a meeting and getting home a bit later from work tonight but she wasn’t really listening. It was then she saw him as he entered her father’s office. Tall, dark and looking so goddam sharp in his tailored suit. Yea, no. Men in suits were far more dashing than men in uniform. Fixated on his face, she didn’t even notice her father introduce them. “Angela, this is Chris, the newest member of my team. He’s just graduated from University of Jos, he might have some tips for your application. I have to get to that meeting now but I’d see you at home.”

Chris was just one of those people. He had the good looks, the good grades and could persuade just about anyone to do what he wanted with his devilishly silky voice. Chasing girls had always been one of his favourite pastimes but he was growing bored of the current repertoire of girls. There was something about his boss’ daughter though, the uniform-clad girl couldn’t be any more than 18 but her body had the features of a Venetian goddess. He had seen her come in everyday at the same time for the last week and couldn’t get her out of his mind. He put on his most charming voice “Hi Angela, it’s such a pleasure to meet you” staring into her deep brown eyes. She was flustered he could tell by the way she blinked continuously when she shook his hand.

“Pleasure to meet you too Chris.”

TWO MONTHS LATER

“Get out of bed Chris, you’re going to be late.” He loved it when she got all serious and impatient. It was July and the schools had broken up for summer, Angela was free all the time hence the late night/early morning Skype calls, but he still had to work tirelessly. “What’s the point of dating the oga’s daughter if I can’t stroll into work whenever I feel like?” he said in his sleep-thick voice. “The point is that the ‘Oga’ does not know that you’re dating his daughter.” She always tried to say this with as much nonchalance as possible but he could hear the iota of doubt and insecurity that crept into her voice every time.

It had been Chris’ idea to keep the relationship a secret, her father would never approve of his precious angel dating a serial womanizer like him but the secrecy always made Angela feel sick. She hated lying to her dad, he was after all, her everything. If she were to know then, what she did now, she would never have agreed to the terms of this arrangement. 

Amen

Also I’ve been doing some writing! Decided to share with you a little bit of something something I’ve been working on. I don’t really know what to call this piece, it’s not really a poem but kind of is.. you know.. one of ‘those’ here goes:

 Amen

As usual I crawl into bed after daddy’s gone to work,

Lying there together you say a quick prayer for me,

You always want nothing but the best for me.

But this morning you sense something is different,

The “Amen’s” are coarser, quicker with less feeling.

“May the Lord grant you all your hearts desires” my heart breaks.

Now the tears are rolling down hot and fast, completely soaking your silk blouse.

Wrapped in your arms you tell me I’m your beautiful baby girl

I’m 19 and gifted, being heartbroken never lasts too long.

Then why does every minute I don’t hear his voice feel like an eternity?

Every time I re-read the text that terminated us, feel like my obituary?

Okay that’s it for now! Bye! Lol.