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Showing posts from September, 2019

Back Out First Syndrome

Obiajulu and Stephanie have been best friends since they bumped into each other in a rush to their lecture halls back in the University. Obiajulu had an acid tongue which she only unleashed in anger. "Those things in your head are they not eyes? Rubbish! Witches everywhere trying to spoil someone's day!" And she had marched off leaving Stephanie seething, staring after her. They had met again that day at a lecturer's office where a raucous queue was a failed attempt to bring order to the registration process for the course. Stephanie had been a bit late. Standing at the end would have meant being asked to return the next day because office hours would have ended before her turn came. She followed the queue hoping against hope to find a place to squeeze into. It was all falling apart and an assistant to the lecturer was shouting at the top of his voice with a security official in tow as they began to force the long line of sweating bodies into some form o

Vote Somkeneolisa- Entry #5 Ekaete You Cannot Text My Husband

Vote Somkeneolisa   Trees lined the entrance to the house owned by one Ibekwe Samson. Not this home alone but every residential quarter in Maximiser Estate was lined with tall masquerade trees that while they gave no shade, lent an air of dignity to the entire estate. The effect was commented on by nearly every occupant of these residences and fellow prospective buyers before documents and currency confirmed new rentals. And they all agreed; it was queer and it was beautiful.  Read Initial Story This factor was a tremendous weight on the positive inclinations of buyers and more importantly, their wives who could imagine children traipsing about their beautiful lawns and presenting awe-inspiring living conditions to visiting friends and family members. This, Samson was forced to confront as Busola, his wife fell unashamedly in love with this home; the third on a comprehensive list he had compiled and shown her before proceeding to visit with her as well. These trees now Bus

The Journey to Perfect Love

1…2…3… Push!!! The very words that added salt to my injury fell into my twitching ears one more time. It was the fifth time we were coming down from the so called bus. How on earth someone would chose this kind of place for an outreach was a question I had asked countless times. Several other questions kept flowing out of my mouth. My eyes met people whose expressions could spell “FRUSTRATED” in capital letters. Our bus had been stuck again. The roads were indeed terrible! Many things crossed my mind. What if we’re going for rituals? I asked myself? My mum ooo! I exclaimed. This place couldn’t be in this same state, for we’d journeyed for over five hours and we were still counting. I could only hear the birds squeak in their places of rest. It was as though that part of the world didn’t usually receive moonlight. Everywhere was as dark as a pit with no opening. Sis Ed… “Anyone who sisters me today will be sistered! I said as I hissed and turned to my thoughts. I was tired as

Vote Doris- Entry 4 Ekaete You Cannot Text My Husband

While still on the bed feigning sleep, She waited for the door to open with either full force in anger or gently in love and remorse, but to her greatest surprise, 5 mins had passed, the door was still locked.. She shakingly got off the bed and peeped through their bedroom window down to where her husband was still trying to park his car properly.. She stood there watching as the car was being parked. In less than a minute, the door of their bedroom was opened, she turned her back, lo and behold, her husband standing right in front of her... She looked downstairs again and saw the clearly that it was her husband's staff that drove him home.. She had mixed feeling as she was not sure if she had expected a hug or a slap on her face (she was partly sure this wouldn't happen as her Samson was not the violent type)... Samson instead stared at her with so much disdain and then gave a grin, walked past her, dropped his bag, took his clothes off and dash into the bathroom. He sh


Photo by Jackson David from Pexels I have always loved them tall, dark and handsome, giving me every tender loving care (TLC) I deserve per time. I can't just get enough of the "handsomes", but have I not had enough fair share of these all? Tope and I started dating six months ago. He's my kind of guy, cute, tall, dark and handsome. We met in church but does he have the christian values? I found out three months into dating him, but I wanted it to be so right. He was in the choir unit while I was an usher. He had all of the female attention that there was always one new girl that needs mentorship after service. He's a minstrel but behind this covering, only God knows best Anyways, my guy was the popular guy in church every girl wanted to date. You know such positions comes with its disadvantages but Tope did not manage it well. He was so enveloped in these attention from ladies that he began comparing me with these girls. My dressing wasn't enough fo

A Strange Land

Bukola checked her lingerie one more time, it was almost time for her husband’s nightly video calls and she wanted to look her best for him. At exactly 9pm, her phone started ringing, she eagerly picked the call and waited for it to connect. In a few seconds she saw her husband’s smiling face “ Olowo ri mi, oko mi, my love, how are you ?  I’ve missed you so much. How was your day ? H ope you were not too stressed ? Femi laughed at her onslaught of questions,  “I fe mii slow down, how can I answer all your questions if I can’ t even get a word in?   A nd can I say, you a r e looking ravishing tonight. Is that a new nightie ?  I haven’t seen it before She blushed at his compliment and nodded, she had a mission that night and she needed him to be in a good mood.  At 35  and having already given birth to one child , Bukola knew she was still a good looking woman, she took care of her body well and always looked her best. She looked at least ten years younger than her actual ag

Vote Nnenna! Entry #4 Baba Isheri Has Gone Deaf

Vote Nnenna Click to read initial story Bimpe was in the market getting her hair plaited. Toke her friend of fifteen years and best braider in town, had assigned her other customers to her assistants so as to concentrate on her.  “Today is my wedding anniversary but I doubt he remembers,” Bimpe lamented. “Happy anniversary Ore mi! I actually bought you that set of combs I promised you. Let is serve as your anniversary gift.” Toke whipped out the packet from under her stool. “Thank you!” Bimpe cried and hugged it to herself, beaming. “You are a wonderful friend.” “Now cheer up. I’m sure Baba is planning a surprise.” Bimpe snorted. “Surprise ke? I am the one who will surprise him. Since Aunty Yemi has refused to speak to him about his behavior, I will stop complaining.” “What did she say?” “She said a happy marriage is the union between a deaf man and a blind woman.” “Can you imagine? What sort of talk is that?” “Mtsheww…Since he is deaf to my cries for his attention, I have


“I am hungry,” Ola stuck her little finger in her ear and twisted it till she felt sweet relief. It was a childhood habit that had survived her mother’s protests, criticism and even spankings. Besides, it was better than thumb-sucking and in her opinion, everyone needed comfort once in a while. “I said I am hungry,” she repeated. The recipient of her complaint was lying on her couch shirtless, focused on the game he was playing on his phone with the same intensity that Football stars employed to earn millions. In his case, his focus earned him nada, nothing, zero. He was the love of her life, boyfriend of three years, frequent prayer point and ‘promiser’ of marriage. In addition, he was consumer of her food, non-rent-paying live-in-lover and an expert dispenser of the silent treatment. Ola was frustrated. “Babes, do you have cash? I want to buy noodles.” He didn’t even look up. “If I talk now, you’ll say I am nagging. You won’t help me in the shop, you won’t lift a finger at hom