Quick confession: so I challenged myself to write consistently for 30 days. But when I got home from work on Nov 2nd, weak and tired, I knew there was no way I was gonna pull it off. I couldn’t create in a state of fatigue. And then I started feeling bad for letting my blog, my readers and myself down. 😌😌
But hey, it’s day 4 today, and who says I can’t pick up from where I stopped? It so happens that today’s prompt is dear to my heart. I hope you enjoy some of the poems and musings I’ve got right here!
Jack wasn’t about to let her into the turmoil that was his life. His mind was a mess, and he wouldn’t let her in. His heart knew what it wanted, it skipped a beat at the mention of her name. “How did this happen? Where did she come from?” Were some of the questions his brain tried to answer. Slowly, and gently she tore through his defenses.
Three months down the line, nothing else worked. Not ghosting, not avoiding her, not pretending the feelings weren’t there. Jack wanted her. And it was time to clear a space in his heart for her to build a home.
I saw the crack on her feet. That pattern I was too familiar with from being raised in a home with lots of clay pots. The pattern that could be traced as a map to tell just how far one had travelled. They were the same lines on her naked feet. She smiled at me, as though aware of my numerous questions. “I travelled a million miles to spend just one moment with you.” And those were her last words.
The day dawned with faint lights streaming through Martha’s windows. She lay still on the bed, only breathing while her mind was in a million places. It was Friday, but she couldn’t pull herself to say ‘TGIF’. One of her million thoughts drifted to the preacher’s message on giving thanks in all circumstances because it is God’s will. She shook her head. No way was this God’s will for her.
It was my second day in the ward. I could see all the distressed faces— my mom, my dad, and even my brothers looked sad. I shut my eyes hard, trying to picture myself in another place. A peaceful place. A quiet place. Where is that white light they say people see when they’re about to crossover?
Kaycee clutched the hands that had interwoven themselves with hers. The bus queue was long, typical of the first Friday of the month in Lagos. Buses were usually hired to convey church attendants to the Redemption Camp at the outskirts of Lagos and that left most commuters a little stranded, scrambling for the few buses that came by. None did today and for once, this didn’t bother her. The brisk after rain wind blew across her face sending cold shivers down her spine. She knew it was more than the cold that made her shiver. It had everything to do with Lanny who had said nothing for the past thirty minutes. Not after she told him the news. Continue reading “Night Files: Goodbyes are for losers”→