Posted in 31 Days Writing Challenge

Day 14: Miles to go

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.

-m.e. 2020

Posted in 31 Days Writing Challenge

Day 12: Light in the window

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.

Continue reading “Day 12: Light in the window”
Posted in Fiction Fridays, night files

Night Files: Goodbyes are for losers

Goodbyes are forLosersKaycee 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”

Posted in Fiction Fridays, night files

Night Files: On the Bus

night files

Lost; staring at her as she slept so calmly, leaning on the dirty bus window. She must have been pretty exhausted as she slept immediately she got into the bus. She looked so peaceful, sleeping away all her sadness. She heaved a sigh in her sleep as though she had heard his thoughts. She tried to adjust in the uncomfortable bus seat while holding her arms around her shoulders, obviously cold from the heavy downpour a couple of minutes back.  Continue reading “Night Files: On the Bus”

Posted in Fiction Fridays, night files

Night Files 3

night files

It was the day before yesterday. I remember clearly because I wore the shirt I disliked. I remember strutting down the hall with my hands in my pocket, feigning confidence which was already lost in that shirt. I saw him; albeit for a split second. But there’s no mistaking it was him. His brief statue darted down the stairs and I was caught in my tracks. I exhaled the air I wasn’t aware I was holding. Something about him sent creep waves my way. Not only mine as I turned to see a woman and her son retreating from his way.   Continue reading “Night Files 3”

Posted in Featured, Fiction Fridays

The Ghost of Death

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Photo credit: weheartit.com

The hair on her neck prickled, she got a feeling that there was something hovering, weighing on her. She shook it off-she was NOT superstitious, forget she grew up under a superstitious mother. Still doing the dishes, she began to whistle a happy tune and bob her head from side to side.

Instantly startled by the heavy pounding on her apartment door, just behind her, she dropped the dish she was holding. For some reason, her heart pounded and the banging on her door persisted, a tiny voice whimpering ‘please, please, help me!! He’s coming’

She turned, heart pounding, frozen. But a force pulled her towards the door-what if, what if she could actually help? What if she put herself in danger? As thoughts raced in her head, she heard it again, a sob, a whimper, just against the door, please help….

She just got into action and unbolted the door; a small, disheveled girl pushed past her but that wasn’t the scary part, she was covered in red. She turned to stare at her, to ask the questions if her lips could utter them and the girl cried ‘he’s coming, he’s coming’

If only she knew then, what she knew now, she would have bolted out the door, herself, leaving the girl behind. She wouldn’t be staring at the hard unforgiving lid of a coffin. The clawing certainty she was going to die.

‘Who-o-o?’ she asked. There wasn’t need for an answer, the hair on the back of her neck prickled. This time, she didn’t feel a presence hovering. This time, the hot, sticky, heavy breath behind her neck was real.

*****

I’m sharing this post written by my friend who entered for a competition. Please vote for her by clicking here. 

PS: I dedicated the Fiction Friday Posts in November to my friends who wrote for the competition. Please be kind and vote for the stories you like. ❤

Thank you! 🙂

Have a fabulous weekend!

~M.