Creative Writing · Fiction · Short Stories Series · The Daily Post

The Mysterious Sender continued….

secret admirer 2

No I don’t think it is a jilted lover!”

“I don’t have any lover!” Sally declared with an embarrassed look flooding her cheeks.

Sheesh! I came here to make a report, not to have an autopsy of my celibacy, she thinks.

“No it’s not a mad, jealous wife out to scare the Bejesus out of me.” “I just said that I don’t have a lover.” She reiterated.

“Family? They are hundreds of miles away.”

“I doubt if my brother will leave his wife and kids and drive up hundreds of miles everyday to leave flowers at my door and disappear.”

My mum doesn’t get around that much due to her hip problem.” She wasn’t even sure that the officer was paying attention.

After the thousand and one questions and answers the officer said:

“Well Ma’am, we don’t have enough information to go out on.”

He tried to keep a straight face and not show his boredom. There were serious attacks all over the city and the little Miss here complains about an over zealous admirer sending her too many flowers and expecting a patrol to go out on a limb to catch the flower stalker and to hold her hands.

Just keep your eyes open and your doors safely locked, he advised.” His tone bearing a dismissal note.

Irritated at the condescending attitude of the police officer, Sally left and decided to take some precautions.

She purchased a can of mace, a bowl, some milk, tuna and a can of soup for dinner.

Her new stray cat would require a bowl.

Deep in thought she made her way home.

There he was yet again, the neighbour across the street. In his little shorts, bare chest and the beach towel slung around his neck, puffing away on the patio.

She pointedly kept a straight face and tried to ignore his low whistle of admiration.

Does he do something else with his life? She pondered to herself.

Up the apartments quiet flight of stairs and as sure as gold, there it was. Yet another bouquet, but no longer did the message sound like the previous ones.

This time around it’s cut out alphabets read:

Now I have got you! Now am gonna eat you!

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

The link for the first part of this post is here

The Daily Post prompt An odd trio.

Today, you can write about whatever you what — but your post must include, in whatever role you see fit, a cat, a bowl of soup, and a beach towel.

Family · Humor - Bellyful of laughter · Life · Love

How Many Hats Do You Wear, Mama Dear?…

multitasking mama

Being a Mama confers on so many crowns of responsibilities and these multi-tasking are meant to be executed with your hands tied behind your back, your eyes closed, with loads of grace and as cool as a cucumber. Yeah right!

It is also to be done with a flourish of excellence while trying to get your own life somewhere in the mix of playing so many roles such as:

Chief Executive of the House (after the Chairman if there is one)
Chef to fussy clients.
Housekeeper
Taxi driver without any tips.
Peace broker
All teams cheerleader.
Professional anger management manager
Secret keeper
Hair stylist
Errand girl
Laundry machine operator
Security officer
Toy repairs specialist
Teacher
Financial Manager
Art director and Model too
Poop cleaner and potty trainer
Personal Assistant to all and sundry
Day care provider
Teeth inspector
PTA champion
All and sundry family therapist
In house doctor/nurse and bruise healer
The storyteller extraordinaire with singing talents
Sleep scientist and slayer of scary monsters under the bed
Hugging and kiss champion
Stain removal and mess packer expert
Prayer warrior
Events manager
Health and Safety supervisor

…….and the list goes on endlessly!

Sometimes, I am not quite sure whether the assignments the teacher gives in school is meant for the child or for me and to test my patience.

Now, let me go and put on my draughtsman, architect, site worker hat on! We (I and my young son) have to continue his new class project of building the Dubai’s Burj Al Arab with hardboard, tin foil, colours, glues and all sorts of fun stuff. He is the main director of this act.

Work in Progress, Burj Al Arab construction. Ha! ;-)
Work in Progress, Burj Al Arab construction. Ha! 😉

It took the builders 6 years to do the original building and now we are expected to get our replica done in a few days.

As you can see from the picture by the side, it is work in progress and we are making a mangled mess of it (but having fun though).

Let’s hope it turns out fair at the end of this patience inducing exercise and then I can continue building my blog.

Enjoy the multi-tasking hats that motherhood confers on you.

How many hats do you wear so far?

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

In response to NaBloPoMo prompt Wednesday, November 11

What was the last thing you fixed or built?

mothers-day-quote-patience

Devotions · Family · Hope · Inspiration - Motivation · Life · Love · Personal story · Poetry/Poems · Weave that Dream

15 Years Later…

wedding photo

When we met for the first time, the universe did not shift on its axis!

It was not love at first sight for me, but probably for you.

My love at first sight was cradled in my young arms and we were cooing at each other; my dear friends first daughter and cute as a button too.

In you stepped that very first time and that image of me cuddling up a baby struck your eyes and stuck in your heart.

You chose there and then that I would be yours to have and to hold.

I gave you my cold shoulder, but you warmed me with your heat.

I had no plans for such distraction, my career laurels beckoned silently.

But, fate had its plans, and I am glad it did.

You systematically wooed and broke down all my walls,

Every fence erected, you climbed over and crawled into my heart.

You brought laughter to my lips,

A twinkle in my eyes,

And more joy into my life,

The butterflies came,

And you gave me such bliss.

Now and again, you make as mad as a hatter,

But your love cocoons me all over.

Its 15 years to the letter today,

The very day I said, I do, I do,

It always feels like a birthday,

With lots of unwrapping to do.

My dear darling husband, you decorate my life,

With my heart filled with love,

I do, I do, I do, again and again.

To infinity and beyond.

For today’s gratitude challenge, I am grateful to God for walking with me through this fifteen years of married life.

His abundance of grace, peace, love, mercy, joy has endured in our lives. Indeed, I am blessed.

Won’t you join Colline’s gratitude challenge? There is always something to be thankful for.

Kind regards,

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Creative Writing · Fiction · Short Stories · The Daily Post

Who is this Mysterious Sender?…

Secret admirerA different bouquet arrived day after day with no indication of the sender.

Sally was uncomfortable with the whole scenario.

It had started without any card attached.

Then proceeded to an unsigned card with cut out words that simply said,

I saw you today. You look beautiful in white.

I saw you today. You look ravishing in red.

I saw you today. You look gorgeous in green.

All in reference to the colour she wore that day.

By day sixteen she was tired.

The notes had changed their tone. They now read:

I want you. To be mine.

I need you. You must be mine.

I will have you. You have no choice.

The stairwell to her apartment now scared her.

Her neighbours all looked like suspects in her eyes.

Could it be one of the three odd flatmates in the opposite flat?

Was it the shirtless guy who stood on his patio every evening smoking as she walked home from work?

Was it the old geezer who always passed her on the street with his dog?

She didn’t know what to think anymore.

This was no longer funny.

It is time to report to the police.

The Daily Post prompt Secret Admirers

You return home to discover a huge flower bouquet waiting for you, no card attached. Who is it from — and why did they send it to you.

Inspiration - Motivation · Life · Musings

Where is Your Corn Roasting?…

A friend and sister blogger invited me for the three quote challenge and I would like to share some African proverbs with you. Thank you OBA for this auspicious opportunity. I like it. African proverb 2

Back then in my place, our grandparents and parents told us tales or rebuked us with words laced with lots of proverbs, adages and idioms that we had no idea what they meant.

Sometimes, they will ask you to go and figure out a sensible answer for a proverb as part of your punishment, then you would perambulate from one adult to another trying to repeat the proverb and get its meaning.

These adults had a way of knowing that you had misbehaved so your journey got a little trickier and arduous but it was a lesson well taught in a lot of instances.

So I leave you with today’s proverb:

”A man doesn’t go far from where his corn is roasting.”

Now picture me going up and down asking another adult to tell me where the corn is roasting 🙂

I would like to invite 3 gentlemen bloggers in the house to give us their quotes.

Patrick Hawthorne

Thomas M Watt

Barclay Dave

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Blogging · Inspiration - Motivation · Tips for the day · Writing

You Can’t Stop Now!…

Starting a new project is akin to venturing on an unknown expedition which is fraught withKeep trying excitement, uncertainties, trepidation, breakthroughs and a basketful of other emotions of unknown origins.

Most times, we are hesitant to approach a project that looms in our minds, overthinking the process of that new beginning with all the should I, would I, could I and what if’s under the sun.

Once that overthinking, over-preparing process begins, our zeal starts to wane and that little nay-saying imp hanging around the corridors of progress waiting to say nay at the slightest opportunity, will validate our excuses with all the best laid out reasons and will nip at our heels with glee.

A simple approach which I have found that works before I jump into the fray with two feet, is to ask just two questions with a chart to tick my answers:

What is the purpose of this project and what do I stand to gain with its success?

weighed against:

What do I stand to lose if it doesn’t pan out the way I thought it would?

Once these two bits have been sorted out in my head, I dive in wholeheartedly and give it my best shot. Some days along the way might be arduous but I limp along and keep telling myself “hang in there, this too shall pass”.

By the time I know it, time is flying past, I am enjoying the process and recording success to the point that when the end looms in sight I start feeling withdrawal pangs, wondering why I didn’t do this before.

Over the years, with little things that I done here and there, I found that the greatest fault is not failing to succeed in that which one sets off to achieve, rather, it is the failure to attempt in the first place that is the biggest problem.

To my fellow NaBloPoMoer’s and The NaNoWrimoer’s, just hang in there, this too shall pass!

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

In response to NaBloPoMo, Tuesday, November 10

What is the hardest part of a big project: getting the energy to begin, finding the time to work on it, or feeling down that it’s over?

Blogging · Humor - Bellyful of laughter · The Daily Post

Sugar Rush Buried in the Pages of a Delightful Book!….

eating chocolate

Hmm! Guilty Pleasures! Just saying the words alone causes a glazed look to appear in my eyes and a nice zing of dopamine rush to my brain.

I do have a good number of those sinful gratifications hiding away in my closet, under my pillow and all around me and I wonder why I should feel guilty for something that I rightfully own and enjoy.

“Would spending so much on books count?”

“What of lovely, silky unmentionables?”

“A spa treat, is healthy isn’t it?” “Just think about professional hands kneading those aching muscles and massaging that scalp…..delightful right?”

and those shoes? If your feet don’t run in the dainty feet department where all the best shoes seems to go, you will understand the constant battle not to grab all the lovely shoes that you find in your size.

Sweet cravings are my rapturous indulgence. I could sneak in a decadent box of Swiss chocolates with an intention to have only a morsel or two. That is fooling myself and a story for the laughing Gods. With my nose buried in a delicious read, the box is as sure as gone. The burst of pleasure on my tongue was worth every measure 😉

Those sinful Cold Stone creamery, Dairy Queen, Haagen Daz cookies and cream ice-creams that tend to beckon to me when I am walking peacefully down the aisle are a bit problematic too.

You can almost hear the Dairy Queen go “Psst! Hey! Jackie this way, look am a new flavour.”

It is really a herculean feat to peal my eyes away from their pleading eyes and walk sedately to the counter, then comfort myself for being so strong by buying the smallest Twix bar available.The-choicest-pleasures

I have simply learnt to remove the guilt from the pleasure by practicing the virtue in moderation but not to indulge? Ha! That’s almost impossible.

Oh shush! Don’t go judging me. I know all about yours too!

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

The Daily Post No Apologies

What’s the one guilty pleasure you have that’s so good, you no longer feel guilty about it?

Blogging · Devotions · Inspiration - Motivation · Life

Again and Again and it Sticks…

Good-Day-Bad-Day-Quote

Some of us are positively wired morning humans, while some are later hours wired humans who want to kill the poor morning ones for too much positivity and energizer bunny bounciness at a time that they would consider as ungodly hours.

Please, I do crave your indulgence. I am one of those early morning sunny child and I married the moody moon man. What a chaotic sizzling hot combination. I digress.

Over the years, I found out that truly, whether morning or evening human, we are all creatures of habit and comfort. When I go away from my abode, I may stray a day or two away from my usual habits, but I will find that within the next few days, I am eager to get back to the known, comfortable cycle.

Most times, once we have set off on a certain tangent, its repetitive sessions almost becomes inculcated in our lives and gradually it sticks to us as a form of habit. That could be an explanation as to why some people who ooze negative vibes from start to finish find it difficult to break such a vicious cycle.

For instance, I wake up early (even my idea of a lie-in on a Saturday morning is pretentious, compared to some people that I know) and jump start my day with certain activities.

I practically wake up with ”Thank you Lord” on my lips each morning before dashing to the loo, getting some business taken care of and going through my to-do list in my head.

I have found that making those positive affirmations, spending that 5 minutes early in the morning to go through my Bible or devotional (sometimes, on the go) helps keep my mind steady and with that positive strength of my mind, I run my day more productively.

On the other hand, on days I wake up from the wrong side of my bed, with a cotton wool head and grumpiness, the day simply goes South, except I climb back into bed and try to crawl out from the right side, second time around; which by the way is luxury that I cannot afford.

That day practically runs me (which is not my ideal picture) and I end up faffing away most of my time gathering more wool and not achieving as much as I would have ordinarily.

So, in essence, I make great efforts to do the positives again and again until it is almost on auto.

I haven’t perfected the art yet, but the journey to achieve excellence is actually the greater part of the success.

So tell me, which side of the day are you? Morning or later hours?Good morning

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

In response to NaBloPoMo – Monday, November 9

What is the first thing you do every single day (I mean, after you hit the snooze button)? When did that step in your routine begin?

Creative Writing · Fiction · Short story

Out of The Deep…a short story

Statue

He wanted to nestle in the snug, cocoon of floating senselessness, the insistent voice wouldn’t let him be.

It kept pulling at him; nudging him back from sinking into the deep abyss which beckoned with it’s twinkle of light that beamed at the end.

The nagging voice grew stronger and stronger and his unconscious state was reluctantly dragged to the fore.

His struggle to rise was weighed down by heaviness. Beeps of machines, his mothers anxious voice and the drone of uniformed voices brought it all rushing back.

He remembered. That single minute of distraction checking his tweets; the tumultuous collision, rushing pain and weightlessness.

He remembered floating through the sea of pain, the sweet calming voice of the fair lady who came to his rescue and cradled his head.

He wondered why one of the Saints his mother honoured daily had cradled his head?

He stopped believing those things for a long time, but humored his mother when she dragged him along.

Now he didn’t know what to believe. All he knew was that somehow, she had saved him.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Inlinkz code

In response to the FFfAW photo prompt above. Thank you Sonya and Priceless Joy for this challenge platform.

 

Life · Social Issues · The Daily Post · Travel

This Manner of Madness…

HumanityNo I am not a masochist. I don’t derive gratification from self inflicted pain, it is simply the desire to watch what goes on in an ever changing World of today, hence my torturing myself with today’s news.

Today is 81115 and my eyes are pulled to the television. I gravitate to the headline news, since I don’t have all the time to sit before the TV for endless hours, I pick and choose my moments.

Watching the memorial service for the 224 unfortunate lost souls on Metro-jet from Sharm el sheikh to Russia has been a sobering and solemn experience.

I don’t know anybody among them and I don’t have to know anyone of them to imagine the pain of the families affected.

These were ordinary humans like you and I, blown to smithereens. Little children, wives, husbands, sons, daughters, relatives, friends, sweethearts, colleagues…..HUMANS!

I watched the stricken faces of the Russian citizens, the bell tolled 224 times for these possible victims of a dastardly act of fanaticism.

Terrorists have staked claim of responsibility for planting the bomb that blew the plane apart.

Who can explain this despicable beast of destruction that has given rise to so much inhumanity?

Who can explain why the heart of some humans are desperately wicked?

Who can explain the senseless violence and killing which seems to dot every perimeter of today’s horizon.

Who can explain the raging wars that tears Nations apart, decimating and displacing its citizenry?

Who can explain these virulent dogmas of hatred sown in the name of convoluted religions?

Is there an answer anyone?

No? Yes? SILENCE.

If it is true that it was an undetected bomb, then this is the new ugly face of travel, which would really be a dilemma and game changer.

“The days are indeed numbered.” ”Each day a precious taste of sweet nectar.”

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

The Daily Post Your Days Are Numbered.

What’s the date today? Write it down, remove all dashes and slashes, and write a post that mentions that number.