Personal story

The Girl From Yesterday…personal

Yesterday I witnessed something that disturbed me so much. At about 6pm I was driving down the highway and my car came to a screeching halt ‘cos a few meters away, right in front of me was a model-slim beautiful well-dressed black girl standing in the middle of a six-lane road.

Several cars stopped as well, ‘cos no one was sure of what was going on. She wasn’t attempting to cross the road, she was suicidal. Two brave men went and pulled her out of the middle of the road, but I’m afraid that if this young lady fails to get help, she will end up doing something painfully disastrous.

This incident messed up my brain cells a little and made me jittery. I was literally shaking with a thousand thoughts racing through my mind all at the same time. It triggered a rush of horrid feelings.

Many of you may not know this, but I have a history with a road accident and yesterday’s incident shook me, robbed me of my sleep and gave me a traumatizing nightmare.

I spent my sleepless night wondering what could have triggered such a young lady to such extent of mental anguish that she has chosen to get run over by a car?
I wondered if she has a family and where they were?
I wondered how she would get help in this forsaken place?
I spent part of my sleepless night recalling my accident and the young man I had inadvertently killed in the middle of a road several years ago.

Now I wish I had been strong enough to come down from my car to talk to this girl. To tell her that all is not lost. That there’s always hope and that she’s not alone. Maybe all she required was another listening ear. Now I am left sending silent prayers to this disturbed lady and hope that grace and mercy will abide with her. I hope that she finds succour.

Short Stories

Old Habits – Friday Fiction in Five Sentences.

Image result for bouquets of carnations

Passing the flower shop, he bought the usual – a beautiful bouquet of red carnations, she loves carnations on Saturdays.

Whistling, he walked slowly to the boulangerie and ordered his basket of the usual, grabbed a free newspaper and waited – he is a man of habits, formed over three scores of existence.

The tram pulled up, boarding along with other passengers, the next thirty-five minutes trundling ride was spent in a light conversation with the gentleman who sat beside him; they talked of little things and their rheumatism – he made a mental note to tell her about the interesting fellow who still wore his old tweed jacket and a dated fedora cap.

‘How is she today?’ He perfunctorily asked the stoic-faced nursing assistant and walked down the familiar corridor, passing room numbers 28, 29, 30 and then opened the door to her room, number 31; everything was as it should be.

Bert took off his coat, planted a cool kiss on Ida’s pale shrunken cheeks, patted her hand in a familiar dismissive mode and sat down to eat whilst he regaled her with little anecdotes of the past week; she stared at him with vacuous eyes, lost in a caged world of her own which he preferred, the staged accident was quite effective, he had grown tired of her nagging.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Have you checked out my new site? I hope you will. Thank you 🙂

Stay tuned for our blog party tomorrow Saturday 29th – Sunday 30th. It’s a Blog-o-ween!

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Short Stories

Finding Pleasure Again

Eyes shaded from the morning sun that made them hurt after a while, Richard allowed his gentle, trained guide to lead him down the footpath for a walk.

His heightened sense of hearing could pick up the various sounds far and near – the Seagulls calling to each other, the crashing sound of the waves hitting the banks, a loud honk from a shipping vessel, the slapping sound of a jogger’s trainers, his nostrils picked up different smells in the air, from the fragrance of the burgeoning flowers to the fishy smell of the seafront not too far from him – Richard smiled in pleasure .

It has taken lots of therapy to get to this level of acceptance and to begin to find little pleasures in life again After the accident, adapting to his limp and the sudden loss of his eyesight after 50 years of perfect vision has been a tough call, but for once, he felt happy to be alive again.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha


Thank you, Louise, for the photo and Priceless Joy for hosting this charming platform where we unleash our stories:-)

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Everyday People

Please Look!…Every day beautiful people # 66

*Photo deliberately blurred for privacy*


Yesterday, I had to get some bloodwork done at the hospital and despite not feeling my usual stellar self, my sense of observation did not leave me.

I watched the men in the photo walk past me, both scrolling through their phones and paying a little less attention to where they were headed.

Like a poorly written script, they missed the bold caution sign on the floor outlining the step down leading outside and the wheeled in chap took a bad tumble.

I presume he must have twisted something because his friend had to help him up, then got a wheelchair and brought him back inside.

The phone fascination is becoming a worrying trend.

Below is my first just published Poetry Book “Out of the silent breath” which is available on Amazon and Smashwords.

When you buy my book, you support me in an invaluable manner.

Stars, Five Stars, Logo, Icon, Symbol, Five, Rating

I absolutely love this book of poems. My favorites are “Love Rations” (for those who love to give the silent treatment) and “Beggars Supper” (which definitely pulls at the heart strings). Two thumbs up!!

Out of the silent breath

Fiction · Friday Fiction in Five Sentences · Short Stories

A little too late…Friday fiction in five sentences.

He was so mad he couldn’t wait to teach both of them a lesson or twenty.

Furiously he swerved round the bend and simultaneously picked up his phone and took a second look at the incriminating picture.

In split seconds, he failed to see the puppy, the boy, and the mother…

Slammed brakes, screeching tires, a dogs yelp, the mixed cries of boy and mother as they watch their beloved Sandy struggle…

…The angry haze lifted from Tony’s eyes.

Below is my first just published Poetry Book “Out of the silent breath” which is available on Amazon and Smashwords.

When you buy my book, you support me in an invaluable manner.


She is amazing at describing love and life in her poems. She creates such beautiful images with her words. Truly, she is a talented writer and I’m so excited to have her poetry book and to continue reading through it.

Out of the silent breath

Creative Writing · Fiction · Short Stories

Lost In Thought…Friday Fiction In Five Sentences.

Ted was bored, angry and tired. He hated his job, the drudgery and his boss.

Every morning, he would get all dressed up, knotted in stitches by the strictures of his tie, suit and briefcase, yet he trudged along, a pack of analgesic and pepto-bismol tucked away in his bag. He would have gone through a bit of them before the day was over.

He knew that he couldn’t continue like this in such a dull job. He had told himself this for the past ten years, yet he was too lethargic and scared to sit up and do something.

Lost in thoughts over his quandary, his movements were spare and automated as he walked down his usual route to catch the bus.

He stepped into the pedestrian crossing, just a few seconds too early. He had failed to see the flashing change of the lights and the truck that trundled down at high speed.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Image credit: Pixabay

Challenges · Fiction · Short Stories

Need For Speed…

Linda knew Scott was visiting again. It took her a while to understand Jack’s  excited reactions whenever he ran to the closed garage door and made those noises while thumping his tail.

Scott loved to race and she hated it with a passion. Every time the racing circuit was on, she developed ulcer from anxiety.

She begged him to stop, but he said that the speed got his adrenaline pumping. He simply couldn’t stay away from the tracks.

She remembered that day with vivid clarity. Her bad feeling made her ask him not to go, but he waved off her fears with his boisterous, full of life laughter.

The nightmare unfolded before her eyes as she stood by the bylines watching cars careen out of control, the screeching tires, the scrunch of metal and the pile-up.

Scott died. His speeding days forever silenced, but everyday he is back, tinkering with his old clunker that he first started racing with.

She thought that his fatal attraction would have faded after everything that happened, but his passion seemed incurable.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha


In response to the FFAW photo prompt above. Thank you Pixabay for the photo and Priceless Joy for this enchanting platform

Devotions · Family · Hope · Musings · Personal story · The Daily Post

Was I Truly Guilty Or Is It My Mind?…


There are moments in life that I look back on and wished that it could have turned out differently and this is one of those guilty moments: a letter to the young man that died.

However, with the realization that the past is where it belongs, one can only strive to a brighter present.

I have managed to get above and beyond these feelings by first and foremost, conscientiously working hard at forgiving myself for something that was beyond of my control.

At times, no amount of penance can get rid of the burden of sadness that weighs down on my mind when I ponder on some of the guilt-ridden episodes in my life but the amazing thing is that I have found that the more I reach up and look up to the sky, the less burdened I become.

Through Grace and Mercy which are not of my own will, but by succumbing to faith, hope, prayers, I can actually say, that I have the peace of The Lord which surpasses even my own understanding and that the haunting has ceased.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

”My Grace is sufficient for you; for my Power is made perfect in weakness: 2 Cor: 12:9.”


The Daily Post prompt The Guilt That Haunts Me.

Share a time when you were overcome with guilt. What were the circumstances? How did you overcome you guilt?

Creative Writing · Fiction · Short story

Out of The Deep…a short story


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

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


Creative Writing · Fiction · Short story · The Daily Post · Writing

His Flanges Got Propped!…. A short story


It’s been quite a grueling competition! Sebastian is determined to win the championship even if is by the skin of his teeth!

He has come far and this is it! The moment of his life and his dreams!

He could almost taste the victory and the fame at the end of it all.

His face would be splashed all over the papers and television. Instant celebrity status stamped on him as he turns into the toast of the town.

Endorsements would fly in from here and there. He could imagine his preening and the ladies cooing after him; his companionship sought by all. He could see it all! The pause to pose for silent brooding pictures for the paparazzi. The constant request for interviews. The frenetic social calendar. What a success it would be!

For just a split second, his wandering mind drifts off from the game at hand. In that split second, the ball comes sailing through the air and his delayed reaction causes him to over-reach. His legs fly out under him! He sails into the air, landing with such a heavy thud at an odd angle.

Pain pierces and radiates through his entire body. He struggles to rise but this legs crumble under him as the excruciating pain keeps him down.

The medics rush to attend to him and a quick examination is carried out.

Through the haze of the pain, a sober voice filters through;

“Well my young man, it appears you have popped a rib or two!” Said the Voice.

”You will be needing a FLANGIPROP  for support for several months or more.” ”Unfortunately you cannot continue with the game.” The droning voice continued as he administers on-site first aid.

He is quickly holstered on a stretcher whilst he writhes in pain and anger. This is not the way it is meant to end he argues in his mind.

The flashes of the camera keeps popping in his face as the paparazzi catch every wince of pain and misery that is etched on it.

Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha.

In response to The Daily Post – Invent a definition for the word “Flangiprop,” then use the word in a post. 

The actual definition of Flange: An external or internal rib or rim which is used to add strength or to hold something in place.

The actual definition of Prop: An object placed against or under another to support it: anything that supports.