Short Stories Series · Short story · Writing

Sweet Meats…

white ceramic plate
Photo by Viktor Tasnadi on Pexels.com

The semi-circle slow turn showed off the graceful flow of her jalabiya, albeit she wasn’t satisfied with the way her rolls stayed prominent. Reema harbours a love and hate relationship with her abayas. They did their best to conceal the bulge of indulgence, yet constantly reminded her of her ever-shifting shape that spread like butter left out in the Summer sun.

Flopping down on the pink sofa, she flipped through the pages of The Weekend woman, sighed in resignation and popped another sweet meat into her mouth. Delicious and warm, the taste of the succulent morsel gave her joy.

Maybe she should go shopping, she thought. Retail therapy of buying pretty things always made her happy for a little while. How did she let her weight get out of control? Would she ever lose it and look trim again? She didn’t trust Khalid with the help especially the new one Nadia – many a times, she caught him  casting lascivious looks at Nadia’s bubble butt that tended to quiver with each step she took. Reema’s musings tumbled over each other and chose to zoom in on her husbands’ recent fascination.

Nowadays, his slumberous thick-lashed dark eyes held a mischievous glint in them and her assumptions of what it meant was giving her sleepless nights. Biting into another piece of spicy meat, she hoped that his attraction to Nadia will not be as fatal as his previous tryst. She truly abhorred driving to the desert to dump a lifeless body.

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The tale of 3 dogs…

“I don’t care for your type,’ she ruffed, strutting away with an air of importance, her cute little nose up in the air.

“Well, he’s a big boy and looks well-mannered.” “I don’t mind him,” Ms. Poodle sighed.

Here they go again, he thought.

Creative Writing · depression · mental health · Poetry/Poems

Silently Loud…

Photo by Juris Freidenfelds on Pexels.com

 

The silence in her life

rang like a loud bell

she wanted no one to hear.

The raging loneliness

sank into her bones

solace became one with her

she no longer knew 

how not to be alone

 

The need to end her pain

beckoned in a beguiling manner

to succumb; an option she pondered.

 

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha 2022

Creative Writing · Fiction · Short Stories

Greener Pastures…

Image result for images of palm tree plantations

Hazy eyes’ peered through the glass, gazing at acres of palm trees disappear as they sped past. The bleak look in them grew with each mile covered, widening the gap between her and home, between the known and unknown.

They told her that she is heading for better things; for greener pastures. They told her that she’s the only hope for the family, they told her many things…

Yes, Akunnia wanted to help the family. Indeed, she truly wanted to be a saving grace. Yet, she couldn’t stop the incessant trickle of hot tears and the lump in her throat from getting bigger with each speed bump the van took as it gradually wound its way away from the dusty paths of her village to the big city.

How did greener pastures leave her feeling like a chattel used to repay family debts to a grouchy tradesman well-known for his poor treatment of others? The weight of her looming situation sat heavy on her slight sixteen-year shoulders.

 

Fiction · Short Stories

The Purple Panties…Flash Fiction

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The frilly purple underwear fought the peg that held it to the clothesline as if in protest against being held down. Its vigorous flapping attracted the attention of several eyes’ – it was simply the prettiest thing in sight.

Casting second, third and fourth stealthy glances, imaginary thoughts of its softness encasing and caressing the skin was worth taking the risk.

With no one watching, in a quick flash of hands, the clothes pin was removed, but the gust of wind was faster and the flowery slip sailed over the fence and attached itself to the radio antenna of a van zooming past.

In dismay, he watched the van weave its way down the street with a purple slip of silk waving in mockery.

© 2018 Jacqueline

Creative Writing · Fiction · Short Stories

The Mission…Flash Fiction

From the confines of the van, they watched as the embers spat, crackled and popped furiously.

‘Do you think they will ever find out?’ 

‘Except someone tells them and I expect you have no such plans,’ the veiled threat in Vladimir’s words barely concealed.

His pale blue eyes shone with satisfaction in the darkly lit van. The mission has been successful. All the evidence has either been eliminated or burnt to cinders.

‘Of course not,’ Helmut quickly replied. He pulled his cloak a bit tighter and took a long sip from a small bottle of Vodka,  the warmth of the fiery liquid unable to stop the frisson of chill he had within. He knew his days were numbered.

©

Jacqueline

Written in response to the FFAW photo prompt above. Thank you, Enisa for the photo and PJ for hosting. 

 

Fiction · Short Stories

New Beginnings…flash fiction

She had to work fast ‘cos it was now or never. Agatha felt a slight pang of guilt at what she was about to do, but her resolve hardened at the thought of freedom and new beginnings.

Finally, she would escape Simon’s pimping clutches. With her mind on the dream of a whole new life and personae, some money in the bank and a new home in a city where no one knew her or her sordid past, she stuck the feathered note under the lapel of his jacket as instructed. The agents have enough evidence of his drug runs, human trafficking, and organ harvesting to put him away for a very long time.

Generously helping herself to the stash of cash in the wardrobe, she adjusted her Spanx, joined the men in the smoke-filled living room and waited.

©

Jacqueline

Written in response to the FFAW photo prompt above. Thank you, Raymond, for the photo and PJ for hosting. 

Fiction · Short Stories · Writing

Brooke…Flash Fiction

As I stood in the shallow pool of water, freeze-framed images of us dancing, laughing and splashing water like children played consistently in my minds eye.

Brookes’ happy laughter echoed with delight in my ears. This little gem of a place brought out that childish joy in her that made my heart bloom when I watched her face radiate and her cheeks pinken with pleasure.

I felt her presence, as real and as solid as if she stood beside me. Out of habit, I stretched out a hand to grasp hers, but the emptiness and lack of her warm palm hit me hard.

Has it only been six weeks? Six weeks sounds so short, yet it felt like an eternity. An eternity of hellish existence. Those dreaded words still rang in my heart and I still felt as shell-shocked as I had felt in the Oncologists office. Words like, ‘biopsy, chemotherapy, aggressive, incurable Cancer, metastasized’ and the worst of all ‘few weeks left’…changed our lives so drastically.

I stood there and in that shallow pool of water ‘the secret brook that Brooke loved’ for the first time, I allowed the hot tears to flow freely. I had had to stay strong and had not allowed her to see me cry.

©

Jacqueline

Written in response to the FFAW photo prompt above. Thank you, Enisa, for the photo and PJ for hosting. 

P.S. Priceless Joy, sorry for the late submission. I had auto-set it to publish yesterday but for some tech reasons, it didn’t go live.
Fiction · Short Stories

The Rainbow Chaser…Flash Fiction

Helena loves chasing rainbows even when everyone thinks that she’s cuckoo.

They remind her of her dad and the stories that he shared with her throughout his life.

He was particularly fond of rainbows and his last words to her before he passed were ‘anytime you see a rainbow, I am somewhere there riding it.’

 

Written in response to the FFAW photo prompt above. Thank you, Mark, for the photo and PJ for hosting.