The Other Dream…

May 8, 2017 jacquelineobyikocha11 Comments

As the pile of freshly felled tree trunks grew, so did Theo’s stress grow. The cycle just never seemed to stop. He truly didn’t mind the work, not in the least, but it also didn’t hold much of his interest.

Though he found the art of turning the logs into different purposes satisfying, at the same time, he felt a deep dissatisfaction with his life. After high-school graduation, he had wanted to proceed to college and pursue his dreams of becoming a Civil Engineer, but that thought had simply upset his dad.

His great-grandpa down to his dad were woodcutters and he was expected to be satisfied carrying on with the family business of logging. It’s been three years since graduation, he wanted to bring up the conversation of going back to college again, but the time never seemed right – there were bank loans to repay and dad’s health had taken a poor turn.

With each passing day, the displeasure simply weighed him down. He knew that he was called to be more than a lumberjack which was what life currently offered him.

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

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Calamity – Friday Fiction in Five Sentences

May 5, 2017 jacquelineobyikocha9 Comments

Scalding hot tears spilt out of Ifueko’s swollen eyes mingling with the salty dribble from her nostrils into her mouth.

She wailed in reckless abandon, her swaying form gathered into itself as she interjected her pitiful cries with grief-lade idioms ‘Chi mu o, ewu ata mu igu n’isi – My God, the goat has eaten palm fronds off the top of my head’.

‘Why? Chukwu Okike. Why has such calamity befallen me, she asked her God of creation.

The repeated echos of ‘ndo, sorry’ and other words of commiseration from the growing gathering of neighbours and friends fell on deaf ears.

Her five young ones surrounded her on the bare ground of their uncompleted home, their young minds unable to comprehend the gravity of their situation as the men of the compound struggled to bring out their father’s body from the well.

Quick Glossary

Chi mu o – My God

Chukwu Okike – God of Creation

Short Stories

Bigger and Better…

April 24, 2017April 24, 2017 jacquelineobyikocha7 Comments

The fire raged with menace, its bright hot orange flames licked the timber with such nimble speed that in no time the house was razed to the ground.

The Darlington’s barely managed to escape the inferno with their lives and only their pyjamas on.

Thankfully, through their weeks of shock and coming to terms with their misfortune their wonderful neighbours rallied around them.

‘We are going to rebuild a bigger and better home Jo,’ Ziggy assured his wife and hugged her to his side as they stared while the workers cleared the charred remains of their former home.

Thank you, Yinglan for the photo prompt and Priceless Joy for providing this platform.

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Short Stories

The Last Wish…

April 17, 2017 jacquelineobyikocha7 Comments

Clarisse held the silver urn close to her chest for several minutes, caressing it absentmindedly. Maybe it was her imagination, but the gentle wind grew stronger and the breeze teased her hair at the nape just the way Tim had loved to play with her hair. She felt the beautiful urn become warm in her hands, she felt his presence surround her and her eyes welled up with bittersweet tears.

This would be the final time she would hold him in her arms. She gently opened the jar and cast his ashes into the stream, watching as the gushing water carried away the remains of her love.

He had wanted to be free after being debilitated and confined for so long from an autoimmune disease. He had wanted this stream, his favourite spot on Earth to be his final resting place and she had fulfilled his last wish.

Thank you, Maria for the interesting photo prompt and my lady PJ, I appreciate this platform that you host.

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Fiction · Friday Fiction in Five Sentences

Go To Hell!

April 14, 2017 jacquelineobyikocha8 Comments

Image result for images of fighting couples

He said,

go to Hell!

She replied,

‘I am already in Hell,’

and I’m taking you with me.

Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

image credit – Pinterest

Short Stories

Labour Night…

April 10, 2017April 10, 2017 jacquelineobyikocha2 Comments

Ulumma put down her basket of cassava for the umpteenth time and gasped in pain, her steps slow down as the contractions grow more painful and closer with each passing second.

The sound of critters amplifies and in the stillness of the air, the buzzing crickets, croaking frogs, mosquitoes and staccato beat of a talking drum that floated in the night air from the village increase her anxiety, reminding her how far she is from home.

She tries to dampen her ripe imagination from straying to folklores and ghoulish tales of the dead who come to do their farming after hours, but the tree limbs look ominous, gnarly and ghostly in appearance as dusk quickly falls in ‘Ubi.’

‘It wouldn’t do to have this child in this Godforsaken place’ she mutters as she trudges along, her thoughts diverting in anger toward her husband who was probably enjoying a drink of palm wine while waiting for his pregnant wife to return from the farm and make him a fresh pot of soup and fufu.

Hissing and cursing in pain, she vows not to allow him to touch her for the longest time ever.

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Thank you Yarnspinner for the interesting photo prompt and my lady PJ, I appreciate this platform that you host.

Quick Glossary

Ubi – An Igbo word for farm.

Short Stories

The Time…Friday Fiction in Five Sentences

April 7, 2017April 7, 2017 jacquelineobyikocha7 Comments

Image result for images of time

He could recreate her routine to the last second, sometimes he watched and silently willed her to break it, but like clockwork, she kept to her schedule of little things.

At precisely 4.15, she would come in, a creature of habit, she loved to sit in the same chair and the quieter corner behind the shelf with Art on a bold plaque pinned to its side.

She would plug in her laptop, put on her headphones, hum and move to the soundless music as she happily chomped on Twizzlers and tapped away rhythmically on her Toshiba laptop.

At 6.30 she would rise, stretch her taut limbs that bordered on thin, go for a restroom break and return with her lips glistening pink from gloss, a powdered face and a cup of decaf from the vending machine.

Now it’s 5 minutes to 8, he watched her pack up her things, in less than two minutes she would take the stairs two at a time, sadly, she seemed happy today, it was time, so he followed behind.

Rononvan's Weekly Haiku Challenge

Warble, Warble…Ronovan writes weekly haiku challenge

April 4, 2017 jacquelineobyikocha10 Comments

Ronovan’s prompt for this week’s haiku ‘chagrin & joy’ was a bit tricky. My thoughts were a bit garbled like Joy’s own, but I managed to get it together 🙂

Image result for images of stage fright

To Joy’s chagrin,
only a croaky warble escaped;
she couldn’t sing.

The audience stared,
the room silent in anticipation
Joy’s discomposure doubled.

Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Short Stories

The Chilling Interlude…

April 3, 2017April 3, 2017 jacquelineobyikocha8 Comments

The hungry look they had in their eyes for each other didn’t go unnoticed. The passion between Sir Edgar and Lucy Rushmore sizzled.
Everyone knew that they were sweet on each other and it was no surprise how Lucy stole unchaperoned opportunities to stay as close to Edgar as possible. As a matter of fact, there were whispers that an announcement of their engagement would be made that evening.

It was a perfect evening. The drawing room was filled with high society. The ladies looked divine in their evening gowns and the gentlemen, dapper in their bespoke tailored suits.

Fine wine, rich food, good music and lots of laughter floated around the room. Kara Synod’s acclaimed renditions in her rich Soprano had lots of eye’s wistful and received prolonged applauses.

The shocking news left everyone chilled to their bones. In the interlude of songs, dance, and laughter, Lucy was found in a dark powder room cold from death and two long pointed hairpins with the etchings of a black rose stuck in the base of her throat.

In response to the FFAW photo prompt above. Thank Louise for the photo and lady PJ for this writing challenge platform.

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