Tag: Creative writing

Fiction · Short Stories

Sting Operation

jacquelineobyikocha13 Comments

Amanda chose the darker corner of the restaurant as her spot to sit and make her observations without appearing incongruous.

Multiple aromas from steaming bowls of rice, seafood, soy sauce and the medley of food made her stomach grumble, but she was reluctant to indulge because she had to keep focused. Maybe just a well-selected platter of prawns and vegetables would suffice, she thought.

The sunny outer appearance of the popular Won Ton Chinese restaurant belied the recent seamy story making the rounds.

Rumour is that beneath the facade of the restaurant lay an underbelly of human trafficking, prostitution, and drug rings.

As an undercover cop, being part of a sting operation took months of careful and diligent planning.

Most times, it involved a lot of danger, learning the smattering bits of a language or two, but she wouldn’t have it any different.

She enjoyed the excitement that her job brought.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

InLinkz

Thank you, Gina, for this week’s photo and my lady P.J. for hosting us.

Short Stories

Runaway…

jacquelineobyikocha20 Comments

Nervous, Anna’s heartbeats skipped faster, but with determination, she grabbed the duffle bag that contained her meagre belongings and made her way to the harbour.

Standing in the shadows she watched the tourists disembark. She knew the routine of the riverboats that frequented the quaint historic town of Oaks and Side and knew she had about two hours to sneak into a boat.

‘Keep calm Anna, don’t appear conspicuous, blend in with the passengers, this just has to work,’ she repeated under her breath. Over and over the chant emboldened her steps as she made her way to the biggest boat.

Thoughts of a failed plan are totally unpalatable for her. This time around Jude would probably kill her.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

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

InLinkz

 

Short Stories

Coming Out…

jacquelineobyikocha17 Comments

From the top of the hill, Logan stared at the house at the foot of the hills, a deep longing stirred in him.

It’s just a few meters to the place that would always remain home in his heart but was no longer welcoming to him.

He knew that they would be gathered around the table chit-chatting and passing the plates around.

In his minds’ eye, he could see the setting; he could smell the vanilla and cinnamon, he could almost taste his mother’s signature pecan pie and tears pricked his eyes.

Did they ever think about him? Did they miss him the way he missed them or were their hearts still hardened towards his choices in life?

When his dad stands at the pulpit to preach about love to his congregation, does his mind go to his only son?

Logan loves Greg his partner deeply, but he misses his family so much.

Sometimes, he wonders if the price of coming out of the closet five years ago was not too steep and he often finds himself in an emotional quandary.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Thank you Footie and Foodie for the inspiring photo and Priceless Joy our amiable hostess for your support.

InLinkz

 out-of-the-silent-breath 2

Friday Fiction in Five Sentences

These Feelings – Friday Fiction in Five Sentences

jacquelineobyikocha4 Comments

Image result for images of waiting for love

I could barely wait for the phone to ring.

Every beep of an SMS or tweet raised my anticipation and it plummeted again to disappointment.

Was he going to call or not; ever? I wasn’t sure.

Is this what they call love at first sight, or is it just plain lust?

I’ve never felt like this before; the rubbery legs, butterfly-filled stomach, racing heart, throbbing thighs and many unidentified emotions, I don’t know, but I’m waiting.

©Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

out-of-the-silent-breath 2

Short Stories

Swift Fingers…

jacquelineobyikocha11 Comments

Davey juniors small fingers moved the pawns with such dexterity and certainty that surprised Maxwell who was considered the chess champion and legend in the neighbourhood.

He wasn’t about to let a little human beat him on his turf and at a game that he could play and win blind.

Checkmate! Davey’s pronouncement dug into Maxwell’s ribs in irritation. A round of chess he had laughingly engaged in to entertain the young fellow had turned out differently.

Out of reluctant admiration, he wanted to know how Davey became such an excellent player at such a young age and Davey’s response brought a smile of understanding to his face.

Davey junior had learnt from a renowned chess champion. As a tiny tot, his late grandpa Sir David Checkers aka Swift Fingers used to balance him on his knees and he thought him everything that he needed to know to play like a champion.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

InLinkz

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

Writing

Participate in Writers’ Quote Challenge

jacquelineobyikocha6 Comments

invitation-shel-silverstein

Bernadette at www.HaddonMusings.com

Jacqueline at www.Acookingpotandtwistedtales.com

Jacqueline and I invite you to join in on our blogging event called The Writer’s Quote Challenge. We have decided to pick up the baton that Colleen and Ronovan have handed off.

So for our inaugural week here is the prompt:

“Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” Seneca 

We are continuing the same format and here that is: there are no rules to follow. Either make up your own sayings  or use a quote from a famous author that you find gives you inspiration.

Each Thursday, we will post the prompt and all you have to do is participate!

On your own blog post do a ping-back to this post and make sure to “like” or “comment” on everyone else’s post. A ping-back is when you embed (or copy) the URL of my weekly prompt into your own blog post.

Make sure to check our weekly prompt to see if your entry is there. You can copy URL of your blog post and include it in the comments section of my original weekly prompt if that works better for you.

Copy the badge above and include it on your own post. Tag your post on your own blog as “The Writer’s Quote Challenge,” so we can find the posts in the reader.

Jacqueline and I are looking for more hosts to join in the fun.  So if you would like to pick up the challenge of hosting, just let one of us know.

Short Stories

Forever 16

jacquelineobyikocha23 Comments

Maria placed the bouquet of lilies by the corner of the bridge that she had turned into a little memorial. Opening the small forget-me-not box she added another note to the growing pile of notes tied in little ribbons.

Each year she did the same thing, but each year neither made the pain easier nor took her guilt away. No day passed without her thought racing a thousand times to Lily.

Today is Lily’s birthday. She would have been 24 but she remains forever 16. Today is the 8th year that her daughter had drowned in the cold river.

Leaning on the brown cobbled wall of the old bridge, Maria allowed her salty tears to flow freely like the breeze that fluttered her hair.

She never ceased to wonder why; why she hadn’t noted that her daughter had needed help; why Lily had chosen to jump into the river.

The guilt that she had failed as a mother sat like an unwieldy boulder in her soul.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

InLinkz

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

Support me, buy my book

Short Stories

The Courtroom – Friday Fiction In Five Sentences

jacquelineobyikocha17 Comments

Image result for image of courtroom

My grip on the armrest was so hard that my knuckles must have turned white.

Anger boiled inside me like a witch’s cauldron barely containing itself and the loud voices of other people in the room sounded like a roaring babble in my head.

I refused to believe the verdict that had just been handed out, but the smirk on his lips and the sneer in his eye’s said it all as I looked at him with burning intensity.

Justice has just let the man who abused and violated me walk away free; in fact, the defense counsel tarred and feathered my image till I could barely recognize the strumpet that they portrayed me to be.

It’s not over! Not by half a mile! I have a plan and he won’t know what hit him like a ton of bricks.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Encourage me, buy my book

out-of-the-silent-breath 2

Short Stories

The House…

jacquelineobyikocha18 Comments

Out of habit, Miranda, glanced at the vacant house as she walked past.

She was always willing to tell the story of the house and it’s former inhabitants to anyone, of course without missing her highlighted moments of local fame as a witness to a highly publicized grizzly incident.

This is where she grew up and lived all her life. She knew the late Jones’s. Houses in the neighbourhood were close to each other, that everyone knew the other’s business and each wall had an ear listening to it.

She remembered that night when she overheard Jack’s gruff voice as he shouted ‘over my dead body Sue!’

It was nothing new to hear him make such declarations. The Simpsons loved hard, played hard and fought even harder. Their strange shenanigans were noisy enough to give the neighbours a clue.

Tilley, the beautiful Mrs. Jones went missing, her body parts found in different parts of town. The strange thing was that Jack was found with a slit throat and missing ears. The murderer is still at large.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

InLinkz

Thank you, to Priceless Joy for hosting this charming platform where we unleash our stories and Yinglan for providing an innocent photo that brought out my dark side 😉

out-of-the-silent-breath 2

Short Stories

Old Habits – Friday Fiction in Five Sentences.

jacquelineobyikocha9 Comments

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!

out-of-the-silent-breath 2