Rononvan's Weekly Haiku Challenge

Rush – Ronovan Writes Weekly Haiku Challenge

Image result for images of antelopes playing around

Mama says you must rush
don’t lark about,
for the Tiger crouches silently.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Ronovan Writes Weekly Haiku – Lark & Rush

Fiction · Short Stories


Something was wrong, but Cybil’s mind felt as if a fine-tooth comb had scraped over it.

This was her fifth night on Koala Island, attending the annual conference on human science.

From the onset, something felt out of place with the serene surroundings. Her room always yet felt as if some presence shared the space with her.

She had searched the drawers to satisfy her thoughts that nothing was hiding in there, yet the discomfort stuck.

Now she was beginning to forget what she was saying in the midst of a sentence. It had been totally mortifying to forget her name during an introduction. Thankfully, the program would end in two days.

Sinking into the soft mattress and staring up at the orb-like shaped ceiling with pupils, her focused gaze saw pin dots of lens rotating.

Rising for closer inspection, the orb opened noiselessly and two funny looking humanoids appeared with lightning speed before she could squeak.

Mesmerized, all she felt before sinking into inky oblivion was the touch of a cold object at the base of her neck.


© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

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

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

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‘A Richly Layered and Passionate Read.’ Jan Cliff

Out of the silent breath

Poetry/Poems · The Daily Post

Shattered Glass….


They created illusion for themselves

Living out their fake lives

Even as the noose tightened

With each passing day

He, in his fast car

And skimmed funds

He ran from the drug Lords

They are fast on his tail.


She lived hers in the bottle of illusion

Where all was illuminated through her languid gaze

Fake, starry aura induced

From needle pricks

That zig-zagged

Through her veins

Until the glass fell

And shattered in the cold silence.


Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Fake, The Daily Post Prompt

Life · Social Issues

No City Is Safe For A Woman Alone!!…personal


I shudder as I write this. It was not a planned post, but I just can’t keep my mind from wandering on how my Angels worked overtime today in keeping me safe from becoming a drowned/missing person.

I will make this as brief as possible.

Earlier today, I went to the creek side to get shots of Seagulls and just explore.

Some part of the creek is very busy and crowded with boats, but as one walks further up, it gets less rowdy, as a matter of fact a bit of a lonely stretch.

I got carried away clicking happily, when these three guys approached me. Two were jet-black and one is an Asian.

A little voice in me just instructed me to carry my bag and start walking away.

One asked if I am a tourist, I did not respond, but I picked up my pace almost breaking into a jog to put some distance between us. Meanwhile, that stretch was just sea water, the narrow path and nobody else except speed boats flying past.

Inside me, I was panicking and I started praying as I hurried along and they followed. One of them even whistled at me and they broke out into hoots of laughter. From the way they spoke and the darkness of their complexion, I think they are Sudanese or Chadians.

My thoughts was that they would try to divest me of my things and push me into the water. At that thought, my heart stopped and started.

I simply said ‘God, what will happen to my children? Nobody will know what happened to me except when my body is found. Please help me.‘ I was contemplating what to do, if I should start waving frantically to the passing boats, when I saw two figures approaching at a further distance – besides I had no idea whether the path I was taking would lead to a dead end – I simply broke off into a run to meet the couple.

Luckily, as I got to them, a Bangladeshi husband and wife, I asked them if they were going back to the road and if I could join them and they accepted.

As we walked back together, we crossed the menacing guys on our way back who looked at me very malevolently, made very rude, derisive comments and laughed like idiots.

I struck up a conversation with the couple and the woman said that sometimes those guys are sailors who have been on the water for a long time and looking for a woman to play with or harass and that though she liked coming out there, she waits for either her husband or son to accompany her.

They walked with me until we came out to the road before we parted ways. I thought about it all the way home and wondered why it was just unfortunate that women have to be scared of their safety at every turn and how sad it is that some men have to keep molesting women or taking physical advantage of a woman alone.

My heart knows a heartfelt thanks, because I know that I had just been saved from danger. I am going to look for pepper spray. I wonder if they sell that here.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

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.

Creative Writing · Humor - Bellyful of laughter

My Clandestine Lover…

Clandestine lover

I have a very daring lover,
He sneaks to visit when everyone is away,
Most times in the dead of the night,
Afraid of being caught in the dastardly act,

Day after day,
When all lights are off,
He sneaks into my room,
For a nibble and he suckles from me,

I tried to warn him,
Of the danger of this escapades,
But he wouldn’t listen,
He only itched some more,

Last night he visited,
Just one more time he said,
To say goodbye and move on,
To more welcoming and robust pastures,

Unfortunately, for the guy,
My husband caught him,
Right in the middle of the act,
As he suckled greedily,
To his utmost delight,

One big swat,
And down he went,
Sluggish from all the blood,
He had stolen from me,

My Mosquito King is dead!
No more night marauding,
For this pesky one 🙂

Get your minds straightened out, naughty people 🙂

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha


Image Credit: Tristan and Iseult depicted by Edmund Blair Leighton; courtesy Wikipedia.