Forgotten…

July 4, 2016July 4, 2016 jacquelineobyikocha28 Comments

Excited voice of the children drew Salome’s attention and before she could say hey presto, they burst into the kitchen trailing mud and straw. They were running after the chickens again for fun. Raising her voice to scold them for bringing in dirt, little Jude interrupted her:

“Look what we found Gramma,” he was clutching a strange straw bag.

“Leave it there and let me finish what I’m doing,” thinking it was probably filled with mushrooms or a frog, she continued plucking the cockerel for chicken stew, but their eager faces made her pause to take a peek.

A dumbfounded Salome burst into tears and laughter when she emptied the contents of the bag.

They kids had knocked Bernard’s scarecrow over and in a bid to piece it together, they found the straw bag.

Her late husband Bernard had been a dear man and many times the funny looking scarecrow made her smile in recollection of how much he had been drawn to it as his Dementia got worse.

She had no idea he had hidden lots of coins and forgot where he kept it.

InLinkz

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Waiting…

December 28, 2015 jacquelineobyikocha26 Comments

She slowly shuffled down the alley, her old, pink umbrella barely kept the light drizzle from dripping through.

She looked at the piece of telegram in her hand, it had yellowed with age and handling, yet the faint words were emblazoned on her mind.

He had said to wait for him at the old alley, where they always had their secret rendezvous, away from the prying eyes of goldfish bowl town of theirs.

They were to leave town and start anew; but he never came.

Year after year, she faithfully trudged back. Patiently waiting for him to arrive and take her away, but no news; nothing to show that he ever existed.

At ‘The Home’ they looked at her with eyes of pity. They called her fancy names: delusional, dementia and indulged her racy thoughts.

The last laugh would be hers.

Each time she dressed to go, sure that it would be that day, though it has been 28 years of going to the alley to wait.

He would come.

He promised.

Pete is a man of his words.

Inlinkz

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

Fiction · Writing

Mindless….

September 10, 2015September 10, 2015 jacquelineobyikocha27 Comments

Time had halted ages ago. The filtered light through the reinforced window the only sign that life still existed. The rays create colored rainbows and sometimes, when she looks hard enough she sees a bird soar past. A desire for freedom rises once again within her shriveled bosom.

Voice cords long broken from screaming herself hoarse, from days to months to years and decades, she knows that no one cared, for no one came.
No sound filters in, no sound leaks out. This concrete walls covered in etchings of her mindless rambling. Pleading with the jailer to do away with her, to end the madness of the dementia, but he preferred to keep her.

Each day he comes with scrapes to keep her alive.
Each day he reads to her and combs her unruly long locks with trembling hands.
Talking to her in yet another soothing manner. Reminding her of the years that belonged in another life.

Her strength has grown feeble over incarcerated years, her limbs long waxed and waned from disuse, her only strength, are the spurious thoughts of her mind. She always waits for the imaginary one to come. To talk to her, to caress her itchy scalp and drive her round in the imaginary car.

The twinge of the iron latch, breaks through mad reverie and he walks in softly, bearing warm oats and a comb.

In response to Writing 101 assignment 4: A story in a single image