Tag Archive | demons

Deadly Silence and Inner Demons – Writer’s Quote Prompt

Quote, Writing

Last week Oneta’s Writer’s quote and her beautiful story made me remember an old song that my mother sang a lot back in the days:

Why worry when you can pray
trust in Jesus and he will guide your way
don’t be a doubting Thomas
just place your trust in Jesus
why worry, worry, worry?

It’s such a simple song but anytime I am inundated with worry and struggling to have my way with certain things, it pops into my head prompting me to offer it up to God and I have learned that prayer is indeed the master key.

For this week’s prompt:

‘my writing is a struggle against inner demons. I use my words to paint my  thoughts and win the battle in the recesses of my mind.’ Jacqueline

 

invitation-shel-silverstein

Jacqueline at http://www.Acookingpotandtwistedtales.com

Joan at http://www.familyparentingandbeyoned.wordpress.com

Oneta at http://www.onetahayes.com

We are continuing the same format here and 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!

Come and join in the fun.

 

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Driven…Friday Fiction in Five Sentences.

Image result for images of the running man in the dark

He always ran so fast that everyone marvelled at the fleetness of his feet.

They all thought he was a champion and admired him.

No one had an inkling that he was trying to outrun the demons that taunted him.

He ran, and ran until he could no longer hear their snarling voices.

Once his steps faltered, they came nipping at his heels; he just had to keep running…

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha


out-of-the-silent-breath 2

 

The other one…

I met her!

At long last!

Now, I can satisfy my curiosity and also put my aching desire to rest.

I fidgeted as we stood in the quiet restaurant sizing each other up. She was calm.

I had chosen an exclusive restaurant, to give our brains an opportunity to assimilate each others presence,

without getting consumed in the distractions that comes from the busy-ness of a crowded place.

My stomach was filled with butterflies. I could almost feel the rushing flow of my blood in my veins.

This was a  moment that I had thought of all my conscious life.

The when? The what if? The how?

I felt that meeting her would be a glorious turning point in my stable life.

We would cry, laugh and take selfies.

We would talk non-stop to cover so much ground.

I came clutching the photo album, that I had put together.

I needed to slay my demons and I felt that she had the sword.

Finally, she would bring some rainbow and sunshine,

into the deepest parts of me that had lived for 27 years with the question; WHAT IF?

I wanted to get rid of that feeling of rejection; that feeling of inadequacy and doubt,

which had been constant shadowy companions, peeking over my shoulders.

I searched her eyes,

They were gray like mine; but they bore no warmth in their depths.

The curve of her lips which were shaped like mine; drew hard on the elegant E-cigarette which adorned her lips,

yet they could hardly shape into a smile.

Her raven black hair was devoid of any grey hairs. No strand was out of place. She was perfectly groomed.

She was still a very attractive woman; for her age.

I subconsciously smoothed down my floral Sunday best. I had dressed to impress.

Her facial features were stiff; I figured that it was due to the use of botox and not just the harshness of life.

A puff and a sip later,

Without much ado, she dove right into the matter.

I think you are grown up enough to understand, she said.

You came when I was least prepared to have a child, and the truth is that I am still not sure that I want that responsibility. I have never had motherly instincts, and at my age, I should know. I agreed to meet with you after all these years because I felt that was the least that I could do; so that you can move on.

I do not apologize for my decision to let you go. I did what I did because it was the best thing for me.

Does that make me selfish? Maybe?

But, look at you! You turned out very well. I am happy about that.

She picked up the tab, picked up her expensive looking leather pocket book and walked out of the revolving door,

without a backward glance. Only the whiff of her perfume and the trailing puff of her smoke lingered for a while.

I sat in utmost silence and bewilderment for quite a bit.

I polished off the remaining Cabernet Sauvignon as my idling brain struggled to process the entire episode.

For some reason, I did not feel a heavy crash of disappointment.

Some odd sense of burdened release seemed to be my most paramount feeling.

I felt like a captive whose shackles had been released. Free to love freely,

the woman who has nurtured me all these years, without any sense of guilt or boundaries.

I realized what my biological mother was,

a mere vehicle that providence used to bring me here.

That a good moment of feeling sexy and conception,

Did not automatically make you a good mother.

Through the figment of my imagination, that I had built over the years,

I had accorded so much what if’s and possibilities to her.

I was happy that I met her.

Happy to have the what if’s, the how and the when answered,

All in one fell swoop.

I may not have slain all my demons,

But I left my doubts and shadowy companions,

back in that exclusive restaurant.

I went home to my mother, my mum.

Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha