Short Stories

The Hospice…

Celia bawled her eyes out and snot dripped down her nose . She’s never been one to sob softly into a handkerchief.

She had known that the end was close, but the news still hurt badly and tears swam in her eyes as she read the letter.

“Dear Celia, thank you for these years of love and care. For bringing warmth to the heart of an old lady. I’ve come to see you as the daughter I never had and would like to bequeath these items to you. Please accept them with all my love.”  Celia Oldham.

As usual, she had come for her visit at the hospice where she spent time keeping the old folks’ company; listening to their stories, reading to them and sneaking in an occasional toffee.

Over time the deceased became her favourite. Mrs. Oldham took to her when she learnt that they shared the same name and looked forward to the visits. She always took the pains to dress nicely in a frock, cardigan, pearl set and a gemstone ring that she wore on her third finger. Mrs. Oldham had no surviving family. Her sweetheart died during the war and she never remarried.

Inside the little box was a battered, old diary, the pearl set, the ring, a purple scarf, a bank draft for $200,000 raised in her name and the last book they had been reading – Jane Eyre.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha


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

Note: PJ please, I crave your indulgence for having overshot the word limit. I chopped and snipped the story here and there yet it refused to get shorter.

 out-of-the-silent-breath 2

Fiction · Short Stories


Xavier stood in the shadowy background of the trees and waited for her.

He stared longingly at the house with the windmill. Embittered thoughts raced through his mind. He was surprised that he still seethed in silent rage.

No one would cheat him of his birthright and get away with it, not if he had anything to do about it.

Now it’s time to make good on his promise.

That cattle and land grabbing thief Alistair swindled his father when Pa was inebriated and took over their homestead. Pa killed himself. He died a broken drunk man and his Ma sent them all into servitude.

It took decades to get to this point. Years of working his fingers to the nub from an all errand’s boy on the ship to owning his own boat.

It took strategic planning to get into favour with Alistair’s only daughter Gwen.

He hadn’t planned on liking her but he won’t allow such feelings get in the way of his plans.

Tonight, he’ll coerce her to join him on the boat set sail with her. By the time they get back on dry land, she would be his wife.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha


Thank you TJ for the photo and Priceless Joy for hosting this charming platform where we unleash our stories 🙂

Fiction · Short Stories

Racy Mistress…

Pictures slipped out of the FedEx package onto the floor as Nicole sank into the armchair to read the letter again.

Her mouth rounded in an o of surprise. She just inherited a house from auntie Suzie, according to the estate lawyer McGulligans’.

She picked up the pictures and studied the charming looking house on the grounds of a large acreage.

A lot of mystery shrouded aunt Suzie. Nicole barely knew her. All she knew was that they shared the same red hair while her parents and brother had jet-black hair.

She recalled hazy little bits of family whispers about her. She was the black sheep of her maternal side.

Nicole remembered her fascination with the exotic looking lady the only time she visited and the ensuing heated argument.

The words ‘No you can’t! Racy mistress,’ had been repeated. Mother had been in tears, gran had been upset and auntie Suze smoked her slim cigarette despite Grandma’s frown at her.

Why would she leave the house to her and not her brother? Nicole’s curiosity was piqued. Travelling to Dublin will probably provide the answers to the puzzle.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha


In response to the FFAW photo prompt. Thank you Priceless Joy for this enchanting story platform.

Image credit:

Creative Writing · Family · Fiction · Friday Fiction in Five Sentences

The Pearls…Friday Fiction In Five Sentences.

Lovingly he fingered the delicate pearls clasped around her neck. 

At first, they belonged to his grandmother, who passed them to his mother and she passed them to his wife.

She looked beautiful as she lay so still, just as though she slept.

With trembling fingers and a heavy heart, he unhooked the beautiful strand of
pearls that has been worn by the women in his family for ages.

He knew that she loved them very much and would want their little girl to inherit it when she comes of age.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Image credit: Pinterest.

Creative Writing · Fiction · Short Stories

Rolls of Dice…

Mike held his breath and closed his eyes. Anxiety curled in his stomach like viper.

He knew that the roll of the dice determined his doom.

For minutes, he reviled himself for the gambling, which overtook his senses.

Going to town with the lads had turned out not to be a very good idea.

A mug of beer became several and a roll of dice turned into several rolls too many.

‘I should have stuck with the coin machines.’ He thought.

‘What will I tell Bernadette?

‘How do I explain that I have lost the inheritance.’ ‘That we are heading for the poor house?

Like a man waiting for the knell of the tomb bell, the jingle of dices sounded ominous and then it stopped.

Gasps, shifting of bar stools and music in the background sounded louder.

Bracing himself he opened his eyes.

Incredible! By some lucky God of Roulette he won.

‘You lucky son of a gun,’ Todd pounded his back.

‘Well, drinks are on you.’

He collected his winnings, left several dollar bills for drinks and decided to go home.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

In response to the FFAW photo prompt above. Thank you Etol for the photo and Priceless Joy for your enabling platform.