Why did you do this?
Making me addicted to you with every breath;
now you go, leaving me all alone,
suffering in the vicious grips
of withdrawal and abject loneliness.
Depression is a silent enemy. It steals in to steal from you.
i’ve walked the fringes of darkness
where i felt the hard blunt bleakness of pain
and the stark reality of depression,
where i’ve queried the essence of life
in the time of such deep despair.
i’ve been beaten, molested and left to die,
i’ve stared death in the face many a times,
but only one whisper
kept me hanging on to the thread;
hope, that one day
this too shall pass,
and in the midst of hope
let my life be a lamp.
There’s nothing to romanticize about depression! It’s not a good place to be. Take it from me.
The words Jen read startled her. The spidery handwriting indicated that the writer had struggled while writing.
“If you are reading this letter, thank you for finding me. It means that my time here is over and I am sorry that you are unfortunately saddled with the responsibility of laying me to rest. The money inside the envelope is some money set aside for my cremation. I don’t want to be buried in a box for I have lived buried for far too long inside one and would like my ashes to be scattered across the Seas so that it can float free. I loved the sea as a young girl.”
She wasn’t sure if she should simply put the letter back as she found it – back in the envelope marked ‘URGENT PLEASE READ’ and propped on the empty vase on the dust covered table. She could go away with the pie she had brought along and no one would know that she had visited, but her curious interest had been thoroughly aroused.
Everything about the little house down the cul-de-sac was intriguing. A pair of nondescript eyes in glasses always stared out of the window when she took her brisk jog in the evenings, until a week ago when she stopped seeing or feeling the eyes; the bold numbers on the intricately designed door were unusual since no other house in the area had such numbers and none of the neighbours she interacted with since her move to the neighbourhood knew anything about the person living behind the door.
Decision and justification made, she baked and went visiting. She reasoned that it was the neighbourly thing to do. To fraternize with those living close to you a little bit, especially if you are going to be living there permanently.
Her gentle rap on the door found it slightly ajar and she stepped in cautiously, repeatedly saying hello, to no response.
Jen’s eyes quickly took in the sparse furnishing, an implacable, unpleasant odour hitting her nostrils and sending alarm bells to her senses that something wasn’t right and to get away fast, but her piqued mind sent her walking down the short passage which led to the rooms.
The design of the bungalow was familiar since it’s shaped like hers but both houses were sharply different. Where her’s wore a cheerful, homey and inviting look, the atmosphere of this one was forlorn and tired. The drapes were worn with age, the wallpaper lifting at the corners, the dirty rug gave off a musty smell that mingled with the other smell that only grew stronger with each step.
A body laid on the bed in the second room as though in deep, peaceful sleep but the pungent smell of death belied it’s appearance. Rushing out of the house into the street for fresh air, Jen dialed the police.
Providing all the information that she could muster when they arrived, she watched with saddened interest as the men from EMS respectfully wrapped the frail body of an old lady in a body bag. Spying the numbers that was crudely branded on the inner part of her left arm which was so thin that her skin was almost translucent, Jen recognized that the numbers on the arm matched the numbers on the door.
What did it they represent? Who is the lady? What was her story? These questions raced through her thoughts and she wished she had followed her prying mind to seek the eye’s in the window earlier.
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
The story behind the door. Discover challenge
When you buy my book, you support me in an invaluable manner.
‘A Richly Layered and Passionate Read.’ Jan Cliff
His arid heart
Had become lonely.
All it took were several
Drops of her love
Like the right words
To refresh a parched
and thirsty soul.
It’s like fuel
Refresh, The Daily Post
Finding solitude in this bee-hive of a city, is literally akin to finding a needle in a haystack or seeing a camel trying to squeeze it’s hoof through the eye of the needle.
Well, that was my thought initially, until I started looking through thousands of photos and luckily found a few pictures that depicted solitude for today’s Photo 101 theme ‘solitude.’
I wasn’t sure that I would catch any solitary looking people today, especially with the particularly gray looking weather that we have, so I dug into my photos and found some reasonable offering.
Solitude is also not when one is all by himself, but equally a state of the mind.
A person can be in a crowd and yet feel all alone.
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
Tess sifted through dozens of photographs of possible date matches. It was a surprise to discover an entire World of supposed eligible bachelors out there.
Putting up her own profile was a task she hadn’t expected to be that demanding. Her attempt to make a headline grabber, the right smile, the right amount of information was not as simple as she had thought.
The increased pings of her messenger for her new dating account, increased her excited nerves even though she still had trepidation about the whole thing, especially with the list of do’s and don’ts Kate had mentioned to her.
It was almost beginning to sound like an espionage escapade.
”Make sure you have a pepper spray handy!”
”Set up a separate email account.”
”Don’t give out your address or house number.”
”If need be, invest in a stun gun!” ”What? I don’t want to go shooting anyone!” She had shrieked.
”Only meet them at a public place.”
”Use spiked drink detector nail polish, so you don’t find yourself suddenly floating along with all his requests.”
”Don’t allow kisses on the first date.”
”No going to apartments for a night cafe etc, etc.”
”Make eye contacts as you talk to him.” ”If they are shifty, don’t trust him!”
Blah, yadda, blah, blah..
Whats a girl’s to do when she needs to do to find her prince in these tough times, she thought to herself?
These days, the competition was stiffer.
The good guys were all grabbed and even a lot of very delicious looking ones were into other dudes.
She still recalled her utmost disappointment when she had moved in and met the very polite handsome Latino hunk of a male specimen living downstairs, Steve; he was equally taken by another interesting looking bloke!
This one doesn’t look so bad, she mused to herself as she stared at the face on her laptop. He had such a sincere, earnest, open look and not too bad looking as well. His bio also read well.
”Nothing ventured, nothing gained”, she muttered to herself as she clicked the button to initiate a chat.
”I cannot afford to live through the debacle of another uncoupled birthday with my folks.”
”I’d rather buy a ticket to Mexico than go through that embarrassing episode again.”
How could Mama invite Deaconess Elfrida’s son, Humphrey to pair up with me?
He is such a sanctimonious and pompous ass!
Auntie Virginia had kept rattling on and on in her persnickety high-pitched voice on ”Tips of how to catch a guy.” A most mortifying moment.
”Time for hair touch-up girl”, She thought, as she idly fingered her locks.
To be continued. Husband wanted urgently Part 1
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
This was meant to go out last week Saturday, but I couldn’t bring myself to send it out in the light of recent activities and in that time, I have found more gems in my neighbours garden. Do take a peek with me.
10 ways to be grateful even on bad days, found in the yadadarcyyada’s front lawn.
Shrimp Po Boys, from What’s for Dinner Moms?
Some sweet and Delicious chocolate cookies, from Lynz Real Cooking.
A beautiful read, the boy who dared to be great, from MLou.
A poignant civil war letter- found, in a corner of Elusive Tropes troves.
The simple truth handed by The adventures and musings of an Arch Druidess through the auspices of Sepultura’s blog
10 easy ways you can make the world a better place, by Danny of Dream Big, Dream Often.
Good budgeting tips here at how to stuff your pig, especially during holiday seasons when overspending tends to happen more.
It’s a wrap my good people. Let’s have a calm weekend shall we. God Bless and take care.
Image credit: Pinterest.
Feeling like an outsider is not a memory that I can latch on to easily as a child because while growing up, my parents home was teeming with family members, hard work and a lot of play that there was no room left to feel left out.
However, these silly pangs showed their green eyes during my semi-adult early years at the University.
I was a freshman and boy-friendless at that point in time, my senior roommates all had their heartthrobs, going out for parties and what have you and in a bid to feel like part of the crowd, I bowed to peer influence (which is not only very real but can be dangerous as well) and duly started dating to foster my own false sense of belonging.
Peer pressure can be subtly or out-rightly intimidating and when a budding young person is ensnared by some of these trappings of false freedom (away from home and parental influence that have cocooned you for so long) for the first time, it can be a combustion of a whole lot of factors, without paying mind to extraneous complications or consequences.
Sometimes, I look back and truly thank God from the depth of my soul that I did not wind up dead by some of the youthful escapades and exuberance that my adventurous self ventured into – a story that can create a book.
Now as a full grown adult, I have grown into my own sense of self-assurance, self-love, self-inclusion and belonging, sufficiently enough, to create my own windows and not have to peep into the neighbours own.
The Daily Post prompt The Outsiders
Tell us about the experience of being outside, looking in — however you’d like to interpret that.