Tag Archive | secrets

Just A Question….

What do you think?

Image result for images of question emoji

Is it better not knowing the ugly truth and pretending it doesn’t exist?

Or, is it better to confront the naked truth, knowing that its knowledge may be an albatross that you carry around forever?

Little Secrets…

Flower buds

Nature unveils its’ beauty secrets

even the burning sun

can’t stop the darling buds.

Image result for images of woman sad and in love

She yearned secretly for him

her passionate desire

hidden and smouldering in silence

Image result for images of burning

Better burn it all

lest the secret leaks,

it’s knowledge destroying many.

ξ

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Ronovan Writes Weekly Haiku Challenge – Secret & Burn

The numbers…

Door[1]

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


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

When you buy my book, you support me in an invaluable manner.

Stars, Five Stars, Logo, Icon, Symbol, Five, Rating

‘A Richly Layered and Passionate Read.’ Jan Cliff

Out of the silent breath

 

 

Dusky blue…

sky

The dusky blue sky
holds lots of secrets
for you and I.

Sky

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha


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

When you buy my book, you support me in an invaluable manner.

Out of the silent breath

Featured Posts # 41…Let me share your post links.

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‘PLEASE KEEP SENDING IN THE LINKS.’

Today’s featured blogs are:

Marriage and old appliances: This is the most refreshing, chuckle-worthy post that I’ve read on marriage in the past seven Sundays. Enjoy 🙂

Secrets silence This is exquisite to listen to!

Secrets of 1,000 lifetimes An evocative, blissful poem that makes you want to know the secret of a thousand lifetimes.

Intercepted Have you been following Curse breaker with me? Each twist and turn offer sharp turns, vivid descriptions and unexpected intrigue.

Walking through Central park this walk is just so blissful. A beautiful thing to do often.

10 essentials you need to pack Summer is knocking on the door and I know that you are itching to answer that door. Now take a look this way and see what’s in vogue. It’ll be worth your time 😉

‘Do you want more eyes on your words?’

Well then, add your LINK INTO THIS LOOP.

P.S. Comments are disabled here to keep the loop tidy. Any comments or link you want to send can be added through the link in the post.

Thank you for your understanding and regards.

‘We create a cohesive community when we come together.’

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

The Reunion Debacle…

The family reunion

Was a disaster!

Aunt Biddy

And aunt Jemimah

Got into a huge squabble.

Uncle Pete threw a punch

Aunt Agatha spat like a cat

Lot’s of secrets

Were let out of the bag

Food flew in the air

The table broke

The chairs broke

I ran for cover.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Disaster, The daily post prompt

The Strings Of Flame…

Eddy’s eyes strayed to the glittering guitar which hung behind the counter of the bar as he dusted.

Since he started working for Mrs. Hilley, he had wondered about it.

His eyes gleamed as he looked at it and the flaming guitar glowed brighter under his gaze.

He noticed that she touched it ever so often, dusted it with reverence and hung it back.

He had no idea what the story behind it was, but he couldn’t ask. There were rumours however, on one really knew the truth.

Since he was alone, he decided to play just a little bit. He hoped to own one some day soon.

Lost in the music the guitar’s flaming strings came alive and he failed to hear the door swing open.

Mrs. Hilley listened, tears ran down her face as he played haunting tunes.

Startled to find her watching him he hurried to hang it back but, she set two glasses of apple cider, sat him down to tell him the story of the flaming guitar.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Inklinz

In response to the FFAW photo prompt above from Pixabay.com and Priceless Joy for this enchanting story platform

 

Those Careless Whispering…

Revealing secrets

Pulitzer winning or not, journalists like to delve into every part of your anatomy and dig out dirty secrets when given the room to do so.

Sometimes, when I read articles or listen to tittle-tattle and junk news that smacks of downright breach of privacy as well as meanness with a good measure of desperate desires to hurt the other person, the quote ”that the heart of man is desperately wicked” comes to my mind.

The great urge to pull down and annihilate the other person takes primal position in their minds and in as much as I like honesty, being upfront and read as an open book, there are certain areas that I would be unwilling to discuss beyond the peripheral aspects.

Putting my family members under undue glare of the limelight is not something that I would be willing to entertain. I guess I will be suspicious about the reporters motive for asking prying questions about family, even if they are nicely and positively coined. I would rather their privacy is maintained, except where they were to choose otherwise.

Issues bordering on sexuality are not topics that I am likely to dabble into either. Oh yes! such hot topics sells the news, but, no thank you! I won’t be your next meal ticket!

I think that the excessive push of sexual boundaries and Mores in today’s world is part of the dysfunction that we are experiencing. Nothing seems to be private anymore! Individual sexual proclivities should be kept personal and not for public consumption. Sometimes, in the bid to say so much and show our fierceness, we hurt ourselves and others.

I am also not sure that I would be willing to discuss my future plans in any details. I like to hold some of my thoughts to my chest, knowing the fact that my tomorrow’s don’t lie in my hands. It leaves me feeling strange, as if I am putting the cart before the horse.

I guess I can pretty much talk about everything else including some dirty secrets in my garden! Who doesn’t have any secrets?

Sometimes, some secrets are even better kept open. That way, they loose their sting and the power to hurt the secret holder.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

In response to The Daily Post prompt Trick Questions.

A Pulitzer-winning reporter is writing an in-depth piece — about you. What are the three questions you really hope she doesn’t ask you?