Tag: Storytelling

Fiction · Short Stories

New Beginnings…flash fiction

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She had to work fast ‘cos it was now or never. Agatha felt a slight pang of guilt at what she was about to do, but her resolve hardened at the thought of freedom and new beginnings.

Finally, she would escape Simon’s pimping clutches. With her mind on the dream of a whole new life and personae, some money in the bank and a new home in a city where no one knew her or her sordid past, she stuck the feathered note under the lapel of his jacket as instructed. The agents have enough evidence of his drug runs, human trafficking, and organ harvesting to put him away for a very long time.

Generously helping herself to the stash of cash in the wardrobe, she adjusted her Spanx, joined the men in the smoke-filled living room and waited.

©

Jacqueline

Written in response to the FFAW photo prompt above. Thank you, Raymond, for the photo and PJ for hosting. 

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Short Stories

Jungle Justice…

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I walked away from the scene the saddest human; lost in my thoughts I felt more guilty than sin.

Jungle justice. I just witnessed a man get pummelled to an inch of his life, with old tyres soaked in fuel and hung around his neck to roast him alive; they said he had kidnapped a child.

Growls of thunder and sudden downpour sent many scattering for cover, the cacophony of those baying for his blood are reduced to a handful. For once, sudden rain showers of the rainy season come at an opportune time.

Maybe the Heavens didn’t like the sorry sight of a human being burnt alive, this made me think of the crucifixion of Jesus Christ.

Shoulders hunched in deep thought, I didn’t feel the rain, neither did I make any attempts to dodge the puddles of muddy water dotting the pot-holed street. The smell of burnt flesh occupied my nostrils and seared into my brain.

I was drenched in no time, yet the evil of what my eye’s had seen made my skin crawl with filth, and through the corner of my eyes I saw a mother hen waiting out the rain under a Mallam’s kiosk, her brood cocooned under her warm feathers.

I fleetingly wondered if she saw what I saw and what were her thoughts?

For once, I wanted the simple life of the chicken; without guilt and running free, at least until the owner who had tied the green bands on its feet decides to catch it for Christmas meal.

© Jacqueline

Note: Jungle justice is very much practised in Africa. Sometimes, people beat criminals to death, or pulp before the police officers arrive on the scene. This story is written from memory of an incident that I witnessed ages ago.

Quick glossary:

Mallam – an honorific title given to a Muslim scholar but carelessly used to address most street vendors from the Northern part of Nigeria.

Fiction · Short Stories

Hurting – Fiction in Five Sentences

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Image result for images of a sad child and a dog

Tears ran down the bridge of Jane’s little nose and fell on Captain.

Huddled near her best friend she tried to drown out their screaming voices.

She never liked it when they fought and they seemed to do it more and more.

Dad would storm out and disappear for days and mum would go round the bend all teary and mad.

She wished she was back at her gran’s house.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Fiction · Short Stories

Sting Operation

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Amanda chose the darker corner of the restaurant as her spot to sit and make her observations without appearing incongruous.

Multiple aromas from steaming bowls of rice, seafood, soy sauce and the medley of food made her stomach grumble, but she was reluctant to indulge because she had to keep focused. Maybe just a well-selected platter of prawns and vegetables would suffice, she thought.

The sunny outer appearance of the popular Won Ton Chinese restaurant belied the recent seamy story making the rounds.

Rumour is that beneath the facade of the restaurant lay an underbelly of human trafficking, prostitution, and drug rings.

As an undercover cop, being part of a sting operation took months of careful and diligent planning.

Most times, it involved a lot of danger, learning the smattering bits of a language or two, but she wouldn’t have it any different.

She enjoyed the excitement that her job brought.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

InLinkz

Thank you, Gina, for this week’s photo and my lady P.J. for hosting us.

Discover Challenges

What’s My Superpower?

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What’s my super power;
pray, do tell?
Let me look under the bed
I bet I’ll find the answer there

I could fly if I try
how wonderful that sounds
for sure I’ll fall through the sky
and make a huge splat.

I could disappear and reappear
which surely sounds supper
for sure my trundling tiptoe
would leave a shadowy trail

I could do many imaginary things
become a Power-Puff mama
Alas! these belong in Disney World
where make believe works like magic

I do a lot of simple things
my children say I’m the best mother ever
I believe them and like the title
Supermom

I smile a lot, laugh heartily and can cheer you up
my listening ears available
with sage counsel, if you wish
that could do some good

I could whip up a good story
and make a decent companion
even play a ditty
though my voice barely carries a tune

I could make a list
of this and of that
but it would take forever
to write them all out

What’s my super power;
pray, do tell?
I believe that it’s by being me
a full ocean of humanness in one drop of a human.

So, what’s your Superpower?

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

♥

A ditty played on my keyboard

Tra la la, twiddle dee dee, it gives me a thrill

to wake up in the morning to the mockingbird hill

Tra la la, twiddle dee dee, there’s health and goodwill

you’re welcome as the flowers on the mockingbird hill

when the Sun in the morning peeps over the hill

and kisses the roses around my windowsill

then my heart fills with gladness when I hear the thrill

of the birds on the tree tops of the mockingbird hill.

Discover Challenge – Superpower

Writing

Writers’ Quote Challenge Prompt

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Given that I’m travelling out of town today and not sure how the rest of my week will go as per blogging, I’m sending out the Writers’ Quote Prompt for this week a bit early.

“Storytelling is the oldest form of education.” Terry Tempest Williams

Bernadette and I invite you to join in on our blogging event called The Writer’s Quote Challenge. We have decided to pick up the baton that Colleen and Ronovan  handed off.

We are continuing the same format and here 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!

On your own blog post do a pingback to this post and make sure to “like” or “comment” on everyone else’s post. A pingback is when you embed (or copy) the URL of my weekly prompt into your own blog post.

Make sure to check our weekly prompt to see if your entry is there. You can copy URL of your blog post and include it in the comments section of my original weekly prompt if that works better for you.

Copy the badge above and include it in your own post. Tag your post on your own blog as “The Writer’s Quote Challenge,” so we can find the posts in the reader.

We are equally looking for more hosts to join in the fun.  So if you would like to pick up the challenge of hosting, just let one of us know.

Have fun

Jacqueline

 

The Daily Post

Woodlands in Little Oak

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Image result for images of furry animals in the woodlands

The furry folks of Woodlands in Little Oak
busied themselves gathering with care and gusto,
into the underground went their stash of nuts and berries
for their noses could smell it in the air;
Madam Winter is heading their way.

Have you heard the news Mrs. Owl hooted
to Mrs. CurlyTail Squirrel
as she taught her babies
how to tell the good nuts from the bad ones
before they buried them underground.

Do tell ‘cos I haven’t heard, urged Mrs. CurlyTail.
It’s said that Mother Winter is quite bitter ‘cos
Spry Tornado is having an affair with little Miss Weather
they tried to keep their love underground
alas, the steam they caused came up to air, Mrs. Owl regaled.

You don’t say! Exclaimed Mrs. CurlyTail Squirrel.
I knew something was up with that sneaky Miss Weather.
Did you hear she whispered to Grouch The Badger,
It’s said that little Miss Weather is pregnant,
But no one is sure who is responsible,
For she’s having a sneaky affair with Spry Tornado and Hally Hailstorm.

I never liked Hally, said Grouch The Badger,
He nearly cracked my skull the last time he passed my way,
I had to quickly hide underground from his mean tricks.
Did you hear of the torrid affair, Grouch asked Stink the Skunk?
Tornado, Hally The Terrible and little Miss Weather were caught in flagrante delicto,
by Willy Windy who was on his way to visit, he had an appointment with her.

No wonder! Exclaimed Stink The Skunk to Rasper The Raccoon,
I now understand why Tyler the Lightning,
threw such a hissy fit, that I had to scurry underground and out of his path,
He had his eye’s set on Miss Weather and was on his way to propose to her,
He even had a huge elemental ring with lots of bling.

Soon the undergrounds of Woodlands in Little Oak
was abuzz with the juicy gossip
Each had a version of their tale to tell
and they all eyed little Miss Weather in disdain
They knew Madam Winter would give her the icy treatment
and they waited in anticipation of the showdown.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Underground – The Daily Post

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