Tag Archives: short stories

Friday Fictioneers: His Music


Image courtesy of Jan W. FieldsIMG_7855
I think his music will do them good…It flows from his beautiful mind to his fingers.

The serene melodic notes take us all to a place…A place of harmonious gratitude

Where mindless worries cease and burdens lift… I know his music will do them good…

Just watch them feel every bit of it…

So sad, he has never seen the impact of his talent…

PS: Happy New Year! I am hoping I can be as consistent as possible with writing this year. We shall see :).

Please feel to comment and critique kindly :).


Mommy ‘s Handfuls, Mommy’s Joy Full


She snores lightly on as I watch adoringly

Never mind she has just gotten into bed with me, disrupting my less than 6hour sleep
Her face in framed in peace as she breathes in and out.

She chews softly still as I watch smilingly 
Never mind she has just eaten through my perfectly portioned meal, reducing what was really less than enough
Her lips pursed in joy as she nibbles the last stewed beef.

I smile in both cases rest and satisfaction far from me, albeit badly needed
Such handfuls these ones can be, a never ending handful these ones will seem
But with each handful is 
My joy full… My love whole…

They are a handful
They are my joy full


Friday Fictioneers, I Wonder What This Is-3/8


It’s that time of the week again, Friday fictioneer par Rochelle, and this week’s photo is courtesy of Jennifer Pendergast. I came up with this fictional story that is not the best but is the best I could come up with. Comments and constructive criticisms are very much welcome, and feel very free to join in the fun and participate. THANK YOU FOR ALWAYS STOPPING BY. Blessings for a great weekend!

Image courtesy of Jennifer Pendergast

Image courtesy of Jennifer Pendergast.

Bunmi squinted… after only 3 hours of sleep she could barely keep her tired eyes open. It didn’t help that the snowstorm had caused power outage and her glasses were still missing.

Reaching over in the dark for her phone, she checked her email…there was a message from Rochelle. She tried to stare at the image but there was no use, it was hard to see…it looked like a giant candle to her, but after the doctor’s results on her eyes it really could be anything…

She rubbed her tired eyes again as a tiny voice called for her in the dark…the unknown image in the email bothered her…she wanted to know what it was…she wanted the lights back, and her vision right…

More Than Enough-Friday Fictioneers 2/22


It’s that time of the week again, Friday Fictioneers par Ms. Rochelle, and this week’s photo is courtesy of Janet Webb. I have two stories this week, please feel free to comment, and offer criticisms. As always you are welcome to join in the fun. THANK YOU FOR ALWAYS STOPPING BY…hugs and love.



It didn’t matter that the building looked more like a shack than a house, let alone a home, for Sadie it was more than enough…she was free from her old life of homelessness, addictions, and abuse…she had found love, a house with a picket fence, shelter… something she had wanted all her life…

Mother always said white signaled hope…Sadie held onto that…she was moving into a house surrounded by hope, and considering where she had been, that was more than enough….


This shack with its perfect fence of white. Such memories it holds…Mama and Papa dancing late at night, Jess and I watching from our bedroom….those were some great good memories. Mama, and Papa arguing at the break of dawn…Sarah Lee the church secretary always the theme of said quarrels.Such memories we have of this shack…many of them built from our peeping games, including Papa hitting mama dead in the face….the sound of his 1987 Volkswagen driving off that warm night…Papa was never seen again…

Friday Fictioneers-2/8


It’s time for Friday Fictioneers par Rochelle, and this week’s photo is courtesy of Rich Voza. Today marks the 12th year anniversary of my mom’s passing; so I wrote this two pieces of fiction in her kind honor. As always please feel free too participate, have a safe and lovely weekend. THANK YOU FOR ALWAYS STOPPING BY!!!

image courtesy of Rich Voza

image courtesy of Rich Voza


“Àjò kò le dà b’ilé” Mother always said…

I left Lagos for the UK at 16, and swore never to return…Mother was all I had and even though it broke her heart, it had to be done. I was going to live in a better world, become a doctor and take care of her…She would be a phone call away….

20 years have passed, and I still have not seen mother…I sent her money, gifts and such…she was a phone call away…

The sun set abruptly on her time as it now sets outside my Lagos bound flight…tears in my lonely heart…

Mother forever out of reach…


Ilé labo àjò…mama always said.

After 20years in the white man’s land, it was time to go back home. Watching the sun set on the Boeing 747, my mind took an account of the past years…the sun had set on my time away from home with nothing but smooth brown sand skin to show for it…people who knew and loved me had gone like the wind blowing over barren lands…

There was no use…it was time to go back home…

Mama always said Ilé labo àjò …it was time for me to return home.

Àjò kò le dà b’ilé” – No place like home
Ilé labo àjò – After a journey, we must still return home

Rest in Peace MOM, love you always!!!

Getting Rich Quick-Friday Fictioneers 2/1


Hello everyone! It’s that time of the week again, Friday fictioneers courtesy of Rochelle, with picture from Claire Fuller. I missed last week, even though I had a story and poem…life is well life these days. I took this week’s image back to native Yoruba land, please feel free to comment, give constructive criticisms, and as always join in the fun. THANKS FOR ALWAYS STOPPING BY.

Image courtesy of Claire Fuller

Image courtesy of Claire Fuller

Ade stared at the herbalist who had laid his cowries, beads, and other incantations down on the muddy floor. In front of the 69year old man was a double headed statue…Orişa funfun…this was the god that would make him rich the herbalist had promised.

Chanting away in gibberish to conjure the image, Ade let his mind wander…Akin, his best friend had referred him to the herbalist after life dealt him another blow, and he lost his wife to the landlord…The herbalist was Akin’s source of millions…

Ade continued to fantasize when suddenly he heard a strange voice…the statue was alive…

As Time Goes By-Friday Fictioneers 1/18/13


It is that time of the week again, Friday fictioneers par Ms. Rochelle, this week’s image is also courtesy of her. I am not at all sure about what I wrote…from the title to everything in between…my body and mind is on overdrive, but I really want to keep with this…Please feel free to comment and offer criticisms if you have any. As always you are more than welcome to join. THANK YOU ALWAYS FOR STOPPING BY!!!

Image courtesy of Rochelle

Image courtesy of Rochelle

“Mommy, I can’t find my crayons” Felicity yelled from the top of the stairs. “I bet grandpa has them again” she continued then muttered…

Joslyn, her young mother smiled as she walked towards the library in her father’s mansion…ever since the divorce she had moved back in with her aged father. She found him sitting at his old oak desk, back bent from days and tales of old…there on the desk as her daughter had suggested were the crayons along with a picture of her father and items of sentimental worth…

Joslyn paused for a moment…Father wasn’t moving

As time goes by
The ones we love fade away
Sweet memories and images
Forever imprinted on our minds
Like paintings from of old
Cherished items and photos
Sometimes the only reminders
They were ever here