I stared at the picture, and my mind went to Nigeria, Lagos to be precise…
Mustapha at the gate waiting for madam to return…
It was 6:15 pm and she wasn’t back…
Mustapha peered through the gates for the 100th time… “She for don reach house now” he said to himself in Pidgin English marked with a heavy Hausa accent…
If she didn’t return before 8pm…it wouldn’t happen…
Mustapha sighed with relief and opened the gate…madam locked eyes with him as her Peugeot drove into compound…
Swiftly Mustapha went under the arches into a room…madam’s feet in subtle but steady pursuit…
They had about an hour before Oga returned…
Glossary of terms
“She for don reach house now”: she should have been home now
Hausa: Northern tribe in Nigeria.
This week’s offering for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Ms. Rochelle
Happy New year!!! Friday fictioneers par Ms. Rochelle is on again, and this week’s picture is courtesy of Lora Mitchell. We have been told to specify what genre we write, but I am clueless in that regard, however if anyone has an idea what the genre is, please feel free to point it out.
This week I am offering a short fictional story, and a poem…comments, and constructive criticisms are sincerely appreciated. Please feel free to join in and participate. Thank you always, have a great year!!!
Image courtesy of Lora Mitchell
MY COUSIN’S WEDDING
My cousin’s wedding was an extravagant carnival. The only child of her wealthy parents, books of check were autographed to celebrate her union to her fiancé of 6 weeks.
The reception was filled with foods from all over the world; champagne flowed free like the River Nile. The plutocrats and silk stockings were in attendance. It was an event to behold…and after much eating and drinking, we were entertained by fire breathers and dancers who rolled and twisted to the music of Africa’s greatest voices…The long night ended with amazing fireworks…
Interestingly so did the marriage…
POEM- SPARKS FLY HIGH
Brilliant sparks fly high
In a brief moment of passion and intensity
Blue and pink hues of desire dancing across dark city skies
Love soundly reflected in two bright eyes wildly burning free
god- like beings colliding as night falls
I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas, and great holiday. Friday fictioneers par Ms. Rochelle is on again, and this week’s photo is courtesy of Jean L. Hays. This week I have come up with a short story, comments and constructive criticisms are most welcome. Please feel free to participate in this writing challenge. Have a lovely weekend, and many thanks always.
Image courtesy of Jean L. Hays
The coffee wasn’t the best in the neighborhood, but the service was excellent, and it helped that the girl of his dreams, Sandrine worked there. Alec spent many mornings sitting and peering through the window of Fulton Coffee house…he dreamed of holding her…loving her…but was too shy to say a word…
Today however, he had written a poem from his heart… words of affection for the waitress who made his heart skip three beats at once…he had stayed up all night to write it…
Sandrine came rushing in, smiles all about her freckled face…”Maman, Éric m’a demandée de l’épouser” she said flashing a giant diamond on her dainty finger…
Alec’s coffee mug crashed slowly to the ground…
It’s time again for Friday fictioneers hosted by the ever gracious Rochelle, and this week’s photo is courtesy of Doug Macllroy…a very tough photo prompt, if you ask me. I managed to come up with a short story under 100 words.
Constructive criticisms and comments are very much appreciated. Please feel free to participate if you haven’t tried this before, it is so much fun, and a great way to get your creative juices flowing. Pardon the tiny French in today’s story. THANK YOU!!!
Image courtesy of Doug Macllroy
The nerve of that cheat to make house in the garage when he should be in a remorseful state…trying to work things out was a bad idea, but Father Paul thought to give him a second chance…I gave him one and he turns the garage to a bachelor pad…chatting on Facebook with Russian bimbos,playing with tools and shit…
The jerk even has this strange ball and chains in there…I hope I am wrong but I think he might have brought his S&M mess into the garage again…well, I will be here waiting for his sorry explanation…
*Note: I have nothing against Russians, nor do I think their women are bimbos…this is what my muse came up with..thank you*
It is time again for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle who celebrated her 41st wedding anniversary yesterday, congratulations again. The lovely photograph is also courtesy of her. I have not been writing much lately, but I found a poem in my notes that sort of fits the mood I got from the picture (the blue of the sky is just speaks hope to me), and then last night…a prose like story came to me…I am sharing both.
Comments and constructive criticisms are always welcome and appreciated as is your participation :). THANK YOU!!!
It was the evening before Christmas…5pm to be exact. I was bored; having been home alone all day…I never have company really, but not one to mope about being single, I decided to take a walk…
Last minute shoppers were running helter skelter…little boys and girls clutching tightly the hands of their fast paced parents…carolers parading the streets as heavy set white bearded men stood at corner shops jingling brass bells, singing of Christmas cheer…none for me though…
I looked up as my heart found itself soaring with the unusual bright of the night sky… hope seemed written in its blue…
It just might be a different Christmas I thought out loud…if only I knew how…
Christmas comes in cold winter December
Bringing hot cocoa, red ribbon tied presents
Glorious lights and evergreen trees
Families gather round
Wishing upon a twinkling star
Shinning bright over(on) Bethlehem night
Sweet kisses under mistletoes
Hoping the new year brings greater hope
It’s that time of the week again. Friday fictioneers par Rochelle is on, and this week’s photo is courtesy of Sean Fallon. I must say that the prompt this week is a tough one but between fiction and reality, I managed to pull something out.
Please let me know what you think, comments and constructive criticisms are welcome. As always feel free to join in and participate…these prompts really do get your creativity flowing. THANK YOU!
image courtesy of Sean Fallon
This is a tough one I thought to myself looking at the picture…as if sensing my predicament, my almost 3 year old twin daughters’ walk up to me with 3 batteries in their tiny hands…”Mommy, look batteries” they both screamed…”can I keep battery for my birthday?” one of them joyfully asked. It’s been all about birthdays and Christmas lately.
“Sure why not” I responded taking the batteries from them…”I will just keep them in this empty animal crackers jar until then ok?”…”if you find anymore batteries remember to bring them to mommy…the more you find the more presents you can get.” I continued, smiling at them as I looked over at the picture on my laptop.
“Yay!” they both chorused… batteries for birthday presents… I laughed quietly as I walked away, knowing another story had just been born, many thanks to motherhood.
I hope everyone is having a great week so far. Friday fictioneers by Rochelle is on and cracking (I have always wanted to say that, lol). This week’s picture is also courtesy of our host, Rochelle.
The photo prompt this week had something poetic about it, at least to me. I tried to write a short story but it reads as a poem in my opinion, so instead I am offering two poems. Please feel free to comment, and leave constructive criticisms…I really do appreciate them. And you are welcome to join in and participate. THANK YOU!
Image courtesy of Rochell Wisoff-Fields
I. A POETIC MOMENT
A poetic moment richly crafted in this window sill
Ice adorning cold glass frame like heavy lace stitching
Nature’s Christmas day décor
Golden bulbs reflecting bright light
A pseudo sun
In December’s gloomy freeze
II. FROZEN (WINTER’S ICE)
In the unquiet of my world
I stay frozen
Winter’s ice on the window of my soul
Once tender, now ice cold stone
My eyes recognize nothing
Unloved they remain
Yet without disdain
They stay transfixed in this season
Cold and lonely without hope
Beauty stands no chance
Forever going on unseen
Springs’s rebirth a myth
In this heart and eyes
Frozen with and over time