Posted in Fictional writing, Uncategorized

Ripping out the cover

Something was wrong. But she couldn’t quite point it out. She felt her crazy slowly dawning on her. Washing over her as if cleansing her… of all she knew to be right and true. Stripping her bare for the whole world to see. See her loneliness, heartache and pain. Her mother always said, “Whenever you feel lost, just look back. Remember where you come from, who you are. At that very moment, in a quiet clearing in the park, she sat down as if in meditation. Her lip curled ever so slightly as she resisted the smile that dared to show on her face when she thought about how flexible she is. At least that’s something positive she had going for her.
Her childhood had not been easy. She didn’t lack anything really. She had three meals a day, had a roof over her head and unlike most kids in her neighborhood her age, she went to school. Ever heard of ‘a face only a mother can love’? That was her. People didn’t go ooh and ah when they saw her. Hers wasn’t that situation where her parents always told her she was beautiful every day. They didn’t have time for that. They were busy making ends meet. Either that, or they didn’t consider it important enough. The bully in school only made things worse. She had gotten used to the fact that everyone else was better than her. No… she believed it to be the gospel truth. So every day she got to class expecting the worst but hoping for the best. What the bully said was law to her and the rest of the class. Thinking about it, she felt consoled that she was not alone. That must be evil of her, but she didn’t really care. A new year came and they got shuffled to a new class. With it came a new bully. She had accepted her fate. That in a world where the strong ruled the weak, she was to be ruled and in this man-eat-man scenario, she was the prey. So she willingly submitted. This not only affected her grades but her self-esteem suffered too.
Even now when she’s all grown up, the effects had not worn off. It’s better than it was before. She thinks back to how awkward her interactions with boys had been. All the girls her age had boyfriends. She wanted one too, but she knew she wasn’t beautiful enough for anyone to love her. She had crushes. Never had the courage to tell them how she felt. She always convinced herself that it’s because girls shouldn’t be the ones to confess first. Her mother always told her that she was a poor liar. Deep down, her fear of rejection confronted her. The realization dawned on her. She thought she would feel better about knowing what was troubling her, but she had this rock at the pit of her stomach. “It has to be my friend, fear”… Finally she was telling herself the truth. She deserved as much. At least from her own self. “I am way better than I was back then, aren’t I? I no longer look for validation from people. I’m smart and bold and beautiful. Not picture perfect and only I know the angles that flatter me when taking photos, still… I am awesome! I will not allow anyone to define who I am or judge me by my looks. I have so much more to offer. I know I will find a guy who loves me. Who will look past all the vain things and see me for who I truly am. No more judging the book by the cover. But for now… I need to reward myself. I’m gonna build myself an empire!!”


Posted in Fictional writing, Life, Uncategorized

The foreshadow 3

Hello dear reader, welcome back…

I would suggest that you first read The foreshadow

And The foreshadow 2

The foreshadow continues…

Her weekend was long and uneventful. She had gone home on Saturday and to church on Sunday. What was it the preacher had talked about? Running your race?? She had drifted off immediately the word ‘running’ was mentioned. Thought about that guy who had run off on Friday. Rosita knew she had seen enough of him to recognize who he was, but it seemed she had hit her head pretty badly. Monday came and she couldn’t wait to go back to school. Not that she enjoyed the classes or anything. First period ended and she still had no clue as to who was at the door that night. She was staring straight ahead when she walked out of class, at the rails along the stairs.
Then she saw it… It looked exactly the same.
The hand that had a green watch around its wrist. Rosita pushed through the crowd trying to get to him but since she was short, it wasn’t easy. Then she had grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back so hard he fell. In less than two seconds she was on top of him holding his collar like she was ready to mess up his face. Before she could say anything, the gravity of what she had just done weighed heavily on her. She stood up, her head hanging. At this time, everyone was either amazed by her guts or laughing at her stupidity. Her legs were her best friend at the time as they carried her off to safety far away from her embarrassing moment.
So on this morning, she could not believe that of all people, she had to bump into her lecturer… After almost beating him up black and blue. He calmly invited her to his office expecting and explanation. Problem is, how would she explain that she thought he was some guy who behaved like a stalker?? He offered her a seat and she sunk in the chair hoping it would swallow her. “Umh, what were you thinking last week? I had to go to hospital to get my back checked you know!!!!”. Whatever strength he’d had to hold in his anger before had worn out. When Rosita hesitated, he banged his fists on the table and stood up towering over her. He looked like akuu with his red eyes and scary demeanor. This was not going to end well. She opened her mouth to say something but she was too shaken to utter a word.
Relief is an understatement when it comes to what she felt when the door was opened and a young man’s voice said, “It’s not her fault, it’s mine”. She stood up to see who it was and just sighed. She knew there was something familiar about the figure she had seen…

Posted in Fictional writing, Life, Uncategorized

The foreshadow 2

Welcome back dear reader. If you hadn’t read “The Foreshadow” click here

It had been on a Friday evening. The room was empty. Everyone but her had left immediately the class was over. Rosita wished she wasn’t alone on a Friday but her friends had gone on a road trip to Nyali Beach Hotel. She went through her gallery looking at the photos they had sent her. She had really missed out on a lot of fun. School of Engineering was really messing up her life. So she decided to put on some music. With no one else around she had no need to put on her earphones. A few minutes into her playlist, she was feeling much better. Her favourite song came on and she jumped to her feet. She knew she was a good dancer as long as she had no one to prove it to. She found some space and started dancing letting the music uplift her spirit and the beat sync with her heart beat. Soon her eyes were closed with her hands waving in the air, her body moving to the rhythm. She was really feeling it.
Until she heard a sound… some movement that startled her making her turn so sharply she almost lost her balance. “Who is that?”. Before anyone could answer, she rushed to the door and pulled it open. There was nobody at the door. She peeked down the hallway and saw a figure going down the stairs. Tensed, Rosita ran after it. She knew her behavior went against everything she believed in. Every time she watched a scary movie and the character went towards the danger, she thought it was plain stupid. Right now, she was being plain stupid. But she somehow understood how one would do that. The curiosity made it thrilling, like a spy or detective. Missing a step on the staircase brought her mind back to reality but it was too late. She went rolling down the stairs and bumped her head so hard she felt her brain matter would be pushed out of her all so tiny head. Everything went black.
When she came to, the first thing she did was look at her watch. She was overwhelmed with relief to know that she had only been out for five minutes. She tried to move around just to check if anything was broken. Apart from the bump on her head she seemed fine. She took hold of the railing and pulled herself to her feet. The building was empty and quiet. So who could have been at the door? Had they seen her? And if so, why did they even run away? Why did they hide. Why did he hide? Rosita was sure it was a guy… Question is, which one? Who could it have been?
She had this feeling at the pit of her stomach. One she did not like at all. Something smelt fishy and she had to find out what…

Posted in Fictional writing, Love, Uncategorized

The foreshadow

Did you know that our senses take in a lot of things but our brain has the capacity to only process a few? That’s why we hear a lot which we mostly forget and listen to one thing that we intend to remember. Since our eyes are mostly open, we see close to everything, but take note of only that which we are interested in. In short, we hear what we want and see what we want.
This is what Rosita had in mind one morning as she walked around sleepily trying to get ready for class. It wasn’t really early, around 9 a.m. But she had gotten used to waking up late owing to the fact that she was just from holiday. See, every corner she turned, she saw a love heart shape. At first it was on the floor. Some spilt water had spread leaving a dry heart shape in the middle. Then on the table when she was pouring water into a cup and some of it formed the same shape. Chuckling, she reminded herself that she was seeing things because she is very imaginative when it comes to seeing weird shapes on floors, walls or pretty much any surface. She remembered seeing the face of Tarzan on the bathroom tiles or a skull on her soap. This wasn’t any different. It was at that time that it really hit her how lonely she was. She quickly brushed that feeling aside and started dressing up. Navy blue slacks, dark green plaid shirt and black ankle boots. She didn’t really care to look her best because she wasn’t feeling her best.
‘There’s only one thing| to do| three words| for you…| I love you’ kept singing in her head over and over again. It was a song she used to love and had not heard it in over two years. So why did it keep playing in her head like an annoying ad song? To make things worse, those were the only words she knew. Her heart seemed to be in a joyful mood but her mind did not share the feeling. And this made her feel torn… Rosita hadn’t realized she had been staring at the floor all the while until she bumped into something, or someone. ‘Ugh, now what?’ she murmured under her breath as she lifted her head to see what obstacle had the audacity to be in her way this morning. Her heart stopped, her eyes grew wider before she lowered them and her face started to feel hot. She had really hoped, prayed even not to bump into him any time soon.

Her day couldn’t get any worse…

Posted in Fictional writing, Life, Love, Uncategorized

Just The Two of Us

 HER: He said he came from Jamaica, he owned a couple of acres. A couple fake visas cause he      never got his papers. Well that wasn’t him. This one was just always there. Three years down    the line but I have only known him for two. First acquaintances then friends. I called him my soulmate but he never knew why. CIA agents he called us because we ran a covert affair. That’s how it started but only for so long. Awesomeness and greatness all put in one. Amazed I am and humbled to have known such. A sweet tongue he has and the skill to use it he doesn’t lack. Maneno matamu humtoa nyoka pangoni; and outside my cave he managed to draw me. Let’s make it on a Friday, I could be late but don’t worry I’m always on time. Those were his words. After struggling with the spaghetti and downing the cooling cocktail, his bag he handed me; the one I had always coveted. My face lit up all excited. ‘Finally! He gave it up…’. ‘Open it up’, he said. All so curious I looked inside but so dark it was I almost didn’t see it. Then the pink caught my eye and my heart skipped a bit. Pulling it out, I held my breath. When my heart got back to beating, the rhythm wasn’t the same. It beat harder and I felt a lump come up my throat. I tried to speak but my voice caught and the words disappeared. Speechless!! I laughed to hold back the tears. “Keep it together girl”, was all I could hear in my mind. ‘On my way home I kept staring outside the window fighting back the waterworks for so many reasons’, I told him. But the real reasons he might never know. Three rocks that shine and glimmer in the sun. ’I wish I could have captured this moment on video… You should have seen the look on your face: You couldn’t have looked more beautiful’ are the words I remember him saying.  ‘What were they for?’ I asked. The answer I did not get. So, while I’m seated here playing with the necklace on my neck, I can’t help but think it is a farewell gift. Well that’s how I choose to take it as. Every time I feel it touch my neck, my thoughts to you they will go. And like a film, the memories will play in my head. In my prayers you always are, somewhere at least.

Image result for animated girl holding necklace

HIM: Wow… I’m flattered, speechless in fact. Real reasons I might never know?? I thought the secrets would have stopped by now?? A sweet tongue I know I have. She says I have the skill to use it but I doubt I do. With it I never got her to the tip after all. She on the other hand knows how to kill it. ‘Slow down!’ I told her. I feared I might buzz real quick and the magical moment would have been short lived. But she is obedient. ‘The sight of you is second to none!’ I told her. But she said I turn my sweet words into actions, otherwise she thought I’m just a flirt. Three rocks glimmering under the sun is what she called what I got her. She almost wept. Her heart melted and she went speechless! She thinks it is a farewell gift, but not so. She is the custodian of the three rocks. I will be back not to take them away, but to replace the one on the neck. As I think of it’s perfect position and the glorious view it has of that chest let alone the sweet scent around, I get jealous. She claims that if she woke up and found herself hooked too much to me she will walk. So from acquaintances to friends to running a covert affair: was I a fool to think we could be more than that or was she the fool to think that she could walk away if shit got any realer??


HER: You know why I call him my soul mate?? Because he seems like someone we’d get along with quite well. But as life is so unfair, soul mates do not end up together. And that is the sad bit. I keep asking myself are we wasting our time?? Or more specifically I his?

HIM: ‘So tell me the real reasons why you had the waterworks.’ It’s true we might not end up together. She has questions that either you can’t get an answer to or a question that is an answer already and chances are you might not like the answer. Both options make you feel like she’s breathing fire on you. Now she asks if we are wasting each other’s time and specifically if she’s wasting mine. But I would like her to know… When she is around me, there’s no place I would rather be. When she is not, that’s the only place I’d want to be.

Image result for a parting couple

HER: As he was going to be away for some time, I couldn’t help but feel as if he was being taken away from me. I wanted so much to talk to him as much as I could but that was not possible. It seemed as if all the forces were working against me. First, my phone ran out of power. Then there was horrible traffic. And as if things couldn’t get any worse, the lights went off immediately we got home. I remember how hopeless I felt. He wanted me to comment on his last statement. But nothing came to mind. A large red throbbing heart I sent him since that is what mine felt like at the moment.


The above is an article that the two of them wrote. And they started looking for a name for it.


HIM: Bonney and Clyde?… Clever fools?

HER: I like Bonney and Clyde… Hopeless Hopefuls?

HIM: Nuh… Those are actual names of other people. Let’s use our actual names then. And oh! Are you hopeful?

HER: Nuh. Using our names would be too direct… I was hopeful. What about you?

HIM: Was? What changed?

HER: I don’t know really… I’m yet to find out.

HIM: After writing all that and now you tell me that you aren’t hopeful?

HER: Speaking of which I would like to see one every two weeks. You haven’t answered my question by the way.

HIM: One every two weeks will make you more hopeful? Yes, I am hopeful!

HER: What makes you so? I think my problem is the distance.

HIM: I don’t know, soulmates maybe, I owned the name soulmate you see. About the distance, it’s only for a period of time and I will be back to continue this ‘thing’ whether you will have replaced me or not

HER: *Chuckles*… If you are overthrown, we cannot continue now can we?

HIM: I don’t care, coup de’ tat. If it’s someone I’d rather be with you can even call me Kim Jong Un. So you can prepare in advance. When I get back, I’m not holding back. After all, I did ‘mark’ you as my own…

And that was how the conversation ended. They agreed that no one would be replacing anyone. They would figure it out together… When they got a chance to sit down and talk.

                                                     *THE END*

Posted in Fictional writing, Life, Uncategorized

Story of her life

She always had the answers to everything. Exam questions, celebrity gossip, facts people don’t know about, even random questions that people asked. You go to her with a problem she’d sort you out in a jiffy. There was nothing she couldn’t do. Be it school, sports, singing, acting, manual work… hell she had her shit together. At least that’s what people thought. Continue reading “Story of her life”

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Her once strong hands couldn’t hurt a fly now. The legs she’d used to walk up and down numerous hills could barely hold her weight for 30 minutes. At 5”2 she had always been short, but she seemed to be growing shorter every single day. Her voluptuous African figure that had been the envy of many back in the day had now withered away leaving her thin and frail. Her once soft and supple skin was now wrinkled and darker than ever. She looked really old. And indeed she was! At the age of 97, this lady never let anything tie her down. “C’mon grandma, I think you should take it slow”, her grandkids told her. Still she kept on dancing. Continue reading “Reminiscing”