(Photo Credit: Flickr)
Pete stared at the papers in his hands and his blood froze.
Amanda, his wife of five years wanted a divorce, what a way to start the year! He sat down wearily on the bed as his mind raced to the red-head beauty who bumped into him at Mile End underground station in London – she had apologised profusely and they got talking. Within weeks, their romance blossomed. As an Investment Banker, Pete had little time to woo her but Amanda more or less took control of his life.
Within two years, they were married, and his parents were delighted. A year after marriage, Amanda was desperate for a child, he wasn’t that bothered. After all, he’s always holed up at his office in the City, slaving away to make as much money as he could. They hardly spend time together and deep down, he knew it could be the reason she wanted out. They love each other, why would Amanda think divorcing him would make her life better? The noise of his phone disrupted his reminiscing and he grunted before picking it up from the bedside table.
‘Yeah,’ Pete drawled and listened, then clicked it shut. Switzerland. He’d totally forgotten about the holiday he’d pre booked weeks earlier. Like a slow motion, hope began a painful ascent in his mind. Maybe, just maybe, time away from their usual life in London would spice things up a bit, and talk of divorce would disappear.
Half an hour later, Amanda strolled into the room, avoiding any eye contacts.
‘Shouldn’t we at least talk about this?’ Pete asked quietly, waving the papers in his hands. He couldn’t stop staring at his wife, whose hourglass figure never ceased to amaze him.
‘We’ll talk when we get to Switzerland,’ she replied. Pete laughed and said lightly, ‘Women and holidays!’
But there was something different about her. He stood up and pulled her into his arms, he was half expecting her to resist but she didn’t.
‘Is this what you want honey?’ he mumbled into her hair, rocking her as he would a day old baby.
Amanda swallowed hard, then closed her eyes. How could she back track now after realising the root of their problems? Divorce was the only way out, or so she thought…
NP: I was supposed to have posted this on Thursday but I was extremely busy, I would have to make this a two or three-part series. Amanda and Pete are a couple whose story touched me deeply. It’s also a true story, but as usual, I would change their names to protect their identity and add elements of fiction to it as well. I would post the next part sometimes next week, at least before Valentine’s day. Martin Luther said something that touched me: ‘There is no more lovely, friendly and charming relationship, communion or company than a good marriage.’
Call me a traditionalist, but my parents have been married for almost fifty years, they had their good, bad, and excellent times but they stuck together. Now I think they’re best of friends.
I hope you would have a peaceful, restful and enjoyable week. I intend to!
Much love, always!
(Photo Credit: Flickr)
Laura had trouble sleeping, she watched enviously as her husband slept soundly like a baby. She closed her eyes and willed her body to relax, fifteen minutes later, it worked, and she drifted off into a fitful sleep. Claps of thunder woke her up hours later, reluctantly, she opened her eyes and listened as flashes of light competed in a show of power. However, amidst the thunderous symphony, she also detected a faint but familiar sound, she listened and froze with fright when she realised it was the voice of Anna, her fourteen year old daughter.
She turned to touch her husband, but he wasn’t there. Panicking, she leapt out of bed and slowly crept down the stairs. Someone was in her home, a stranger. Her heart in her mouth, she moved stealthily, afraid to alert the intruder. By now, Anna was howling, Laura threw caution to the wind and breezed into the kitchen, grabbed a large knife and dashed into her daughter’s room.
Ashley, her husband of eighteen mouths was lying on top of her daughter, naked waist down. Anna stopped crying when she saw her mother and Laura felt alien, as she seemed to move out of her body… Swiftly, she raised the knife above her head.
Two years later, Anna walked briskly down a hallway, her heart beating with love. It was Valentines Day, and, the love of her life is in prison. Many people called her mother a beast, but she knew that it was her Step-father who was the real beast. He had repeatedly raped her, threatening to kill her mother if she uttered a single word to a living soul. As far as Anna was concerned, the death of Ashley was a welcome relief. Her mother would be out in a couple of years, and with her mother by her side, life couldn’t be better. They would live happily ever after!
NP: I am a realistic writer, if you’ve read any of my books, you should know by now that I’m not afraid to tackle difficult subjects, and this was a very difficult topic for me to write. Many women are trapped in abusive relationships, where their partners are raping or had raped their daughters – it’s an ugly scenario. But it could be stopped: there are warning signs really, when your partner is unduly interested in your daughter, that leery, lustful look is often too glaring to hide, (mind you, not all Step-fathers are Ashley!) Left for me, I wish all marriages ended with ‘the happily ever after theme,’ but that would be living in a fairy tale world. Even though I don’t support what Laura did, the beast in some people cannot be tamed, they can only be stopped!
Where there are beasts, there are also saints. Like Hugh Mackay would say: ‘ Nothing is perfect. Life is messy. Relationships are complex. Outcomes are uncertain. People are irrational.’
I hope you’ll all have a pleasant week. I’ll be back on Thursday with a very interesting topic in my ‘happily ever after theme!’
Much love, always!
Alero kneaded the dough and used her free hand to mop her sweaty brows. Her husband was away on business but she noticed the surreptitious glances threw her way by the neighbours and it saddened her. Abel is the love of her life but of recent, she had trouble believing the ‘happily ever after’ theory.
A shrill sound interrupted her sad thoughts and she walked briskly to the living room, picking up the landline phone and whispered hoarsely, her voice constricted with tears.
‘Hey darling,’ Abel, her husband of five years, said slowly on the other line, ‘are you okay? You sound awful.’
She gritted her teeth then replied carefully, trying in vain to control the turbulent emotions coursing through her, ‘when are you coming home?’
‘I’m outside the door!’
Alero dropped the phone and flew to the door, she flung it open and saw Abel kneeling down on one knee, a huge grin on his brown face.
‘Forgive me darling, I promise to love you forever!’
She didn’t know what to say.
Abel stood up slowly and clasped her in a tight, warm embrace. Alero was limp in his arms, she felt nothing. Few seconds passed then she asked,
‘What exactly do you want me to forgive you for?’
‘The ‘ever after’ marriage is not a bed of roses. I have flaws my love, as you do, but we can work through it all.’
Alero now understood, and she held her husband tightly, wondering if ‘happily ever after’ is not a myth after all.
In the spirit of ‘Valentine,’ I would be exploring a lot of relationships and how we could turn more towards the ‘happily ever after’ theme. Forgiveness and tolerance is the key for the success of any human relationship. Love conquers all…
Enjoy your weekend friends!
Much love, always!
(Photo credit: Alfred Bouchard)
”Dreams are the easiest part.”
My daddy used to say that even the devil dare to dream. He wanted to usurp God Almighty but he got a mighty kicking and landed his whiffy butt on earth!
I got dreams too… The good kind.
I want to make people happy, clothe the poor, feed the hungry and make people smile. If I could, I want to wipe tears off Peoples’ faces, I want nations to love one another (that’s a tall dream, sceptics may say, after all, there has been wars from the foundation of the world). All the same, love is important, it’s beautiful and could really save the world! I want the Israelis and Palestinians to let bygones be bygones. I want South Sudan to stop their stupidity and halt the senseless war looming over their innocent citizens. I want to dine with Prince William (and ask him to buy copies of my three books!) Kate, hope you don’t mind?
I got dreams too…
I want to stop the uneasiness clouding people when they see someone whose skin is not as pale or as dark as theirs. I want Syria to stop the bloodshed, I want Nigerians to stop their corruption, I want all religions to be devoid of hatred, in a nutshell?
I want PEACE in all nations, among all people. I want this home of ours (earth) to be a paradise. We shouldn’t forget what’s important, and aptly put, it’s that four letter word, love! Love your friends, neighbours and I believe that would ultimately make the world a better place.
I sure got tall dreams guys!
Enjoy the rest of your week and I hope you’ll all have peace wherever you are in the world!
Much love, always.
(Photo credit: Yarik Mishin)
I read this story today and it filled my heart with a warm glow… I’ve been shown love and I’ve loved too, but reading this story made me realise that love surpasses material wealth. Please read quickly and go back to your family. I wish you all the love and joy in the world! Merry Christmas my friends!!
Much love, always.
The Gold Wrapping Paper.
Once upon a time, there was a man who worked very hard just to keep food on the table for his family. This particular year a few days before Christmas, he punished his little five-year-old daughter after learning that she had used up the family’s only roll of expensive gold wrapping paper.
As money was tight, he became even more upset when on Christmas Eve he saw that the child had used all the expensive gold paper to decorate one shoebox she had put under the Christmas tree. He also was concerned about where she had gotten money to buy what was in the shoebox.
Nevertheless, the next morning the little girl, filled with excitement, brought the gift box to her father and said, “This is for you, Daddy!”
As he opened the box, the father was embarrassed by his earlier overreaction, now regretting how he had punished her.
But when he opened the shoebox, he found it was empty and again his anger flared. “Don’t you know, young lady,” he said harshly, “when you give someone a present, there’s supposed to be something inside the package!”
The little girl looked up at him with sad tears rolling from her eyes and whispered: ”Daddy, it’s not empty. I blew kisses into it until it was all full.”
The father was crushed. He fell on his knees and put his arms around his precious little girl. He begged her to forgive him for his unnecessary anger.
An accident took the life of the child only a short time later. It is told that the father kept this little gold box by his bed for all the years of his life. Whenever he was discouraged or faced difficult problems, he would open the box, take out an imaginary kiss, and remember the love of this beautiful child who had put it there.
In a very real sense, each of us has been given an invisible golden box filled with unconditional love and kisses from our children, family, friends and God.
There is no more precious possession anyone could hold.
”The unthankful heart… discovers no mercies; but let the thankful heart sweep through the day and, as the magnet finds the iron, so it will find, in every hour, some heavenly blessings!” — Henry Ward Beecher
In light of Beecher’s quote, I want to appreciate everyone who helped make my new book a huge success. It’s still an on-going process but the success of a great book rest not only on the written word but the advert preceding the release and after.
I want to specially appreciate Alastair Forbes – http://Kattermoran.com, he was and still a huge source of inspiration to me. Prior to the release of Cydonia: Rise of the fallen, he blogged about it incessantly, he’d also written a review on Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk. I also want to thank Celestine of ‘Readingpleasure’ who promised to write a post about it and buy a copy from Amazon. Also Ken of WriteOutLoud, you’re a darling. Pamela Beckford of http://pamela984.wordpress.com is still reading as we speak. Ste J is still waiting for the PDF copy, I’ll send it soon I swear! To Uzoma, a poet and a great writer, thanks for reading. To several others who requested a copy, I’ll send it soon I promise!
To many others, I appreciate you, I am grateful for your friendship and kindness. You don’t even have to buy my book or review it. The mere fact that I could write something and people visit my website is enough to spur me on. As of now, my publisher is speaking to a few producers on Film rights on Cydonia… I know it’s still early days yet but I think the book is going to be massive.
I still need all the advert and PR I can get. The Press release would be out soon, the eBook version would be released within days so is the book trailer but in the main time, if you’re interested in reading a massive 644 pages of thriller to your heart’s content, here’s the link on Amazon US:
Well, like a friend would say ( I won’t mention his name… ;)… Enough said…
How’s everyone preparing for Christmas? On my end, I haven’t done any shopping. Moving home and releasing a new book seemed to have sent me off track but I’ll retrace my steps and do a few shopping now. I wish you all a Merry Christmas and if you’re not a Christian, have a happy holiday…
Just got my internet sorted out so I’ll start visiting more blogs now… Take care of yourselves guys and don’t get into trouble!
Much love, always! :)
(Photo credit: Flickr)
It’s too late to apologise, it’s too late!’ sings a man on the radio and this thought struck me deep and I wonder if sometimes, having a perfect relationship is as elusive as trying to grasp air.
Are some sins unforgivable? Or aptly put, are some relationships beyond repairs?
Take Lillian for example, she gave her twin sons up for adoption, lived a life stoned twenty-four hours a day, then miraculously, her life changed positively. She met and married a nice gentleman who loved and adored her.
But there was a problem, Lillian didn’t tell her new husband about her past, her twin sons were conveniently forgotten. But like a sour thumb, some secrets can’t stay hidden forever. Twenty years later, the twins are grown up, knew they were adopted and wanted answers.
By now, she had other kids, and by the time the truth came out, her husband of twenty years was appalled his wife could forget to mention that she had kids! The sons weren’t that forgiving either, they wanted answers.
This kind of story happens every day, and you may say - there are worse things out there and I agree, but is it too late for Lillian? If you were in her shoes, what would you do? If you were in her son’s shoes, what would be your reaction? And if your were Lillian’s husband, would just pack your bags and leave?
These questions are not easy to answer, but I would love to know what you guys think!
On a lighter note, I wished I’d seen the eclipse of the sun yesterday, it’s one in a lifetime event, but I didn’t, so life goes on I guess! And Nanowrimo is live, but I’m afraid I would not be doing that this year, got too much on my plate as it is.
I received the edited version of my upcoming thriller today and boy, was I thrilled? It was great! I can’t wait to hold the book in my hands…
Hope you’ll read it too when it’s out guys! Counting on you!!
I’m afraid I can only blog once a week now until Christmas, but I’ve been visiting blogs as often as I could, if I’ve not visited yours for a while, please bear with me, I’ll definitely pop in soon!
I’m moving house soon and coupled with my book and other office related deadlines, I’ve got my hands full. I can’t believe it’s almost Christmas (my kids are already making their lists! ) Can you believe that?
Anyway, enough rambling! I hope you’re all okay, and I wish you’ll all have a wonderful week, wherever you are in the world!
Much love, always!
(Photo credit: Flickr)
Sean kicked the grass in frustration, his eyes filled with tears and he tried to control himself with great difficulty. His dad‘s harsh voice resounded in his mind like a volcanic eruption, ”You’re no good, you’re like your mother – a drug addict! I hate you.” He dashed inside the house, his dad recoiled on a chair, a glass of beer in his right hand, remote control on the other. They exchanged hateful glances. And Sean raised the gun.
Hamza tried to stop the tirades of abuse from the boys in the estate, ‘you’re a loser, go kill yourself.’ At home, it was worse, his mother was stoned twenty-four hours a day… He left the house but the words of the boys clung to him like a second skin.
Chloe’s brown eyes light up in anticipation. Her dad kissed her on the cheek, and said with a smile, ‘you light up my world angel, you’re a star, you can do this.’ She nodded, her future is bright, she knows she can do anything she set her heart to, she had been nurtured with loving words, right through her childhood, and now at the age of twenty, the world is her oyster.
* * * * *
The words we speak has the power to destroy or build up, let’s be mindful of our words. Some people were damaged by words of others while some have killed others by their words. Let’s choose our words carefully. A word fitly spoken has the power to change a life…
Think about that this weekend, and I wish you love, peace and happiness, wherever you are in the world my friends. Have a great weekend!
Much love, always.
(Photo credit: Flickr)
THIRTY YEARS AGO, I was this skinny sickly eight year old kid with plenty of courage. I remembered now with a huge smile on my face as my mother’s eyes usually sneaked up on me with her brows knitted in a frown because of my escapades. My dad was a lecturer at Florida State University but the rest of the family were still in Nigeria and anytime he came home, I always love reading those green Encyclopaedias he brought home. There, I believed was where I learnt a lot of things. Although I was a studious kid but I also loved to play hard. We lived in a picturesque town called ‘Ilorin,’ it was a neat little town where everybody practically knew each other then, our apartment block nestled nicely in a leafy part of town and every evening, kids would troop out playing one game or the other.
We lived on the top floor of the five storey apartment block, one day, out of boredom, my friends and I gathered at the veranda of our apartment. We began regaling each other with stories, when it came to my turn, I told them about what I had read in my father’s encyclopaedias, about jumping from a plane and stuffs like that.
One boy looked me in the eye and asked, ( I can still picture the snarling face!)
‘Can you jump out of a plane?’
‘Yeah, ‘ I replied unconvincingly, I bet he saw my hesitation and played on it.
‘I’m sure you can’t jump from here to there,’ and he pointed to the ground.’ Mind you, I forgot to tell them I hated heights but because I wasn’t going to let anyone see my fear, I said with forced gaiety.
‘Of course I can but my mum won’t let me.’ My friends pondered on that and agreed but that boy refused to let it go.
‘How about we arrange some stools and chairs and make a little mountain, can you scale the stool and jump?’
‘Yeah! Why not?’ I said without hesitation and watched as he dashed into one of the apartments and within minutes, he was back, carrying stools. Some of my friends did the same and before I knew it, the stools looked like Mount Kilimanjaro.
I watched with growing trepidation but I was too proud to say NO! When they finished, the boy asked me to climb the stools. You can all guess what happened. I managed to navigate my way to the top and looking down at my friends, I hesitated and as if on cue they started shouting,
‘Jump! Jump! Jump!!!
And I jumped.
That was the last thing I remembered. The next time I opened my eyes, my left leg and left arm bore the brunt of my fall, my leg and arm were in bandages and when my mother’s tearful eyes met mine, I simply turned away. Believe me guys, that was not the end of my ordeal but I won’t go to that aspect of the story today.
Where am I going with this story? Please don’t JUMP, stand your ground, don’t bow down to pressure from so-called friends to do what you don’t want to do. Since that day, I became my person, I can stand my ground and face any foe. Throughout my primary, secondary and university days, I held my ground, fought off bullies and lived in relative peace.
Life is too short to be easily swayed by others. Like that picture, you’re a shinning star, let no one tell you otherwise.
Have a pleasant weekend and don’t forget, ‘don’t jump! Refuse that sneaky little voice that said you are helpless, you’re NOT! End of story!!’
Much love, always!