Beauty In The Midst Of Decadence

(Photo credit: Guga)

Angela rushed through the meadows, her brown hair flying in the wind, to a percipient onlooker, she’s the picture of perfection and beauty. I watched her keenly as Jasper pulled me along the rough footpath. The howling wind whipped my cheeks savagely and I glanced up at the gloomy sky. Suddenly, my skin began to crawl and I had one of the most uneasy sensations since I left the house with Jasper. I sensed danger, Jasper whined and began to bark. I looked round widely and spotted the brown-haired girl.

That was all I saw and I sprung to action, I ran as if my life depended on it, luckily, we got there on time. I caught hold of her legs and everything paled into a blur. I was glad I acted when I did. I saved a girl from killing herself!

* * * * * *

The above story is mere fiction, but beautiful if one way or the other, we could interrupt tragedy and save a dying soul from despair. Angela was just 12 years old, and yet, she wanted to kill herself, why? Because of cyber bullying. We live in such a fast-moving world, it’s scary sometimes. I was a virgin when I entered university and met my husband, but kids of today have had sexual relations as young as 9 years old! Though I believe we can still preserve the beauty and innocence of our children, we just have to create more time and let them know we care about even the mundane details of their lives. I was a teenager once, so I know the feeling. As a parent, I care about young people and pray that we would do enough to make this world a better place, but I believe it starts from the home front, don’t you think?

Next week, I’ll be promoting some author friends, if anyone is interested in joining in my little adventure please drop a message on my contact page! Have a wonderful weekend everyone!

NP: I have had a very busy but interesting week and must have missed lots of awesome posts! Please bear with me friends, I’ll stop by your blogs as soon as I can!! 😉

Much love, always.

🙂

The Miry Clay!

Aug9

My hands got stuck in the clay

My skin melts into its blackness.

I became one with it!

I slouched through the mush of my decay.

I smelt the perfume of my horrors.

And wept at the snigger of the hollow.

I looked up and saw the light.

I clawed through the darkness.

I miffed through my tears and felt

The sorrow of the miry Clay.

****

My soul sniffed my shame.

My hands shook with defeat.

I struggled to save what was left,

But grasp empty air!

Love looked me in the eyes and screamed.

Faithfulness hissed at my discomfort.

Hope staggered when I called.

Faith strolled past me in disgust.

Mercy held me close…

And I caught a glimpse of heaven.

I am, but a clay…

________________________________

Can love forgive all sins?

******

I wrote this poem when I heard the story of a woman whose husband repeatedly abused her, physically and emotionally. She was still willing to forgive him, she tried to make people see things through the eyes of her abusive husband, calling him the miry clay, insisting that he has issues!!!

Well, this is me writing in the POV (point of view) of this vile man! (By the way, she’s had a miscarriage as a result of the emotional trauma she’d been subjected to)

And believe me, it was difficult trying to know what goes through the mind of such a horrible man! It’s sad that so many women (and sometimes men!) are stranded in abusive relationships, and the heart wrenching part is when the abused tried to explain the irrational behaviours of their partners! I know we cannot be overly protective of our loved ones, but intervening subtly can really prevent tragedies.

One way is by speaking to the abuser, encouraging him/her to seek help for his/her anger, but it’s easier said than done.

The crux of the matter is, how would you know that you’re falling in love with a monster? And, is there hope for the violent?

These are difficult questions to answer and I won’t even try but from my little office in London, I wish you, my friends, a peaceful, love filled weekend!!

Much love, always!

🙂

Stranded At Santum Close (4)

Jul24

(Photo credit: jtkunley)

The man fell down with a heavy swoop, hitting the ground like a bomb, his eyes turned red and Linda screamed, staring at her assailant in shock.

*****************************

A day after Linda’s disappearance, Gordon was desperate to find answers and he decided to check his wife’s things. He rummaged through the contents of the drawers in their room as sweat poured from his agitated body in torrents. He threw his wife’s clothes on the floor, looking around with a deranged glint in his eyes and swore softly under his breath. His gaze swept the room clean and he shook his head in despair, he was sure he had checked everywhere.

Eliza appeared at the doorway with arms akimbo and his demeanour spelt trouble but Gordon was not in the mood for his arguments.

‘Dad, what do you think you’re doing?’

Gordon sighed in defeat and answered, ‘I am looking for clues son, anything that could show me what to do!’ Eliza considered that, came inside the room, then sat down on the bed.

‘I found mom’s diary on the table when she left for work yesterday, she must have forgotten it, you might find some answers there.’ ‘Eliza said quietly, his eyes sad. Gordon took the blue diary from him and held it to his heart.

‘Thanks son, I’ll see if I can find anything in it.’

Eliza nodded and left the room and the next thing Gordon heard was a deafening sound as gunshots erupted outside his bedroom, he heard stomping footsteps and his heart broke into a million fragments. Disregarding his own safety, Gordon bolted out of the room after his son, but it was too late. Eliza was lying on the corridor with blood pouring out of his chest wound.

‘No!!!’ Gordon yelled and held his son close to his chest, weeping uncontrollably. He gently laid him back, ran into his room, yanked open the door of his walk in wardrobe, picked up one of his semi automatic rifles, and strode out of his room, darting downstairs but there was no one around. Minutes later, sounds of siren tore down his street and Gordon finally realized, that his life was rapidly going downhill.

Three police officers alighted from their cars, their gloomy eyes suggested they hated the sight of the grief ridden man whose house had become accursed.

************

I appreciate everyone who has followed this story thus far, the culminating part would be posted next week. Do continue to enjoy the rest of your week!

Much love, always. 🙂

Stranded At Santum Close

Jul7

Linda moved away from husband, tears in her eyes. She hated his anger and bickering, it was like a stab wound to her delicate heart.

‘Answer me!’ Gordon screamed spurning her around, she slipped and landed on the floor, grimacing in pain. But Gordon was past caring, he bent over her, his dark hair dishevelled. His six-foot frame shaking with uncontrollable rage. There was a deranged glint in his eyes.

‘Who the hell is big Joe? I sure don’t know him among your cousins,’ he snarled and raised his massive hands as if to strike her, she averted his gaze and hid her face under the crop of her arms. Gordon continued his tirade of abuse nonetheless,

‘You have his number on your phone, you have him on LinkedIn, Facebook and Twitter and yet, I don’t know him, answer me!’

Then he bent down and carried her effortlessly from the marble floor of their five bedroom end of terrace property and threw her on the bed. She heard footsteps coming up the stairs and knew their sons must have heard the noise.

‘Keep your voice down,’ she begged but he continued, ignoring her pleading.

‘You are now a celebrity eh? Having men eat from your palms but listen to me and listen good,’ he narrowed his eyes to drive his points home, ‘you ARE still my wife, and must tell me everything!’

And with that, he stomped out of the room, almost colliding with Eliza, their eldest son. She heard him taking the car keys from the fire-place, moments later, the sound of raving engines soon became a distant echo.

Eliza lingered at the doorway, his face puffed up from sleep. He stared at his mom and the sadness in his eyes wrenched her heart out. Without a single word, he closed the door and walked away.

Linda decided not to cry, her tears would achieve nothing, the only thing that could ease her pain was work. She leapt up from the bed and went straight to the bathroom. As she scrubbed her body, she wondered why Gordon, her husband did not trust her anymore.

They’ve been married for twenty-five years, they met at college and have been together ever since. Linda’s faithfulness to her husband and kids has never been in doubt, until now. Gordon was the only one who doubted her – all her friends and extended family knew she would lick the ground he walked on and she knew he loved her too, but why the sudden mistrust and jealousy?

Linda shook her head in confusion and finished bathing. She left the bathroom and sauntered to the room. Within minutes, she finished dressing and was ready to go. She lingered briefly at the full length mirror in the bedroom. She was forty-five years old but looked thirty. Her luscious dark hair flowed easily to her back, her full painted lips parted in an empty smile and her eyes looked sad.

Linda was aware of her extraordinary beauty but it didn’t get to her. Her well proportioned body seemed to have fared well regardless of the four children which came out of her.

She rubbed her slim manicured hands on her face and sighed.

‘I love you Gordon.’ she said aloud but her feeling of sadness persisted.

She left the room and saw Eliza and his brothers outside the door.

‘Mom, dad is getting worse,’ Eliza said in a matter of fact tone, he looked worried.

‘It’s just a phase,’ Linda replied in an unconvincing tone, ‘it would pass.’

She hugged her sons and slowly made her way down the stairs.

‘What about the family picnic? Today is bank holiday mom, I don’t want you to go to work.’ said Luke, her last son.

‘I have to,’ she said, ruffling his blonde hair, his pale skin grew paler at her touch. When she got to the living room, she took the second car keys but on second thoughts, left it on the centre table.

‘I won’t be long, just a few files to work on and I’ll be home in time for lunch.’

Eliza nodded absent-mindedly.

Unbeknown to him, that would be the last time he would set his eyes on his mother.

****************************

I’ve not written short stories in a while, I wrote this weeks ago and just stumbled on it while I was musing about some real life events. Through out this month, I’ll write this story, it’s loosely based around true events that I’d seen happened to some very close friends. But I’m going to fabricate some facts as well. I’ll post this story once a week and when it’s done, provided I get great response from you my friends, I’ll think of what to do with it.

The next instalment would be Wednesday, but I’ll still be posting ‘breaking news’ (life experiences) as they come.

A word of advise, live well – there are no perfect relationships but you can be the best, wherever you find yourself!

Have a wonderful week!

Much love, always.

🙂

And They Were Men!

Jun16

(Glenda Otero)

Rippling muscles, maybe none!

Great smiles, baritones voices;

They searched for food, they found a home,

They looked for success, they found contentment,

Great men don’t have to be in your screens,

Great men were not born

They were made.

Not all are fathers…

Not all fathers are great…

Some, were just men.

One great man said,

”No other success in life – not being President, wealthy, or going to college, or writing a book, or anything else – comes up to the success of the MAN ( or woman) who can feel that they have done their duty and their children and grandchildren rise up and call them blessed!”

”President Theodore Roosevelt”

I think President Roosevelt was right. Nowadays, we have so many absentee fathers but I’m not going to dwell on that today! I just want to praise great men, like my dad, my husband, Alastair Forbes, Freddie, Roderick Craig Low… just a few among the throng of really great men. Happy father’s day to you guys, we (your daughters, wives, partners, friends,) appreciate you.

I hope you are enjoying your day and I hope you’ll have a fantastic week as well.

Much love, always!

🙂 🙂

Legacy Of Honour

Mar8

The hot African sun shone in all its ferocious splendour, casting a glow on the darkened skin of the woman hoeing and pulling weeds in the corn farm, she stood briefly to stretch her back as her bones screech in protest.

In faraway India, the tired feminine figure trudged on, pulling the heavy load of rice and in New York, Annabel typed furiously in her cubicle, her manager casting surreptitious glances in her direction. However, her mind was on Michael, her two month old son, whom she dropped in her mother’s house on her way to work. She returned early from maternity leave after her husband’s redundancy, her salary was all they lived on.

In Nigeria, Victoria raced home, her brown face squeezed together like a wrinkled orange. Friends brought her seventeen year old daughter from university, plagued with a mysterious illness. Victoria’s eyes redden with tears, her heart beating like a banjo drum, though she has nine children, the thought of losing one was simply unbearable.

Two weeks later, her daughter was strong enough and she went back to campus but the next morning, Victoria stood in front of her daughter’s hostel, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. When the daughter saw Victoria, she flew into her arms.

”Mummy, why are you here?’

”I wanted to be sure you’re alright!’ Victoria said and joy surged in her heart when she saw her daughter’s healthy countenance.

The daughter smiled and bade her mother farewell. Victoria left the campus and went back to work.

Victoria is my mother and here I am today, well and strong, my mother always feared for my life, I can’t blame her. I was very sickly while growing up. To all great mothers, women, girls everywhere, I salute you in honour. Let us all leave a legacy worth mentioning to generations yet unborn.

Thanks for reading, and to our men folks, you complete us!

Much love, always!

Home

Mar5

Home is a place of refuge, refuge from the storms of life.

A home is not a house.

I walked pass an overhead bridge and saw tattered luggage scattered everywhere.

My heart lurched in sorrow, and I wondered what makes someone

Lose a home.

I saw a man’s face, peering out of the darkness, the man’s face scared me but I was curious all the same.

I walked home, sad because I know by morning, he would be gone.

Killers and murderers even found refuge in the

comfort of a home.

Oscar Pistorius is one.

If you have a home,

Thank God, if not,

You can find

A home if you

don’t lose

Heart.

Tales of Five Lies and Stepping into Greatness!

Dec20

tales-of-five-lies-paperback

I want to give you my readers a few nuggets to chew on my book, aptly titled, ‘’Tales Of Five Lies.’’ And for the record, nobody can predict the end of the world, so why not enjoy yourselves, tuck into your turkey and march into your glorious future! This is an updated version of the book.

Excerpts:

Time dragged on. I contemplated returning to my comfortable bed, and that was when I saw a man darting behind a tree. He was eight meters away. My senses came alive as I watched with apprehension, my hand on the gun my dad gave me before he died. It’s always with me as a safety measure.

I stood still, watching the man’s movement. I noticed how he glanced around like a rabid dog. Satisfied he was alone, he whistled. Two men emerged from the shadows, dragging a bulging bag between them. I peered at my wristwatch to catch the time, but it was too dark. My mind went wild with all kinds of theories. What are they dragging off that night? How did my best friend get a whiff of their plans? This was wrong. It wasn’t right. I felt it deep in my bones.

The cold night air wrapped around me like a second skin, sending shivers down my spine, and the thick canopy of trees made the moon barely visible, casting ghostly shadows across the forest floor. The pungent odour of decomposing leaves blended with the fragrance of moist earth. The rustling of nocturnal creatures and the occasional hoot of an owl were the only sounds that broke the silence. As I watched the men, I noticed their dishevelled appearance. Their clothes were tattered and stained, and their hair was unkempt. The man who whistled had a scar above his eyebrow, making him appear menacing. I was proud of my night eye; spotting a scar that far away was no mean feat, yet I couldn’t see the time on my watch. It was blurry. The other two were hefty men, with arms that looked like tree trunks. I cursed my short-sightedness. I wished I’d taken my reading glasses.

They got to a secluded spot and began to dig…

***

Stepping Into Greatness!

That’s it dear friends, hope you’ll put a big smile on my face this Christmas by letting me know what you think of my book, I value your opinions Greatly. 2013 would be a glorious year, just step into your greatness because if you believe it, you would certainly have it! Happy holidays and a Merry christmas! Remember, Life is What You Make of It.

Merry Xmas Everyone!

The Unexpected

Nov24

Congo (Photo credit: robynejay)

I left work quiet late and rushed to pick my kids from school, when we got home, I quickly rustled some food together and we had a hearty lunch. I decided to take a nap before going back to my home office and get some work done but I couldn’t sleep so I came back to the living room.

6.30 pm:

Reclining on my favourite sofa while surfing through different television channels and suddenly the unexpected happened, we were plunged into darkness. My children looked confused because it’s never happened before and I was too.

I was not ready for that so for the first ten minutes or so I just sat in that darkness completely nonplussed and indecisive. My kids were firing fusillade of questions at me but I had no answer for what had happened.

By the time I sprang into action, my kids were getting used to it and after a series of phone calls, I was able to find out a few facts. We weren’t alone in that situation, our whole street was in darkness so it was a major problem and it would take a while before the problem could be rectified. Though we slept in the cold without heating, at least we were safe. By the next morning everything was back to normal but the experience stayed with me and brought a lot of scenario to the fore.

Life is very unpredictable and that is a predictable fact. Sometimes, what we don’t plan for could derail our lives in unimaginable ways. My electricity going off was a minor issue you might say but sleeping in the cold and not been able to cook for my kids wasn’t a pleasant experience but what about people in war-torn countries? How would they survive living in fears for their lives knowing the next moment could be their very last? How do they survive living in such inhumane and brutal condition?

In the Democratic Republic Of Congo, rebels are instigating another round of fighting and people are fleeing their homes, it was totally unexpected, lives are ruined because people have been forcefully ejected from their homes, livelihood would be none existence, it was like survival of the fittest and none of them signed up for it, just a few bigoted fools who believed they can plunge their country to war at will are responsible for such atrocities. I can go on and on but we should just be thankful for little mercies we have, many people aren’t so lucky and many of these innocent people did not ask for war but it came to them unexpectedly.

How do they cope? I have no idea but it breaks my heart knowing right now as I write this post a little girl might be living in fear for her life!

When life throws something totally unexpected at you, how would you react?

Thank you all for reading this post!

TIME

Nov21

The Thinking Man sculpture at Musée Rodin in Paris (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I quickened my pace, my heart in my mouth, the winter wind slashed my cheeks into shreds as involuntary tears slipped down my cold cheeks. I dread passing through that horrible alley but I’ve got no choice, none of my friends were going my way, so I had to walk home alone.

I clenched and unclenched my fists and trod on, my heels making a tapping danceable sound. At first, I thought it was my mind but the whispering got louder and louder.

”I shouldn’t have gone, I shouldn’t have gone,” I kept repeating under my breath, at the same time casting surreptitious glances behind me, trying to ignore the deadly whispers in my head. I don’t want to show my fear though it was all over me, its slimy hands rests on my soul with ease.

It was insanely cold and I was scantily dressed for that time of the year. I hugged myself and trudged on, mad with myself for my stubbornness. I was almost out of what I perceived was ‘the danger zone’ when three men appeared out of nowhere, standing a few paces from me, their faces were hidden with their hoods.

They were breathing heavily but I noticed something unusual about them, they seemed to hiss like snakes. the hair at the nape of my neck stood on end but I was ready to fight to the death.

I knew it, I saw this coming, I thought bitterly, my stomach in knots, but strangely enough, I was not afraid. Everything happened so quickly that I barely remembered the details.

The men defied gravity as they flew into me while my arms and legs did the rest, my taekwondo training had not been in vain, all thanks to my mom.

In less than twenty seconds, it was over.

I didn’t wait to see if the men were okay before I took to my heels. When I got home, I crept up to my room and wept bitterly.

I was wasting my time, I could have died easily and would have become another statistic. I glanced at my watch, it was one o’clock in the morning, I knew my mum would be fuming and she had every right to.

I finally managed to sleep because I was so exhausted, barely half an hour later, I was rudely woken up when I felt a cold hand on my shoulder and the whispering began again. I propped myself up on one elbow while I used the other hand to switch my bedside lamb on and the three men I thought I’d beaten were standing calmly against my door, in my room, I could feel their eyes boring into mine.

How did they get in? I should have called the police after I managed to get away, I thought frantically and this time around, I was afraid. My parents’ room was next door and if I scream, I am sure they would be in my room within minutes but do I have the time to do that?

My time was running out, I could feel it deep within my soul. My life flashed before my eyes in seconds and I wished I had listened to my mum. She had warned me to use my time well.

What should I do?

NP: I wrote this at the spur of a moment, it’s a short story. Would love your feedbacks!

Cheers-:)