letting the ink tell the tales conceived in my mind………

Month: January, 2014

She sighed heavily as she lowered her hands to her laps. How long she had been staring at the heavy rock that sat on the most beautiful band of platinum in the middle of her left finger, she could not say. These days, she found herself enchanted by the ring in a sad way and the stupid thing won’t stop shining as if it was the brightest thing in her world. It was supposed to be though. At least, there was a time her smile matched the brightness of the diamond rock. She would giggle sometimes and thank her stars for not only being engaged to the best man in the world but also having a superb ring to show for it. The unshed tears that shimmered in her eyes now were all that matched the luminosity of the ring.

Then, her friends were sick of hearing the story of how romantic the proposal was, how sweet her husband-to be was and how expensive the ring was. Some of them were jealous of the whole thing and stopped talking to her. Some told her to keep the thing to herself as no one could be trusted. She got mad at those ones and they drifted apart. Some bestowed her with open appraisal and won her love while others were indifferent to it. She wished she had followed the advice of her friends that told her to keep things to herself. Maybe her loud mouth caused her bad luck.

She sighed again as regrets and sadness filled the gaping hole in her heart afresh. It was a wonder how she still managed to stand her friends’ teasing her.
“Steph, this your ring just dey fine every time o but wey that your golden bobo sef?”
“Hmmm, this our husband no wan come carry you away abi? We want to see how elaborate the wedding will be”
“Steph, I can’t wait to see your wedding ring. I know it will be a black diamond”
“Ermm, stephanie?” “Yes, dear” “When is the wedding na? Abi you don’t want us to come and eat with you guys ni, ehn?”
She had even caught some sneering at her. She didn’t blame them though. Abi, how could she blame them when she had made them feel as if they could not do better?

She brought the hand back to her face and pulled out the ring. She stared at it for a while before placing it on the small stool beside her. Freedom, her subconscious screamed, waving her fingers and doing a little dance. Her subconscious was excited but she wasn’t. She had held on to a ring from a man she had not heard from in a long while; almost too long. Her parents had told her to move on and find another man to take his place. Her siblings had advised her to ditch the ring and put herself out in the single market. The taunting from her friends should have been enough to make her end the one-sided engagement. One-sided; exactly how it felt. Her fiancee had travelled almost immediately after he proposed to her. Few months and some weeks after he got to the white man’s land, the communication had seized. All efforts to reconnect back with the king of her heart had proved futile.

Staring at the darkened flesh on her middle finger, she heaved another loud sigh and allow the tears she had harboured for too long to fall. She cried for holding on to something that wasn’t going happen. Out of hope or out of love, she was not sure why held on for so long. She cried for the time wasted and shattered heart. Four years, four long years, damn it. It’s been far too long. But she was ready, ready to give up on her ghost engagement and start all over again. Hard it will be but she was as ready as a soldier for a battle.

Note: Lighters will be posted twice daily. The days are not certain. Thinking friday and saturday. Anyway, if you need help with your final school projects, assignment or you need contents for your blog, e-zines, magazines etc, please send a mail to or add pin: 2677F115… Thank you


There are certain people that die and I wonder how cruel life can be. I just sit and start thinking of how many people on your street who deserved to die and yet, they are even healthier than the day before. Life must be playing some kind of wicked game to take all the people that I love and leave behind all those nasty ones. Like the pot bellied alhaji that keeps looking at me as if I have turned to his bowl of favourite meal or that wicked mama sefiu that keeps hitting all her maids for doing nothing and always rude to customers. I just don’t understand how the thieves in our area get to live and torment the people daily. No life is safe in the hands of the area touts that won’t just kick the bucket. Why do good people die?, I always wonder….

You had woken up that day with a cloud of foreboding hanging around you or so you said. You told me you have a feeling something bad will happen that day but you’re not sure how it will happen or who it will happen to. I inwardly rolled my eyes as I put the mats we slept in aside. Used to your usual banter of evil happenings, I chose not to be bothered. You dressed up in your white kaftan; that one aunty gave you as a gift when she got back from mecca. I was surprised you wore it since you told me it was only meant for special occasions. You looked at me for a while and told me you felt like saying your prayers in them; maybe the bad thing won’t happen after all. I could not understand why you had to wear that beautiful dress just to say your early morning prayers. As strange as your behaviour was, I ignored you completely. I wore a top, tied a wrapper around my waist and with our hijabs on, we went to the mosque not so far from the house.

At the mosque, you acted even more strangely. You did not perform your ablution with the sachet of pure water I brought for us. Instead, you waited by the tap not minding the huge crowd waiting to perform ablution too. Weird as it may be, I watched with fascination. I knew how unpredictable you could get, so I didn’t bother to interfere or ask questions. When we were done with Subhi, we started walking home but it was as if you were not there. You had a distant look in your face and you kept muttering ‘Audhu-Billah mina shaytan rajeem’. Maybe it was what you told me about the impending danger looming over, I started getting uncomfortable. I hit your shoulders gently and when you looked at me, it was as if you were waking up from a deep sleep.
‘Rekiya, abeg stop all these your scary play play jare’
I knew it was a poor attempt at trying to start a playful, healthy conversation and you were not fooled. I guess you saw the fear I was trying to cover up. You held my hands and started talking of the things you would do when you get calabar for your youth service. We talked and talked and for a while, I forgot about your premonition.

Night came and was glad nothing bad had happened. I felt like Allah had heard your prayers. You were smiling at every customer that came to baba’s shop. I was happy the cloud of doom had been replaced with joy. Mama came out with hafisat and started chatting with baba. We were all laughing at mama’s jokes when you remembered you needed to use your phone to make a call. In a good mood, I volunteered to help you bring the phone. I rushed in and spent a while looking for the phone. Dehydrated, I quenched my thirst before going out with the said phone. As I got outside, I could not believe my eyes. It was as if I had walked into another place entirely. I screamed and rushed to your side as I could see your hands moving. You looked at me and started chanting ‘Astagafurullah’ till your mouth was shut not to open forever. I looked at the bodies lying on the floor; mama, baba, hafisat and you, with a car on you all. Trying to run from the sadness that had stared welling up in my heart, I succumbed to the comforting darkness that felt better than reality.

Death is wicked. In a way of saving me from the worst of nightmares, it sent me on an errand. It was from the street amebo that I heard that the car lying on you was driven by a drunk driver who had crashed into baba’s shop. As everyone was sitting in front of the shop, the man had killed you all. The driver had managed to escape; he did not even get to pay for the irreparable damage done. Standing by your graves, I wonder why I did not die with you all. I wonder why I am left alone to deal with this pain that is unbearable. I know death is a price we all will pay, why didn’t I pay it with you all? Rekiya, if only I knew that cloud of doom was hanging heavily over everybody in the house, I would have put all my mind and soul into praying for the aversion of death. I look up in the sky and chant ‘Innanillah wa ina illahi rajeehun’. I empty the powder in the sachet into my mouth. Soon, rekiya, I will be with you all.

Audhu-billah mina shaytan rajeem – I seek refuge in Allah against satan the accursed.
Astagafurullah – Forgive me, oh Allah
Innanillah wa ina illahi rajeehun – from God we come, to God we return.
Special thanks to @AAABORODE for taking me on a little Islamic tour….

Back then when I still did dirty menial jobs with my mother, she always drummed it into my ears that sex was a sacred thing. It was an act ordained by God. She would go on and on about how I should not give myself to any man unless he was my husband, I should keep myself holy and sanctified. She talked about how my father was the only man she had ever slept with her all life. Even when he died, my mom was still faithful; keeping her body as the bible admonished. If she saw any boy making an attempt to talk to me, my mother would instantly dismiss the boy with words even I found very harsh. My mother was a very strong christian and she wanted us to follow the doctrines very strictly but loneliness is a terrible thing. No matter how hard you try, it takes you on a journey you’d rather not embark on. Sometimes, I try not to succumb to the overwhelming feeling of being desolate but it is so hard I had to fill up the gaping hole with something; anything. I would smoke my lungs out, drink till I pass out and if nothing worked, I would hit the streets, drag a stray dude home and have sweaty sex. Some night, I had been disappointed and other nights had left me purring like a satisfied cat after a bowl of milk. Not that the sex worked but at least, I had someone to share the night with me; stranger or not.
I was still on the floor mourning my dignity when my phone rang. I stood up and walked slowly to the phone that lying on my dressing table. I checked the screen before connecting the call. It was high time she called.
“Yes, Solape. What’s up?”
I listened to what she had to say and dropped the call. That was my personal assistant calling to remind me about the meeting that I was almost late for. I fiddled with my phone for a while and then moved to the front of the mirror. I stared at the reflection and was angry. How did I allow weakness to creep in because a strange man said nasty things to me? Why would I allow myself to shed tears because of someone I would never see again in my life? I hit the table and screamed. I was strong and would never allow fear or any other weak emotion in. Who cared what I did to make myself happy? After all, I did it for me. Damn those guys who don’t appreciate a hot girl like me offering my body on a platter of nothing. I looked into the mirror and stared for a while. The vulnerable woman was gone replaced by a woman who had the power to do whatever she wanted. I was never going to cry for anyone again; ever. I stripped myself and took another bath. Done, I wore another dress and did the necessary make-up. I called the driver to have the car running. I had business to attend to.

When I got to the hotel where the meeting was being held, I was already late. I hurried in and apologised, although I didn’t have to. They needed my help, so they would wait for as long as possible.
“I’m so sorry to keep you all waiting. Let’s get right to it”.
The woman sitting next to me cleared her throat and I looked at her, watching her expressions.
“We’ve looked at the statistics your secretary here had shown us and we are not that pleased. In your proposal, you said we will be paid the original price we bought the plaza plus thirty percent of the cost. Here, it has been changed to twenty.”
“Yeah, I checked the damages done to the plaza after it was razed by fire and the amount we will spend in repairing those damages. At thirty percent extra, we will be at loss. Twenty percent is not a great profit for us but it will be more convenient for both parties.”
“I know the fire really damaged the plaza but it is not that bad. We’ve done our research too and thirty percent extra will not hurt you.”
I rolled my eyes inwardly and took a sip from my bottled water on the table. I knew people were always difficult to deal with but I was ready; born ready sef.
“Madam, I know you did your research and all but we all know nobody will be interested in buying a complex almost burnt off. Please accept the money, it is a good deal”.
The woman glared at me as if she could just tear my heart out with bare fingers. I ignored her and took another sip from the water. She was about to say something when her husband stopped her and spoke.
“We will take the offer. It is not what we expected but we will take it”.
“Wise choice sir. I tell you, you made a wise decision.” I turned to Solape and told her to make sure the right papers were signed. I just acquired another property and it felt almost too good. It felt good to watch them sign the papers necessary. It was fun watching the loss registered in their eyes. At that moment, I felt pride swell in my heart. Only if there was someone to share it with….

P.S: I know I promised fresh unusual stories (sniffs) but I discovered if I wait so long to find that one different muse, I may not post anything at all this year (sigh). So, I decided to write something; maybe a series (I’m kinda terrible with keeping up though). Just drop your comments and tell me if it is a nay or yay… Thank you for always visiting my blog. You can also check out… It’s a play I’m writing; already have like eight scenes on the e-zine. Read and drop your comments too. Thank you *blows million kisses*

If there was something I learned from my mom, it was never to say I was too weak to do it. She constantly told me never to see any task as impossible. She said strength was from believing in myself and my abilities to make it happen. I’ve watched her all my life scrub bathroom floors, wash toilet seats, sweep floors, cook meals she could not afford to feed her family with for stipends and yet do it as if she was earning millions from it. My mother worked almost too diligently for someone who earned so little that I had to drop out of school and join her in cleaning the homes of the stingy rich people she worked for. Anytime I complained about how much work we were doing, my mom would tell me to do it without grumbling. She said I should see it as a form of training for where I was going in the future. I remember always sneering and wondering what exactly my future was. I had no future or at least I thought I didn’t. My only escape route from our “suffer suffer” life was to go to school, get a degree or more and get a poverty eradicating job but I had to dump that hope and join my mom in feeding the family.

Life was hard but that was a long time ago. I learned my lesson from all the hard works alright. I learned that money was indeed a beautiful treasure to have and I would have that money doing whatever it takes. Even when my mother went to the beyond, I never gave up. I strived hard and did everything. Life was not fair; I had to take whatever I needed from life. No need to feel guilty about anything, I just took as much as I could or sometimes more. Life turned me into a glutton, making me crave for things that are almost impossible to reach. Even if it meant exchanging my heart for a chunk of ice, I was ready to drag life by its horns………

I was standing with his clothes in one hand and a burning cigarette in the other when he finally woke up. He was a heavy sleeper and snored too loudly for someone as cute as he was but I could not complain. The guy did a very good job last night and that earned him his stay. He stirred lazily on the bed and smiled. I tried to smile back at him but I failed. I had an important meeting by 8 and if he did not get out of my house, I was going to be late.
“Morning, tiger”
He had a look on his face that said he wanted to go another round but I was going to disappoint him; terribly.
“Hey, you need to get your lazy ass off my bed and get the fuck outta my house. Like right now”, I said without mincing words. I really needed him out of my house.
“What did you say?”
I inhaled deeply. I know it would get to this; it always did.
“Okay, let’s not try to be cozy here. We met at the club, we talked, we liked each other, you followed me home and we fucked. So, what? No big deal, okay but I need you to get out my house like this minute”, I replied, smiling as if I was delivering a goodwill message.
He was so shocked that for a while he just looked at me with his mouth opened as if I have suddenly turned green or something. I rolled my eyes and went to my wardrobe to take the dress I had picked out for my meeting.
“Dude, really, you need to leave or how else do you want me to say it?”, I said dressing up without caring if the guy was hurt or not. I really did not care if he was. I was applying make up on my face when the guy started dressing up.
“You should hurry though, my driver will be here any minute and I don’t want him to see you here”. I must have hit a raw nerve because the guy hit the wall and started shouting at me.
“You are such a bitch, you know? A heartless bitch”. I did not flinch, I’ve been called worse names.
“It’s so unbelievable that I allowed myself to go home with a cheap ho like you. All through the night, I thought we connected. Is sex all that matters to you?” He looked at me, searching my eyes for answers and I gave it to him.
“Yes. Sex is all that matters but that’s after money”.
He did not like my response either. He got really angry and broke a bottle of my favourite perfume on the floor. I was shocked. I expected him to be happy for the free wild sex but he was furious.
“You are exactly what those pastors preach about, the reasons why men don’t trust faithful and decent ladies out there. Sex with a stray stranger? Are you not scared for your own safety or your health?! What if I was a serial killer or someone with a viral sexual disease?! God, you don’t even remember my name, do you? You are such a cheap ass ho and no money can change that! Get a life, bitch!”.
Not contented with his speech, he spat on me, picked his shirt and stormed out of the room.

My knees felts like jelly and could no longer bear my weight. I fell on my knees and the tears fell like raindrops. Damn the 8 am meeting, a stranger just ruined my whole day by hurling words at me; words that cut deeper than a sharp knife would.

Just Imagine you got home from work tired and grumpy because before you left for work, your girlfriend, wife, husband, boyfriend had pissed you off. Then you got to work and your boss decided to be more pain in the ass. In short, it was a really bad day and you just want to be alone, drink three or more shots of vodka, sulk alone. You stepped into the bedroom and you found lit candles everywhere, rose petals on the bed, chocolate cake in a plate with two forks in it it, two flutes, a bottle of red wine and a note. You pick up the note and it’s sprayed with the perfume you like most on your woman. You opened it and it read thus:

I will write you a love letter using my blood as ink. If that’s what you want, I will go to the space and pluck the stars for you…

Tell me it will all matter at the end; my little sacrifices won’t go away in vain. If it’s all you wish, I will bring a slice of the sun for you…

I will sing of how beautiful you make me feel. I will climb the highest mountain and scream it from there. If it’s all you desire, tell me. I’ll do it…

‘Cos I found something in your eyes that makes me want to loose my head. I can stare at them all day and the feeling will still be the same…

I found something in your voice that makes my heart melt. It’s the best music I’ve ever heard; one that ignites fiery fire of passion within me…

When you are not near, nothing ever feels right. I can take on the world with you by my side. Yes, you make me feel that good

With you, everything is beautiful. Even the drone of your heartbeat is like music to my ears. When you’re not here, the world takes on a gloomy shade

It’s a wonderful feeling to have you in my heart everywhere I go; a feeling I wish never to go away. So, tell me what to do. I’m ready to be your best and more.

You don’t deserve love but who does? I love your imperfection; that’s what makes you perfect for me. I want you and your flaws

If you don’t believe in anything, believe in you, believe in me, believe in us. Believe in the fact that the beauty of this is in understanding and sacrificing

Love is a decision to stick up with an imperfect person. Against my better judgement, I chose to stay. I love you; love you enough for both of us.

Just tell me how your anger won’t just dissipate. I love “love letters” and all those romantic stuffs that people of the old used to do. It’s what makes every moment together and apart count (*sigh* I’m a sad romantic, I know). Words are beautiful, use the right ones to make your partner’s heart swell with love. Action speaks louder than voice, I know but no action can paint a better picture like our words will.

Written and Posted by the InkHeart.

P.S: Before you start to read, be warned that there will be plenty gbagauns swimming in this post. I decided to post it without editing before I chicken out or put it in my file for un-important stuffs. Between, happy new year everyone….

I’ve been looking for my mojo to write for almost a month or more and believe me, I’ve searched everywhere to no avail. I’ve read books, listened to new songs, watched movies, gone on my own little adventure, I’ve even tried doing yoga exercises (keyword: tried) but nothing worked. I would start and get lost somewhere in the middle. It’s been frustrating, really frustrating. I mean, to start and just start raking my brain for the next word to use or what happens next. I can feel it coming together but it will just crumble when the picture is becoming clear (that almost there feeling is murderous). Then I decide to go for a break by going through twitter or facebook to see what’s new, only to receive links from people who write almost everyday (someone like waltshakes; the guy posts almost everyday).

I was getting so annoyed and somehow scared that my muse had finally been exhausted that I started searching for something unusual to read about to wake my mojo from its sleeping mode. I found great stories in my search but not unusual. It’s like everyone has almost the same idea and there’s competition for who to put it out first. I mean, it’s the same violence or domestic violence, love turned sour or vice versa, betrayal and all those related stuffs. I know I shouldn’t complain since I’m guilty too but really, are we not tired of walking in the same circle?! There are tons of stories out there waiting to be told and we only just decide to stick with only few. I know it is hard to move to unfamiliar grounds but then we will never know our strengths if we don’t move out of our comfort zone.

I’m ranting, I know but I’m tired of writing the same kind of stories over and over again. Don’t get me wrong, our modes of writing are diverse and all of that but I can often predict the end of most of stories. Our readers can even predict them too; they know who is ending up with who, what will happen to a character or how it will happen. They’ve sneaked into our minds because we dish the same stories over and over, just in different ways.

This year, I plan to write and write but only if they are new things (nothing is entirely new but fresh ideas). I want to be a creator of fresh trends. You know, birth characters that are different from the ones we see in our everyday blog. It is hard, I know but then I know it will be a worthy experience. I plan to look around me and find everything amuse-ing. I want to take my readers on a new journey everyday, that’s part of my new year resolution and so Help Me God. (AMEN!!!)

Written and Posted by the InkHeart.