Blogger Q and A

The lovely blogger at Accidentally inked nominated me for an award. I honestly don’t do them anymore, but I loved the questions she put forth. And anyway its been a long time since I did one of these so I thought, I’ll give a shot.

What’s the best thing you like about your blog?

Ohhh lets see. I actually love everything. The fiction because I never thought I could actually do one of those “flash fictions” and now, I look forward to writing them; certainly pushed me out of my comfort zone.
The poetry because writing them have been such comfort and therapy at the same time. And the writer’s quote/poem because it gives me the opportunity to share with all of you, the reason why I fell in love with poetry.

What do you tell yourself to convince yourself so that you stay positive when something bad happens?

Honestly- I try to remember that everything happens for a reason and things could have been worse.

Do you like books? If yes, what did you last read?

I Love books, but then again I am a picky reader. I tend to stick to the same kind of genres. Don’t judge me, I’ve branched out but I just don’t enjoy them and i’ld rather not read what I don’t enjoy.
I’m currently reading a book by David Baldacci- The escape. It is the 3rd book in a John Puller series.

Do you think it’s okay to be scared of cats?

Hahaha, I am one of them. Of course its not okay to be scared of cats but thats why they are called “phobias”. They are irrational fears after all. 

What do you say, lets get to know one another? I am throwing these questions to anyone/everyone who reads this:
1) Coffee or Tea
2) summer or winter
3) Vanilla or chocolate
4) crime novel or Romance novel
5) Documentary or movie

You can answer in the comments below or in a new post. Lets do this 👊🏽

 

Flash Fiction: You had one job!

“Come in”, Leslie answered from behind her desk without lifting her gaze up.
The door was pushed softly and in walked Tony, in his usual black tee, jeans and bandanna.

“You sent for me boss?” Tony asked, a broad smile on his face.

She looked up, dropped her pen and folded her hands across the table.
“Yes I did.” Leslie replied curtly.

“Does this look like an alternate universe to you“, she began, without necessarily waiting for an answer. “where gnomes go around chasing aliens for the entertainment of humans while we cheer them on”

The smile on Tony’s face faded.

“You only had one job Tony,” Leslie continued, “get me a cover picture that would surprise me and stun the readers. And you decided of all the excitement of this universe to supply me with the shot of an alien and a gnome!”

Tony knew the only thing he could do was apologise, which he did.
“Sorry?” She echoed his apology, “well sorry for yourself!” she replied, hurling the picture at him.

---

word count: 173. The above story is in response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring writer’s photo prompt challenge, for which I am almost late for, almost. Thank you very much @any1mark66 for this week’s photo.

Flash Fiction: What had happened was-

“Is that bleating, I hear?” Inquired Mr. Jones, whilst gripping the steering wheel.
Silence followed his question and he attributed the noise to his ears playing tricks on him. That was until, he heard the same noise again.

“I may be old, but I’m not that old. What is going on?” he demanded.
Silence again. He shook his head, and turned the ignition off to face a pale looking ten year old boy, shaking at the backseat and chewing on his lips.

“Junior?” Mr. Jones raised his brow.

“What had happened was,” began junior, stammering, the goat had looked at him with such pleading eyes that he begged grandpa, to let him bring it along.

Mr. Jones wiped his palm across his forehead and at the warmth of his wife’s hand on his shoulder, swallowed the harsh retort which had sprung to his tongue.

“Well, at least goats aren’t noisy, unlike that grandpa’s parrot”, Mrs Jones joked.

Just then, screeching and squawking noises came from the car boot. All colour drained from Mr. Jones’ face.

---

word count: 175 words. The above story is in response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers photo prompt challenge, where each week, we are provided with a picture and are to write a 75-175 word story in it.Thank you @majesticgoldenrose for providing us with this week’s photo. 

Flash Fiction: what happened?!

We queued towards the Egypt Air terminal, the air hostess’ voice hovering in the atmosphere, signifying the commencement of boarding for flight E365. Within seconds it seemed, suitcases crashed to the ground, and everyone headed towards one direction- the exit.

The counter clerks were a sight; trying to climb their way over counter tables but their skirts weren’t making it easy an easy task, which thinking back now, made for a funny sight.
We all ran, pushing, scratching and wanting to beat whoever or whatever it was making us run. It wasn’t until we were safely at a distance and out of breath that the question- “what happened?” arose, everyone looking at one another in a quizzical manner.

Long hours of interview and investigation by airport officials eventually revealed the source of the drama. A young lad, whose phone ringtone happened to be “gunshots”, rang incredible loudly and we were the chain reaction that followed. And the man who began it all, he was also amongst the panicked not knowing he was the source.

---

word count: 174 words. This is in response to flash fiction for aspiring writers photo Prompt challenge. Unfortunately, due to a horrible internet connection and busy exam schedules, I wasn’t able to make it in time to link my story for last week’s challenge. The internet just got back today, so since I had already written, I thought I’d share the story regardless. 🙂 Thank you very much @Dawn Miller for this week’s photo.

Flash Fiction: Sweet sweet revenge…

Swoosh went the swing of her paintbrush splattering it’s content unapologetically. Lila dipped the brush blindly into one of the dozen paint buckets beside her just as she had done for over 15 minutes.

Relieved, she stepped back to view her masterpiece- something felt missing. Lila grabbed an innocent basket of cacti and dropped it on the roof of her project. Ah! Now that’s better, she declared.

She rummaged her pockets for the permanent marker she brought and completed her masterpiece with a few words-
“To Ed,
You can keep your ring, she’ll keep her daddy’s name.
Signed: your soon-to-be ex wife’s best friend.“

Lila turned to leave when she sighted her best friend being too cosy with a man who wasn’t Ed, her husband. Doubt crept up on Lila, what if Ed wasn’t the reason for the divorce after all. But it was too late to undo the damage she had done. 

---

Word count: 152 words. This story is in response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers photo prompt challenge. The above image is courtesy of Pixabay.com
P.S- the line “you can keep your ring, I’ll keep my daddy’s name” which is the original wording is a phrase I got from Miranda Lambert.

 

My top 9 Talents you won’t want!

After reading JoyRoses Monday post on top 9 talents you won’t want, I got motivated to write down mine. I mean, it’s about time we embrace wholeheartedly our quirks. So here goes:

1) I have a predisposition to breaking things including cups, plates, buckets and my latest, our glass dining table which after paying 100 dollars for repair, my brain sent a message to my body to settle down a bit.

2) I can forget like it is nobody’s business. I went to the supermarket a few days ago and when I got to the counter (with all of my goodies) and It was time to pay, I opened my purse and realized I left my money at home. It was not a funny scene.

3) My brain (yes I’m blaming it again) doesn’t interpret sarcasm. You could say a sarcastic comment to me and in all seriousness, I’ld ask you to kindly elaborate.

4) The only animal that doesn’t petrify me is probably a goldfish and that too because I don’t have to touch it. I dislocated my hip-joint while running away from a cockroach which in my defense (okay, I have no defense here!).

5) I am an embarrassingly morbid procrastinator. I would pay anyone to take this talent (if I may call it that). P.s If you have any tips on getting rid of it, I’m all ears. Tried the to-do list method, didn’t work.

6) periods! Yup, it’s been a while since it’s made an appearance on my posts. One of my biggest talent is getting my period at the most inappropriate time. Like while wearing a white skirt outside, or In the middle of lectures… The list goes on.

7) I am worrible at reading in-between the lines. Dear future husband, in case you are reading this. Don’t tell me things like- you make my heart have irregular ventricular contractions. Seriously.

8) I have a talent of catching the flu. As long as I make contact with someone who has the flu, chances are I am going to get sick too. It doesn’t help there are over 100 serotypes. Which means if I get infected and resistant to one strain, there are 99 others waiting.

9) I once drew what I thought was a beautiful replica of the Nigerian map for my geography class and I was told it looked like a yam. That’s how good my drawing is.

…..and that’s it. My top nine talents you won’t want (which may or may not indicate that there are more). Now it is your turn, what are your top nine talents that we won’t want. I would love to nominate everyone reading this to share their top 9, come on guys, let’s embrace our quirks.

The Train Journey

When I was a kid,I always believed my first train journey would be a somewhat replica of Jab we met where I would find my “not so charming” prince in distress, save him from the turmoil of heartache, lose my heart to him unwillingly after a few mishaps where we miss the connecting train and then in the end, he saves me and we live a happy ever after life. Well, life has a way if turning things into the unexpected.

My first train journey was what I would refer to as- eventful. With my Karens-like Caribbean printed skirt, yellow basic too and a colored shawl wrapped around my neck, I embarked on my first ever train journey at the age of nineteen, returning home from school.

After a rocky exam, I made the mistake of going out to “chill” with the gals in the night before my flight. Chilling where I came from basically meant, going out to eat anything and everything. All the pizzas, chin chin (local Nigerian snack), zobo, ginger ale, cookies, chocolates, heck, we even ordered a medium sized chocolate cake.

Blythe time I got to the train station, my intestines were screaming loudly, I needed to go and empty them. I managed to climb aboard the train with my bowels twisting and turning. Luckily (the only luck I had that day) , the train at tenant was kind enough to show me to the loo. The sight I met there was enough for me to puke out my stomach contents. Ahhh,I still feel a. Shiver down my spine when I think of the terrible state in which the toilet was on. Not to forget, it was a pit latrine.

The Plan of the Bed-Wetter

One summer holiday, when I Was in grade 1, My family and I traveled to the North as we often did to visit our relatives and grandparents. I and my siblings spent all year looking forward to those visits because, life in the North is different- it’s safe, rural and still had vast nature. Anyway, I was a bed wetter. To both my parents, it was a normal phase that they believed I would grow out of. But to some of my relatives, uh-uhn, this was something that needed taking care of- the traditional way. Some of the suggestions given was that: (and this is true by the way)
1) a lizard should be tied to my leg when I’m sleeping. Apparently this was the tradition those days
2) I should drink water in which snake-skin has been soaked in.

And I know some of you might not believe me, this is the Northern Nigerian style. I can still remember the look of the snake skin, haha.

I slept on the same bed in the family house with a cousin of mine, let’s call her “H”. Well, I awoke one night to find out that yet again, I had wet the bed. Not wanting to be the only one guilty of the crime, I arose from the bed to solve the issue. Thank God, the night was well illuminated by the moon. As I clearly remembered, I walked to the fridge and felt for the bowl in which drinking water was normally kept. I slowly lifted it, walked backed towards where “H” was lying, fast asleep, and poured the contents of the bowl on her clothe. With that done, I returned the bowl and went back to sleep feeling good that at least, I wouldn’t be the only one who wet the bed.

I Flogged you Because…

“Ameena Garba, come here”, the teacher called me. I left my two friends M and K at the back of the class where I was seating and went to meet the teacher. She was an older woman who wore round glasses and whose son was also in the same class with me. The teacher was sitting at her desk with my notebook in front of Her and a chubby long cane lying on her desk. She knew it was my birthday, oh she knew it was my birthday but it didn’t stop her. The next thing I knew, my palms were outstretched in front of me and three strokes of cane were slapped onto it.

As a kid, I was notorious for noise making which in my defense is basically making conversation with words that when spoken sound too loud for a classroom. I was a talkative, I was restless and I was a whole lot of other things which for the sake of my now adult dignity I wouldn’t repeat. And so, If the teacher would have flogged me for any of that, it would have been a bit justified. Heck, if she would have flogged me for failing my maths class work, and that was a low probability because I was good at it, it would have still been justified.

But no, after flogging me, I was handed back my book and told it was because my handwriting was bad. I received three strokes of cane, on my eight birthday, in front of the whole class because I had bad handwriting. I went back to my seat with tears in my eyes and sought the comfort of my two Bffs. I received comfort and sorry looks from the other classmates as well, even though I think it’s because they wanted me to share my birthday goodies with them.

A few minutes passed, and I was called up once again by the same teacher who flogged me to take a share of the birthday goodies to the headmistress of the school. I clearly remember the teacher telling me that if the head mistress asks me why I was crying, I should tell her it was because I had bad handwriting hence I was flogged. Which now, If I was a headmistress would find it absurd. But that was the way it was back then.

That day I learnt a few things:
1) It doesn’t matter if bad handwriting is genetically inherited, some teachers would still blame you for it (that wasn’t the last time) and you might even get flogged for it;
2) Even If a Nigerian teacher flogs you black and white, they will still eat your birthday goodies without any shame.
3) Birthdays are meant to be awesome, but they are not in my case and that was only the beginning.

And that’s the story of my Life. Also, no hard feelings towards the teacher, I actually find it funny now when I think about it. 🙂 🙂

Humor Friday!

Today, I was contemplating about writing a post on anxiety or my relationship with OCD and then I heard the news of ‘another’ bomb blast in my home country Nigeria. I realized what I would love to read at a time like this is not another somber inspirational story or a heart gripping tear- tale, what I need Is laughter, humor, joy, happiness. They say sleep and laughter are the best medication for anything. Considering sleep doesn’t come so easily, I’d go with laughter.

I did a thorough search through my images and found a picture I hope would put a smile on your faces too. Bad things happen, bad things are happening and the sad part is bad things ‘will’ happen. Hopefully this picture (s) would put a smile on your faces too. And if the first picture doesn’t, there are two more which I hope would do the trick. 😉

🙂

Is it working? Smiling yet? 🙂

Btw, I apologize for the length. And I hope you are all smiling now :). Wishing you all a laughter filled weekend.