This month I am taking part in the A to Z challenge and my theme is adjectives used to describe a home. I will be linking the story/poem/article to my native country, hence the voice in this tale might not run so smooth. I do hope you manage to find it interesting or a bit entertaining, thank you. The word for today is EXOTIC.
“I don’t know why madam hang all this cloth inside house, in this heat. The place come be like oven.”
“Bushman, they’re silk curtains from Italy not just any cloth. Madam said it makes the house look exotic.”
“Egg-sos-tic .. hmmm. No problem oh, but even bushman knows that in this our hot weather curtain that can make cloth for bridal trail no good.”
Sighing “Akpos please go and tend the garden.”
Laughing “That’s true oh, Madam said to cut one bush into man-shape maybe that style na from Rome abi? At least that one fit scare thief for night.”
Written for Friday fictioneers a writing challenge hosted by Rochelle. The picture was provided by J Hardy Carroll and the task is to write a 100 words story inspired by it. Thanks Rochelle for hosting the challenge. Thank you for stopping by… do click on the link to read other stories.
We are gathered here to mourn the loss of a dear friend and comrade who, unfortunately has met an untimely demise.
To say that he would be missed would be putting it lightly. Harvey was the kind of guy who made everyone laugh, he had a heart as large as a train engine. A charm as potent as Frank Sinatra’s voice, smooth enough to lure you to sleep.
There was no distance Harvey wouldn’t cross to help a friend.
The congregation chorused their agreement.
He made grown men stop in their tracks to appreciate his individuality, his uniqueness, his pizazz.
With eyes as large as an owl, Harvey always looked out for the weak, so it’s a darn shame he got treated this way.
Mangled by a pair of right idiots, who completely oblivious of how a gentle-car operates decided to tinker with him rather than take him to an auto-clinic. Sadly Harvey has been sentenced to life in a museum,never to run free again.
And all the cars honked.
In response to the writing challenge flash fiction for aspiring writers hosted by Priceless Joy click on the link to visit the blog. The photograph was taken from Pixabay (interesting photo can’t wait to see all the stories it inspires) and the challenge is to write a 100 – 150 words (+/- 25 words) story inspired by it. Do click on the link for other stories.
Something was awfully wrong here. This is supposed to be my life story, a biography, but instead I have spent the last hour reading the story of a different girl; a girl with little or no tangible resemblance to me.
Why did they gloss over my teenage scars like they never happened? They wrote about how bold I felt being the tallest girl in high school, but they forgot to mention how painfully shy and awkward I felt for a long time being the last girl amongst my peers to grow into the semblance of curves and breasts.
The book made me out to be a quintessential child. I listened to every word mother said and never once disobeyed, but that is so far from the truth. Yes I listened to mother, I didn’t have much of a choice, but No I didn’t always obey. Like the time I took a lift from a stranger back to school, thankfully nothing happened got to school safe and in one piece. A fact I attribute to having mentioned who my mum was to the stranger who happened to live two streets away from us. Mum was a well known Christian and disciplinarian, her fame as a woman who didn’t suffer fools much was known home and abroad. I never told mum ‘cos she would have skinned me alive. My sins, however came back to bit me in the proverbial when the said gentleman came calling as a potential boyfriend, talk about awkward.
I really could not stomach reading any further, so I rushed to the end and there I faced the worst climax I have ever read/seen/heard in the history of story telling. Who ends a book with “and she died.” of course I died, I wasn’t immortal and it was bound to happen some day. Even the most watered down cliches would have been better “and she died in her sleep or she died with a smile” or even the mythical/fairytale ending “and she lived happily ever after” would have sufficed even if it was a lie.
Honestly the book is a scam. The only part of my life story told in that book is the story of a girl without flaws living inside my head. Perhaps my subconscious wrote that story whilst I went about life trying to focus on the positives, learning each day to edit the negatives out of my story. What kind of story teller would I be if I couldn’t do that? Not every character slays a giant or climbs a high mountain some just hold the forte so we have somewhere nice to return to.
This is supposed to be a humorous post, I had no idea where it would go or what it was about, but it’s the first thing that came to mind when I read the prompt. Care to tell me what you think?