Showing posts with label Short Story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Short Story. Show all posts

Sunday

#ShortStorySunday Once a Year

Some people you are destined to keep meeting
If you believe in destiny
It could just be that its a small world and so you were bound to bump into them anyways!



But Shade believed in destiny.

The first time she met Tutu, she was fascinated.
He was tall
He had lovely hair
And he spoke well

That was always her weakness.

He was in university and he was in America; back home for something or the other. That was twenty years ago

She was at a friend's wedding. A little bored and ready to leave but saw a friend on her way out. The friend was at the same table with Tutu. Nothing mattered any longer; she just wanted to be around him, talking about nothing, something, everything.

And that's what they did.

This was in the days of no mobile phones nor 'social media' so they swapped landlines, and someone called the other, and after chatting back and forth for a bit, they set up a date.

And yet, inspite of both of their best intentions, they could never seem to get the date right.


Between them, they had no car, no licenses, and no clue as to what one could do for fun.

One day, she just asked a cousin to pick her up, she met up with him and they just wandered about in Victoria Island for a while without doing anything really.

The date sucked.
She felt it, and years later, when they spoke about it, she realised he had thought so as well..

Every so often, Tutu would come home, and they would bump into each other
Maybe at a club
Oh wait, always at a club.

They would talk, and try to hook up but never get round to it
But they always seemed to be able to stay in touch via email. 

Cut to Lagos
December 2016.

Shade had gone through drama with her now-ex, Jim.
One day she meets a few friends up at a cafe. And once again, she bumped into Tutu.

Still tall (er)
Hair still beautiful (er)
Still speaking well (er)
Still damn all that and a bag of chips

They spoke over coffee, he took her number, and he called the next day, and they hung out

Five minutes into the 'date', she began to panic.
It felt like it wasn't working, like the date was going to suck again.
Infact, it did suck. Till they went outside to wait for a cab and it began raining
And they got completely soaked.
And somewhere between the thunder and the lightning, she realised that it never would matter how the dates themselves went, all that mattered was that she hung out with him.

He of course, went back again. He had just been home for christmas.

And this time, she won't stay in touch. She won't try to make it into more than what it is- a magical encounter that only happens once a year. and only by fate.
She would rather not know if he is dating someone (okay fine, he is, she checked).
She would rather just forget about Tutu till the next time she was sitting idly at a party, and then got a pat on the back...

For now, she is condemned to that excruciatingly beautiful place where memories are glorified, and everything is magnified. 

#ShortStorySunday Instant attraction

It was Day 245 of being single in Las Gidi and I was headed for one of those cocktail parties that someone invites you to, maybe because they have a quota they have to fill up or maybe because they genuinely want you there.

I didn't mind. It was Friday night and I was bored.

Plus it was the kind of party that was sure to have free booze. And hey, what girl doesn't like free booze?

Blue summery dress that translates well from day to night? Check
Pink shoes with kitten heels because aint nobody got time for pain? Check
Some make up, some perfume and lip gloss for the road? Check.

I left home like I usually do when I go out-  open mind closed legs.

I had been at the party for like forty minutes before I spotted him. It was, as I expected, one of those quota invitations so I said all but five words to the person who invited me. I did see a lot of famous people, including the actor, Gbade Ademiro. She was so chic.

There had been a paucity of nibbles, with the waiters bringing out small sandwiches, little crepes and a lot of cheese. I should have eaten before leaving, my stomach said, not too kindly. And then, like someone had heard me, I saw them setting up a barbecue. Thank you universe!!!

Of course most people like me, did the "I didn't see them set up, I just happen to want to move outside" dance and we nearly came to blows reaching for the barbecue. And that's  when he reached out and became my hero. Grabbed himself a plate and one for me too. Then when get got some of the chicken, he made sure I got some too. I was so thankful I almost fell to my knees... O wait. That's a movie.

So we began talking. This guy and I. He was easy to talk to and the chemistry was instant. We went from what we do (he's a doctor) to the state of the nation (when is Buhari visiting Nigeria again) to music (we would buy a Paul album for sure, and go for Peter concerts) to everything.

We spoke about Nollywood and I mentioned Gbade was around. He said he had seen her too and was a fan. So we both decided to go say hi. Fingers crossed she isn't as stuck up as she is beautiful though.
But she wasn't. She was gracious. And then she asked, "so how long have you guys been dating?". Ha ha ha. I blushed. Or I think I did. We both denied it furiously. "We just met" I protested.

She refused to believe us. "Yeah right. You guys just met and the chemistry is this great? Tell me something else".
Try as we could, we couldn't- she wasn't having it.

We left her and it didn't even turn awkward. Doc and I just kept right on talking.

So now it's 10pm and I really do want to leave. Plus, isn't there a rule as to how long a single girl can chat with a single guy she just met at a party for?

I don't know but if there wasn't, I was about to invent one.
So I said I was leaving. And then...
Two pecks and he was off.

Wait.
What just happened.

Isn't that the part where he asks for my number and then calls me tomorrow and we go and see a movie then again on Sunday and by harmattan we are married?

Wait what?
Why is he leaving?

I swear, this guy didn't even ask my name!!! Like my full name! How is he going to find me on frigging facebook if he doesn't even know my name???

(So this story has two endings. Tell me which you prefer)


ALTERNATE ENDING 1
I was devastated and walked dejectedly to my car. A black car stopped and it was the actress. I said, almost in tears, "he didn't ask for my number". She gave a sad smile and rolled the glass up.
And then drove off.
Leaving me... Alone

ALTERNATE ENDING 2
I was devastated and walked dejectedly to my car. A black car stopped and it was the actress. I said, almost in tears, "he didn't ask for my number". She gave a sad smile and said, "that's because he already has mine. Then she rolls the glass down fully and I see Doc.
And that's when it clicked.
The actress had got married last year... To a doctor.

#SPEECHgirl x Short Story Sunday "One of those Days'


He heard the alarm, but that only made him want to smash the damn thing and sleep some more. He had actually done things like that in the past which was why his last girlfriend had bought him three different alarm clocks, and placed them all around his room; there was no way he could get at them, put them off, and still go back to bed. Damn pretty women with brains.

He got up reluctantly and put them all off and then sat at the edge of the bed for a bit trying hard to will himself to take the shower. Last night’s activities must have been really been something because for some reason, he dozed off again! This time, with no alarms at the ready to wake him up, the next time he woke up was with a sinking feeling- he was late.

Jide looked at the time. 7.30am. That wasn’t good because in Lagos, the difference between 6a.m and 7a.m was like... well let's just say he was in shit creek with no paddle.


Someone stirred and he looked at the reason he was late. Well, even if he got a warning, it would be well worth it, for if Jide Omisade had one weakness, it was pretty girls with beautiful bodies, and wit.

The shower didn’t take him that long, and neither did dressing up.Today was easy, he was going to work, meeting with a client, then having drinks with another one of his friend’s that was betraying bachelorhood; so, his light blue shirt with chinos, black belt, tie and shoes, and some ‘Old Spice’ to charm the client. It was now 8a.m but he was sure with some creative thinking (he’d blame a flat tyre), and some creative driving (he was known as the king of 360 degrees turns right from secondary school), he could still get away with it.
As for the vision in satin on her bed, he knew she would let herself out and not call him till the next time her dead-beat boyfriend went out of town and she needed ‘to talk’ And talking was one thing he was great at.

So wrapped up was he in his plans that he forgot not to count his chicks till they were hatched. There, right in front of him was karma punishing him for even thinking of lying to his boss. Not only did he have TWO flat-tyres with no jack in his car, but he now remembered his happy and alcoholic self letting his brother ‘borrow’ his spare tyre the night before. “Shit!” What to do? He had to think fast. He made a few calls, but he was just too late and his colleagues living in that area had left already. Well at least, he was sure of a ride back. He checked his physical cash, paltry. No cab driver carried a pos machine around that’s for sure. He quickly legged it to the nearest bank and tried the A.T.M. Damn! What was up today? The damn machine was faulty! What was he going to do?

He stood there thinking. He could try to get to another bank, or, he could…
“Yaba! Yaba!”
…He could get into that bus. Okay, the last time he got into a bus was when he was in his first year at university and he now worked in a company where you were judged based on what car you drove and whether your shoes where by some designer with an unpronounceable name so really, bus-hopping was frowned upon. Sometimes you’re desperate though. And sometimes, you look into the bus and you see a pretty girl with long hair sitting by the window, with the seat beside her vacant and suddenly, your choice is made. He’d just get down and walk the rest of the way to work; no one would ever know.

He got in and headed straight where his brain, well the other one anyway, led him to, right beside her. He only hoped to God that her voice would match her face, and wow, see that cleavage. Maybe it was divine that he had a flat. “Don’t you just hate Monday mornings?” He prayed she would give a half-decent reply. Even if she wasn’t witty, charming or funny, all he needed was some indication that she wasn’t all bad. “Personally, I think Sunday evenings suck. It’s like Mondays become the anti-climax, and every girl loves a climax”.
That’s it, he was getting married.

She was not only funny, but also a good listener, rare for girls. He told her about how late he was for work and why he was on that bus, and she told him nothing, but listened and smiled a lot. And the journey would have been perfect had it not been for that one little snag.

He wasn’t sure where they were exactly, but he was sure that he hated the next words he heard. “Eyin te mi, oya, ibon re o”. He heard the words, and could see like five guys suddenly standing up and brandishing weapons, but it didn’t sink in properly until the slaps began.
“I don’t believe this, are they for real?” He asked her stupidly. Wasn’t it girls that asked stupid questions?
“It would seem, they look serious” She replied needlessly.
He felt the need to protect her, impress her. He leaned over and whispered, “I have a tazer you know, and we will be fine”
“And lucky me, I know some judo”
“You seem pretty calm for someone who is about to get robbed, or even worse.”
“Well, I have been known to work well under pressure. Besides, you haven’t noticed, have you?
“Noticed what?”
She leaned into him and whispered right back. “I’m with them”.
And then the lights went off.

“Oga, get up! Get up!”
He could hear voices. Some were directed at him, but others were just all around. He had a splitting headache but struggled to open his eyes. He was on the ground somewhere, and people were staring at him; he also seemed to have, at some point, been drenched with water. At least he hoped it was water.
“E don open im eyes oh”, he heard as some people left, while others gathered still. “Oga. You well?” a young boy asked him. Then he remembered everything. “Wetin happen?” He asked. This was not the time for his Prep School English; some good ol’ pidgin was needed. “Na one chance oh! E be like say you enter one chance”

Ah yes, of course. The bus, the thugs, and the beautiful wench with the uppercut, or whatever that was she had done to him. He looked around, nothing. Checked his pockets. Nothing. They had taken everything; his watch, wallet, shoes…everything.

“Make you try stand oga, make you go see Doctor”
.
“Thank you” He mumbled as he got on his feet, his head still throbbing. A policeman came towards him. “Your lucky shine o, na only you dem drop, dem come drive off again.” The police-man seemed more interested in the gist than in say, maybe asking questions like how many they were and where the bus was headed. Whatever, he wasn’t surprised, and he was kinda grateful; I could be worse, they could hold him for questioning.
“Abi you go come give statement? You remember anyone of dem?”. Tall, white shirt and grey pants, red lipstick and a killer smile. “I no see dem well o, make I go hospital, e be like say my back dey pain me, as dem trow me…” There was no way he was going to a police station in Nigeria. No one was asking yet, but what if there was the lone smart officer who would wonder, “How come you were the only one they let off the bus?”. He could hazard a guess and he foolishly thought to himself about how he might not have minded if she had held on to him for a few hours and ‘tortured’ him. But wait, what if her other friends, them with the biceps and guns, wanted in on the action as well? So, no statements, all he lost was money and shoes; oh but those shoes!

He had to call his brother. Funny, the policeman actually lent him his phone, so he called his brother. Thirty minutes and several pure waters later, he was in a car, being driven to the clinic, and then, he would go to work. Yeah, he might have just faced an ordeal but where he worked, unless you were dead or buried alive, you showed up at work and recuperated there.

The nurse at the hospital was actually really pretty. Dare he hope..?

“O what a pitied, they ‘ave ‘urt you”, she said. If they were pretty, they didn’t speak well. If they were pretty and spoke well, they were armed robbers.
Go figure.

“Wetin be dis?” She asked as she helped him take his shirt off. He had not felt it before but there it was, his sim wrapped in a small piece of paper, taped to his shirt. He took it and out it in his pocket, and then he noticed there was a note on the note.

“Get a new line, maybe I’ll give you a call. I have your card after all”.

He didn’t know if that was good or bad, but somehow, that just made his brain tingle.
Yes,
the other brain.



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