Category Archives: My Free Reads

Purely fiction. My short shorts

Status Change

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Risi was sure she had died and gone to heaven. The opulence of the Sangani palace was nothing short of spectacular. Even the toilet seat cover was made with gold. She secured the sash to her fluffy white robe and stepped onto the balcony. The private suite she now called home overlooked the Moroccan mountains.

“My lady, breakfast is served,” one of her female servants said.

Risi walked over to the corner where the spread was laid out. Her brown eyes brightened at the variety exhibited before her. Her voluminous hips didn’t need the extra calories but her stomach begged to differ. The aroma of the khobz Moroccan bread tickled her nostrils. She tore a piece and dipped it in the olive oil. She closed her eyes while her taste buds danced with joy.

She lowered herself into the chair and watched as another servant proceeded to fix her plate. He poured her some Moroccan tea made with sage she had come to love and laced her plate with khili and eggs, sausages and potatoes

“Thank you,” Risi said.

Left alone, Risi bowed her head to say grace. With the way things were working out, she resolved never to miss a single opportunity to pray. She was a witness, it worked. She sipped on her tea when up the side stairs, the object of her affection appeared—Zabor Kaheem II. Risi’s breath caught as a wide smile made her dimples sink in.

The early morning sun brought out the rich milk chocolate color of his skin. Even in the distance his sexiness mesmerized her. His six feet four frame complimented hers. There was something she found thrilling about having to stand at the tip of her toes when he kissed her. His white linen trousers and an expensive looking pink shirt swayed to the effect of the wind coming from the ocean beneath. His shoulder length, black, wavy hair—which was a tell-tale sign of his mixed blood—shaped his perfectly chiseled face. He was a pretty man. An adjective he hated.

“Aha my love you are awake,” Zabor said in his deep baritone voice. His dark green eyes fixed on her.

“Yes, my prince.” Risi lowered her eyes.

She and Zabor had met in South Africa a month ago. Her telecommunication job sent her on a three day conference which happened to be hosted by one of Zabor’s numerous companies. It was love at first sight. After the conference, he took her on a whirlwind romantic getaway. His private jet was their preferred mode of transportation as they visited the most exotic locations in the world. The lovebirds spent two days in Maui, Tahiti, Bora Bora, and finally Paris where proposed to her.

Risi couldn’t wait for the day to break in Nigeria when she called Mr. Moluko. He owned the chemist near her parent’s home and often let them use his cell phone since they didn’t have one of their own. Her parents listened attentively to her news. Once they heard the words “marriage”, “prince” and “rich” and her mother broke out into a worship song. She was sure they didn’t hear anything else.

Then out of the blue her mother began chanting. “Our status don change o. Who is it again that said my thirty year old daughter no go marry? My enemies have failed. Ha my God is good.”

Risi and Zabor were on their way to Ogbode, her hometown to perform the traditional marriage rights when he got a call from his father—the king. They had to tie up some unfinished business with another merger. Things took an unexpected turn causing them to stay in Morocco longer than expected. Since they won’t be going to Nigeria soon they decided to get married.

“Have I told you today how much I love you?” He lowered his head as his lips sought hers.

She closed her eyes, swallowed her response and mentally prepared for the earth shattering onslaught to come.

“Risi, Risi,Risi.” The voice of her best friend, Mgbeke transported her back to the reality. “Which kain yeye sleep you dey sleep?”

Risi slowly opened her eyes and looked around.  She frowned as she noticed people sitting like pools of misery fenced in by elbows and shopping bags. The stench of the bus filled her nostrils; she coughed and wiped the edges of her mouth. She placed her book mark in her latest romantic read.

“We’re there,”Mgbeke said.

It was Tuesday. Every week for an hour they meet in the church for the “Operation Find Your Rib Singles Meeting.” Risi peered out the window as the bus came to a halt. The line was longer than usual, ladies of different shapes and sizes expecting their miracle. This was her third year of membership and hopefully her last. Today when it was her turn to recite the qualities she wanted in a husband, it would be those of the man that dared invade her dreams.

© Unoma Nwankwor 2014

Photocredit  blog.paradizo.com 

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Molasses ~ A Short Story

molasesTwenty nine year old Adesuwa Eremu adjusted her eyes to the sunlight that invaded the room. This was the dawning of a new day, today she’d announce her engagement to sixty five year old Chief Xavier. She was never going to have an ordinary day again.  She turned over drawing the duvet over her head. She wished she could disappear. As a matter of fact, she had many wishes. Most essential among them, was that she had shut her mouth. She couldn’t believe the widowed millionaire was holding her to a wager she made six months ago.

There was a knock on the door; she picked up her phone by the bedside, it told her it was 8:00 am.

“What in the world…” she muttered under her breath.

She made the sign of the cross blessing the Lord for another day, and then searched for her robe. With her sash tightly secured, she swung her legs across the bed. The knock came again, more impatient.

“I’m coming.” Adesuwa slowly made her way to the door. She quickly took off her head wrap, freeing her light brown mane to fall to her shoulders. Her 5feet 4inches frame swayed with the motion of the ocean. That was another thing; why on this green earth did they have to have such an elaborate engagement party on a cruise ship? The Princess Cruise Liner took them thousands of miles away from Nigeria. Although she really couldn’t complain about being able to see the beautiful city of Dakar, Senegal. Adesuwa opened the door to an elderly woman. Two younger women flanked her on each side. They carried clothes and cases of what Adesuwa assumed to be cosmetics.

“Good Morning, we have been instructed to get you ready for your interview this morning,” the older woman said. She brushed past Adesuwa without an invitation; the other two ladies followed and began setting up their equipment.  Adesuwa had no idea what the old lady’s problem was but she had bigger ones at the moment, so couldn’t be bothered.

Three hours later, Adesuwa was fed and dressed like a princess. Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined wearing clothes designed by names she couldn’t pronounce.  She looked at herself in the mirror. The number of creases on her forehead seemed to be multiplying by the day. What had she gotten herself into?  She promised her father on his deathbed that she’d ensure their telecommunications company—Divine Communications—not only survived but became best in class. Her desire to prove that she could do anything a male child would have done, had literally driven her to sell her soul. As much as she tried, for the last two years she couldn’t turn the company around. She had paid many of the company’s creditors or made deals with them but Xavier Holdings proved difficult. Her father had devoted his life to her and her late mother. She couldn’t let him down. Not even in death. In one last desperate plea, she placed a wager.

“If I don’t pay you what I owe in six months, I’ll marry you,” she had bragged to the Chief when he barged into her Somolu office.

Her pride had taken over that day. Marriage was a sacred thing.  How could she be so conceited? Now he won’t let her out of their agreement. Chief Nathaniel Xavier wasn’t bad on the eyes, he just wasn’t her type. They weren’t in love or anything; maybe she could learn to love him. After all her mother always told her tales of how she learned to love her father. Her heart ached. There was only one person who had taken her breath away.

Adesuwa plopped down on the chair as her mind travelled back to her best friend’s wedding three years ago. She saw him, their gazes locked; the atmosphere was electric. There was something sweet about his slightly crooked smile.  A group of people separated them but they moved towards each other. She was almost there, until one of the groomsmen grabbed her arm, the bride needed her help. She looked away and in an instant he was gone. He looked like one of those underwear models. His dark chocolate skin, neatly locked hair and muscular frame took over her dreams and recently her thoughts. Not knowing his name she nicknamed him Molasses.

She let out an exaggerated sigh. “Well, no use crying over spilt milk.”

With sometime time to kill before her interview, Adesuwa decided to take in the sights of the cruise liner. She stood and straightened her multi-colored, V neck dress, to rid it of any creases. Then eased her feet into the black pumps she was given. She had never worn shoes with red bottoms but this was her life now and she better get used to it.  She put on her game face—Emelia Kaden of ‘Naija Happenings’ was on board to conduct the exclusive interview. She applied a dash of lip gloss and headed out.

As she made her way down the deserted corridor, the smell of the fresh ocean breeze assaulted her nostrils. She inhaled deeply taking in the smell but her surroundings. The ship was actually a city floating on water—magnificent. She settled for a quiet spot near the mini aquarium to people-watch. In the crowd she saw a dark figure approaching, she shook her head in an effort to clear any residual memory that was playing with her mind. No it couldn’t be, she thought.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Molasses said, sporting his signature smile.

Little prickly goose bumps took over Adesuwa’s skin, her mouth fell open. Her eyes bulged threatening to roll out of their sockets, her heart began to palpitate.  She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. He extended his hand to her; she calmly placed her hand in his. She found her voice but couldn’t use it because Chief Xavier walked up behind Molasses and gave him a pat on his back. Her soon to be fiancé knew… Molasses?  Her thoughts went into overdrive.  Molasses obviously remembered her. What was he doing here? How did he know Chief? Ha! See me see wahala, just my luck; Molasses will be this man’s son.

Chief Nathaniel Xavier rubbed his pot belly and grinned like a Cheshire cat. “I see you two have met.”

“Excuse me?” Adesuwa and Molasses asked in unison

“Young lady, I’ve watched you since your father died. Your devotion and tenacity is one that I admire, so when the opportunity presented itself. I called your bluff, but not for me, for my godson here.” Chief Xavier said.

Adesuwa’s eyes travelled from Molasses to Chief Xavier. This man was obviously impressed with himself.  Did Molasses know about this? She wanted to be angry but the emotion escaped her. Relief took its place.

“What about the reporter?” Adesuwa asked cautiously.

“Emelia is a guest on the ship, so I asked her to cover an announcement—my new investment in Divine Communications,” Chief Xavier replied.

“Nosakhare Osaige met Adesuwa Eremu,” Chief Xavier made the introductions.

“Call me Nosa,” he smiled.

Nosakhare, meaning, What God has said. She smiled. God was surely watching over her.

(c) 2014 Unoma Nwankwor

Proof~ A Flash Fiction Story

black-woman-frowningThe music blared from the speakers placed at strategic parts of the street. The mild movement of the wind did little to drown the smell of liquor. Everyone was having a good time.

Adaeze had stepped away for some fresh air when the lights appeared out of the darkness. She recognized the car immediately. What was Ade doing here? Since when did he attend block parties?

He got out of the car and a woman ran up to him. Adaeze ducked so she won’t be seen. She could barely make out what he was saying to the woman but the hug spoke for itself. Even a blind man could see that was no ordinary hug. Didn’t he say he was born again?

Shaking her head, Adaeze reached into her purse for her cell phone. She was going to take pictures of him. If she told Ndidi about this with just mouth she’d never believe her. Her cousin was so caught up in the euphoria of love that no one could tell her anything.

“But today na today. I’ll present her with evidence,” Adaeze muttered as she focused the camera. After all pictures are worth a thousand words.

She always knew he was too good to be true. Her first indication was how he passed over all her “fabulousity” and walked straight up to her cousin when they were in Starbucks some months ago. So what if Ndidi had helped him pick up his papers from the floor. It wasn’t Adaeze fault he spilled them and her skirt was way too short for her to be bending over. Well if she had seen his face then she would have made an exception.

In spite of that fact, it still remained a mystery to her how a man who stood at about 6ft 4in, toned to perfection, with a shiny bald head to match, be interested in ‘lil ol fat Ndidi. That much swag and sexy, Adaeze was convinced that God must have made him in the morning. To top of his appeal, he claimed to love Jesus?

He was exactly the kind of man Ndidi claimed she was waiting on, curled up with a book Friday nights while Adaeze went out on the town.

“No man like that will just fall in your lap,” Adaeze had chided her cousin.

“I’m not asking him to fall. But I will go about my life and the right one would come along,” Ndidi had said tucking her feet snugly underneath herself.

Well now Adaeze had proof he isn’t the right one.

 

As her finger pressed hard on the click button, she felt someone’s clammy fingers on her bare shoulders.  She turned around and her lips dropped. She could have sworn he was just in front of her. She turned back to face him, now angered at the sly grin on his face. She figured out, he probably saw the focus of her attention

“Hi, I see you’ve ‘met’ my twin, Akin,” Ade said.

©2013Unoma Nwankwor

Desperate Measures

stock-footage-hispanic-cardiologist-with-african-american-coupleFumes from what had to be expired disinfectant went up Victoria’s nose as they stepped in through the government hospital’s sliding doors.

Tekena tightened his hold on her arm as they headed towards the emergency room. He had not said a word since the school called to inform them about the school bus accident. Luckily, there were no fatalities. However, their only child, Somi, was badly hurt.

They stopped in front of the nurses’ station. Tekena cleared his throat. “Please, we are here for our son, Somi Amadi,” he said. “He was in the school bus accident.”

Looking up from a file, the nurse popped the gum in her mouth. Watching her, Victoria wanted to slap the taste out of her mouth. Even though it was not the Christian thing to do. She mentally calculated how fast it would take for them to get Somi moved to a private hospital.

“Nurse, I said we’re looking for our son. Where is he?” Tekena said in a loud voice.

Oh no, Victoria thought. Now, she would really take her time.

The nurse narrowed her eyes. “Mister, please lower your voice. This is a no-noise zone. The doctor wants to see you. But he is in the emergency room with a lot of the students.” She gestured toward the waiting area. “Please have a seat. He would be with you shortly.”

An hour later, the doctor was yet to see them. They were informed by another nurse that Somi needed a blood transfusion. Since they both couldn’t remember their blood types, samples were taken for a match.As they waited, Victoria’s chest tightened with each passing minute. When the doctor finally showed up with a puzzled look, she knew what he was about to say.

Her mind skipped back eight years. After waiting ten years for a child, she had been desperate. She was desperate. She couldn’t go back to Nigeria with another miscarriage story. She did what she had to do.

The doctor’s voice snapped her back to the present.” Mr. & Mrs. Amadi, there is something I need to tell you,” he said. “Somi Amadi, can’t be your child.”

Her stomach heaved as Tekena turned in her direction. “Victoria?”

©Unoma Nwankwor 2013

Photcredit: google.com

This material is not to be reproduced or copied except with permission of the author.