Dora Okeyo – EAFF Profile

The EA Friday Feature is a circle of five writers who write 1,000 word flash fiction stories every Friday and post them on their blogs.  This week, we feature these authors, as we get to know them better, and learn what inspires them to write their stories.

Dora from Nilichoandika

I’ve read loads of Dora’s stories.  I’ve also reviewed them on this same blog, so when she agreed to be part of the EA Friday Feature, I was excited.  It’s great to have a seasoned author write with you, she makes me want to keep going as she writes on like nothing will ever stop her.  Dora writes great romance stories, however, she’s branched off to delicious African Tales in her series of books called “The Currents Series.”  The first of which was Fire, and then there was Water, now here’s a glimpse of Wind.

When the wind blows, even the strongest of trees sways.
He felt it while he was at the training grounds.
The people who witnessed it said they had never known the wind to have such anger that it brought down branches of the strongest trees to fall on their roofs.
When he felt the wind on his face, he put down his shield and ran right into it.
The people who saw him wondered why he would do such a thing, but he knew where he was going.
He was Wema.
He was going back home, back to Leo.

Author Profile:

Dora is a wanderer whose writing attempts have earned her some reviews. She is neither famous nor rich, but loves reading and drinking coffee. She is currently forcing her family and close friends to read her book, Fire. It is available on Amazon.
To follow her day in day out life, forget reality TV, and follow her on Twitter, @herhar.

Elly in Nairobi: You are working on the Currents Series:  I’ve read your second book Water, and the following book three is out too.  Please tell us a bit about this series, what inspired it, and the passion in the story.

Dora: The Currents Series was inspired by a friend’s frustration with his Father on his responsibilities and studies. He kept saying how much his Dad wanted so much from him and he was tired.  So I thought that could be a theme, where you have such high expectations of your son and they do the exact opposite (as most if not all kids do). I didn’t start writing the series immediately, because it was more like “that could be a good plot right there” kinda feeling, but as time went by I gave it a shot and now I am writing the final book in the series.

Elly in Nairobi: Have you always written fiction?  How did you get started?  What made you feel, yes, I can sit down and put down fiction on paper?

 Dora: I cannot stipulate an exact time when I started writing fiction, but its always been snippets of stories and scenes in my mind and some have made their way online while most have found themselves in my journal.
There is however a story I wrote in high school called ‘Butterfly Gossips’ that made rounds in class, and had ardent followers even during lessons, especially the Agriculture and History lessons. This made me write more.

Elly in Nairobi: How do you see fiction in Kenya?  What would you like to see happen in terms of publishing, reading, movies e.t.c..Kenyan fiction

Dora: There are lots of writers in Kenya and social media has made it easy for aspiring writers to get feedback and have their works noticed. Isn’t it odd and grand that most people have blogs in Kenya? (Yep, lots of blogs)
On other hand, there is the need to nurture these writers because there is no regulation on the quality of content, and this could go a long way in improving the quality of blog posts and the writing.  I wish Kenya had a paper mill, yes, according to my history, Webuye paper mill was closed, but we need to produce paper because now that we import, paperbacks published in the country are expensive due to the tax on imported paper. You’ll see a book by a Kenyan Writer on the shelf but it’s going for eight hundred or a thousand shillings plus, yet right outside the supermarket there’s a vendor selling international books at a hundred shillings, wouldn’t that hinder you from buying the book by the Kenyan Writer? (It sure does)

Elly in Nairobi: Does your day job affect your writing habits in any way? What is the strangest question you’ve been asked when you say you write fiction?

Dora: Yes, it does. First, my job entails a lot of traveling and I can always encounter something amusing or frustrating to write about, but sometimes I am too exhausted to write.

The strangest question I’ve been asked when I say I am a Writer, has to definitely be ‘what do you write about?’
I always wonder isn’t that old? I prefer someone asking me to tell them about a story or a character that I wrote about. It’s still on what I write about but it focuses on a specific aspect.

Elly in Nairobi: Your favorite book?
Dora: I have a long list of books, but let’s say that I loved literature and narration through a lot of books, but when it comes to dialogue, it’s Chinua Achebe I resonate with the most.

Elly in Nairobi: Do you have another hobby?
   Dora: Yes, I love photography and cooking. If it can be fried, then I will fry it, nothing gets me like preparing fried food.

Elly in Nairobi: Anything else you’d like to tell your readers, or potential fans…
   Dora: Read as widely as you can, you can bury your nose in books, magazines, not just newspapers only, yes, and it never hurts to share a review of a good book. If you read a book, you have traveled on a journey with an author, and it wouldn’t hurt to share what you’ve learned from it with other people.

Get her Currents Books Here:

Also, she has a lot  of free stories to read, download them here.

Thank you so much for answering my questions Dora.

That wraps up the round of interviews from the EA Friday Feature writers.  Look forward to the September and October Issues.  Keep writing folks! And if you read it and love it, review it too.

Annemarie Musawale – EAFF Profile

The EA Friday Feature is a circle of five writers who write 1,000 word flash fiction stories every Friday and post them on their blogs.  This week, we feature these authors, as we get to know them better, and learn what inspires them to write their stories.

Annemarie from Child of Destiny

I love her stories because they always touch on the paranormal, the other world, or just plain fun.  Her wit makes me laugh, and let’s not forget the love of Sam and Dean in Supernatural.  This October, she’s worked on her story about a man named Bulitia.  He’s a man taken from his home and thrust into a new world, this story reminds me a bit of Amistad.  Annemarie has also published a book this October.

Child of Destiny is her third book out…here’s a short glimpse.

….“Where’s your grandmother?” he asked, in a tone that strove for light curiosity but ended up sounding 9adeaa199e5a6176d119271c9da987e2e13ff309merely exasperated.

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously; he noticed that they became almost black.

“Why?” she asked.

“Well, I’ve been here three times and haven’t really seen her. I just wondered…” he replied, managing this time to sound casual about it.

She seemed to think about his answer like she was searching for loopholes or hidden implications.

“She went to New Orleans,” she replied finally,“for the festival.”

“Festival?” he asked, intrigued.

He put down his brush and sat on the floor facing her.

“The Feast of the Dead,” she replied.

“The feast…of the dead?” he asked tentatively.

“Yes,” she replied without embellishment.

“You mean like Toussaint?” he asked, accenting it correctly in French.

“Yes,” she said in surprise that he knew that name.

“But…isn’t that like, on Halloween?” he asked, trying to get her to speak in more than one syllable.

“It is.” She replied.

He raised his eyebrows at her, and kept silence so she would be forced to fill it.

After a minute of staring, she sighed and said, “My grandpa George is buried in the family crypt in New Orleans. Every year, my grandmother and…other friends gather to celebrate the day of his death which was 17th of August, 1980. They prepare immortelles for his grave, burn candles and tell stories to remember him. It is a ceremony that starts on the day of his death and concludes on Toussaint or the All Saints Day as the Christians call it. This year is special because it’s the ten year anniversary of his death.”

This little speech brought up so many questions for him; he didn’t know where to start…

“By friends, you mean other witches?” he asked her, wondering if she would answer.

She did not generally talk about her witchyness. If it hadn’t been for The Charlotte Incident, he probably wouldn’t have believed the stories.

“Witches, warlocks, other family members…” she replied with a shrug…”

Read more of this story, get the book here: Child of Destiny

Author Profile:

Annemarie Musawale is a free spirited single mom with a passion for reading and writing stories.  She’s lived in Nairobi, Kenya for most of her life but considers herself to be a citizen of the world. She is a very cerebral person, able to exist mostly in her head which is very advantageous because the life of a writer is rather solitary. Her first story was written at some point in nursery school and her mother said, “Very Good, keep going”, so she did. But somehow she did not consider it as a career choice. She assumed writing stories is just what people do…like in their spare time. However when her son was about nine, he got a serious respiratory infection that required him to be admitted to hospital. Her job working as a pharm tech for a chemist meant she could not get any leave time to go be with her son in his time of need. That was when she considered a career change which would give her greater flexibility. Enter Academic Writing…which lead to other types of writing for money. Somehow, through that process, her first book, Child of Destiny was written and submitted to the Kwani Manuscript Project.  The rest is kind of history.

Elly in Nairobi:  You have recently published a book, Child of Destiny, tell us a bit about this book.
Annemarie:
Child of Destiny is the first book I wrote in this series (Child of Destiny series), yet it’s the last to be published. It’s about the power of love to overcome and what the magic of love can produce if you let it. It’s totally not a romantic story though. It serves too much realness for that. But because of its realness, it seems to me to be likely to happen sometime somewhere. That’s what I try to do with all my stories however outlandish; make them likely. I really enjoyed writing this one; I didn’t hold back in any area and people might go from fanning themselves in arousal to embarrassment. Hopefully it starts some conversations going. Mostly I just really want people to enjoy it.

Elly in Nairobi: What inspires you to write fiction?  What is your favorite thing about writing fiction?
Annemarie:
The thing I love about fiction is the creation of worlds and universes that both the reader and the writer can escape into when reality gets too harsh. Its also just another form of being a creative being that
God made us to be. Everyone has the gift of creation;mine is stories.

Elly in Nairobi:  What is your day like?
Annemarie:
My day begins with checking my mail and then my social media. After that, I set up my ‘office’ either on my verandah or my living room depending on the weather and my mood. Have some breakfast and get to
work. Sometimes I exercise before starting on my workday, other times I don’t. Depends on my energy levels. I write most of the day sometimes until past midnight with one or two stops for meals and lots of tea.

Elly in Nairobi:  The quirkiest thing you’ve done lately.
Annemarie:
The quirkiest thing I’ve done lately is DM Rihanna on twitter a link to my book I guess.

Elly in Nairobi: What is it like for you writing the EA Friday Feature?
  Annemarie: I enjoy the camaraderie of having five other writers collaborating with me. It’s a window to other worlds and teaches me something about how other writers are doing things. It also gives me feedback on my writing which is wonderful. I love honest feedback.

Elly in Nairobi Anything you’d like to tell your readers, and new fans.
Annemarie:
I’d like to tell my readers that I have created the Child of Destiny universe for their enjoyment and maybe also they learn something new they didn’t know. I try to base my legends and all in actual historical fact as much as possible though I don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story. I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Get her Book today:
9adeaa199e5a6176d119271c9da987e2e13ff309

Download it at Smashword

Price: $5

 

Thank you Annemarie for taking the time for this short interview.   I look forward to reading more stories from your blog.  Look forward to an interview from Vincent of Flashes of Vice

 

Maureen Wakarindi – EAFF Profile

The EA Friday Feature is a circle of five writers who write 1,000 word flash fiction stories every Friday and post them on their blogs.  This week, we feature these authors, as we get to know them better, and learn what inspires them to write their stories.

Maureen Wakarindi from Nepenthe

Maureen joined the EA Friday Feature group in September, and she’s blog2added a great new set of stories to our little circle.  I have especially enjoyed reading her story, Some Kind of Love.  Here’s a short glimpse:

 ….As for technology, the villagers were a simple folk. They were used to relying on what they could see with their own eyes.

Last year, Waiguru, a daughter of the tribe, had gone out to the world in search of education and come back with many new things, including a mobile phone. As was customary, she had presented it to her father as a gift and showed him how to use it to call his brother who lived in another country. The whole village had gathered to witness this strange phenomenon.

When the brother’s voice came over the speaker, Mzee Ayubu having not known what to expect, had reacted with fear. He had declared that, as the spiritual leader of the community, Ngai had told him that they were evil spirits. He also declared that the devil had decided to pitch tent in his daughter and therefore, the only way to get him out was to beat the hell out of her. That said, the next hour was spent publicly flogging his daughter while the other villagers simultaneously prayed for their souls and encouraged him to beat her harder.  To get out the devil, of course.  As if that wasn’t enough she had to watch as her precious phone was thrown into the communal fire and burnt to a crisp. Henceforth, she was known as the girl who had brought the devil to the village to feast on everyone’s souls ( the gossipers had exaggerated the story a little bit to make it more interesting). It was no wonder that when she next left the village she did not return. Neither did development….”

Read more of this amazing story at her blog.

Author Profile:

I am Maureen Wambui, God fearing, intelligent and an observer of
people. I love cars, heights and sarcasm. I can be loud, opinionated
and stubborn, but you’ll love me anyway. I am a lover of words and
nothing gives me greater pleasure than being able to use those words
in my story. I have two blogs, and I also write for the Storymoja blog
using the name Maureen Wakarindi. Please feel free to stalk my work,
and tell me what you think.

1. What has it been like to write for the EA Friday Feature?
Writing for the EA Friday Feature has been a great experience. Apart from meeting and knowing other amazing writers, it has really pushed me to write something that my readers will love and can relate to.

2. What inspires you to write fiction?   Have you always written? Do you share your work elsewhere?
I have always written fiction. I find it easier to bring out my thoughts and feelings when it’s in a hypothetical situation. I share my work on my personal blog, wakarindimaureen.wordpress.com.

3. What type of characters inspire you?  When you read books, what kind of stories leave you feeling like you’ve really changed, or been inspired?
I love characters that are real,characters that have a certain human flaw or are endearing in their very nature.When I read a book, I am drawn to the stories within the story. That is why I mostly look for series.

4. Tell us what fun thing have you done this year?  Do you think you’ll do it again?
I was an intern and blogger at Storymoja Festival this year. It gave me the opportunity to learn from and interact with many well known literary personalities and they really helped me to be better. Given a chance I would definitely do it again.

From Maureen:

When I write I use my words to paint a picture of what I want to
say. My only wish is that the reader feels and can relate to the
emotion I portray.

Thank you, Maureen for agreeing to do this short interview. Look forward to the next interview from the Super Annemarie of Child of Destiny

October Snippets – The EA Friday Feature

EAFF Sept

Beautiful October is coming to an end, and this month the EA Friday Feature writers have been letting their creative juices run wild.  The plan in October was to write without a prompt, and instead let the creative juices run.  Each participating blogger wrote 1,000 words on Friday, of an original story that fit their most favorite genre.

I love reading great stories, and these bloggers have not disappointed this month.

Next week, this blog features each of these amazing writers and their blogs.  I can’t wait to share their stories outside the EA Friday Feature.

Look forward to it.  Meanwhile, visit their blogs, read great stories.

 

E. A. Friday Feature Bloggers:

Dora from Nilichoandika

Annemarie from Child of Destiny

Vincent from Flashes of Vice

Maureen from Nepenthe

&

Elly from Love in Nairobi (that’s this blog)

 

The Girl with the Golden Smile – 7

7 – Choices

Nalia clutched her handbag, as she waited outside the Kilimani courthouse. Her choices led her to this moment; still divorceEA 2 wasn’t an easy choice. She’d struggled with the decision. Her hand touched her jaw, and for the first time in years marveled at the lack of pain.
Men and women alike glanced her way, as they passed her. She was glad to find the overwhelming urge to keep her head down gone. Before, with Malik, she’d found it hard to look up, afraid people would guess how she’d gotten the bruises on her jaw. God, she’d hated that feeling. That helpless feeling that she couldn’t express without tears filling her eyes, and sliding down her cheeks.

Nalia let out a soft breath and glanced at the time on her phone.

Nicholas was late.

She frowned.

Nicholas.

He remained worlds away, even though they’d spent almost everyday together for the past two months. Nicholas had turned cold toward her after he found out she was married.

As if a switch had turned off inside him, Nalia’s frown deepened.

Perhaps he judged her choices harshly. She couldn’t tell. Nicholas helped her without complaint. He wasn’t her lawyer; he’d refused that job outright, and instead, had gotten a competent woman named Christine who worked with FIDA.

Christine was a godsend.  Christine had taken her through the divorce process without asking for money first. When Malik had shown up at the new one-room house Nalia was renting, Christine helped save her from a beating. Christine had used that incident to get the law on Nalia’s side. There was nothing to fight for in court. Nalia didn’t want anything Malik owned, or his money. She was afraid that money would haunt her. She thanked God everyday that they hadn’t gotten children. It made the divorce process easier.

Nalia sighed leaning on the wall.

“Are you happy?” Malik asked and she looked up in surprise to find him standing a few feet away from her.

“I asked, are you happy Nalia?” Malik asked when she didn’t answer him right away.

Malik looked tired, his suit hanging on his shoulders, his jaw unshaven. His eyes, however, still held the same anger toward her. He refused to forgive her for making the choice to leave their home.

“I’m happy,” she said now, her voice strong.

“You’ve made us into the talk of the town. Everyone knows we’re divorced. How are you going to keep working at the school? Surely parents will shun you for being a divorcee,” he sneered.

“If they don’t want me there, I can always get a transfer to another school,” Nalia said.

She had options. Christine taught her that. Refusing to leave a bad marriage was not one of those options. Christine taught her that choosing to live a free and happy life was the most important decision to make.

“You have everything figured out,” Malik said.

Far from it, Nalia thought. Holding Malik’s gaze, she straightened her shoulders.

“No, I don’t. All I know is that I don’t want you slapping me because you don’t get what you want.”

Malik scoffed and took a step closer.

Fear arced through her, irrational fear, because they were in public. There were people passing them and the sun was out. Malik wouldn’t dare hurt her here, but still the fear grew deep inside her and she had to clench her fists to keep from running.

“You’re weak,” Malik said in a hateful tone. “You’re no beauty, and you could never fit my standards. It’s good you’ve left. I’ll find a better wife now.”

Nalia bit her inner lip wishing she could ignore his words. She knew Malik wanted to hurt her, and she shouldn’t let his words matter, yet they did. They mattered because she’d loved him. Loved him enough to marry him, and try to build a life with him.

Tears stung the back of her eyes and he smirked.

“I hope you’ll be happy,” she said in a tight voice.

She locked her knees as he stared at her for a moment, before he turned away and went into the courthouse. She fell back on the wall with a sigh once he disappeared, and took in a deep breath.

Warm hands clutched her shoulders and she looked up into Nicholas’s kind eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

The tears she’d held back fought their way out, her eyes filling; she blinked fast hoping to keep them at bay.

“You did well,” Nicholas said, squeezing her shoulders. “You did very well.”

She closed her eyes and the tears fell down her cheeks. Nicholas moved closer, handing her a handkerchief, he waited for her to wipe her eyes and compose herself.

“You’re late,” she said after a while, staring at his white handkerchief.

“I’m sorry.”

She met Nicholas’s gaze.  She wasn’t sure what he was sorry about, being late, or being cold toward her.

“Well, you’re here now,” she said with a small shrug. “Christine is getting paperwork done. She wanted to talk to you.”

“I know,” Nicholas said, his gaze still holding hers. “I’m—

She frowned when he broke off.

“What?” she asked.

“I thought distance was better,” Nicholas said abruptly. “I thought it would make this easier for you. Watching you stand up to him, I think I made a mistake. Nalia—

She dropped her gaze to his shirt collar. “I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me because of him and the divorce.”

“That’s not true,” Nicholas said touching her right shoulder.

Nalia met his gaze, a soft gasp escaped at the longing in his eyes.

“It’s time,” Christine interrupted coming up to them holding a pile of files. “We should go in.”

Nicholas nodded and squeezed Nalia’s right shoulder. Christine headed into the courthouse, but Nicholas stopped Nalia.

“It’s almost over,” he said.

Nalia smiled. “I feel like its just beginning.”

Nicholas took her right hand and squeezed gently.

“I’m right here,” he said. “Right here with you.”

It was hard to ignore the wave of happiness that swept through her.

****

Other Stories from the EA Friday Feature:

The Restaurant: You’re a Waiter

Some Kind of Love – 4

Unlucky 13

The Plot it Thickens

 

The Girl with the Golden Smile – 6

6 – Longing for Cupcakes

“Keep the library,” Nicholas said, surprising himself. Renovations at the Villa were underway.EA 2

“Nick, you wanted to divide the library and turn it into two bedrooms,” the contractor in charge argued,

“I’ve changed my mind,” Nicholas said sitting back in his office chair.

He couldn’t forget the sight of Nalia standing by the windows, sunlight dancing on her pretty face. She had looked like a goddess with a golden smile, designed to turn him into an idiot. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her?

“Nick?” his contractor said, cutting through his thoughts. “What about the books? They’re not exactly the best—

“Box them,” Nicholas said. “I’ll collect them this weekend.”

He knew a man who could restore those books.

“Whatever you want,” his disgruntled contractor said. “You’re the boss.”

Nicholas sighed.

“Keep to the schedule, Tony. We’re not working on this house for six months.”

“I promised one month, Nick,” Tony said.

“Make sure you keep the promise,” Nick urged ending the call.

The trouble with renovation and construction, no matter how many deadlines the contractor had, they always went beyond those deadlines.

Nicholas stared at his phone, ignoring the pile of files on his desk. Legal papers to notarize, cases to work, requests from his bosses to fill, today, he’d be stuck in his office until midnight.  His finger slid over his phone’s screen and he tapped on a two-month-old message from Nalia.

She’d paid the five hundred shillings through Mpesa. Her accompanying message read, “Thank you, Lifesaver.”

Nicholas smiled. He should have cleared the message by now, instead…he stared at the little smiley face she’d included and wondered how she was doing.

Nicholas wanted to reply to the message, had even composed replies, close to a dozen, but he never sent any. Exiting his messages, he placed his cell phone on the desk and shook his head.

This was no time to daydream about a woman. Nicholas reached for the folder on top of his pile and got to work. He had no time, he decided, no time to worry about a woman he’d met in the dark.

****

Two days later, Nicholas stood in line at a bakery opposite City Hall buying chocolate cupcakes. The aroma was delicious, but not the same one he remembered. He dreamt about that sweet scent of chocolate cupcakes every night it seemed.

His phone buzzed and Nicholas smiled when he saw Eli’s face on the screen.

“Come to my office,” Eli said in greeting.

“That’s in Westlands, you mad man. Traffic is killing right now,” Nicholas protested.

“I have a present for you,” Eli said. “If you don’t want it, fine, I’ll just eat Nalia’s cupcakes alone.”

Nicholas gaped. “What?”

“Cupcakes, chocolate,” Eli said with a laugh. “We have them at my office—

“Whose cupcakes?” Nicholas asked.

“Oh,” Eli chuckled. “Nalia. Remember her? Two months ago—

“I’m on the way.”

Nicholas dashed out of the bakery forgetting the order he’d made. The drive to Eli’s practice took one hour and that’s with reckless driving and angry horns from innocent drivers and pedestrians.

Traffic at two o’clock was no joke.

Nicholas drove into the Medical Plaza on Waiyaki way and parked at the front parking. He dumped his sunglasses on the dashboard, and got out of the car, his gaze roaming the three-story building that housed Eli’s medical practice.
Seemed as if business was good, what with the packed parking lot, Nicholas thought as he locked his car.
Nick went into the building and hurried through the lobby to catch the elevator as the doors closed.

“Hold,” he called out and cursed when the doors closed anyway.

He sighed and started to press the button to call another one. The doors opened and he stared at the woman carrying a cake box in the elevator.

“Nalia,” he whispered.

An older woman pushed her way past him into the open elevator, and Nalia gave him a frown.

“Are you coming?” she asked, her expression blank.

Nothing there to indicate she knew him, or she’d even been thinking about him. He scowled and entered the elevator, turning to punch the number to Eli’s office. The number three was lit, already pressed. His scowl deepened and he leaned on the wall, his gaze on Nalia.

The elevator stopped on the second floor, and the old woman exited. The doors closed and Nicholas crossed his arms against his chest.

“Hi Nalia,” he said. “Are you ill?”

She graced him with her smile.

“Hi, Nicholas,” she said. “Are you ill?”

“You can’t answer a question with a question.”

“And why not?”

“Because it’s going round in circles,” Nicholas said.

“Do I look sick to you?” Nalia asked.

Nalia looked great. Fitting silk green blouse, dark slacks that hugged her hips, her feet in green flats, no excess make-up, though her lips were a pretty red.  She was pretty.

“What?” she asked, when he didn’t comment.

Nicholas cleared his throat. “You look well.”

The elevator doors opened.

Nalia led the way out, Nicholas followed amazed when she got a round of hellos from the nurses at the reception desk. She got a very warm welcome, which was surprising. He’d never gotten that reaction from Eli’s nurses.

“How long have you been coming here?” Nicholas asked as they walked to Eli’s office.

“A while,” she said with a shrug.

He frowned. “Are you really not sick?”

Why else would she visit Eli so much?

Nalia shrugged and opened the door to Eli’s office. Nicholas followed, his frown only deepening when he saw Eli grin from ear to ear at the sight of Nalia. They greeted each other like old friends. He was jealous.

“Nick,” Eli said, glancing at him. “Come on in and close the door.”

“What’s going on here?” Nicholas asked, afraid of the answer.

Eli was single after all.

Eli took out a chocolate cupcake from the white box Nalia had set on his desk. He smiled and held it up.

“I promised you cupcakes, didn’t I?”

Eli took a bite and groaned with pleasure.

“You’re magic, Nalia. These are delicious. Your customers must be going crazy.”

Nicholas stopped in the middle of the office, his gaze on Nalia who sat in an armchair, that maddening smile on her lovely face.

“You own a bakery?” Nicholas asked.

“I do now,” Nalia said. “I’m also a teacher.”

“Sit down, Nick,” Eli said holding out a cupcake to him. “Nalia and me, we have a favor to ask you.”

Nicholas took the cupcake and sat next to Nalia. To think he’d been dreaming of these cupcakes for weeks. He smiled because in truth, he’d wanted to see Nalia, wanted to know more about her.

“Nicholas, Nalia needs a lawyer,” Eli said, shocking him. “Can you help?”

Nicholas turned to look at Nalia.

“I’m divorcing my husband.”

****

Thank you for reading. ^_^

Previous Chapters

Girl with a Golden Smile – 5

Other EA Friday Feature Stories:

The Restaurant – Waiting on Tables

Some Kind of Love

Porn with Plot

The 9th Circle

Have a Nice Day….

Prompt: Let’s have some fun, and go to a Rock Concert!!  Whatever rocks your boat. Yeah!!

Write 1,000 about this.

concert

Have a Nice Day….

Hunter picked up his guitar cases from the minivan’s floor, and scowled when the snap broke and the case opened. He knelt on the tarmac, and placed the case on the ground, reaching for the lid, he paused, his gaze on the expensive electric guitar resting in the black velvet bed.

Hunter touched the surface with reverence. The surface smooth to the touch, he smiled as he remembered the first time he’d fallen in love with the guitar.

Fourteen years old, he thought.

Listening to a random station in the back of his mother’s house, Bon Jovi’s Have a Nice Day, damn, he loved that song. He’d sang that song every day after that. Screaming it out like a maniac so all the neighbors could hear him. He’d sing in the shower holding the soap like a microphone, at the dinner table with his spoon for a microphone. He’d sang that song until his mother had started calling him, ‘Have a Nice Day’.

Of course, he’d grown out of the phase of singing ‘Have a Nice Day’ aloud when no one was happy about it, but not his love for guitars. At fifteen, he’d cajoled his father into paying for classes at a private music school in Hurlingham. He winced at that memory. His father had used it against him for years…through high school really.

Every time he failed exams, his father would threaten to discontinue paying for the classes.

Hunter sighed.

As a result, he’d worked like a maniac in school. Studying hard, keeping top grades, all for the love of guitars.  Snapping the case closed, Hunter got to his feet and carried the case toward the entrance into the Safaricom Kasarani Stadium.  His band was having three shows here, before moving on to Tanzania.

“Let me get that for you,” a young man hurried to his side, holding out a hand eager to take the case from him.

Hunter shook his head.  No way, he loved this baby too much to give it to anyone else.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said when the young man gave him a disappointed look. “Hey, what’s your name?”

“Maina,” the young man said a smile returning.

“Look Maina, maybe you can get me a large bottle of cold water. Cold, very cold.”

Maina grinned and hurried away in the maze of corridors. Hunter hoped Maina would know where to find him.

“What took you so long?”

Hunter glanced ahead to find his bandmates watching him.

His crew, he thought taking in the trio leaning on the wall, surrounded by management staff.

Hunter remembered the day he’d met them too. Nairobi University, at a poetry discussion meet, they’d all sat in the back, listening to poems about the world ending.  Depressed, they’d skipped out and instead gone to hang out at a local hangout joint and ended up starting a band.

There was Jake, the band’s drummer. Jake was an architect by profession. Then there was Troy. Troy had started out doing medicine before he ditched that major and pursued music. Troy wrote the band’s music. Then there was Kate. Kate with her long thick braids, and catty eyes that could chill a man’s blood, she was the band’s bassist.

Together, they made up the rock band, Furahi.

Hunter held up his guitar and Jake shook his head in amusement.

“No one will steal it,” Troy teased with a sigh, crossing his arms, his drumsticks held in his left hand.

Troy never let anyone carry those either, Hunter thought in amusement.

“Stop teasing him, Troy,” Kate said, moving to pull Hunter into the circle. “The back-up band is on stage rehearsing. I like their guitarist; he’s almost as good as you, but he’s missing the flair.”

“No one is as good as Hunter,” Troy scoffed. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t have him in the band.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” Hunter said with a smile, there was no ending Troy teasing him.

They’d all known each other for ten years. Lived through mistakes, bad decisions, devastating outcomes, and disappointments, Hunter could remember each one with a painful pang in his heart.

Furahi was successful today, but it hadn’t always been. Their down days haunted Hunter.

As though reading his thoughts, Jake touched his left arm.

“They say the tickets are sold out,” Jake said. “They’re worried fans will riot at the entrance.”

“That’s crazy,” Kate said her amazed expression understandable. “We’ve arrived folks.”

Jake and Troy chuckled; Hunter just squeezed Kate’s shoulder and nodded to their manager who was beckoning them.

The next two hours were exhilarating and nerve wrecking. Prepping a concert started months before, but the last few minutes before that first song, Hunter always felt as though the world was dancing on his shoulders.

Taking in a deep breath, he adjusted the black fitted pants and the metallic belt he wore. The band’s hair stylist had his hair cut in a short Mohawk; he sometimes didn’t recognize himself in the mirror. If it was up to him, he’d have a full on Afro like Lenny Kravitz, but apparently that didn’t work for him. Hunter shook his head, rubbing his clean-shaven jaw. Oh well, whatever it took to sell their albums.

Chicks dug the whole bad boy thing anyway, so…he sipped the water Maina had brought him.  He’d had to give an autograph for that.

“If I didn’t have a boyfriend, I’d kiss you,” Kate said coming to stand next to him. She looked hot in leather.

“Dump him,” Hunter challenged, wishing she would.

Kate grinned and pressed a kiss on his left cheek before she walked away.

“Tease,” he called after her.

“Time,” the show’s producer called into the dressing room, setting off the butterflies in Hunter’s stomach.

He’d performed thousands of shows, for thousands and thousands of people. Still, that moment before a concert always got him. He followed his bandmates backstage, climbing the steps with trepidation.

“We got you,” Jake said beside him, right before they stepped out on to the open stage.

Their audience exploded, screams and shouts, and their energy blew him away. Hunter stood still on the stage, feeling free for the first time in his music career. The audience’s enthusiasm exorcised his butterflies, fueling his energy.

Taking his guitar from it’s stand, Hunter walked up to the microphone, amid screams, he was afraid their audience wasn’t going to let him sing.

“We love you, Hunter!” someone screamed out and he grinned. “We love you Furahi.”

Hunter turned to his bandmates.

“Have a nice day….” He sang and got wide grins from them in return, they knew the story of that song. Those days, when he’d sang and, no one had screamed in happiness to hear it.

Hunter turned back to the packed stadium, and strummed the first bar of their hit song, ‘Get me home’.

Hunter started singing, and as his audience sang along, he finally understood Bon Jovi’s song.

Do what you want….no matter what, live your life how you want it.

Other Concert Prompt Stories:

4. Mira’s Love Affair

The Red Kanga

Friday Feature1Mystic woods

Prompt:

The Mystic Woods! What story do you see here?

The Red Kanga

Do you remember…?”

Kuria glanced at the woman perched on the stump in the middle of the clearing. She had a new red kanga tied around her hips. Her green blouse, made of soft silky fabric, clung to her curves. She’d covered her hair, that glorious long dark mess, hidden with a green headscarf. He couldn’t see her face because she was staring at the green grass at her feet. She held a stick, poking at the ground as though searching for answers in the soil nourishing the green blades.

“Do you remember we used to come here when we were kids?”

Nostalgia clung to her words; brought back memories.

“I remember,” Kuria said with a wistful smile. “I remember you never covered your hair those days.”

She chuckled, poking at the grass faster.

“I had time to play with a comb then. These days I’m too busy.”

“Busy is a state of mind, Shiro.”

Kuria shifted, pressing his back against the rough trunk a tall tree. Hundreds grew around them. He stuck a blade of grass between his teeth and stared up at the waving branches above. The sun sifted through, rays of light falling on the stump in the middle of the clearing, highlighting Shiro. It looked like a natural spotlight.

She paused in her poking to glance at him.

“Are you going to tell me why you called me?” she asked. “I left githeri cooking on the jiko.”

“You always have githeri cooking.” Kuria scowled. She never invited him to eat it. “Who are you cooking for this time?”

She shrugged.

“The house is full of people. Stop worrying about my githeri. What do you want to tell me?”

“I went to the shopping center to get charcoal earlier.” Kuria threw the blade of grass on the ground and crossed his arms against his chest. “I heard you were seen there with Chege. Are you two together now?”

Shiro scoffed.

“You’re like a woman. Why do you listen to gossip?”

“Is it true Chege bought you mangoes from Mama Nora, or not?”

“The mangoes looked good.”

Shiro tossed her stick and sat up straight, a frown dancing on her forehead.

“So he bought you mangoes?”

“Ah ha,” Shiro said with a nod. “What’s wrong with eating mangoes?”

“I bring you avocados from my mother’s tree and you sell them, but you ate the mangoes, didn’t you?”

“Chege paid good money for them,” Shiro said as though that should make sense.

Kuria frowned.

The woman was going to drive him insane.

She just didn’t see the point.

“I don’t want you to eat anything Chege buys you again.”

Shiro gaped.

“Did you hear me?”

Shiro stood up, her hands on her hips.

“You’re going mad, Kuria. You can’t stand there and dictate what I can or can’t eat. Who died and made you my master?”

“I’m warning you.”

“Warn away,” Shiro said. “Keep going and I will go find Chege and tell him to buy me all the fruits in the market.”

“I’ll kill him.”

“Then you’ll go to jail,” Shiro said. “Anything else you wanted to say?”

Kuria fumed, annoyed by her innocent expression. She had no idea how mad she got him. How angry he was that she dared talk with that Chege.

Why couldn’t she see how he felt about her? Why didn’t she care?

He thought about the avocados he took to her house. Three afternoons ago, he’d climbed the avocado tree behind his mother’s house and spent two solid hours picking each fruit with care. The trick with avocados was not to drop them from the tree. They bruised easy. Bruised avocados turned to rot.

Yes, he’d carefully picked each fruit, and hauled two large baskets down the tree. He’d taken one to his mother, the other he’d kept for Shiro.

She’d thanked him with a smile. Ah that smile…, he glanced at her face now. That smile was missing. She didn’t grace him with her smile too often, so when she’d smiled at him that day, he’d felt like he had won the lottery.

Yesterday, he’d gone to take milk to the dairy and he’d heard the women there talking about Shiro’s avocados. Shiro had sold all the avocados he’d given her. It had hurt to know she hadn’t even tried to eat one.

“If you’re going to scowl at me, I’m going home.”

Shiro’s irritation was clear and he pushed off the tree when she started to leave.

“Why did you sell my avocados? I brought them for you and your siblings to eat. Why sell them?”

“You brought a basket full. They would have gone bad in the house.”

“They weren’t ripe. You could have divided them and—

“I don’t like eating avocados.” Shiro sighed. “Don’t you have a fruit you don’t like?”

“No.” Kuria fumed. “You used to eat them fine when I gave you a slice over at our place.”

“That’s because I didn’t want to disappoint you.” Shiro shivered. “I don’t like the taste very much.”

“What kind of excuse is that? If you don’t like something just say it,” Kuria said confused. “Did you sell all the avocados?”

Shiro nodded. “I sold them all.”

Kuria scoffed and shook his head. “So much for my efforts.”

“Don’t look so disappointed. I used the money to buy this kanga. Do you like it?”

Kuria looked at the red kanga.

“My old one was fading.” Shiro smiled and his heart jumped the beat racing. Shiro’s smile had that effect on him.

“What do you think?” Shiro prompted, touching the red kanga.

“It looks good on you,” Kuria said, clearing his throat with a slight cough. He liked this pleased smile on Shiro’s lips. He wondered what else he could do to bring it back. “I can bring you more avocados if you like.”

“Will you?” Shiro asked in surprise.

“Yeah,” Kuria said thinking his mother wouldn’t notice one basket missing.

“Are you going to get mad if I don’t eat them?”

Kuria shrugged.

“No, as long as you don’t sell to Chege.”

Shiro laughed and turned to leave.

“I’m going to finish cooking my githeri. You’re welcome to come and eat it, if you like.”

Kuria grinned because that was the first time she’d ever invited him to eat her githeri. She left the clearing in quick strides, glancing back once to wave at him. He stared at the stump where she’d sat, and smiled.

Yes, he remembered. He remembered every time Shiro met him in this clearing. Every laugh, every smile, and every argument they’d had.

One of these days, Kuria thought, he was going to propose to Shiro right here, and she was going to say yes.

****

githeri – popular beans and maize traditional dish

kanga – colorful wrap

Read other Stories in the EA Friday Feature:

The Human Shrine

Never Complain, Never Explain

Dear Michael

The Haunting of Mystic Woods

*****

FREE READ – Download the EA Friday Feature August Anthology here.

EA Friday Feature – September Prompt #2

Friday Feature1

EA Friday Feature

Write a story of only 1,000 words using the prompt given.  Post it on your blog on Fridays and share posts from fellow bloggers participating in the feature.

Sept. Prompt #2:

Mystic woods
Once again we have a picture. The Mystic Woods! What story do you see here? The due date for this prompt is: September 11, 2015.
Remember the prompt is simply a guideline…let your creative juices flow and your imagination go wild.
Last Week’s Prompt Responses:
Rosemary – Nilichoandika
The Cursed Blessing – Flashes of Vice
Stay Tuned for the next series of stories…from the EA. ^_^

The Girl with the Golden Smile – 3

Prompt #1Friday Feature1

Risk: What is your interpretation of Risk: A gamble on something

Life Outside the Box

Nalia.

Nicholas bit into the chocolate cupcake.

She was a temptress, how had she known he liked chocolate? They tasted good, heavenly.  She passed him a mug of coffee and he stared at the steaming liquid.  She was a magician too.  He hadn’t done grocery shopping yesterday.

“There’s a shop at the end of the road. I bought instant coffee there. I took money from your car.”

She grinned.

“I think it’s funny you have a jar of coins in your glove compartment.”

Nalia seemed to have gone exploring while he slept. Changed her clothes too…or her blouse.  She wore a clean white t-shirt that read ‘Wishing for the stars’, and the blue jeans she’d worn yesterday. They had water marks. She’d tried to clean out the mud. Her braids fell around her face, hiding the bruise that had turned darker than it was last night.

“I borrowed this too,” she said tugging on the t-shirt. She sat on the chair across him and leaned her elbows on thebreakfast table. “Found it in a closet on the second floor. Do you live here?”

Nicholas sipped the coffee, it wasn’t the best, but it was hot and sweet. Three healthy sips and the sleep cobwebs dissipated.

“No.” He looked around the kitchen. The previous owner had left a lot of things hanging around. “This is my first time here.”

Waa,” Nalia’s eyes went wide. “You’re one of those people, aren’t you?”

He didn’t like the tone she used, accusing…judging.

“What people?” he asked.

“You own a country house and an apartment, and a hut in the hills, and a bungalow by the beach.” Nalia counted his imaginary houses using her left hand, she shook her head. “No one lives in these houses but the rats and the stray cats. So, why own them?”

Nicholas chuckled. “You have a wild imagination. Do I look rich enough to throw money away that way?”

“So, are you a penny saver then?” she asked. “Ah…but the coins in a jar should answer that question. You know I noticed you don’t have proper furniture around here. There’s only that one mug you’re using, and I had to use a rolling pin to mix the cupcakes. Do you know how hard that is?”

“No.” Nicholas sipped his coffee. “You talk a lot.”

“It’s not my fault.” Nalia sighed and sat back in her seat. “I hang out with kids all day. When I meet adults, I get excited and try to use all my words.”

Nicholas laughed then.

She smiled.

“Finally,” she said. “I was a bit worried you’re those people who frown all the time. I feel better now. I wanted to thank you when you’re smiling.”

“Thank me?” Nicholas asked, reaching for another cupcake.

“For being my life saver last night,” she said, her tone changing. “You took a risk taking in a strange woman in the night.”

“You jumped out of nowhere,” Nicholas accused. “You could have been killed, what were you thinking?”

“I don’t think I was.” Nalia rubbed her arms with a sigh. “I wasn’t in the best of places last night. You must have been shocked.”

Nicholas studied her face. She had one of those slender faces. Clear dark brown eyes, and a ready smile. She was pretty, in a plain innocent way. The bruise on her left cheek bothered him.

“Did you get that bruise running in the woods?”

She reached up and touched it, her fingers trembling as they touched the tender skin.

“I got it from a bad habit.” She sighed and got up. “I’m sorry to have bothered you. I’ll leave now.”

“Wait,” Nicholas said surprising himself.

She paused, giving him a frown.

“I made you coffee and chocolate cupcakes. I don’t have money to pay you—

“That’s not why I’m asking you to wait.” Nicholas waved her worry away. “Please, sit down for a minute. If you stay a bit, I’ll drive you home.”

“No.” Nalia shook her head, the cheerful smile disappearing. “I—

“Fine, I won’t drive you home,” he said, wanting that ready smile back. “I’ll take you to the bus stop.”

“I don’t have money.”

“I’ll lend you bus fare.”

“How will I pay it back?”

“You can pay me with Mpesa.”

“I’m—

“Hey, it’s a Saturday.” Nicholas sat back in his seat and folded his arms against his chest. “Everyone takes a break on Saturday morning.”

“Yeah, not me,” Nalia clutched the back of her seat, looking out the window at the rising sun. “I need to get going. I did something last night.”

“Something bad?” he asked, curious as to what would make a woman go running in the woods so late.

“Something outside the box,” she said with a sigh. Her hands were shaking. She let go of the chair, and crossed her arms against her chest. “I know I look like I’m smiling right now, but…I’m a bit insane.”

“Should I be worried?” Nicholas asked.

Nalia stared at him and when he lifted a brow in question she burst out laughing.

“You can’t possibly be afraid of me, can you?” she asked.

“You said you’re insane,” Nicholas countered.

Nalia studied him for a moment, and then nodded.

“Yes, you’re right. I’m insane. I’ve gone crazy. You are the first poor soul I ran into after my descent into this state, so you’ve taken a risk I tell you. Who knows what I’ll do next.”

“My friend is coming over,” Nicholas said then reaching for another cupcake.

“What does that have to with this situation?”

Nicholas bit into the delicious chocolate cupcake. “I’m just letting you know someone will worry about me if I go missing.”

Nalia laughed again, and she pulled out the chair she’d vacated and sat down.

“I thought you were leaving?”

Nalia reached for his mug of coffee and made a show of taking a sip. She took one of the cupcakes and made a show of eating it too.

He frowned.

“I’m eating too, in case you think I’ve poisoned them. This way, you’re sure your friend will find two bodies.” Nalia swallowed quickly, and sipped his coffee again. “Mmm…these are really good.”

Nicholas chuckled and wondered what fate had decided. It seemed his risk taking last night had awarded him with a crazy woman who loved chocolate cupcakes.

What was he going to do with her?

***

The Girl with the Golden Smile – 2

Read other E. A Friday Features here:

 The Cursed Blessing

Fear of Falling

Rosemary

Bitch Better have my Money