Stories and Book Talk

Tag: Short Stories

  • A Tail of Tissue Paper

    A Tail of Tissue Paper

    A Tail of Tissue Paper

    Helena adjusted her ponytail, tugging on a wayward braid to set it right. She’d slathered on lipstick today, staring into the mirror, Helena wished she’d chosen the pink instead of the cherry red.

    Oh well, she shrugged her shoulders and washed her hands in the sink. Drying her hands off, she adjusted her handbag and left the bathroom, adding an extra swing to her hips, now that she felt fresh.

    The Nakumatt Junction was buzzing with activity. Saturdays, Helena thought. 83898869_d385d56d18_oEvery woman, her children and man were out shopping for the week. Helena sighed and walked into the supermarket with a wide smile for the luggage carrier dudes. They smiled back, their gazes sweeping over her figure with appreciation. She grinned, and ran a hand down her hips.
    She’d bought the skinny Levis at a whopping two thousand five hundred shillings. She loved them. They hugged her butt to perfection. She’d refused to mourn the use of the money. Not that she’d ever tell her friends the price. They’d call her a vanity whore, so she kept it to herself. 

    Helena smiled as she got a shopping cart, rolling it down the aisle. She’d told her friends she’d gotten the jeans at a sale in the market. Yeah right, as though faded jeans would give the definition her Levis afforded her.  Shaking her head, she paused in the coffee aisle to get her stash of dark roast. Nothing could beat a good cup of dark roast coffee in the morning.

    Putting the package in her cart, she continued down the aisle to the milk aisle. Her mother was coming over later. The woman lived and breathed tea with milk. If Helena didn’t have milk in the house, her mother would think it a sacrilege. Helena rolled her eyes as she grabbed two packets of milk and dumped them into the cart. She loved her mother, lord knew she did, but they differed in so many things…Helena sighed.

    “She’s your mother,” Helena said under her breath, walking past a mother struggling to control three rowdy children. All of them held their own packages; they wanted their mother to add them into an already overfilled cart.

    Helena shuddered at the disruption they were making. She quickly walked down the aisle to the pasta aisle, promising herself to get one kid. She’d get only one, not because she hated kids, but because one was ideal in this crazy modern world. The cost of living was too high to even contemplate three.

    Her mother was eager to hold a grandchild in her arms. She’d probably mention it later when she came to visit.
    Helena studied her choices, noodles, shells, elbows…suddenly she felt lost. She wasn’t sure what she wanted. Noodles bored her, the shells were okay, but the elbows, well the elbows were bland sometimes.

    “This is why you’ll never get that kid,” she murmured staring at her pasta choices. “Can’t choose pasta, can’t choose a man.”

    Helena sighed and decided on closing her eyes and choosing what her hand touched first. She came up with shells. She put the package into the cart with a shrug. She could always find a good recipe online for them. Mmm…she’d liked the one she’d made for that guy she’d met at the gym a month ago. The relationship had died after two dates, but the Zucchini Pasta, that had tasted good. She was suddenly hungry for it, so she made a beeline for the vegetable aisle. She didn’t want to detour to the market to get the zucchini might as well buy them here.

    She got the zucchini, and got sidetracked by the sight of huge strawberries in their packages. Well, the strawberries were good looking, but the tall handsome man checking out the carrots was distracting too.

    Helena picked up the strawberry package and feigned rapt interest.

    Damn it what was a good line.

    It would need to be perfect; he looked too refined for a comment on the weather. Her mind was blank. Her gaze followed him as he shifted to the herbs, studying cilantro as though he knew what he was doing. He had to be a keeper. A man who could cook, her insides trembled, just itching to go over and talk to him.

    She couldn’t help the scowl when a pretty blonde-haired lady came up to him with a wide smile. Jealousy flooded her as returned the smile and leaned to brush her cheek with a kiss. Dumping the strawberries into the cart, Helena quickly moved on from the vegetable aisle.

    She needed Parmesan cheese and chicken for the zucchini pasta recipe. This time, she kept her gaze on the chicken when a great smelling guy stopped beside her to get beef patties.

    Helena wondered why it was so hard for her to approach men. The ones she did approach turned out to be married, in relationships or had commitment phobia. She chose her chicken, and decided to tell her mother that she was going to die a spinster.  A chuckle escaped as she got the Parmesan cheese, and a lady walking by gave her a confused look.

    Yeah, keep wondering, sister, Helena thought. I might look great, but my heart is in a dozen pieces.

    Recipe accounted for, Helena headed to the lotion section. She was running out of her favorite coconut lotion. As always the many varieties on the aisle had her salivating.  She knew the one she wanted already, but damn if she could afford one of each on the aisle, she’d buy them all.

    Helena curbed her impulse buying gene and reached for the bottle she used daily in a faithful regime. Coconut butter did wonders for her skin. Putting it in her cart, she glanced up in time to see another guy standing a few feet from her. What was it today with all the handsome men?

    This one though was smiling at her with interest. She blushed when he moved closer.  His smile was captivating.

    Her heartbeat raced.

    “Hi,” he said.

    Helena smiled. “Hey.”

    “I just wanted to tell you that you have a tissue stuck on the back of your jeans.”

    “What?” Helena stared at him in horror.

    “A piece of tissue,” the man said, pointing to her back.

    Helena reached back fast, her cheeks flaming, when her fingers touched a soft paper. She tugged at it, as it was lodged in her waistband and it came off easily. Good lord, had she swaggered through this whole supermarket with a tissue for a tail?

    “Lord, sink me now,” she said.

    The handsome man chuckled and walked away.

    ****

    Please check out these entries from bloggers in the EA Friday Feature:

    It Started with a Bump – Nilichoandika

    Holy Desire – Flash of Vice

  • E. A. Friday Feature

    E. A. Friday Feature

    Friday Feature1What is the E.A. Friday Feature?

    –          Write a story in response to the weekly prompt given of only 1,000 words.  The story can be a stand alone story.  It can also be an ongoing story to which you’ll write chapters every Friday for the feature. You post the story or chapter on your blog on Fridays, and at the bottom, you link your post to the other blogs participating in the E. A. Friday Feature.  There is no restriction on the type of story you create.  The story is all up to you.  The only restriction is the limit on words. (1,000 words).

    Who can Enter?

    – Anyone willing to show the commitment.  The first Feature Starts on August 7th, 2015.

    What you get out of it:

    Free readers, for example, if we’re three, you’ll get three new readers to read your story.  Two, your links on the other participants’ blogs could get you new readers.  It’s a win-win for all of us. Every month, the stories are compiled in a free ebook called the East Africa’s Friday Feature, and we’ll publish it on Smashwords for free.  You can use this as a platform to advertise your other work if you have it published.  Share the Free ebook with anyone you please.

    (Kindly note, the EA Friday Feature ebook is free, I’ll compile it on my own time, with no charges to you, so don’t ask for payment for your stories.  I’m not going to sell it in hardcover, it’s all going on Smashwords for free download.  Hope you’re familiar with this publishing platform.)

    Not Accepted:

    – Kindly don’t be late with your post.  Try to be punctual so that everyone can have their links to your post on time. Please show commitment.

    – Don’t use an already published story.  This is a creative writing exercise.  Make your feature story original. Don’t plagiarize.

    – Remember to follow all the other participating bloggers, if you want to get some love back too. ^_^

    If you have any questions, just leave them on this post, I’ll help out however I can.

    Have loads of fun with this guys!

     First EA Friday Feature Prompt:

    Due: August 7th, 2015

    Prompt Is: Caught Red-Handed: Write about being caught doing something embarrassing

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    Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list…

  • The Man named Bobby

    The Man named Bobby

    A Man Named Bobby

    There was a man who lived in a not so distant past. I will call him Bobby. Bobby was born into a poor family, the firstimages32 of seven siblings. The one his parents put their faith on, that he would bring good fortune to the family.
    Bobby lived as a good son should. He helped his father, and worried for his mother. He worked hard in school. Was smarter than others, and made a life, one that was irrevocably different from his family. Opportunities found Bobby, he traveled the world, enjoyed the pleasures of life as any other would. But this story is not about Bobby’s happy moments, but those profound moments in life that led to a startling future.

    Bobby loved three distinct women in his lifetime. I call them distinct because there were other women in Bobby’s life, but these three changed his life in different ways.

    The first woman Bobby loved was a hometown girl. Her family knew his family, his family knew her family, and everyone wanted them to end up together. It was expected. This woman, whom I will call Shiku, was wild, and vibrant. She loved life. Loved to dance, sing, drink and have a merry time. Shiku was the life of the party. She and Bobby were good together for a time. Problem was, Shiku loved too much happy, and she had three children, none of whom belonged to Bobby. He loved her enough to take care of them without complaint. Bobby had a great big heart, and when he jumped in, he did so with his all. But things weren’t easy with Shiku. She was compulsive, disruptive, and cared only for the high moment. They fought bitterly, Bobby wanted her to quit drinking and get more serious with life, but Shiku….Shiku wanted more of the highs.

    One day, when things were at their most critical, Shiku’s father died. Bobby went with her for the funeral in their hometown. On the night Shiku’s father was to be buried, her brother found Bobby, and warned him to leave town before midnight. Bobby asked why.

    “Shiku wants you dead,” her brother said. “She has found ten men. They’ll find you in your bed tonight. You’ll be dead by morning.”

    The threat was real. Shiku wanted him dead because she was afraid he was going to leave her. If he left her, she’d decided that no one else could have him.

    Shocked and betrayed, Bobby thanked her brother for his kindness, packed a bag, and left in the dark of night. He traveled back to the home they shared alone, and spent the next three days thinking about their life together. When Shiku returned after three days, Bobby asked her to take her children, and anything she wanted in the house, and just like that, their relationship was over.

    new life2The second woman Bobby loved was an international girl. She lived in Ottawa. Bobby loved that they shared ideas, she loved that he was so outgoing. And though he’d been burned by love before, Bobby and Carol were happy. Problem was, Carol was from Ottawa, Bobby was from Kenya. Bobby was in Ottawa on a student visa, while they could have married, many at Bobby’s home wanted him to come back to Kenya and live like a Kenyan man. He fought it for a while, but eventually, Bobby returned to Kenya after many intrigues. His love for Carol did not wane. He missed her dearly and when she came to see him in Kenya, they spent weeks holed away together.

    With Carol, Bobby got one child, a boy. Bobby did all he could for Carol, even contemplated returning to Ottawa, but he’d found a very good job in the government. Leaving would mean giving up so much, so Carol endured. Bobby and Carol met once in a while, but the visits to Kenya dwindled and Bobby worried. The truth was Carol kept a painful secret. She was sick, you see, with cancer. She died young, leaving her son with her older brother. When Bobby wanted to see his son, take care of him now that the mother was gone, Carol’s brother made a special trip to Kenya. He warned Bobby to stay away. He accused Bobby of having led his sister to an early grave. You see to Carol’s brother, she’d died of a broken heart, more than the cancer that had ravaged her body. Devastated, Bobby agreed to keep his distance from his son. It was a painful decision, and for a while, Bobby was once again hurting because of love.

    The third woman Bobby loved was an urbane girl. Lily was a woman who’d worked to build her career. She was a filial daughter and a faithful sister to her siblings. He liked that she listened to him. He loved that she encouraged him, and supported his decisions. He saw a life partner in her, so she was the one he married. Their life wasn’t easy. His side of the family wasn’t so accepting of her, her side of the family loved him  a bit too much. He drank too much; they fought about that a lot. They had three kids, and he was dedicated to them. Did all he could to give them a comfortable life.  When money started coming in, Bobby got restless, with his homey life.  He strayed, numerously.  It hurt his family, numerously.

    And so, Bobby died, eleven years after his marriage to Lily. A vicious car accident, in the dead of night, he was drunk, and with another woman in his car.

    Bobby left a deep hole in the lives of his family, both extended and immediate. He’d worked all his life to put them together. It was the one thing he’d done with all his heart despite his many pitfalls with love.  The day before his funeral, his siblings, (the people he’d fought to keep together) sat in his living room, and in front of Bobby’s children and wife, they said,

    “Bobby is dead. We won’t need to return here after the funeral tomorrow. There’s nothing for us here.”

    To a new widow, these words were a stab in the back. To three young children, the words were like a betrayal…as though they weren’t good enough for the extended family.

    For sure, none of Bobby’s family crossed the gate to his home after that day, none of them.

    Bobby’s life, gone in a blink of an eye, his legacy was left in three children and a woman with a broken heart. You might add on Carol’s son to this list. Perhaps I can add Shiku, who might have truly loved Bobby despite her crazy antics.  The many others remember him fondly, but they were the people he let down at the end.

    Why tell this story about this man named Bobby?

    He was on my mind today, heavily weighing on my thoughts. Bobby is remembered by many, but I think the people who profoundly miss his presence are the children he never got to know.

  • Bitter Sweet

    Harsh realities find us when we’re least expecting them. A few minutes ago, her world had been perfect. Sitting in her cousin’s living room, cheering on her country in the London Olympics marathon, she was visiting to see her cousin’s new baby. The plan was to have lunch, play with the baby a little, and then go on her merry way back home.

    An hour into the marathon, casual conversation flowing lazily, like a breeze on a very sunny day, a new visitor comes in. He takes a sit, introductions are brief, and he’s part of the family in some way. Suddenly the conversation sails away from the lazy flow, storming off to the ugly side of the world. Her country is apparently at war, helping a bordering country try to fix its problems and the man seated across her is neck deep in it. Literally, he sleeps in a hole in a trench at the front line. He tells tales of watching the stars, marveling at their beauty, the next minute; he is defending his country’s freedom with rounds of fire toward an enemy who is as determined to kill him.

    Hundreds of enemies coming at him, more fighting, sleepless nights, bombs bursting over his head, more trenches and holes. Suddenly, watching the marathon seems so useless, such an insipid exercise compared to what he sacrifices on a daily basis. Harsh realities hit home in such strange moments. As he leaves an hour later, she murmurs,

    “Stay safe,” her tone silent, soft, full of regret. But, his eyes are jaded, he has seen too much to feel the soft, his soul is hardened by the brutal human nature he meets daily fighting for our comfortable lives.  Our sweet freedoms that we enjoy without much thought for his discomfort.

    Her country almost wins the Olympic Marathon, and although they come in second, she’s grateful for one little thing she can smile about. That and the happy baby who has finally emerged after hours of sleep, dripping with innocence, not knowing that at the borders ravaged souls defend the country they live in. She holds the baby close and prays that the baby never knows, never has to deal with the harsh realities of life.

  • A Sardine in a Delicatessen Store

    She walked briskly along her street, headed home.  She was late; it was almost nine o’clock, the night pitch black, the street lights barely lighting her way.  Hands folded tight against her chest, she bit her lip and trudged along the uneven path leading to the farmhouse.  She cursed bureaucracies for the umpteenth time today.  Trying to find a job in this ridiculous economy was akin to a guerrilla war.  Men in suits ambush your character when you least expect it. She closed her eyes in frustration.  She wished her old job would pay her severance, two more days and she was going to be poorer than a church mouse.  She’d be happy to have even ten shillings for fare to get to the following interview.

    There was no way to tell if she’d gotten the job she’d interviewed for this afternoon.  The suits in charge had played hardball, warning the group of interviewees that some of them wouldn’t get picked.  A painful pang swept through her, and she prayed for luck.  She prayed…her walk slowed, and she wondered if her god was listening.  Berating herself for wavering, she continued her brisk walk and earnestly prayed.  Just maybe…she would get the job.

    She finally got to the farm’s green gate.  It was Monday, her day to make dinner.  She locked the gate with a sigh.  She’d promised she’d be home earlier.  Obviously, that hadn’t gone so well.  Her brothers would be giving her a lecture.  She slowed down on the short walk to the house.  She stopped at the front door and took a deep, bracing breath, preparing herself for a lecture.  She opened the door, removed her shoes, and gasped when she glanced up.

    A cheerful atmosphere filled the living room, and beyond that, the dining table was laden with delicious food.  The scent of roast meat filled her nostrils, and her stomach rumbled in appreciation.  Her older brother rushed to her and hugged her in greeting.  He smiled wide, picking her up and twirling her around.  He told her he was happy she was home and led her to the living room. 

    Her younger brother pressed a fresh cup of coffee into her hand.  The lecture she feared never came.  When she sat at the dinner table to eat with her brothers, her father brought her an envelope from her previous employer.  She opened it with a frown, having given up on receiving her severance pay from that company.  She was surprised as a sardine that went to sleep in the ocean and woke up in a delicatessen store when she pulled out a check.  Her severance money, she smiled in elation.  Maybe her God was listening, after all, she decided.  There was hope.