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Fiction

Fiction Story: Just His Backup Love, Never Main

He wants to make me his boomerang lover. Yes o. His boomerang lover. Let me gist you on what I mean by this. You see… we met when we were 15. His mother and my aunt were both immigrant women who were forced to take on new careers in nursing, as their peers popularly did. Apparently one aunty convinced all incoming Nigerian women that the only prospect they have in a career is nursing. Therefore, these women decided to forge such a difficult and new path at the tender age of 44. The repercussion of this was their children – me and Him – having to then unofficially enroll in the nursing program as their God-given tutors.  This is how we bonded. My aunt was typically strict and did not believe in the notion of teenage girls having friends of the male persuasion. But, she allowed our friendship grow since …

Fiction Short Story: Betraying Memories (Fiction Short Story)

I wish there was a way to remove unwanted memories. How is it that I can choose to register certain experiences, but our brains have not evolved to a point where I can successfully unregister them? As life seems to enjoy ironies, the unwanted memories tend to get immense airtime in our brains. The places, smells, tastes, views, and people that I long to forget continuously reappear in my conscious and subconscious. In my attempt to forget them, I find myself unknowingly drawn to – obsessed with – them. They become like an unwanted drug to which I have become addicted. If I was granted one wish of deleting a set of memories, I would choose to delete Him. I met Him at a food festival – it was one of those summer afternoons that I delegated as “me time”. After my recent divorce from my husband of 3 years, …

Another First Date, One Million Thoughts (Fiction Short Story)

I truly wonder why I still bother to participate in the ultimate tournament of dating. Unlike other aspects of my life, I haven’t been able to crack the code that would yield a positive outcome. I have been doing this for almost 10 years and this is one area in life where experience doesn’t seem to matter. Folks claim that experience is supposed to give you an edge, a repository of wisdom, a bank of knowledge – all supposed to give you a stronger armor to shield you against the parasites ready to suck on your happiness, confidence, and contentment over cheap drinks. I have yet to reap the fruits of countlessly dating.  But here I am purchasing a new dress for another first date, debating whether to go with a  smokey eye with red lipstick or soft glam, and visualizing the hair style that will impress this candidate. One …

For the Girls Trapped in the Talking Phase (Fiction Short Story)

These days I wonder when I ever put out into the universe that I was interested in becoming some sort of commentator, talk show host, podcaster, or any other profession that requires constant conversations to no end. Did I accidentally pray to become someone’s permanent unauthorized therapist? Did I imply to God that I would like to be engaged in a perpetual loop of useless good morning texts and how was your day messages? I took stock of all the male creatures I have engaged with this year and suddenly found myself assessing how I ended up in the realm of endless text messages. When I embarked on this journey called dating, I certainly never anticipated that these creatures would enjoy so much useless conversation. I thought they were like me – that they would be interested in evolving from talking to actually establishing an actual relationship – whether casual …