THE CONVOY

​The leaves flapped loudly against each other and Chi hopped away from the tree. He had zoned out, not knowing the clouds had gathered quickly. Dragging his feet against the ground, he mentally calculated how long it would take him to walk home before the rain started. His misery 

​ WITH FEAR, FOR HOPE 1. THE BEGINNING. Fear. That was my major watchword for living life. I didn’t just wake up one day and decide to embrace it, I grew. I grew into fear and its feeble yet sturdy hands wrapped around me reassuringly. With every step that I took, it morphed gigantically and whenever I looked over my shoulders, it was my shadow. “Omokolapo!” My mother yelled. Startled, the ceramic bowl in my hands dropped to the floor and shattered into tiny pieces.  “Ah ah.” She came tumbling into the kitchen wondering what was going on. Mother was so shaken that all she needed was a single tilt to fall over her face. “What happened?” “Nothing, ma. It was the way you called me, ma.” Still heaving, she rolled her eyes, “Was that why you broke a plate? Why do you always get startled, Omokolapo? Are you sure you are okay?” I knew the question didn’t mean she truly wanted to know if I was faring well or not. The required answer was to apologize and so did I. “Sorry, Mama.” “I don’t know w

​ TROUBLE ON WALNUT STREET      It  was late at night, as usual, Zen just closed her store and was on her way home. Walking briskly so she could meet Ms.  Jane, her neighbor. It was their usual Saturday night ritual, they drink wine and go over various books. She felt like sharing this magnetic pull with the book in her arms with Jane. Taking the left turn, a cold feeling made her shiver, she brushed the feeling aside and continued. Just last week they had been reading a book on ghosts. Not just normal ghosts but dead ghosts. According to the book, dead ghosts were calm, an almost non-existent form of ghosts. They only haunted people who have uncertainty under their collars. They felt cold like other ghosts but took their captives on strange journeys. The past, subconscious, the future, or what-was-meant-to-be. Each dead ghost represented a family member from one side or the other. It could be one dead before the vessel’s existence or one given birth to after the vessel’s demise. She h

​ CHRISTMAS WAHALA Papa has done it again. I hate this annual cycle that keeps recurring for over fifteen years of my awareness. Why do we have to rush against the hustle and bustle of the town just a few hours before Christmas? Everyone is rushing to kill their chicken, grind their pepper, buy fried rice ingredients and so many other last minutes preparation. We have still not gotten drinks and that’s the major part of all this I hate the most because Papa doesn’t drink regular Maltina. We had to search the ends of the market and every other corner for Malta Guinness. And speaking from experience, I know all depots and stores we will visit will announce to us that they’ve run out and also berate us for not buying before now. They should be used to seeing our faces by then if only the attendants worked long term.  Mama wanted to try out the new meat seller that everyone made a rave about this year. She walked briskly ahead while I grabbed the black  Bagco  sack in my hand, following be

​ I think this is the first time of addressing my readers. I am really grateful for the clicks and interest in this hobby of mine.  At the beginning of this year, I promised myself I was going to make a post once every month. We started well, but then, June happened and I slipped. Since then, I lost all interest. A day ago, I thought to myself to make one last post this year and yes, I will! Once again, I do not take your love for granted and this is to many more writing pieces from me! Thanks for being part of this convoy of mine! With love,  Ikeolu’

I stroll the paths through which I used to play as a kid, they no longer smelt of baby powder and sweets. Instead, the grasses have gotten so full and I wondered if I missed my way. Standing outside the house, I look in awe at the emptiness on the street. These places were always filled with kids, balls, and noises. But now, the echo of a pin drop will be as loud as barrels falling on cold tar road. There is a group page where they all meet and on par, I joined. It was all empty except for threads of old news, spam, and awoof . At times, they discuss a thing or two, chattering happily, I guess. Most were gossips and I didn't take interest in that. Instead, I scroll through their pictures and all I see are happy smiles on empty faces. My name was mentioned a few times, I could have answered but the conversation was always long over before I found it. And even then, I have no desire to. Stepping outside, I hear questions, "where have you been?", " you just