chastity

Chastity

I dropped the PS4 controller on the floor with an angry sigh.

The blasted FIFA 17 was clearly not my forte. It had been a gift from Chastity and between work, exams and the prevalent drama in my life, I’d barely had time to play.

The weekends were the only time I ever got to catch a breath.

I stretched my arms high above my head and heard a satisfying crack that indicated the resolution of the nagging kink in my left shoulder.

The shoulder had been strained during barbell pushups at the gym the night before. Read More

Trust [8]

The sounds of Mr Eazy’s Skintight filled the small overcrowded room. The smell of shisha, sweat and overpriced perfumes permeated the air prompting one to either inhale through their mouths or pinch their noses.

Nights at Lotus were like reunions. Music. Cliques. Noise. The odds of running into someone you went to school with home or abroad were about 7 to 1. Read More

In Moderation

I took a long drag of the cigarette in my slender hands and exhaled. The best part of smoking by the ocean was the view. Tiny ships dotted the horizon like sitting ducks in a pond. Whether they were going or coming I couldn’t tell.

The downside of smoking by the ocean, your cigarette burned out faster than Kelly Hansome’s music career. I yelped in pain, tossing the cigarette butt into the ocean and raising my finger to my mouth to soothe the burn.

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Trust [7]

Warning: Graphic language ahead. So if the word vagina offends you, don’t read this.

The chills would not stop.

The nondescript carton of the drug had simply read ‘Recommended to be administered with painkillers’. The warning should have been underlined twice.

Trust wished for death. She truly prayed for it. She tossed and turned like a mad man during his ministrations, biting her lip to keep from screaming in pain. Read More

pregnant

Trust [6]

When I was twelve years old, my favorite aunt, Jumoke (I called her Aunty Jumie) came to live with us. She wasn’t really my aunt but my mother’s cousin. However in the typical simple ways of children, I called every older female relative ‘Aunty’.

Aunty Jumoke was beautiful and smart. She was studying International relations at part time while she worked as a receptionist at a dental practice. I had been so proud of her.

She had countless male admirers. Cars would drop her off at Iya Quadri’s stall and she would walk the short distance to our house to escape my mother’s questioning stare.  Read More