faith, Short Stories

Father

Going to visit my father after years of seperation sounded like a good idea. Or a good sounding bad idea. It’s been years since I moved out of the house but even though the journey from my house was less than an hour drive, I could never bring myself to it.

My father wasn’t a perfect man. Not close. He says that often. He wasn’t the trophy winning father either. Our lives was a mess before I was eighteen when I moved out. We could hardly afford a 3-times meal because he rather spent the money on rum and alcohol.

Before he got into the alcohol addiction, we lived pretty well. He was a doctor but got his license taken away after an incident at the hospital. Since then, he literally tortured me. It was being wicked and not being strict. He controlled my life, school-life, picked the people I could hangout with and the times I could, he told me the subjects to take, would severely punish me for things as trival as spilling water on the floor. He tried to break me, He told me I would never measure up. He intimidated me into silence and made me the introvert I wasn’t and all my life, I’d tried proving myself to him. To show him I was better or going to be much better, to grow into a man a father would be proud of, even though we rarely spoke.

After moving out, I saw him a couple of times on the train but never made an attempt to talk to him. Still living closeby to my old apartment, few weeks after I graduated from studying psychology in college, I saw him walking down the road while I was driving to work and I did the craziest thing ever. I decided to give him a ride. I don’t know if it was to prove to him that I was more or because i just wanted to. The drive wasn’t awkward or nothing close to what I had imagined, he talked to me, and he let me talk back. He said he had changed. That he was sober now and then he did something, something I’ll never forget – he apologized.

Since then, I’d pick him up whenever I saw him and would drop by a couple of times. The house was cleaner than when I left. We talked about our lives and all that happened. He told me what made him change, said it was a church, or Jesus. I don’t believe in any religion or in a supernatural life but i was glad something made him change and gave me an opportunity with my father.

He made me promise to introduce him to my girlfriend and I did. He was funny and no longer a mess. He had changed and I knew that. We were beginning to have the relationship we never had and even more.

This afternoon, I got his call but I was in a meeting with a patient so I put my phone to silent mode, hoping i’d call him after the meeting. Unknown to me, he had called so many times, left voice messages for me saying I should please come pick him up from home as he was not feeling too well. I called after the meeting but he didn’t pick up. The last time he had called, he didn’t leave a voicemail.

The next time I saw him, he was lifeless. He died on his way to the bus stop. Shot in the head.

And I felt lonelier than I have ever felt. And responsible.

Short Stories

The Night of December 1956.

Everyone has their own way of dealing with grief. His was getting upset at others, and it started the night his wife died.

His wife was a jolly, sweet, easygoing woman. She was the best thing that ever happened to him. He met her while he was in college and when he pursued his career and she pursued hers, when their lives got busy and they could have drifted off so easily, they held on and to be honest, she made holding on easy.

Every marriage doesn’t go on a platter of gold. Some people say the first year of marriage is always the hardest, and even though they didn’t agree to it at first, they had to, and it was even longer than just the first year. It was the problem of not being able to bear a child. Or even conceive one.

The little town in which they lived had only one doctor and according to the doctor, every method he knows that could help has already been used on them.

Ten years later, his wife conceived a child. That moment was one he would never forget. He was going to be a father, and even though of being a father, having to raise a child to be the best version of himself or herself, having to watch the child grow, scared him, he relied on the fact that hopefully he wouldn’t have to do it himself. That he would have the best woman he would ever ask for with him made him feel safe.

That night, that foggy snowy night, his wife, due in two weeks at the time, offered to go join the choristers when she learnt they needed an alto singer. He tried convincing her not to go as the church was far away from where they lived, and his car already got snowed in but being a kind of strong-headed woman, she left.

He could have gone with her, but he also had a night shift work and wouldn’t be back until 10pm that night.

He was almost home, coming back from work when he saw an old man with two other men carrying a pregnant woman towards his house. According to the old man, he had found her laid on the floor, struggling to get up when he offered to help. Apparently, she fell on her way home and her water broke already. Thankfully he found the two men who helped to carry her and since it was a small town, they knew where to bring her while the old man went to call the midwives.

That night, he had been terrified, more than he has ever been. The thought of him losing her stayed afloat in his mind. One of the midwives was telling him not to worry and that his wife and child were going to be okay when he overheard another telling the midwife not to promise anything but to say they were going to do their best.

Doing their best was what he clung to. It was everything he held on to for the next half an hour.

He had her push and it was obvious she was in pain. The doctor had arrived and had gone in to assist too. He overheard them saying she was losing a lot of blood. More than normal.

Then he heard a cry. The cry of a baby. His baby.

But it strangely quiet in the room. The baby’s cry was all he had. The midwives and doctor went all quiet. Most importantly, he couldn’t hear the voice of his wife. Or her breathing.

The doctor came out. Blood over his hands and arm. His look said it all. All hasn’t gone well. His wife…

“I’m sorry, Elliot. We did all we could.” He heard the doctor say.

That moment, all the memories he had with his wife came rushing to him, even the memory of her leaving the house that night.

“The baby. Is it… alright?”

“Yes.” One of the midwives answered.

“We’re sorry, Elliot. I am.” The midwife who had assured him earlier said.

“It’s okay.” He said, while taking a long hard look at his wife who laid cold on the bed.

“Would you like to hold your child? She’s still a little scaly because she’s not fully developed yet but she’ll shed it off soon.” The midwife said.

“No. Take that child away from me. I don’t want to see it. Ever. And all of you, Get out.” He said.

At that moment, he realized his wife would be very disappointed at him and not that he didn’t care, he just didn’t know how to react. He had always thought he would raise this child along with his dear wife, he had in his mind that he was incapable of raising the child alone and now, grief slowing making its way into his heart, grasping it and tearing it apart slowly and making it cold in the process without him fully realizing it made it worse.

He walked out of that room, not looking back as a drop of tear went flowing down his cheek.

He was so scared to fail as a parent that he failed the first night he became a father.

It was the night of December 1956. A night he’ll always remember.

Photo credit: Pexel

**

Hey there! Thanks for reading and joining me here again. I seem to be writing a lot of short stories now and that’s because I just get inspired and just write them out. Sometimes.

Winter semester started already and hopefully I get to blog on health soon.

Let me know if you loved this or not and don’t forget to follow my blog, like and share.

Thanks and until next time!

Short Stories

A Little Bird

My parents got divorced years back without caring how my brother and I felt. Our home which was perfect solace and filled with life and happiness suddenly became dreary. The few months before the divorce paper was enacted was hell. Even the devil would be comfortable in our little nest.

And yes, I’m a bird.

Picture taken by me back in February 2018.

Dad was rarely home and whenever he was, I and my brother either left to our own nest or stayed in my friend’s place. Mom couldn’t leave since it was against one of the bird rules and dad never permitted her to have a friend. She had to endure the pain of the constant beakings. That didn’t last long anyway. Dad pushed her off the tree and since she was too weak to fly, it resulted in her death.

We weren’t allowed to see her body. All we heard from him after her death was that he never wants to set his eyes on us again, And Since he recently got voted in as, well, the most influential bird in the community, he made others push us out. His own children.

My friend certainly wanted to help but i knew her wings were tied. She was threatened many times and there was no one to help, so in a bid to save her the trouble, we left.

I and my brother kept moving from one place to other, in search of a place to call home. We find a place and stayed there for a day or two and then we would move again. Thankfully we had no belonging with us.

Just yesterday, while my brother went in search of food, a motorcyclist had crushed him and had left without looking back. Humans! They don’t care if we have families and problems too.

I watched my brother’s body lay still. Death’s cold hands gripped him so strong and I could take watching him no more so I had to leave. This time, Alone.

I perched on the wire after flying for what seemed like hours. I missed knowing what home was. Home had lost its meaning to me when dad and mum disagreements led to fights. When going home from school felt like going back to hell. When our happy and complete family crumbled. When the divorce thingy seemed to be the only solution. All which started after dad got voted in.

There I saw the lady who was spreading her clothes on the line. I listened as she hummed along as Dido sang Life for rent’ . I’ve heard the song a thousand times when I was still home without fully comprehending the meaning but now, I do.

The lady turned and raised her phone towards me. I knew what she was going to do so I turned my back to her.

I did want her to capture this moment but I didn’t want her to see my face.

I felt invincible and I wanted my face to be. Invisible.

Uncategorized

Be You.

Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring. – Marilyn Monroe

I used to be a lanky girl. I was mildly anorexic until i developed stomach ulcer. My hormones got imbalanced and I had to stay on different kinds of medication to reduce the pain.

A couple of months ago, with an improved feeding habit and the ulcer gone, I decided to take advantage of my school’s gym membership.

The first day I went to activate my membership card and get a tour, I got intimidated seeing guys and ladies with a good posture and gait, good muscle tone and flexibility, smooth and well coordinated movements, that I didn’t step a foot in the gym for a month.

So I came up with what seemed like the best idea. I started my home workout routine.

My mum and sisters thought it was crazy for me to workout and I definitely made some crazy mistakes but after researching, learning from other people’s stories and doing what was right, I began to see changes in my body.

I don’t have the proper equipments to make my home workout effective and so I decided it was time for me to go back to the gym. I am not as fit as half the people I saw a couple of months ago but I believe going just as I am now, would definitely help me in more ways than getting a fit, healthy body.

Earlier, I mentioned how everyone thought I was crazy for going to activate my gym membership but I didn’t let that stop me. It wasn’t easy though, to stand up for what you want when you’ve got people not believing in what you want and even though I stopped going to the gym, I am glad I made the decision to continue to push myself hard even in my own home.

Always keep in mind that people would always try to make you who they want you to be or who they think you should be.

They’ll try to talk you out of your passion into something they think is befitting for you. Believe me, some of them, they do it with the best intentions. They do it because they want good for you.

But you’ve got to filter through these ideas and pieces of advice. You’ve got to stay true to who you are and what you are and want because even God created you like you for a reason.

You’ve got to learn not only how to do things that make other people happy but you also, which is more important. You’ve got to remain true to who you are, what makes you happy and who you want to be – to who God wants you to be.

You don’t have to be someone else or fit into someone’s definition of you.

Always keep that in mind.

Short Stories

Immortality

They say immortality is a gift, but it is, in fact, a curse.

Photo Credit: Pexels – Engin Akyurt

After you turn 197, like me, you’ll realise that it truly is a curse. After a few years of moving to a new country, a new city just so to avoid suspicions. After seeing babies born, grow up and die, seeing parents leave their young ones and pretty old ones. I’ve seen the world evolve – evolve in a sense that new fashion, food, buildings grows outdated and then come back again, claiming to be the new thing, and believe me when I say I’m tired. The endless monotony, the incessant thunder of problems and solutions; all so new yet startlingly familiar.

The thought of aging would freak anyone out, the thought of seeing people die before you, the thought of you leaving others, the thought of not being able to do things you once loved doing. I used to be like everyone else, until my twentieth birthday.

It was like a normal day for a birthday. I celebrated with a couple of friends and my then boyfriend and it went pretty good. I experienced the fun of turning twenty, two years after being an adult, three years after I lost both of my parents to a car accident and also exactly three years after I met my boyfriend. Yes, my birthday was our anniversary and my parent’s death anniversary.

After celebrating my birthday, I and boyfriend left my friends to go celebrate our three years together, at least that was what I thought. We had just gotten to the park and headed to our favorite spot, a special quiet place he found – unless it wasn’t quiet this time, there were three cute puppies there.

Seeing the puppies, I rushed over to pet them, thinking he actually got them for me and….

“Awwww… coo-ties,” I cooed while rubbing my hands on the puppies.
After a few minutes, I turned over to my sweet boyfriend only to see him fuming in anger. Or jealousy. And I could do was stare.

“How could you?!” He growled.

“What?” I asked, finally finding my voice.

“You heard me.” He growled
.
“I just petted the pups. Didn’t you get them for me?”

“I didn’t. I can’t and…never can,”

“What do you mean? Are you seriously jealous over pups?”

“I’m leaving now.”

“Wha….” I asked, confused.

He turned his back and started to move away from me, leaving me startled, confused and kind of scared.

“I’ll be back in two centuries,” He said calmly. “Don’t even try to kill yourself, because it would be futile. I am he who decides who leaves this world and who doesn’t. I am Death.”

And there and then, he disappeared.

He’s been true to his word. I’ve planned, plotted, ran through hundreds of ideas, all ending up to nothing.

I’m stuck with Death’s ex wife, Life.

faith

Proverbs Series

Wisdom.


“Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to reform (or pause and reflect).” 
― Mark Twain

Earth was a soup of nothingness, a bottomless emptiness, an inky blackness until the creation. The creation of all we now see and the creation of man and what man, most humans want at least, is to matter. No matter how little.

Everyday we strive for wisdom, to learn something in the least form. We write and read stories and experiences of others most time to learn from it.

A goal of mine for 2019 that I was too scared to admit is to stop being afraid of what others would say. As a believer of doing what makes you happy and doing the things you truly love and care about, given it doesn’t hurt anyone, I have been living quite the exact opposite, just so people would ‘like’ me.

So this year or new phase, I’m going to ramble on about what I love and my passion. I am going to write, weirdly, a paragraph/sentence/line story series, motivational rambles, health, fitness, mental health.

I’ll be using the book of Proverbs because I believe it was written so we know how to live well and right. To understand what life means and where it’s going – a manual for living.

Most self help books you’ll ever come across would have lessons curbed from this book. To those who don’t believe in reading self help books because they believe you have to have the willingness to change on the inside first, well, I know no one reads a motivational book or willingly watches a video without having that willingness.

So today, Proverbs 1.

1. Start with God :- In a world where it’s getting harder to talk about God in public, the first step in learning is surrendering to that God. (I am not going to shove my religion down your throats).

2. Listen to/Learn from the older/younger ones/everyone:- I know some parents or elderly ones may not be the best and they might have made a couple or a lot of mistakes but their lives or they can teach you life lessons.

3. Avoid bad companies: This isn’t a new one – Those we relate with can influence us more than we think we know.

4. Think before you leap: We all, at a point in our lives, seek advice from friends, families, the young, the old, and sometimes we forget to think before making the big decision. We still need to ponder on the advice before making major or even minor decisions. And don’t beat yourself up when you make mistakes. Sometimes, they are inevitable.

5. Carelessness kills. Complacency is murder.

Thanks for joining me today. See you next time!