faith, Short Stories


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

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.

Short Stories


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.