Yasmin sat, legs stretched on the sofa in their living room, a book in hand and a plate of chin chin on a small stool in front of her. She chewed slowly as she carefully digested the contents on each page of the book. She was so engrossed in her reading that she didn’t notice Lisa walk in until she spoke. “Still that novel?” Lisa asked while touching up her make-up. “Unhmm”  was all Yasmin said not even lifting her head. “I finished that novel in two days. This is your fourth day and you are just halfway through.” Her friend pointed out. “I love to be thorough with my reading.” She replied. “Like you are going to write exams on it.” “Whatever!” Yasmin said and then she looked up and realised what her friend was doing. “You are going out?” Lisa rolled her eyes. “I thought you wouldn't notice till I was long gone.” “We planned to spend the weekend indoors. What happened?” “Plans changed. I'm going to visit chike.” “He’s back? When?” “A few days back.”  Lisa replied as

You can only try this when nobody reads your blog. Original post coming up InshaAllah.

Damola drove into the hotel premises where the party was happening. According to Adejare, it was a small get together of friends to celebrate another friend's achievement but what he saw didn’t look small. From where he parked, he sighted a few familiar celebrities in the entertainment industry that he went to say his hellos before heading towards where his friends were seated. “The king arrives.”  One of the guys on the table where his friends were sitting announced. They used to be well acquainted when Damola was still actively involved in the industry but now they only saw one another at very important functions. “It so hard to get hold of you these days.” The man continued. “How have you been?” “Good.”  Damola replied as he took the seat next to Jare. “And how have you been too, Mike. It’s been ages?” “Great. We are where you left us. Heard you and Jare now run creative schools. That’s a nice ‘give back to the society.’” Damola laughed.  “What can I say, man.”  He e

You have a very vivid imagination, Maryam."  The editor said as I got through to her. She was specially picked out for me by my publisher and she had told me we were going to be working together for her to capture the true essence of my stories. "What was going through your mind when you wrote these?" I sighed, smiled and replied. "Happiness as sweet as honey, sadness as bitter as bile." May our best dreams come through. May our hopes never be dashed. We each, on our journeys, strive to be the best of ourselves. Faced with uncertainties, and frustrations that could bring about depression. We need to persevere on our chosen course. Our persistence, patience coupled with our faith would go a long way in realising that dream so much desire. Keep on with the hard work or smart work like some people prefer to call theirs. Either way, just make sure yours is not the illegitimate type. There's this saying that where preparation meets opportunity, succe

Shehu glanced at different parts of his birth home as sauntered through the massive sitting room heading for the staircase leading to the hallway. The hallway housed different rooms including the family parlour and his father's study which also doubled as a home office.  He had called this place home for a little over three decades. But he had been away for ten years, which is a long time for him. Though it looked like the house had been renovated and seen a series of makeovers, it still felt like home. How he had longed for this feeling the years he had been away. Australia was cool but it lacked what he needed most, love and family. But this place, this house provided almost everything. Almost except for one thing. He thought as he walked towards the family parlour, which he had been informed his father was in. Now that he thought about it, the house felt a bit quiet except for the few domestic servants that were in parts of the building. He was aware most of his brot

I scrolled through my phone. Boring! I thought. So, I went through the few messages I had and made sure to reply to each message before I forgot. I tossed my phone aside. Gone were the days when the simple thought of being online excited me. These days na my diary get the gist. "Wayyo Allah na!"  Baddiya screamed, her phone in hand. My head almost fell off my neck out of fear before it crossed my mind. She was probably just being dramatic. Of all my friends Baddiya was the most dramatic of them all. Hands down, she takes the crown. People have called me dramatic too after all birds of a feather flock together. But I doubt it. A gentle girl like me. Then, she started to cry. She still had her phone in her hand but she was staring at something in it like her life depended on it. "Is everything alright?"  I asked, as I walked up behind her and snatched the phone before she could protest. I looked at the screen and I wanted to throw up. Here was a part of m

“Please, stop the car.”  She repeated, this time slowly. Damola slowed down looking for a good place to park before finally killing off the engine. The air in the car was filled with tension. Some seconds of silence passed between them before he said. “That day at the restaurant was another family drama day for me. I had moved out of my family home a month before because my father technically disowned me. That month I had slept around until I was able to sort my housing and a place for my studio. It was something I had already anticipated. I had been saving up for its eventuality but still, I was not fully prepared. Everyone thought I had been stubborn about the whole issue and should be the one to call and apologise which I did but my dad still angered by the issue said very nasty things to me. I had gone to the eatery that day hungry and also angry about the things he said to me.  I'm not trying to excuse the way I behave towards you that day. I just wanted you to kno

A Ramadan inspired post. Dead people can do no wrong. Ever wondered why people always have good things to say about those no longer with us? There's already the quote that says 'speak no ill of the dead' and one time enemies are now forced to rack their brains for those rare moments to share in speeches. The thing is every single living soul has an enemy. No matter how good or almost perfect you think yourself to be, there's that someone who just hates you for existing. Ask this person why they have so much hatred for someone and they have no tangible reason. Cross the oceans and seas, climb the highest mountain and bring heaven to earth it still wouldn't make meaning. Even the best of mankind, Our Prophet, may the peace and blessings of Allah be on him. As beautiful as he was, in and out, as loved as he was and still is had enemies, what less we, with our series of imperfections. While love and hate are both very powerful emotions, the former is positiv

Not long had the drive started then the heavens decided to release its contents. The dark and heavy clouds Yasmin noticed earlier on her way to the eatery had indeed been pregnant with rain. Yasmin said a silent Alhamdulillah for if she had insisted on not accepting the ride, the heavy rain that poured hard on the roads and everything in sight would have drenched her to the skin.  Thankfully, the windows had been winded up, so there was no way the cool air outside would blow the rain in. It could get really cold soon but at the moment the temperature in the car was high and Yasmin exhaled releasing  an air she didn’t know she was holding when Damola reached to turn on the AC. She hoped he didn’t notice but just then he turned towards her and her heart skipped a beat and her body demonstrated it. “Are you okay?”  He asked worry etched on his forehead. “Uhmmm”  She nodded. Swallowing hard the saliva, she had held in her mouth, too afraid to swallow. Too afraid to move even, l