Category: Pleasant Rosebud – Romantic Suspense

Categories
Pleasant Rosebud - Romantic Suspense

MYOPIA – LILY 4 (Final Part)

Running from the beast had never been my plan. I had thought he would be my final stop, but was afraid of what he could do to me. After escaping his clutches, and with no money and a place to go, I was disgruntled. My only companion was my hand-crafted pouch, which housed my silver mirror, potions book, a gray blanket, a matchbox, and some herbs and fruits.

For weeks, I wandered aimlessly, and only relied on nature to keep me alive. I felt and looked filthy. In those weeks of wandering, a proper meal and bath became a luxury. I would have settled for a while in the village close to the beast’s fortress but fear of him coming to recapture his slave prevented me. At this point, my stupid search for a happy fairy tale ending, fizzled. I only wanted to return home.

On numerous occasions, I tried to retrace my steps but just couldn’t remember where I came from, what the name of my village was, or who my people were. In fact, it was hard for me to remember the past events in my life. My memories became foggy, faces and names disappeared from my thoughts. Oft times, some things would become familiar but that was it. After a while, I gave up on my quest to return to my village. I doubted I’d recognize my home even if I found it.

My amnesia could have occurred due to several reasons, but most likely the unstable instant hair-growth potion. I had not used all the right condiments for it and had substituted some unavailable ones. The potion had worn off quickly and left me with uneven waist-length hair. My memory loss could have also been caused by the numerous strange fruits and plants I lived on during my wandering weeks. Aside from the amnesia, I suffered other weird side effects. There were moments I looked almost three times my age. My skin would become wrinkly and pale, and my hair would be gray. Other times I’d look like a fresh teenager with cheerful cheeks and lively skin. Due to this ‘disease’ I became withdrawn and insecure.

Finally, I found a small settlement to call home. I sold potions to make ends meet and withdrew from the society. I became a highly skilled and sought-after potion-maker, and later created an elixir, which helped control my disease. It kept me young and beautiful, though its ingredients were rare and pricy.

My name soon became famous and attract wealthier, more desperate clients. Human leaders and creatures alike sought after my expertise. However, one visit from a king ended my career and changed my life forever.

He was the most handsome creature I had seen on two legs. He had wavy brown hair and bright blue eyes. His jaw handsomely jutted out and elevated his full heart-shaped lips. His face, carved by a healthy beard, thick eyebrows and an aristocratic nose balanced out his features. He was muscular, a head taller than me, and held an aura of warm sophistication. I was smitten.

When he visited me, his eyes were watery and sad. His Queen had just passed. She died during childbearing and his newborn daughter had survived but barely. He needed a potion to save his baby’s life and he was willing to pay any amount.

It took me a minute to realize. He was available!

I had only one request in exchange for the potion: his hand in marriage. He agreed without blinking. After our agreement, the procedures and wedding happened in the twinkle of an eye.

It was amazing. I had given up on my dream of marrying royalty and living happily ever after but now I was a queen. Of course, the King knew nothing about my past or my disease and I intended to keep it that way. He overcame his grief by pouring love on his daughter and parading me everywhere he went. I became his beautiful and talented trophy wife. At this point, I was dedicated to maintaining my ageless beauty and I needed the elixir to do so. Its ingredients were peculiar to its purpose so I had to attain them in secret. And so, I charmed a palace guard called Felix to do my bidding.

I mostly ignored the king’s daughter. She was quite pretty. She had jet black hair and her skin was so fair, almost white. She was a nice and naïve girl. Her whitish complexion irritated me and the fact that her name described her appearance annoyed me more. I secretly nicknamed her Pasty to mock her fair skin. I wasn’t interested in her well-being or how she lived her life.

The King, however, wanted me to be close to her. I found it unnecessary. I didn’t marry the king so I could be a mother-figure to the girl! On numerous occasions, he would send his daughter to me. I dreaded those awkward moments and tried to avoid them at all costs.

On one of my off days, as in the days where my body would deteriorate to an old woman’s, my guard was running late. He hadn’t returned with the ingredients for my elixir and I was aging too quickly. I was quite worried and afraid someone would find me, so I remained in my inner chambers throughout the day. The guard finally brought my goods and I quickly mixed the potion. I had to wait six more hours for the potion to be ready.

Now, I looked and felt 60 years older than my real age. My elixir was finally ready. On the first sip, my door opened to reveal my stepdaughter. She gasped as she noticed how old I looked. My hand shook and spilled some of my elixir on my vanity. I quickly downed it, and ordered her out.

I summoned her back after I regained my ageless appearance. “What did you see?!” I barked.

She pointed an accusatory finger at me. “You…you’re an old woman! An old witch who bewitched my father!”

I slapped her. “Wrong answer.” She gasped. “You saw nothing and you will say nothing, Child.”

She clutched her cheek, “You expect me to help you deceive my father, your husband.” She sobbed. “I can’t and I won’t.” She chanted.

I quickly became weary of her and commanded my guard to ‘dispose’ of her. He was shocked at my request but quietly obeyed, nonetheless.

I proceeded to clean up my spilled elixir. I couldn’t afford to allow the palace maids become suspicious as to why I had it lying around. As I wiped away, I noticed my silver mirror had a few drops on it. What caught my attention particularly was the manner the mirror absorbed the elixir. Soon after, nothing was left of it. I was astonished and continued to gaze curiously at the mirror. The mirror began to shake, a bright light shot out of it and then it sighed in relief.

“Free at last!” it exclaimed. I was not afraid, only inquisitive. My mirror could talk!

“Who are you?”

“Oh, thank you for releasing me from my silent prison. I am Miroir, the enchanted one who sees all. I was cursed by my former master and turned into a mare mirror. For liberating me, I surrender my services to you,” it said.

I nodded. This was a most welcome development.

Days passed and my guard failed to return from my bidding. At first, I wasn’t worried. The days turned to weeks and I became paranoid. I was aging again and feared I won’t be able to create another elixir before I was discovered.

“Miroir, show me Felix.” Miroir’s screen rippled for a moment and soon an image of Felix appeared. He was in the forest not too far from the castle. He was dead, and his body had begun to decay! That little minx had charmed him to killing himself! I was furious.

I growled. “Show me that ghastly stepdaughter of mine!”

An image of a moldy forest cottage appeared before me. Pasty stood outside the cottage, washing clothes. How pathetic. I didn’t know how and when I developed such a dark nature because all I could think about was ending her life. I was immensely upset she was still alive, and looked younger, and more beautiful than I could ever be.

As if possessed, I gathered every toxic, poisonous or foul substance in the castle and expertly mixed them together. At this point, I looked like a crocked old woman but I was on a mission to end Pasty. Knowing how naïve she was, I dipped juicy red apples into my concoction. The apples absorbed the poisonous substance without changing its outward appearance. I grabbed Miroir and headed to the forest.

By the time I arrived, Pasty was not alone. Seven dwarfs were having an early dinner with her. They seemed familiar to me. Two of them tinkled my memory the most; one with a big button and the other with round glasses wedged on his nose. I decided the stay the night and wait till they left.

The following morning, I was startled awake by a faint tune I’d heard before, but I couldn’t pinpoint where it came from.

“Heigh-ho! Heigh-ho!”

The singing signified the dwarfs’ departure. I finally had Pasty to myself. I carried my basket of poisoned apples and approached the front door and knocked weakly. Pasty answered almost instantly. I had been afraid she’d recognize me but I had forgotten how naïve she was.

I chuckled. “All alone my dear?”

She nodded. “Why, yes I am but…”

I looked around. “The little men are not here?”

“No, they are not,” she said.

Good. “Would you like to purchase some juicy apples from a struggling poor old lady?” I lifted the basket to her face.

She sighed. “I would but I’m penniless.”

I smiled. “Well, for being honest, I’ll give you one free of charge.”

Her face brightened up, she cheerily thanked me and chose an apple. My eyes widened with expectation as she slowly brought the apple to her rosy lips. The world slowed down dramatically. The feeling of anticipation and eagerness felt so familiar, I couldn’t shake it off. For a second the past few years flashed before my eyes.

I remembered it all. My days with Lady Méchant, my night at the ball, the ghost town, the frog kissing, the dwarfs, the beast, everything! I remembered my ambition and wishes. I remembered who I was. I most definitely wasn’t a twisted witch trying to kill a 14-year-old girl for no tangible reason. The fairy tales I studied and the advice of my horoscope poured into my memory in that frozen second. I suddenly realized what was happening and who I was. This wasn’t the fairy tale I hoped to feature in and this wasn’t the role I wanted to play.

I cried but it was too late. “Snow White, no!”

Shame overwhelmed me. I had previously refused to call her name because of my bitterness, and anger. This was not me. The potions. Oh no.

The agonizingly slow second suddenly flew by and Snow White bit into the apple. She instantly dropped to the ground. Prying the poisoned piece from her mouth was pointless. The apple was so poisoned tasting its skin was as effective as eating it whole. I was already the villain in a fairytale. I had poisoned her and no matter what I said from now on, everyone would see me as Snow White’s stepmother, the ugly, old, wretched wicked witch.

I did the only thing which seemed sensible. I fled.

 

MYOPIA is used by permission of the original author, Ifeoluwa Ogúnyinka

 

Author bio:

Sinmisola Ogúnyinka is a pastor’s wife, mother, writer and movie producer. She has a university degree in Economics, and is a Craftsman of Christian Writers’ Guild. She lives with her family in Pretoria, South Africa.

Blog: www.sinmisolao.wordpress.com

Twitter: @sinmisolaog

 

Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/en/woods-autumn-woman-girl-meeting-1524606/

Categories
Pleasant Rosebud - Romantic Suspense

PROVIDENCE – LILY 3

I couldn’t believe it! The stupid frog refused to become a prince for me. Moving on, I decided to review my list again.

Lily’s potential routes to happiness

  1. Cinderella
  2. Sleeping Beauty
  3. Rapunzel
  4. Little Mermaid
  5. Beauty and the Beast
  6. Princess and the Frog
  7. Snow White
  8. Frozen

 

The opportunities I had left were simple. Of course, meeting a beast was unpleasant but surely not as unpleasant as kissing frogs. I also decided to take stock of my adventures so far and try to pin point the reason for my failures. I looked through each fairytale on my list and summarized each ordeal. I read and compared my summaries to a horoscope I acquired when I was in my ‘Cinderella phase.’ I realized I had been going through my list in the wrong way.

“Let life take its course. Relax. You will reach your destiny. Be warned, wishes are fickle beings who obey no man.”

This was what my horoscope said about me. At the time, I was strapped for cash and could not afford a detailed explanation from a fortuneteller. What I paid for was the basic instruction all people who shared my birth month got.

When I first read it, I thought it was all vague nonsense and I continued with the quest of becoming Cinderella. After that plan crashed, I got a new interpretation to the horoscope. I understood, ‘Let life take its course’ as I should assist my life to reach my destiny, grab the bull by its horn, steer my own wagon, and all. That interpretation was now stupid but back then it made perfect sense. I had believed the natural course of my life was to search for my happily ever after, looking for opportunities for a fairytale ending. With that mindset, I had kissed numerous frogs and contacted disgusting diseases!

Now I decided to interpret the horoscope for what it truly was. I would let providence take its place in my life. Go with the flow and all that. My initial idea had been to look for some dwarves and befriend them or find an empty tower and wait for a prince to notice me. Instead of all that, I began to wander about. I went wherever my feet led me.

The first few months after my transformation were uneventful, in the sense that I didn’t met and marry a handsome prince. I, however, busied myself by collecting knowledge and relics from the towns, villages, and kingdoms I passed through. My collection consisted of a very beautiful silver hand-mirror, a book filled with recipes to produce potions for all kinds of things from instant hair growth to dwarf-repellant, a fancy hourglass, and a journal.

My new look on life kept me constantly positive. I couldn’t shake the feeling things were about to change for the best. On a whim, I decided to choose a random recipe from my book and create. The recipe I got was for a laughing potion which required basic ingredients. It included a feather from a sparrow’s left wing, a freshly bloomed hibiscus, slime from a frog’s back, a sprig of parsley, the fin of tilapia, and salt. I decided to set up camp in a forest nearby, as the forest had all the ingredients I needed.

I successfully acquired all for my recipe, and brewed a healthy portion of the laughing potion. I couldn’t know if it was successful unless I tried it on a person. I decided to then sell it to anyone who would tolerate me. This did not, however, happen.

On my way back to the neighboring village I got caught in a net trap. Who could have placed a trap so close to a human settlement? I feared for my soul. I inspected the rope used to make the trap. It wasn’t the kind of rope used to capture wild animals. It was not as rough or strong. It was the kind used by knights to tie up prisoners. This meant one thing. I had fallen into a trap set by cannibals.

I screamed for help but knew it was futile. It was midday; the markets would be filled with busy buyers and sellers. My frantic cries were drowned out by the bustling hollers of happy traders and shoppers. I wouldn’t be missed. No one knew me in this village. My only hope of survival was to be noticed by a wanderer. It was a fat chance. All I could do was to wait. I tried to make myself comfortable but it was pointless. I hung from a tree in a stinky net.

I ended up waiting about six or seven hours; it was hard to tell. My neck felt stiff and my back hurt. I had tried to while away time by falling asleep but I couldn’t. I was continuously visited my curious forest critter, squirrels to be precise. It was annoying. I was lucky I wasn’t visited by any snakes.

As the sun began to set, fear sank into me. My captor would soon come for me. I broke into tears of helplessness. My wails became louder when I heard rough footsteps from afar. My captor was coming to claim his bounty. The footsteps were soon accompanied by gruff harmonious voices. Cannibal feast songs, maybe? I strained my ears to understand what they were chanting.

“Heigh-ho! Heigh-ho!

It’s home from work we go!”

That was the chorus of workers heading home. I was saved! Tears flowed freely as I shouted for help. My cries weren’t heard immediately. I spent about five agonizing minutes screaming. The singing stopped and I sighed. After a moment of curious and confused murmurs, seven men appeared from behind the tall trees. The men weren’t what I expected. Maybe I was really high up in the air or the evening light was obstructing my vision or the forest trees were too tall but these men were short.

“Dwarfs! You’re all dwarves!” I cried. My Snow-White fairytale had come to save me and I couldn’t be happier.

“Of course, we are!” growled one of them. They all had round button noses but he had the biggest nose. They seemed offended by my observation. I quickly apologized and begged them to help me out.

Big-nose scoffed. “And why should we help a dwarfist like you?!”

I scrunched my nose. “What is a dwarfist?”

“A dwarfist is a person who disseminates-uh-I mean discriminates against dwarfs,” said a dwarf with round glasses wedged on his nose. It was the silliest term I had ever heard but I kept that observation to myself.

“I promise, I am not a dwarfist. I am only a damsel in distress!”

“And we are simple workers returning home. Good bye!” Big-nose scoffed and stormed off. The other dwarfs followed him.

“Wait! You can’t leave me like this, please. I’m hungry and achy. I don’t want my captor to find me here!” I begged.

“You’re out of luck, young lady. These ropes belong to a fierce man-like beast and only a fool would rescue you. You’re on your own!” The dwarf with glasses (‘four-eyes’ is what I nicknamed him) said.

“The dwarfs I’ve read about are more caring than you bunch…but if a man-like beast is coming for me, I don’t need your help anymore. You can leave me here!” I said.

“Crazy dwarfist!” muttered big-nose.

Four-eyes shrugged. “Uh- well, suit yourself.” He seemed astonished but left with the others.

A man-like beast! This was amazing. I figured the whole Snow White approach was a little far-fetched for me. Finding dwarfs proved to be easy but getting an evil stepmother queen/witch who was obsessed with beauty seemed like a lot of work. If my captor truly was a man-like beast, I could go through the Beauty and the Beast route easily!

So, I shifted about in my net and waited patiently for my captor. I didn’t wait long. The forest trees began to shake, birds flew from their nest in fear as growls sliced through the normal nighttime sounds. The beast approached.

I giggled in fear and excitement. It felt like I was walking up the stairs to the ballroom again. Butterflies went rampant in my stomach and I forgot all about my discomfort. The silhouette of a bear, standing tall on curved hind legs with a wide head and chest, pointed ears and slim waist, stood before me. He lifted a lantern up and growled when saw my face. He raised his gigantic paw which cushioned long sharp claws and slashed it in my direction. I squeezed my eyes shut in fear he’d strike me. Instead I landed on the ground in a loud thud! He had broken the net with only his claws. The pain of the fall was a welcome feeling. It helped wake up my stiff limps. I sighed and stretched on the ground.

“Get up. Follow me. Don’t run.” His voice was cold and sounded like a never-ending growl. “I’ll catch you. Stay quiet.”

I couldn’t see details of his face but some of his features couldn’t be concealed by combined dim light of his lantern and the moon. He was covered in long curly fur and had two sharp incisors sticking out of his mouth and stretching down to his jaw. His nose looked permanently flared and had rather distracting hair sticking out of it. He really was an ugly fierce-looking beast.

“Hurry up. Don’t stare!” He stormed away.

I scurried to gather my belongings: the laughing potion, some leftover ingredients, my trusty book of potions, silver mirror, a matchbox, a tiny pot and spatula. His steps were long and large. I had to run to keep up with him.

He didn’t talk much but I tried to start a conversation with him, nonetheless.

“What is your name? My name is Lily.”

Silence.

“Do you live here in the forest?”

No reply.

“Can I quickly return to the inn where I stay and grab the rest of my belongings?”

“No.”

“Why not?! I hope you have suitable things for me. I don’t even have a lot actually.”

The beast abruptly stopped and turned to face me. “You are not a guest. You are a slave. I am your captor and your owner. Now be quiet!”

“Rude!” I muttered.

I, however, remained quiet after that. I didn’t want to annoy my future husband. After all, I wanted him to fall in love with me. It was quite a long walk to the beast’s fortress.

I couldn’t make out the details of the fortress but it was a grave-looking gothic castle. It exuded intimidation and fear. I couldn’t help but feel like I was orchestrating a horrific death for myself. He had called me a slave which was quite scary. The inner castle was dimly lit but it was bright enough for me to see clearly. The beast led me to an endless-looking spirally stairway. I gulped deeply.  Surely, Belle had not gone through this kind of emotional torture from her beast, had she?

“Starting tomorrow morning, you will look over my garden and keep my castle clean. You will speak when spoken to and ask no questions. You will not and cannot escape. You may ask for a favor, which I will grant based on how I feel, once a week.” The beast stated as we climbed the stairs. I was mute with fear.

“This will be your sleeping quarters. I will open the door every two days so you can do your duties. I will punish you by starving you if you break my rules. Questions?”

We had reached the top of the stairs and come to a sturdy-looking metal door. The beast unlocked the door and pushed me into a stale spacious room. It consisted of a single metal-framed bed with gray sheets, pillow and blanket, a bathtub and toilet hole, a kitchenette with two metal cupboards, a charcoal stove and a small window.

My mind buzzed with questions but my mouth refused to utter them. For a month, this was my life. The mute slave of a grumpy beast! I was half-dazed most of the time. I was reliving my days as a slave to my stepmother. The only difference was the beast wasn’t as malicious as Lady Méchant. Instead, he was icy and emotionless.

I finally snapped out of my month-long state of shock and decided to confront the beast. I had to get him out of his grumpy mood and get his romantic ‘lovey-dovey’ juices flowing! The beast’s favorite day of the week was Saturday so I cornered him.

He was in his study, staring out a painting of a family which consisted of a father, mother, and two sons. I assumed it was his family. I still did not know his name so I called him Beasty, which he hated.

“For this week, the favor I request is fully-detailed responses to anything I say or ask,” I said. Unlike his automatic response, a growl of dismissal, he turned to face me and nodded.

“What is your name and who are you?”

“Before I became this ghastly creature, my name was Adam. I was a pompous fool of a prince,” he stated without blinking.

“How did you transform to become a -uh… this form?”

“I was a spoilt brat. I provoked an evil witch and she cursed me to this horrid form. Before you ask, there is no cure or potion to reverse my state. This form is permanent.”

I gasped. “Surely, there must be a way. I’ve heard that true love’s kiss can break any curse.” Of course, I knew his story and I knew he could become a prince again. I was surprised he didn’t know his curse was reversible.

“Oh, that boat has already sailed. I’ve had my chance to be set free but I lost it.” He frowned.

“I’m confused but don’t worry I’m here to liberate you! We can fall in love and live happily together!” I cheered.

He laughed first then replied, “Sorry but you’re too late. I already fell in love with a young lady but it wasn’t reciprocated and I had to let her go. The hurt of my heartbreak caused me to beg the witch to make my condition permanent. If the kindest sweetest most caring woman in the world couldn’t bring herself to love me, then who could?!” He raised his voice, it sounded like a brewing storm.

“No no no! I am here for you! We can meet the witch together and beg her to redeem your human form. Please! I need this. You’re my ticket to a happily ever after, please!” I wailed.

For the first time, the beast exploded in anger. His hazel eyes became onyx, all his claws and teeth grew to double their size. His fur flared and stood straight off his skin. I shuddered in fear as he advanced toward me.

“You foolish girl!” He swung me over his shoulder and carried me all the way back to my stuffy hole in the tower.

He jammed the door and locked it, almost destroying the bolts that held it together. Immediately I could no longer hear his angry stomps, I rushed to the cupboard where I kept my belongings.

During my period of being mute, I had busied myself by practicing my potion-making. The castle was in, what I felt was, the heart of the forest. It attracted all manner of harmless creatures and harbored a variety of plants, both rare and common. I used whatever ingredients I could find, from it all, to make potions. I had sensed the beast would be difficult, so I had some resources stashed away. I searched my book of potions and glanced through the recipe for instant hair growth. Perfect! I had almost everything I needed to make a fairly-stable potion.

I worked swiftly and by late afternoon my potion was ready. It needed to settle for at least six hours but I didn’t want to wait any longer. I wanted to escape as fast as possible. I was going to use the long hair the potion would give me, to form a ladder down the castle. It was an absurd idea but I felt it was my best option. I immediately downed the potion. According to my book, a fully-matured potion would take about an hour to activate. On an empty stomach, I doubted anything would happen soon. I could only pray the beast would not visit me with supper this night. Hopefully, he’d be too angry to come up.

The sun set and it was nighttime but nothing happened. I was afraid but relieved the beast had not come. Suddenly, my stomach began to quiver and my head ached. The potion was activating. I poured important belongings into a pouch I crafted, hung my hair on harness attached to the window and leaned out of it. As I watched my hair begin to grow and flow out the window of the 15-storey tower, I heard the faint familiar stomps and grunts of the monster. ‘No, not now. Please not now!’

I began to frantically yank my hair from its roots to make it grow faster as the beast sounded nearer. My metal door groaned slowly as the beast opened it, my hair was not yet as long as it needed to be for me to make a safe landing. The door fully opened to reveal the beast holding a tray of food.

“I came to apologize. You are a fool but my problems are not your doing.” His head was bowed and I whimpered. He looked up.

We glared at each other for a split second before he realized what I was doing and dropped the tray. He flared up like before and stormed toward me.

Panicked, I dug into my pouch and threw the first thing I touched at him. My old laughing potion. He was disgruntled a second and I used the opportunity to jump out the window. I gripped my hair for my dear life as I slid down the tower. The adrenaline rush shielded me from the pain my scalp underwent.

I was half way down when the beast roared. “You fool!”

It was gut-wrenching roar but its effect was demolished by the silly cackle that following it. “If you don’t get back here, I’ll stew your bones!” He giggled. He even wheezed. The more he tried to talk the more he laughed. The whole situation was ridiculous.

Immediately I hit the ground, I took a blade out of my pouch and messily chopped off my hair. The beast was paralyzed with laughter. By the time the potion wore off, I was already long gone.

 

 Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/en/woods-autumn-woman-girl-meeting-1524606/

PROVIDENCE is used by permission of the original author, Ifeoluwa Ogúnyinka

Author bio:

Sinmisola Ogúnyinka is a pastor’s wife, mother, writer and movie producer. She has a university degree in Economics, and is a Craftsman of Christian Writers’ Guild. She lives with her family in Pretoria, South Africa.

Blog: www.sinmisolao.wordpress.com

Twitter: @sinmisolaog

Categories
Pleasant Rosebud - Romantic Suspense

PERSEVERANCE – LILY 2

After the whole “Frozen” saga at the ball, my life returned to normal. Normal in the sense that my village had become a winter wonderland; Princess Isabel ran away and turned the Kingdom’s forest into an icy mountain. Our kingdom was thrown out of balance into fear but I couldn’t care less. My life was more agonizing than before the ball fiasco. I guess it was bearable because I had hope of a happily ever after.

To be honest, my theory was still valid. Unfortunately, I’m not amongst the chosen few maidens to have a magical end but the princesses were living a cliché fairy tale life. I wasn’t afraid of the deadly winter my kingdom was thrown into. I knew the gentleman Princess Donna was with was a crook with ulterior motives.  I knew the princess would eventually marry a commoner. The only difference between their story and its original was that the King and Queen were alive. They might as well have been dead because nothing else changed in their story.

A few weeks after the ball, the kingdom returned to its normal state. The royal family embarked on their happily ever after. I couldn’t help but ask myself, “What next?”

This couldn’t be it for me. I couldn’t continue living this wretched life. Surely, my story wasn’t over. There had to be something great and magical waiting for me somewhere! Regardless of the Cinderella flop, I had a little hope. I wasn’t going to allow myself settle into the mundane life of being a slave who married a slave and gave birth to slaves.

I decided to start my research all over. I went through other fairy tales in detail, trying to find the one best suited to my life. The Little Mermaid was crossed out for obvious reasons: I wasn’t half-fish half-woman. The Snow-White approach was also a little far-fetched. For one, Snow White was young and extremely beautiful. Not to be pathetic, but I wasn’t exactly an epitome of female beauty. Besides the chances of me being a princess and meeting 7 dwarves were quite slim. The Rapunzel story was one of my favorites but my shoulder-length dark-brown-hair did not fit the bill at all. I had never even visited a tower not to talk of being locked up in one.

The more I researched, the more it became pointless. I just didn’t fit any of the requirements to be a princess. After my father passed, I suffered insomnia so becoming the Sleeping Beauty was not going to happen. Finding a beast to fall in love with just like Belle from Beauty and The Beast was a little too risky and desperate, even for me.

Two years passed and I was slowly consumed in my desire to find happily ever after. My stepmother, Lady Méchant, passed away. My stepsisters found husbands and moved away. I remained in my family house. Luckily, I was left with the house and what was left in it. I basically spent those two years researching and waiting around for fate and destiny to happen.

Then, I decided it was enough! I had to get up and grab the bull by its horn. Obviously, the magical happily ever after wasn’t going to visit me in thus small village. Besides, this was Cinderella’s (Queen Ella) kingdom. By staying back in my family home, I realized I was preventing myself from happily ever after.

So, I left.

I wasn’t sure where I was headed but I was prepared for it. I made a list of all the possible fairy tales that could become my story along with discoveries about their characteristics. I decided to start by becoming sleeping beauty. I was aware I wasn’t royalty and I had no fairy godmother but I was determined. I would venture into the nearest kingdom which had a royal family without an heir.

That ambition soon crashed. The first kingdom I stumbled upon seemed to be a ghost town. Everywhere was covered in dust and cobwebs. The houses seemed to be empty. Shops were all closed. The market place was filled with rotten food. I saw no animal, pet or livestock. I stayed in the kingdom for about two weeks in an abandoned little cottage which had a small backyard garden. I tried to understand what had happened to the people in the kingdom. I decided to visit the royal castle in the village.

On the grand gate, there was an announcement pasted on it.

“Come one, come all! Come and celebrate the sweet 16 of the Princess, for she has evaded the evil witch! Rejoice with us on this 6th day of April 1400 AD.”

1400 AD? That was twenty years ago. This kingdom has been dead for twenty years?! How? I decide to let myself into the castle. What I saw blew my mind away.

The path from the inner gates to the doors of the ballroom was filled with unconscious guards and staff. Everyone had passed out! They were all breathing so at least they were alive. The ballroom itself was an eyesore. It seemed as if everyone in the Kingdom was in this very room. At the center of the room, a beautiful young maiden slept in an opened glass case.

This couldn’t be happening again! At least this meant I was most definitely not sleeping beauty. I could cross that possibility off my list. I didn’t waste another moment in that ghost town. I ran for my life. If this was Sleeping Beauty’s Kingdom, it meant Maleficent was not too far behind. The evil witch had not noticed me throughout my stay so I wasn’t going to jinx my luck.

After escaping the ghost town, I decided to review my list.

Lily’s potential routes to happiness:

  1. Cinderella
  2. Sleeping Beauty
  3. Rapunzel
  4. Little Mermaid
  5. Beauty and the Beast
  6. Princess and the Frog
  7. Snow White
  8. Frozen

I hadn’t included all the fairy tales I knew about, like Merida, Mulan, and Pocahontas. Those tales were just too daring and required me to roughen up a little. Of course, finding a beast to fall in love with was less challenging than experiencing what Merida went through. However, I was a lady-like lady. I didn’t have the energy to be anything else.

Looking at my list, I discovered I still had a lot of ground to cover. Fortunately for me, my aimless travel led me to a swampy area. I decided to try my luck at finding a frog. This was a tricky situation. The fastest way to find a prince and avoid diseases from kissing frogs was to find a good witch.

A small town lay on the outskirts of the swamp. I interviewed the natives and was soon directed to a creepy looking hut which housed the oldest townsman. The hut stank and was murky. The old man lived in it. He was an herbal doctor but had no magical powers. He thought I was crazy after I explained my dilemma to him. He, however, told me he knew nothing about a prince who was turned into a frog. He advised me to move on with my life and face reality. I ignored his advice. Obviously, he knew nothing about fairy tales and the powers of true love’s kiss.

I stayed back in the town for two more weeks. My mornings and evenings were spent searching for and kissing frogs. I tried to stay away from poisoned frogs but that was futile. I had to take a break from my search when I fell ill. The old man treated me to the best of his abilities and scolded me continuously for my “stupidity.” I was not discouraged. I knew my frog was waiting somewhere for me.

My recovery was swift so I returned to my swamp search. The evening afterward was the foggiest I ever experienced. The air in the swamp seemed thicker than usual. I could hardly see my own hands. I couldn’t breathe and started to lose consciousness. I thought, “This is the end. At least I died trying.”

“Hello? Are you alright?” A faint voice called our out to me.

I wasn’t sure how long I was out but it felt like a long one. I blinked a couple of times to see more clearly. I tried to remember what had happened. Yes, the fog. It had completely cleared.

“Are you alright, Miss?” The voice was clearer now but it was quite small. I looked around but there was clearly no one around me.

“Down here,” it said.

To my utter amazement, I noticed a tiny greenish frog staring at me with its moist beady eyes.

It croaked. “Don’t scream. Or hit me.”

I yelped in celebration and did a crazy little dance. I had found my frog! My frog prince! Take that, silly old man! A snatched the frog off the ground and nestled him in my palms.

“Finally!”

The frog shrank in my palms. “Uh, what is going on here?” He seemed curious, and a little afraid.

“My word! It was so hard to find you but I’m glad I found you before I died. Thank God I don’t have to kiss anymore disgusting frogs!” I cried. I proceeded to explain everything to him. He joined in my excitement. He was finally going to be free from the curse!

Without further ado, we both puckered up for the kiss that was about to change everything. I squeezed my eyes and brought the frog to my lips.

*Kiss*

I blinked. Nothing happened. The frog’s lips were still puckered. I kissed it again but this time with my eyes wide open. Nothing!

“Are you sure you’re a real prince, because nothing is happening?”

“Let’s try again.”

We did but there was no sparkly magical light or transformation. I only looked like a crazy girl kissing a frog. I desperately pecked all over the frog’s body until it protested. I couldn’t understand what the problem was. I had found the frog! Why wouldn’t he just become a prince?! Was my heart not pure enough?! I couldn’t say I loved him. I mean I love the idea of him but that should have been enough, right?

Defeated, I returned to my rented room in the town with the frog. We had nothing to say to each other and decided to sleep. We both hoped that maybe the transformation would take place while we were asleep.

A week flew by and nothing changed. Marco as I named the frog, seemed to be more depressed than I was. I decided to pack up and leave the town. I even crossed out Princess and the frog from my list. Marco was angry with me for giving up and hopped away after an outburst. Honestly, I didn’t care how he felt. I still had a lot to do and I wasn’t gaining youth with these passing years.

As I approached the gates leading out of the town, I noticed a dark-skinned maiden with short curly black hair. She held something in her hand and took it close to her lips. That something happened to be Marco.

She kissed Marco, and suddenly literal sparks began to fall. What the—? Marco disappeared from her palms and transformed into a handsome prince. He exclaimed happily and kissed the girl again. I was going to lose it!

Really? Really! Why was my life so unlucky? For crying out loud, I found the frog! Couldn’t fate just pity me and rule in my favour? How could my life be so jinxed? First the Cinderella flop, then the Frozen saga, the Sleeping Beauty ghost town and now this.

I stormed past Marco and his new boo. He didn’t even notice me, as he was locked in a tight embrace with her, filled with too much joy.

For good measure, I turned back and shoved them both into the nearby pond, which circulated the exit of the town.

Besides, it wasn’t á la mode to have a husband who was turned into a frog.

 

Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/en/woods-autumn-woman-girl-meeting-1524606/

*á la mode a French expression which means fashionable.

 

 

PERSEVERANCE is used by permission of the original author, Ifeoluwa Ogúnyinka

Author bio:

Sinmisola Ogúnyinka is a pastor’s wife, mother, writer and movie producer. She has a university degree in Economics, and is a Craftsman of Christian Writers’ Guild. She lives with her family in Pretoria, South Africa.

Blog: www.sinmisolao.wordpress.com

Twitter: @sinmisolaog

Categories
Pleasant Rosebud - Romantic Suspense

COINCIDENCE – LILY 1

At the start of every century, young maidens, somewhere on this earth, experience magical events which change their whole lives. The stars would align in their favor to recreate ancient folklore in their lives.

For some, the story is finding out that you’re the fairest maiden in your kingdom, being hated by your stepmother, getting adopted by dwarves and marrying a prince. For others, it is being woken up, after sleeping for a hundred years, by a kiss from a charming prince. On rare occasions, some maidens find themselves locked up in isolated towers guarded by dragons or comforted by insanely long hair. Once in a while, fables are heard of maidens who live under the sea only to visit the surface and fall in love with human royalty.

There were many more stories such as these ones. Now, when these stories repeat themselves, they tend to sometimes have slight deviations. However, the usual end point is happily ever after with a handsome caring prince or prince-like man.

Some people in my time tend to ignore the truth in these stories. I, on the other hand, lived for these stories. This is because I couldn’t help but feel that I was one of the chosen few maidens in the whole world to encounter a magical happily ever after.

As a child, like most girls my age, I dreamt of becoming a princess. It was my life ambition. At the time, it had been wishful thinking and I never tried to delve into facts of my actual chances of becoming a real princess.

I was born into wealth but my father was not royalty. My father was an adventurer and merchant. He worked directly with kings from many kingdoms as a middleman. This brought a lot of wealth into our home. I lived like a princess, actually. I was an only child whom my parents adored. I received almost everything I asked for and lacked nothing. My parents were careful in raising me so I had manners. I grew up to be respectful and polite.

In my early preteen years, tragedy struck my home. My mother passed away from an unknown disease. She was a picture of perfect health. Her illness came as a shock. In those days, our doctors had not yet discovered my mother’s disease and thus, did not have a remedy for it. My father and I were crushed by her passing. My father became distant. He started travelling for longer periods of time without keeping in contact. I did my best to tackle depression from losing my mum, hurt from the distance my father created and maturity to maintain our family’s house.

Life became even worse after my father returned from his annual spring adventure. He had left home the spring of the previous year, the longest period of time he had ever been away. On his arrival, he looked more haggard than I had ever seen him. It broke my heart but it didn’t stop there. He had brought a woman with him. I was about 14 years old at the time, old enough to take care of myself and our home. This strange woman has two daughters and sometime, in the past year, she had gotten married to my father.

This new development hurt me so much, but I dedicated my energy to taking care of my father. No other person seemed to care about him. My stepmother, Lady Méchant, and her daughters, Anastasy and Brizel, were more focused on squandering my family’s remaining wealth. They maintained a high social status and threw magnificent parties. They busied themselves with being the local champions of my small village while I took care of my dying father. The doctors were also unable to detect my father’s illness. I knew he was going to leave me soon and I was dedicated to staying by his side to the very end.

My father passed after I turned 15. Lady Méchant and her daughters didn’t even pretend to be grieved. They took swift action to turn my life around. All the servants my family had were sent away and all their duties were placed on me. I became a slave in my own home. To comfort myself, I read the childhood stories my parents used to read me to sleep. This is where my theory began.

I began to notice a pattern in the stories from my childhood. During whatever free time I had, I began to gather facts from the works of other writers, philosophers, and professors. It was a slow procedure because I was mostly occupied with house work. I also began to study celestial cycles and their alignment with human destiny.

This brought hope to me, especially after my father’s death. Life seemed to be bleak but the folklores convinced me there was a magical future waiting for me. From my discoveries, I found out I was a reincarnate of a maiden called Cinderella. My life seemed to match all the stories I heard about her.

We had too much in common. Just like me, she lost both her parents at a young age and was left with an evil stepmother and stepsisters. My stepsisters’ names were even similar to that of Cinderella’s! She was a hardworking and lovely young lady and I believe I shared those traits with her. After all, I worked endlessly to take care of my family’s house and I did it without rebellion. In stories about her, she was assisted by a magical creature or close family friend to attend a ball where she met the Prince, fell in love, lost a shoe, and later got married to the prince.

Obviously, these events hadn’t occurred in my life yet. All I had to do was to be good and wait for a royal ball open to the public, to roll by my village. The only thing that seemed to be an obstacle in way of reaching ‘magical happily ever after’ was a prince. Of course I knew a prince had to be available for me but the royal family, which ruled over my village, was highly secretive.

An accident had apparently happened about a year before I was born and the royal family had closed off their gates to any visitors from my village and our kingdom as a whole. I knew the royal family had heirs to the throne but that was it. No one had any info on what happened before the gates were closed or within the royal castle. No one knew what the royal family looked like anymore. In fact, it was so extreme that anyone who worked in the castle building never left. They even had a graveyard within those walls!

I knew nothing about the prince so I decided to create an image of him based on the description of Cinderella’s Prince. I imagined he had chocolaty-brown hair with matching brown eyes, a strong jaw, chiseled cheekbones and sweet cherry lips. As a charming prince, he’d obviously have handsome (not bulky) muscles and a slight build. He’d also have to be taller than my 5’6 feet, with four inches or more, not too much taller though. I imagined him with a charming smile and sparkling white teeth. I wouldn’t mind if he was blond or had a different eye colour. Besides, I looked nothing like the three different Cinderellas I read about. My shoulder-length dark brown hair contrasted the blond, almost golden, hair they all had. I also had jade eyes unlike their electric blue eyes.

I wasn’t too worried about these minor details. I knew for sure that a handsome charming prince was waiting for me behind the castle’s gates.

My 18th birthday was uneventful. I hoped the ‘predestined’ ball would happen this year because 18 was a magical year for most girls in the fairy tales. I tried not to get too worried by the delay in my miracle and focused on ensuring my story stayed in line with Cinderella’s. I managed to convince my wicked stepmother and her daughters to call me, ‘Ella’ instead of my original name ‘Lily.’ I felt getting them to call me ‘Cinderella’ in full was a too desperate. Or it could jinx the whole situation.

Finally, in the August of my 19th year, my family received an open royal invitation. The letter stated that the royal family was finally opening its gates to kingdoms and villages far and near for a week-long ball. My hopes soared to cloud 9. I wasn’t a tad offended when Lady Méchant told me I was only allowed to attend if I scrubbed the whole house twice. In fact, I was grateful she commanded me to do it. The same kind of thing happened to the Cinderellas!

I had been planning this day for at least two and a half years! I was more than ready. I wasn’t sure if I had a fairy godparent or family friends who would help me escape and prepare for the ball, so I created ‘a plan B.’ Ever since I began to believe in my theory, I started to save up any money I could get. The money grew to a substantial amount.

A few months before my 18th, I secretly took most of the money to a tailor and had him restore my mother’s wedding dress to suit me and the current fashion trends. The tailor was kind enough to perform the job with my little money. I assured him I would pay the rest when I became queen. He thought I was mad but did the job nonetheless.  Luckily for me, my mother’s shoes fitted perfectly. They weren’t made of glass but they were silver in colour, which was close enough for me. I used my remaining money to hire a carriage.

And I was off to the ball.

My heart pounded with excitement. I couldn’t believe this was actually happening. I held back tears of joy so I wouldn’t ruin my make-up. My years of enslavement and wishful thinking were finally coming to an end. All my dreams were about to become reality. My life was about to change forever and I just couldn’t believe it.

Another Cinderella success!

The coachman dropped me off at the entrance of the castle and I proceeded to take the long walk up the stairs to the ballroom. I was fashionably late which was perfect. This meant I’d have a grand entrance where everyone would pause and gaze at me. I could already picture their stunned expressions and confusions to who the beautiful maiden (me) was. For sure I’d catch the prince’s attention and then we’d dance the night away and fall in love in the process. I couldn’t help but giggle at my thoughts.

I got to the top of the stairs and everything happened according to plan. The ballroom was designed almost exactly as I’d imagined it. The top of the stairs led to a round balcony which overlooked the dance floor beneath. The royal seating area directly faced the balcony. Everything was golden, red or violet. A large golden chandelier hung from the ceiling and made the ballroom shiny and alive.

As expected, the music stopped and everyone turned to gaze at me once I appeared at the balcony. It took everything in my power not to smirk at how well my theory was working. An usher came up to me and asked for my name and title. He was to introduce me to the curious audience.

“The enchanting Miss Lily!” he called out.

I blushed at his choice of words. The audience began to applaud as I made my way back down the stairs to the dance floor.

I walked straight toward the royal family’s area, to show my respect and snatch away the Prince. From the balcony, I didn’t have a clear view of anyone at all.

As I got closer though, a cold chill began to settle in my chest. My heart quivered as I got a closer look. This couldn’t be happening! The King and Queen looked comfortable on their throne. To their left, a young dainty-looking princess sat and smiled at me. On their right, sat an older princess, about my age.

Where was the prince?!

“The royal family. His Highness, King Arthur II, Queen Ella, Princess Isabel, and Princess Donna meet Miss Lily.” Another usher introduced.

I politely bowed and said, “What of the Prince?” The royal usher gasped and chuckled. The royal family also laughed. I was confused.

“There is no prince in this kingdom!” the usher said and guided me away from the royal family.

No prince. No prince? No prince! What does that even mean? Surely they must all be joking. There’s supposed to be a prince! Everything else is exactly as it should be. For crying out loud, there’s a full moon and my dress is blue! Just like in Cinderella!

Throughout the night I waved off the advances of other eligible men at the ball. I just couldn’t wrap my head around the absence of a prince! I tried to retrace my steps and see if I missed anything that could have sabotaged my chance of a fairy tale. I didn’t pay attention to the ball at all.

However, I got thrown out of my reverie. Apparently, the younger princess, Donna, had met a man at the ball, danced with him and fell in love. Pft. Lucky her. The royal family made a huge scene about disapproving the gentleman. The older princess, Isabel, got so worked up she started shooting ice from her hands.

Then it dawned on me. How could I be so stupid?!

I dedicated my life to a fairy tale that wasn’t in accordance to me. The whole orphaned stepmother/stepsister enslavement thing was only a coincidence. The signs were too obvious and I had chosen to ignore them. For one, I look nothing like a Cinderella. Also none of the Cinderallas I read about ever tracked their fairy tale or attempted to bend fate in their favor or were ever aware of their clichéd lives or were their own fairy godparent for Christ’s sake!

The royal castle was closed off! If anything, that was a huge indicator that I was living in the ‘Frozen’ fairytale!

“Well that was a terrible waste of my time.”

Ironically, at midnight, I had to rush back home. I noticed my stepmother and sisters leave the ball.

This definitely couldn’t have been my story. The stupid silver slippers didn’t even slip off while I ran toward my carriage.

 

 

 Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/en/woods-autumn-woman-girl-meeting-1524606/

COINCIDENCE is used by permission of the original author, Ifeoluwa Ogúnyinka

Author bio:

Sinmisola Ogúnyinka is a pastor’s wife, mother, writer and movie producer. She has a university degree in Economics, and is a Craftsman of Christian Writers’ Guild. She lives with her family in Pretoria, South Africa.

Blog: www.sinmisolao.wordpress.com

Twitter: @sinmisolaog

 

Categories
Pleasant Rosebud - Romantic Suspense

HOW I LOST ANN

The company’s policy was quite clear about office relationships. “Fraternising of any kind, especially romantic, is prohibited in this corporation.”

Ann and I were hell bent on adhering to this policy. We had finally scored our dream jobs in the best workplace in town and were determined to maintain it.

So, the plan was simple. From 8am to 5pm, Ann and I are total strangers at work. But after those hours, we return to being two consenting adults who are crazy in love and on the brink of marriage.

It was not easy for me to see Ann so much and keep away from her at work. It wasn’t easy for her too but Ann is a brilliant actress. One thing I enjoyed about our new form of relationship was the endless hours we spent at night, talking about office stuff and funny things our colleagues did.

From her side, it appeared her male colleagues ignored the office policy and constantly tried to flirt with her. Ann is a very pretty girl but I didn’t expect people to break the policy and I also didn’t like the way she responded to them. Ann refused to report their misconducts because she didn’t want to bring attention to herself at the office as a whistle blower. I thought that was crap but I remained silent.

As weeks rolled into months, I made friends within the office. Terry Thompson, precisely, was my closest friend. He was my opposite in every way.

Terry was loud, extroverted and an outright womanizer. I don’t know why Terry and I are friends, the only thing we had in common was the department we worked in and our love for cappuccino. Terry had a zest for life; he partied throughout the weekend and managed to appear at work in top shape. I guess these his traits were the cause of our standing relationship.

It didn’t take too long for Ann to become popular at work. Not for whistle blowing but because the ‘eye-candy’ and most eligible bachelor at work had taken a liking to her. Ironically, I hated the guy.

If Chris Evans (Captain America) had a brother, it would be him. According to all the ladies in the department, Kyle Ross was the most ambitious and devilishly handsome employee in the company. Basically, everyone loved him. The boss adored him, rumours say he occasionally plays golf with board of trustees members and provides organic milk to orphaned kittens. I mean, who is this guy?

Bottom line, Kyle was the golden boy in the office and he was after my girl. Christ! Even his name pisses me off but I remained silent.

It is important to note, policy or no policy, I was in love with Ann and no matter how hard I tried, it was difficult to ignore her at work. It didn’t take long for Terry to realise I had a ‘thing’ for Ann.

Obviously, he didn’t know she and I were actively involved. Terry, being Terry, tried to get met to ask the ‘hottie’ in the Accounting department out. I declined politely and gave him the excuses I had given my friends before I started dating Ann. “She is too good for me.”

But my innocent friend was relentless. He did all manner of crazy things to try and get me to ask Ann out. He often played the Kyle card, although that got me pissed I never acted. Ideally, there shouldn’t even be a ‘Kyle card’ to play.

Ann and I got our kicks from laughing at Terry’s effort. We never talked about Kyle’s efforts. I wanted too, only for the fun of laughing at him because he would be deemed as pathetic. But that didn’t happen.

One Monday morning was quite odd for me. Usually, I would share a couple of jokes with the receptionist on the ground floor and those on my department’s floor. Mary, the receptionist on my floor, would ask me if I had eaten breakfast or if I had asked Ann out yet (remember, Terry has a loud mouth). After my little chat with Mary, I would enjoy cappuccino with Terry and then bury myself in paperwork.

Everything was normal until I got to my floor.

Mary did not wittily greet me and Terry brought the wrong coffee. The office was somewhat gloomy and I later realised why. Terry told me Ann and Kyle had gone out on an “awesome and romantic date” over the weekend, according to Kyle’s WhatsApp profile picture and status. I now understood everybody’s awkwardness. Thanks to Terry, everyone on our floor knew about my ‘crush’ on Ann. I boiled.

Kyle did not allow me to ignore his date with my girlfriend. In Kyle’s defence, it wasn’t on purpose and he wasn’t trying to upset me. He was trying to upset all the male workers by boasting about how he had scored the hottest girl in the office. I was flabbergasted though about the news and it was in fact news to me because I was with Ann over the weekend. We spent Friday evening, Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning (in church) together. Ann never hinted or mentioned Kyle was getting serious or pressuring her. Besides, this was a clear breach of the company’s policy.

After work, I confronted Ann. At work, I couldn’t say anything because that would cause a scene. But in the comfort of Ann’s small apartment, I had the freedom to shout. Ann and I rarely fought but when we did, it would be swift and loud. How we resolve our fights, I never know. They always seem to dissolve over time. I didn’t give Ann a chance, I launched straight into the issue.

“When were you going to tell me Kyle was pressuring you?”

“Excuse me?” She looked puzzled as she poured green tea into my mug. I hate green tea.

“You know exactly what I mean, Ann. I mean, seriously. Kyle asks you out. First you don’t tell me, your fiancé, and then I hear you’re going out with him? Who does that?!” I ignored the steaming tea. She was clearly trying to upset me further by giving it to me.

“You’re not my boss, David. I’m not tied down to you. And what is this about being my fiancé? I don’t recall you asking me to marry you.” She spat.

My face contorted with rage and it translated into my words. “What about the company’s policy? How could you say that Ann?! We’ve been together for three years now. Hell! I gave you a ring!”

She hissed. “What ring? You stuttered through the whole proposal and the cheap band you got me is laughable. Didn’t you say you’ll get back to me on that?”

I exploded. “Ann—”

“Get out! Get out of my house! You can’t even get me a decent ring. Leave!”

I left Ann’s house feeling ashamed and defeated. Ann was right but we had already fought the fight about the ring. We agreed back then I was too poor to get a decent ring, also we agreed to invest a lot of money in a wedding ring and ignore the temporary engagement ring. I guess that fight did not dissolve properly.

A few hours after our fight, I got a text message from Ann.

I couldn’t have rejected Kyle’s offer because it would be weird. After all, he is the most eligible man at work.

Again, Ann was right and her text hurt but I did not reply.

Due to our fight, Ann and I stopped seeing each other after work and during the weekend. This was normal for us. We usually gave each other space after a fight and then managed to fall back into our normal routine when we missed each other or when the quarrel dissolved.

However, according to office gossip, Ann and Kyle were getting really close and serious. They were constantly going out, in fact, someone caught them smooching in the printing room once. Everything seemed to be working out for them. Kyle was in line for a promotion, and some other people and I were as well, but it seemed too clear Kyle would get it. My emotions drove me to report Kyle and Ann’s inappropriate office relationship.

Jared, my boss, was not pleased at all with my confession. At first, my meeting with him was going well. He was open to my concerns and listened attentively. He made the occasional grunts of approval at the right times. When I was done, I looked at him with expectance.

“Now, David, I am shocked at this revelation. I did not think something like this could thrive in this prestigious workplace.” He leaned on his mahogany desk.

“I totally agree sir, I was shocked myself. I mean, such an outright breach of—”

“You didn’t let me finish. I didn’t think you had it in you, David. You never stroke me as the jealous and conniving type. Without a doubt, this whole complaint of yours is out of spite for Mr. Ross.” He said matter-of-factly.

“Excuse me, I—” I was confused.

“Listen carefully, David. I don’t have time for this and such conduct, bad-mouthing of colleagues, is not acceptable. You only forged these stories so you can get Mr. Ross out of the way and attain the promotion.” Jared’s eyes had never been so cold to me before, I felt hopeless.

“David, leave my office. And listen carefully, next time you feel like spewing nonsense, follow office procedures. Write a letter about your concerns with relevant proof and evidence.” Jared stood and nodded toward his door. That was my cue to leave.

Terry was waiting for me outside the boss’s office.

“I told you, David. Kyle is untouchable, besides you’re the only one in this company that follows the policy.” He shrugged.

“You don’t get it, Terry. Ann was mine, is mine. I did all this for her because we’ve been together for three years now.” I sighed. I was ashamed of myself.

“Well, that’s original,” was all Terry said in his nonchalant way as he strolled back to his desk. For a best friend, he didn’t seem to care about my current emotional trauma. I mean, I had practically just embarrassed myself in front of the boss. Most likely, Jared now thinks I’m a terrible person.

The weeks after my encounter with Jared were awkward. I tried to remain professional but it was difficult. I hadn’t spoken to Ann in so long and Kyle got the promotion. I admit, I became very jealous and withdrawn. Terry kept his distance from me. I suspected he didn’t want to be around me, the office’s whistle-blower. Jared was also trying to be professional but working with him was difficult for me so I decided to quit.

I figured if I quit, I would be able to focus on wooing Ann back and starting afresh. A new work environment was all I needed.

Telling Ann about my unemployed status was a little dramatic than Terry’s reaction. You would think the girl I had been crazy in love with for three years would show some empathy. All I got from Ann was a broken heart.

“You never fight for anything, David. You didn’t fight against the company’s policy, you didn’t fight for me and you didn’t fight for your job. I mean, didn’t you know that the CEO married his secretary?” Ann rolled her eyes and flipped her hair.

It was the last time I saw her, as an unmarried lady. Ann became Mrs. Ross a few months after we officially broke up.

I later realized I lost Ann to a corrupted policy.

 

 

 Photo: https://pixabay.com/en/autumn-lonely-leaves-ground-965117/ 

HOW I LOST ANN is used by permission of the original author, Ifeoluwa Ogúnyinka

Author bio:

Sinmisola Ogúnyinka is a pastor’s wife, mother, writer and movie producer. She has a university degree in Economics, and is a Craftsman of Christian Writers’ Guild. She lives with her family in Pretoria, South Africa.

Blog: www.sinmisolao.wordpress.com

Twitter: @sinmisolaog

 

Categories
Pleasant Rosebud - Romantic Suspense

MARY HAD A LITTLE LAMB

The natural cascade soothed Mary and many days she walked by as she prayed and sought the mind of God. It was the way she’d been raised. Her family believed in God, and though her father remained grounded and adamant in the Jewish ways, he taught his children to choose.

“As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord,” his deep voice rang out at every meal but he’d caught her several times forget to say the grace.

Mary reserved those confessions for her walk by the cascade.

The stream rushed with exceptional warm water and she wished she could jump in the way she did as a child. But she was a full-grown woman now. Betrothed too. No one could ever understand such childish behavior and her father would never condone it.

Sometimes it amazed her he gave them so much freedom to be whom they wanted, yet kept everyone on a tight leash.

She put her hand in the water and closed her eyes.

Everything had changed in such a little time. She was no longer a young girl, free to make her mistakes. Her heart thudded. Jehovah knows best, and he knows why.

Of all the betrothed maidens in Israel, she had gotten the visitation. She believed God. He used the weak things to confirm the strong.

She turned at the footsteps behind her. Joseph. So strong, so handsome. She was blessed to have him. She smiled.

He crouched beside her. “Beloved.”

His dark eyes searched her face. She looked away shyly. He was such a deep thinker. Would he understand? Or had Jehovah sent him a messenger too?

“It seemed so important to send for you. To come here.” She looked around her. “It’s so peaceful here. I feel so close to the presence of God.”

“It is a beautiful and calm place to be.” He narrowed his eyes. “We only meet here when something important is to be said. Don’t keep me waiting.”

She drew in her breath. “I had a visitor.”

“Jehovah be praised.”

Trust Joseph to be so willing and so eager. But many had been divinely visited. From the days of Abraham and the fathers of faith. None like this.

“A little lamb will be mine soon. Ours.”

Joseph frowned. “A little lamb?”

“The Holy Spirit—I am with child by the Holy One. The messiah.”

She didn’t make sense. Joseph picked the only sentence any man would. He straightened. “You are with child.”

She nodded. “The angel of the Lord—”

“Do whatever you wish but by the heavens do not blaspheme!” He stepped away from her. “Do not blaspheme, beloved.” He turned and walked away at the speed of light.

 

 

Author bio:

Sinmisola Ogúnyinka is a pastor’s wife, mother, writer and movie producer. She has a university degree in Economics, and is a Craftsman of Christian Writers’ Guild. She lives with her family in Pretoria, South Africa.

Blog: www.sinmisolao.wordpress.com

Twitter: @sinmisolaog

 

Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/en/cascada-balchik-bulgaria-supplies-508131/

Categories
Pleasant Rosebud - Romantic Suspense

WELCOME HOME (Thomas Garet series)

He snapped and got into real dark moods a lot, but at least he stayed. She had been irresistibly drawn to him from the beginning. He looked like a stray dog, one that needed food, shelter and a good cuddle. Lacy offered the first two, but dared not hint on the third.

Just as Aunt Ann had warned, he insisted on paying for the room, and food. Lacy obliged him. She stayed in a block of apartments and didn’t have much use for help, but he offered to work in the yard, take out the trash, do the small laundry, cook, clean, and give her a vacation in her own space till he was strong enough to hit the road.

Thomas Garet continued to stay in Ravena’s condo down the road. Her friend had more than three months left of her exchange program to Tanzania in East Africa, and allowed Lacy the use of it.

They settled into a routine, and he visited her every other day to cook and clean. The arrangement was ludicrous because she did not need his services.

“We have a guest minister coming over to my church, Thomas, I thought you might want to come with me?”

“Haven’t been in church since Molly’s burial.” He picked the trash and walked out.

Lacy swallowed. He’d given her all manner of short, sharp answers about his life before they met since she asked who Molly was. It was obvious he didn’t want to talk about his wife or the tragic circumstances around her demise. She let him be.

But how would she reach out to him? If she let him be every time he walked off on an attempt.

She followed him out. “Pastor Paul is a renowned international minister. He has the word.”

Thomas smirked. “He sure does now.” He brushed past her back into her space.

She followed him. “It’s rude to walk off when I’m trying to have a conversation with you.” She bit her lip.

“Then don’t have a conversation with me!” He glared, his blue eyes dead cold.

Her voice shook. “Thomas, please—”

He stepped back as if she threw him a punch. “Don’t try to win me!”

She clasped her hands. “Of course not. I—”

“I don’t want to go to your church. And I don’t want to be nice. To you or anyone.”

His words came out jerky, and for a moment, Lacy realized she had struck something in him. He never spoke this much. He stared her down for a second then turned to wash his hands.

Lacy touched his firm shoulder blade and squeezed before he stiffened. “Allow God to heal you, Thomas.”

He turned to her, his angry blue eyes blazing. “I—”

“Ssh.” She pulled him into her arms. “Allow God to come back.”

“He did nothing for me. I loved him with all my heart. Still he took everything from me.”

His sobs shocked her but she had prayed for him every single night since the day Charles Taylor shot him on the street. She needed to seize this moment.

Deep, throaty cries shook his body and she held his 200 pounds of toned muscles until they subsided.

She cupped his face and smoothed back his wild, blond hair. He might get a cut if she could convince him. “God loves you, Thomas, and he welcomes you. Home.”

He looked sideways for a moment and closed his eyes. She could almost taste his struggle. Thank God, she thought.

Her heart sang a song of healing and redemption. She prayed for courage to see him through. She whispered words of comfort and assurance, and he nodded intermittently. One day, she prayed he would return her gesture, and love her back the way she loved him from first sight.

For now, she was content to lead Thomas Garet on his way to finding love again.

 

Picture: https://pixabay.com/en/shoe-laces-leather-hiking-974564/

 

Author bio:

Sinmisola Ogúnyinka is a pastor’s wife, mother, writer and movie producer. She has a university degree in Economics, and is a Craftsman of Christian Writers’ Guild. She lives with her family in Pretoria, South Africa.

Blog: www.sinmisolao.wordpress.com

Twitter: @sinmisolaog

Categories
Pleasant Rosebud - Romantic Suspense

A TRIBUTE TO A SISTER (Thomas Garet series)

Thomas watched Charles Taylor arraigned. He wanted to see it. The man looked young for a father of a teenager. His dark eyes seemed like an endless pit, Thomas saw no life in them. As his charges were read to him, he merely stared into space.

Lacy walked into the room with a tray of freshly brewed coffee and two giant chocolate chip muffins. The smell of the delicious mix wafted to Thomas’ nose and drew him to stare at his hostess.

She’d visited him every day of ten days till he was strong enough to leave the hospital, and offered him a place till he could decide what next.

Lacy placed the tray on the bed beside him and glanced at the screen of the 14” TV mounted on the wall ahead.

“You are seen as a hero,” she said.

Thomas moaned. “I am no hero.” He wanted truly to be nice to her. But he was here at her mercy.

She lived alone in a condo and though he was yet to ask, he thought she’d improvised her bedroom into a guest room. Whatever the case was, he had no plans of staying with her or in this town. His animal instincts told him to move on.

“It’s not what you say. Several people caught the event on—”

“I know what several people caught, Miss.”

The coffee smelt so good. As soon as she settled him into the room, she’d disappeared, only to return with this. Against his better judgment, he picked a muffin.

“I spoke with Aunt Ann just now.” She smiled. “She sends her love.” She chuckled. “Told me she knew I’d be with you sooner than later.”

“Why would she say that?”

“I don’t know.” She walked to the blinds and peeped. “It gets hotter every day. This weather can’t decide.”

“You told Mrs. Covender your plans to keep me.” He poured coffee.

It was just so American of her to serve him coffee late in the morning, and for him to accept it with gratitude. Though he showed none of it. He realized to his shame he hadn’t told her a single “thank you.”

She half-turned. “Plans to keep you?”

“Do you? Plan to keep me?”

She shook her head. “Who are you? Why did you follow me here?”

It dawned on him he had indeed. Maybe all along the way he’d refused to admit it but he couldn’t hide this anymore. He wanted to find her. He trained his eyes on her, and she stared right back.

“These are nice.” He raised the muffin and took a bite.

Several sips of the delicious coffee, and a giant muffin gone down, he rose.

She took a step toward him. “The doctor said you needed rest.”

“What did Aunt Ann say?” He drawled the old lady’s name. He did need to rest.

The bullet had nearly taken his shoulder off. He was glad to heal so fast. But he was a roamer, a stray dog. He could never stop in this place.

“That you’re a good man. And you will work for any kindness extended to you.”

He laughed, and she smiled. “I would. What kind of work can I do for you?”

“Tell me how you came to be here, and I’d be more than pleased to convert it to rent.”

He stiffened. “I won’t stay here.” He swayed and involuntarily sat on the bed. “This looks like only a room. Did you vacate your space for me? Why?”

“This is a friend’s place. She’s been away since the beginning of spring, and will be till the end of summer. She let me bring you here. At least until she returns.”

Her voice was low. Much as he had no plans to hurt her, he couldn’t do what she wanted. Hang around and—and get attached.

“Who’s Molly?”

His head jerked up, and he glared. How did she know?

“You’d wonder how I had such access to you at the hospital?” She walked to him and a meter away, stopped. Warm, grey eyes stared into his cold blue. “All through the first night, you asked to see Molly. Only Molly. When I got to the hospital in the morning, the nurse asked if I was Molly when I requested to see you. All harried.”

She’d lied?

He snickered. “Seriously?”

She sat beside him. “I may sound silly, but I did this, all of this, going through—being here. I did for Molly. I guess she must be a woman you love dearly.

“When I entered that hospital in the morning, I just wanted to be sure you were fine, and to know if your family had been contacted.”

“You lied to be beside me.”

She fixed her gaze on his chin. “Do you hate me for it?”

Hate her? His throat worked up a nasty comeback but her eyes. Molly’s eyes. They spoke to his soul.

“Molly was my wife. She was killed by a drunken driver eight years ago. A minor, I believe. She was seven months pregnant.”

Lacy did what he least expected. She cupped his face and smiled. “Welcome home.”

 

https://pixabay.com/en/shoe-laces-leather-hiking-974564/

 

 

Author bio:

Sinmisola Ogúnyinka is a pastor’s wife, mother, writer and movie producer. She has a university degree in Economics, and is a Craftsman of Christian Writers’ Guild. She lives with her family in Pretoria, South Africa.

Blog: www.sinmisolao.wordpress.com

Twitter: @sinmisolaog

Categories
Pleasant Rosebud - Romantic Suspense

A STRANGER IN MY HEART (Thomas Garet series)

Local stations went agog with the news. A stranger in town gunned down by Ellicott City resident, Charles Taylor.

Taylor had a history of madness but recently had lived clean for months with his daughter, Charlotte. Many had argued Taylor feigned his condition but different psychologists and psychiatrists who examined him concluded he was mentally ill but could be treated. Since he was discharged more than four months earlier, he had been calm.

Lacy stared at the news from her real estate front office post. “Coulda been anyone,” she muttered.

The crowd scattered around the fallen man while Taylor waved his weapon and cussed. Bold onlookers recorded on their phones and devices. Cops arrived shortly and downed the mad man with a stun gun.

“America is full of angry people.” She turned to her work. But sighed. “Coulda been me. Dear Lord.” She walked that lane every day to her house a couple of blocks away.

What on earth was Charles Taylor doing with a gun? How did someone with a history of mental instability get arms?

Lacy was working late as she did most days but this just made her so miserable. On the average, Ellicott City was safe. She had lived here all her life despite her aunt’s constant prodding to move to Union Bridge.

She looked at the screen ahead again and her jaw sagged. The identity of the victim had been revealed. He was now in the county hospital in the emergency room, alive but in a critical condition, and WBAL 4 had a picture taken from his backpack.

His shaggy dark blond hair looked like a hand just ran through it and he stared at the camera with a tinge of defiance around his mouth, his green eyes bright enough to singe even through the screen.

“Oh dear, he’s here.” Lacy checked the time from her Tinkerbelle silver-strap watch and gasped. It’s 9pm already. She didn’t know she’d stayed so late.

She packed her bags and rushed out of the building.

“Another late night for you, Miss,” Brandon, the night guard waved at her.

“Yes, Brandon. Stay safe. Good night.” She waved down a taxi. She never drove to work. Now she wished she did.

“Good night, Miss Lacy.” He raised his voice. “Are you alright?”

“Will be,” she said before she got into the cab. “County hospital. Thank you.”

A few reporters hung around the parking lot, waiting for more news on Thomas Garet. Will he survive? While in the cab, Lacy listened to a local radio station do an analysis of Taylor’s condition and veered into the gun laws debate.

At the hospital, she went to the reception. “I know the Taylor victim,” she said, breathless. “He is a hiker. I brought him almost to Ellicott City. Is he alive?”

The intern arched her eyebrow and swatted off imaginary strands of her salt and pepper hair from her eyes. “What’s your name please?”

“His name is Thomas Garet.”

“I mean, your name.”

“Oh, Lacy. Lacy Kintley.”

The young lady waved toward the waiting area. “Please wait.”

Three hours later, Lacy finally got hold of one of the doctors on duty, who could give her information on Thomas. He was safe but no one would be allowed to see him till he was strong enough to decide.

“He’s lucky,” Doctor Florand said. “He’s got thick skin.”

Lacy chose to wait till Thomas came out of the OR. She was allowed to peep through a small opening of the door. She murmured a soft prayer for him. He looked so peaceful and she prayed he was.

On her way home in the early hours of the following day, she wondered why he’d come off her car. He knew she was coming here to Ellicott City.

“Lord, please keep Thomas Garet safe. Let him live. I don’t know what happened to him, why he’s so far removed from social warmth but I know he needs you. Give him a chance to find you…”

Lacy opened the door to her one-room condo and for a long time, wept into her hands as she prayed for the stranger who she couldn’t stop thinking about.

 

Author bio:

Sinmisola Ogúnyinka is a pastor’s wife, mother, writer and movie producer. She has a university degree in Economics, and is a Craftsman of Christian Writers’ Guild. She lives with her family in Pretoria, South Africa.

Blog: www.sinmisolao.wordpress.com

Twitter: @sinmisolaog

 

https://pixabay.com/en/shoe-laces-leather-hiking-974564/

Categories
Pleasant Rosebud - Romantic Suspense

DEFENDER (Thomas Garet series)

The Elicott City main street and hub bubbled with activity. People knocking off from work marched up and down in a hurry to catch up with the lives they suspended through the day time.

Thomas leaned against the traffic pole and decided on what next to do. He didn’t imagine the town would be so busy. When he’d gotten to Union Bridge, it had been easy to find accommodation. Here seemed a little different.

A motel would be his last option and he didn’t plan to spend more than a night. The traffic lights changed and cars sped past. It tickled his fancy at the height of discipline the lights mandated from even the worst offender.

He’d taken two days to hike here, refusing help from travelers. The trek helped him to organize his thoughts and put his decision in perspective. It’d been eight years since Molly died with a pregnancy old enough to birth. Seven and a half months… He moved his thoughts away from what should have been. A happy marriage between young people truly in love. He’d named the baby Thomasina. The female version of his name.

The red lights came back on and drivers obeyed like zombies. He squinted. Someday, he might drive again. Driving gave him the creeps after a drunk driver knocked down his wife and Thomasina. She died instantly. A little mercy he was grateful for.

A young woman ran by, bumped into him and dropped a sack. She bent to pick up but a man kicked her in the face. She fell back and butt-ran but she wasn’t fast enough to avoid a second kick on the same spot.

Thomas threw himself between her and the man who was just about his size in build.

“Get out of the way!” the man growled.

Thomas looked back at the woman who tried to rise. She couldn’t be more than twenty.

“She’s just a woman.”

The lights changed and cars sped off. Everyone continued in their way. He seemed to be the only one keen on the fight.

“Woman who do man stuff will be treated like man. Get out of my way.”

The man’s heavy accent drew Thomas’s glance to his face but he was hooded and all he could was catch a glimpse of thick dark eyebrows and darker eyes.

She was now on her feet, and staggered to get her sack just at the side of his feet. Thomas stared at the slight frame of the woman and didn’t see the punch on his nose come. The man hit him hard, and followed it up with a ramming into his midriff. Pain shot into the back of his eyes and he stumbled.

A woman screamed. “He’s got a gun.”

Thomas looked at his assailant. It was pointed at him. He raised his hands above his head.

“No.”

“You never put your mouth where it don’t concern you! Never!”

He never did anyway, and wondered what came over him. He’d avoided bar brawls worse than this.

The woman was gone.

“Look, I’ll go find her for—”

The gun went off. He knew he wasn’t dead because he heard it.

 

Pixabay picture: https://pixabay.com/en/shoe-laces-leather-hiking-974564/

 

Author bio:

Sinmisola Ogúnyinka is a pastor’s wife, mother, writer and movie producer. She has a university degree in Economics, and is a Craftsman of Christian Writers’ Guild. She lives with her family in Pretoria, South Africa.

Blog: www.sinmisolao.wordpress.com

Twitter: @sinmisolaog

Categories
Pleasant Rosebud - Romantic Suspense

HIKER IN THE HOOD (Thomas Garet series)

Thomas Garet sat on the plain grass under a pine tree by the road and untied his shoe laces. Time to reconsider his move, and make a plan.

The May sun burned his forehead, but he’d been used to these harsh twists in the weather closer to summer. Earlier it had been so cold, he’d donned his hoodie when he walked out of Mrs. Covender’s basement accommodation to see to his daily chores.

“I won’t be back,” he’d told the septuagenarian when he handed over the keys to the small studio room he rented from her later on.

The old woman’s niece walked in as he headed out, and his head spun. Who? He lingered at the entrance.

“Lacy baby,” Mrs. Covender cooed. “You never say when you’re stopping by.”

“Aunt Ann, I called. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten,” the young woman said.

“You did? Oh, is today the 15th?”

“Yes, it is. And I’m not staying longer than two cups of coffee.” Lacy’s noisy kisses on her aunt’s cheeks sent a strange sensation down Thomas’s loins.

“Dear Thomas, do throw the trash before you leave, dear.” The landlady raised her best voice.

“Who is he?” Thomas heard Lacy say before he closed the door. And then, “Aunt Ann! You can’t take in strangers all the time! What if he’s a psycho or something?”

Who cared? He did look psychotic. He’d not shaved in four days, and his anger burned hot through his cold blue eyes.

About half an hour later, a white sedan drove past and stopped just a few meters ahead. Thomas looked at it and shook his head subconsciously. He wasn’t leaving yet. Lacy was right. Mrs. Covender shouldn’t take in strangers anyhow, and he hoped when he got his act together and his heart rate normal, he would go back and take her basement again.

In the three months of his stay, he’d paid part of his rent with manual labor. He cut her lawn, did her laundry, threw her trash, and sometimes, much to his amusement, did her nails.

The driver of the car pressed the horn tentatively. Thomas waved. When the horn went off a little longer, he paid attention.

A head full of brown curly hair sprung into his view, and his stomach tightened.

Lacy?

He got to his feet and walked over to her. “Ma’am?”

She cleared her throat. She had the most remarkable grey eyes. “Are you going my way?”

If she warned her aunt not to house strangers, she shouldn’t pick hikers either.

“Depends,” he mumbled. He knew only one other woman who had those same grey eyes, and that woman wasn’t mixed.

“I’m heading toward Baltimore.”

City girl. He hated all of them. “I’ll stop—” He had no clue where he’d stop. “Before you enter the city.”

“I live in Elicott City. So I won’t get to Baltimore, actually.”

“Oh.”

“So? Where are you headed at?”

He got into the car. “Nowhere actually. I’ll find a job, stay a bit and then move on.” He was talking too much. “What did your aunt say about me?”

She pulled back on to the road. “That you do more than your due around the house.” She shrugged. “She hated to see you go.”

“If you lived in Union Bridge with her, I might stay.”

Now, that was more than necessary. Her silence proved it too. He was drawn to her. He knew why but couldn’t bring himself to admit it. She was Mrs. Covender’s niece, the one the old lady spoke about often. He never imagined what she looked like, never cared.

The rest of the drive was in strained quiet. This was one of the reasons he moved around a lot. He couldn’t develop or maintain relationships.

His heart pounded. You have to know about this girl, the sane voice in his head admonished. She was beautiful, and young, and wore no ring.

Those were not the reasons for his conflict. If he wanted any girl, he could have gotten. He didn’t want any girl anymore.

“I’ll stop here,” he said before the thought formed in his heart. He combed through his dark blonde shoulder-length shaggy hair.

“Why?”

She slowed down though. They were in a beautiful semi-rural community called West Friendship. The houses looked huge and far between but it was the sign post of the Elementary school that drew Thomas.

He frowned. “Why? Because I’m stopping here.”

She pulled the car over to the shoulder. “You didn’t want to stop here.”

“I do now. Thanks for the ride.” He opened the car and rushed out of it. He slammed the door after him.

His shoe laces dangled and he remembered what he’d been about before Lacy stopped for him. He’d walked away from the house. Never hoping to see her again.

She drove off without a word.

Thomas watched her go. For eight years he’d roamed the states and counties around his former home in New York. Slowly, he’d drifted farther off, and been in the State of Maryland for almost three years. The longest he had stayed in any state since Molly was brutally killed in a senseless drunk-driving accident, taking their unborn daughter with her.

Not once had he second-guessed his decision to sell everything he’d built with Molly and become destitute. Till now.

Why did Lacy look so much like Molly? Everything was the same, except Molly was full Caucasian and Lacy was mixed.

Thomas Garet dropped on his butt and wept for the first time in eight years.

 

Image: https://pixabay.com/en/shoe-laces-leather-hiking-974564/

 

Author bio:

Sinmisola Ogúnyinka is a pastor’s wife, mother, writer and movie producer. She has a university degree in Economics, and is a Craftsman of Christian Writers’ Guild. She lives with her family in Pretoria, South Africa.

Blog: www.sinmisolao.wordpress.com

Twitter: @sinmisolaog

 

Categories
Pleasant Rosebud - Romantic Suspense

MY ONE-ARM SAVIOR

knife-204832_1280 resizedhttps://pixabay.com/en/knife-fork-mirroring-black-white-204832/

I folded my slim calves under my bum and gasped as each hurtful word proceeded forth through Aunt Irene’s feeble voice. She never said detestable things to people and she was the favorite of my mother’s six sisters.

My lips trembled without control. “Are you sure, Aunt Irene?”

“Have I e’er lahd to ya child?”

“What do I do?”

She folded her 90-year-old claws in her woolen quilt. “Pray. That’s what ya mah taut ya. Pray. Hard.”

My husband of twenty-eight years caught fondling a twenty-something-year-old blond in Aunt Irene’s garage couldn’t be tales by moonlight. She knew what she saw.

Greg had been coming by the house to do small repairs for almost fifteen years. My mom had lived with her only surviving sister since dad died and we’d done everything to pay back my aunt’s hospitality because Mom needed the company. After Mah’s death, Greg continued to help as community service, was what he called it.

“I am going to confront him.” I stood. “Thanks for telling me—”

A wrinkled but strong hand shot out from under the quilt and pulled me back into my seat. “You will do no such thehn!”

Driving home tears blurred my eyes. Marriage to Greg had been great. Everyone saw us as the perfect couple. Though since our two daughters left home, things had been a bit strained but our pastor told us it was to be expected. It was time to develop new cultures, create new interests. We were hands-on working-parents type and it had been fun doing things together all those years. But in the last five years, everything seemed to have wound down.

Even at fifty-eight, Greg was in top form, and worked hard at the information technology company he built from scratch. He’d made a lot of millions in the last twenty years and still made. We lived well. I was happy.

Till—to be sincere, five years ago.

I parked my 2015 BMW X5 in the garage and sat in for five minutes to have my fill of tears. A small voice consoled me from within – maybe Aunt Irene saw wrong. Her eyes were old, I told myself. But she had never said such a thing and in the morning before Greg left home, we’d had another fight caused by a silly argument.

It was late, and he still wasn’t back. Well, Aunt Irene called me a few minutes after he left her house. That would have been three hours ago. He was supposed to be home but his car wasn’t.

Satisfied with a lie my aunt was mistaken, I walked into our beautiful townhouse in Mount Pleasant. The house held too many memories of love, peace and joy, though the 4-bed, 4-bath home was now too large for Greg and I.

My phone rang, and I picked it without thought.

“Frances!” Lolly, Greg’s secretary of ten years sounded frantic.

I frowned. “Lolly?”

“Greg has been in an auto accident.” Lolly burst into tears. “He’s been taken to the emergency room. You need to come over—I have to…”

I didn’t wait to get any more information. I broke the speed limit and ran through the doors of ER. A doctor’s assistant attended to me a few minutes later.

Greg was in surgery.

The next few hours seemed like eternity. Lolly joined me with her husband, Phil, and we held hands to pray for my husband.

As we waited the hours out, I demanded to know the details. Lolly had it. Every single dirty tale.

Were her words worse than Aunt Irene’s? I couldn’t decide.

“He took her to New York City.” Lolly sighed. “To buy her an engagement ring.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. “You knew about—an affair?”

Lolly bit her lips. “It wasn’t my place, Frances.”

“We are friends!” I cried. But I needed to hear this in full. I swallowed. “So? What happened? Was she in the accident as well?”

“No.” Lolly reached out to me. I shrank back. “I’m so sorry, Fran—”

“Just tell me what happened!”

“He crashed just right after he dropped her at her home in Patterson. Trying to avoid a drunk. She saw it all and called 911.” Lolly looked away. “And called me too.”

I looked around the waiting area. No twenty-something-year-old was in sight. I could commit murder at the moment.

Several hours later, Greg was taken out of the OR. His left arm had been taken out from the shoulder socket. The limb had been damaged beyond repair.

Whatever consequences of infidelity seemed to visit our family sooner than later. I couldn’t confront Greg in the next few months. We had to work together to get him well again. I was always by his side. I read the Bible to him, and prayed with him.

The girls came for more regular visits, and Mary, our first had her fiancée along a good number of times.

Those early months were dark and depressing. Greg had always been a fashion-forward man, and he had more than enough to indulge his tastes. Despite a well-crafted prosthetic arm designed by Nascott, Greg preferred to hang his left shirt, and made jokes about being one-armed.

What came of this horrible tragedy? I got my husband back. We bonded like never before. Projects we’d pushed aside returned to focus. We played a lot of the games we previously enjoyed and had friends and family over.

Every important date became a carnival. Life was fickle. It could be gone in the twinkle of an eye. Our relationship with God became stronger. Joy filled our home.

On Greg’s fifty-ninth birthday seven months later, Lolly walked over to me with a glass of wine. We had a poolside party, and barbecue.

“You wonder what happened to the girl with the ring?” Lolly winked. How couldn’t I have forgiven her, anyway?

I scoffed. “I never got to find out.”

“She fizzled away.” Lolly clicked my glass and walked off with a giggle.

 

 

Author bio:

Sinmisola Ogúnyinka is a pastor’s wife, mother, writer and movie producer. She has a university degree in Economics, and is a Craftsman of Christian Writers’ Guild. She lives with her family in Pretoria, South Africa.

Blog: www.sinmisolao.wordpress.com

Twitter: @sinmisolaog

 

Categories
Pleasant Rosebud - Romantic Suspense

A CRIME AWAY

George squinted at the sun the moment he stepped through the gates of Jessup. Freedom. So strange to his thirty-one year old mind. He’d gone to jail for what many young men got freely. What many young girls gave without the batting of an eye.

The judge’s gavel made a bang in his ear, and he startled.

“George.”

He turned. Flora’s once wild curls now lay shoulder length in conditioned tresses. He remembered they talked about it. When she chose to have a perm. With seven years behind and three to go, he couldn’t care less at the time. She could have asked to shave the mass of black hair, and he would have agreed though her mixed Asian-African-Caucasian wild locks was one of her many attractive features. Amazing how many Americans had such mixed races, they made up a race.

“You look beautiful.” The jail barber’s blade was too sharp. He scratched his head. It seemed appropriate to get a hug, but he held back, considering what took ten years of his youth.

“You too, honey.” She leaned in for a kiss but he turned away just in time.

“Where’s your car?”

She stammered. Awkward didn’t begin to describe how his heart beat. This was Flora, his wife. She’d proposed, and had a priest brought in to say the vows.

“I can’t believe you’re finally here, darling.” Flora opened the blue Ford truck he remembered her mother drove. Back then it was new. So Flora got it? Or maybe he was wrong. Maybe a family like Flora’s would not pass a ten-year old car to her. Ten years in jail did wonders. He couldn’t be sure this was Flora’s mother’s truck.

“I mean it, Flora. You are very beautiful.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

No one was to blame. A conviction of rape in the US of A didn’t go away after time served. You get listed as a sex-offender in the directory. Not even after you married the same girl who testified against you as her rapist.

They got into the truck and Flora smoothly maneuvered it back into the highway. She searched for one of the old blues he loved, and soon the Beetles filled everywhere. He was definitely wrong, this vehicle couldn’t be ten years old.

“Why did you change your plea, Georgie?”

Ah, Flora of old. She never wasted anyone’s time whether she was lying or not.

“I wanted to save you and your family the stress.” He spoke the truth. He hadn’t been able to watch her cry in the witness box while her father glared at her from behind. Well, he didn’t see the first generation Chinese-American but Flora’s constant glance in the general direction spoke for itself.

“They took you from me—”

He chuckled. “We’re back. It’s over.”

“I need closure. You didn’t rape me. Why did you give up on us? Why didn’t you give me a chance to finish my testimony?”

He closed his eyes. “How much longer till we get to your—till we get home.”

“Twenty minutes.”

“Can I take a nap? Please?”

“I found God. I made peace, Georgie.”

“No wonder you want closure.” He swore. “Just remember why I went to prison.”

Flora’s gasp was quite audible. She said nothing afterward. Did she find God before or after she decided to call him up in prison and ask for marriage? It would make a difference to him and he planned to find out. Did she marry him to restitute?

While in confinement, he had plenty of time to reminisce and plan his life. He got a degree in hotel management, something he’d always wanted to do. Two degrees actually. He didn’t “find” God but perhaps God found him. The prison priest’s face flashed before him.

They got to where she called home, a small community on the edge of Columbia. George loved the cabin-house at once. He thanked his stars she didn’t live in the same neighborhood with her parents. He may be back in Jessup for life.

“I’m soaking under the shower if you don’t mind.” He dragged his feet into the cozy house. He could explore later but now, he needed a bath, and if possible, hot food. And a long sleep.

Why did he accept to marry Flora?

“Can I join you in the shower?”

George arched an eyebrow. “Where are your parents?”

Flora frowned. “In their house, I guess. In New York.”

“Just needed to be sure.” He looked around. “We need to make copies of our marriage certificate, and hang around the house.”

Flora sucked in her breath sharply. “Why would we do that?”

“I don’t want to take a risk, dear. Your father is still very much around, and I just want to be sure I have the legal authority I didn’t have ten years ago.”

 

 

Author bio:

Sinmisola Ogúnyinka is a pastor’s wife, mother, writer and movie producer. She has a university degree in Economics, and is a Craftsman of Christian Writers’ Guild. She lives with her family in Pretoria, South Africa.

Blog: www.sinmisolao.wordpress.com

Twitter: @sinmisolaog

Image from https://pixabay.com/en/alcatraz-prison-prison-wing-214097/