The Stories I Tell...

     He had been standing there for what seemed like hours, unable to make up his mind, and with each passing second, the award plaque grew heavier in his hands. He could hear his father’s voice echoing from the past as clearly as though he was present in the room with him. Which was not surprising after all, as he was standing in his father’s study. He remembered how he would stand with his elder brother Seyi as they helped his father set up more space on the Wall of Achievements as a child. He could remember how their father would tell them with pride in his voice, the stories of each award as he added more and more every year. He stared again at the wall, which told the story of his father, Dr Obafemi Michaels, his outstanding career as a surgeon, researcher, and even as an upstanding citizen of his country. The wall was covered with award plaques and souvenirs. There was even a medal of honour from the former president.       The Wall of Achievemen...

   4 A.C  This life no just balance o .    Since Bayo met Cynthia, he has been giving me extra work. Anytime she's nearby, I have to beat faster. Sure, I know Bayo is still a young man and that means I am a young heart. But that doesn't mean I should start doing extra work because of another human being. It's not as if Bayo is dreading being sacked anytime his boss asks him to his office. Neither is he playing football. I bet Cynthia's heart is not doing any extra work on Bayo's account.    A girl that looks the way the Eyes have described her surely wouldn't be falling head over heels for Bayo. Eyes said Cynthia has hips that didn't lie, skin the colour of roasted groundnuts, and teeth that had probably been in a million toothpaste ads. She's out of his league. She probably only talks to guys that have their own cars and Bitcoin.  P.S: I'll be using A.C meaning After Cynthia to denote the timeline. 37 A.C   I'm too young to be diagnosed with...

  I don't talk to strangers. What I mean is, I don't have unnecessary conversations with service people. If I have an appointment with a doctor, I don't need his bedside manner. I don't need enquiries about my welfare from the market woman at the stall where I always buy my semo or idle chit chat with my barber as he cuts my hair. Even on a bus, I don't join in on the familiar chorus of how bad this country is getting. I don't think I'm better than people. I'm just not good at verbal communication, so I write instead. I'm better at it. I eavesdrop on the conversations of people around me and reinvent them as fiction. That's how I became an international best-selling author.  A year has passed since I last published a novel. That's why I decided to go out to find fresh ideas. Public transportation is usually ripe with stories to transform into captivating tales.  As I waited on a street in my city, I spotted a keke. It was empty except for the...

   A woman and her daughters. She sits on the tiled floor with her back against the wall. She is clothed in a wrapper which is tied around her waist, leaving her saggy breasts exposed. Oluwashikemi, her firstborn, sits on the floor in between the robust thighs of Opemipo, her last daughter. Taiwo, her second daughter is lounging on the sofa while staring at the ceiling. She appears to be present only in the flesh. Kehinde, her twin sits on what used to be her father's favourite chair. Like an exiled dictator, the man of the house is in his study which he rarely leaves since he retired.   Shikemi, aged 25, by having lived longest with their mother knew what was on her mind. She is the one to slice open the silence.  “Guess who I saw at the bank yesterday?” “Another fine bobo to be your brother-in-law,” Opemipo replied without missing a beat as she made her sister's hair. “I saw Lanre.” An audible sigh came from the sofa. “That guy is in serious money,” she bent h...

  "You won't believe what I saw this afternoon!" Bolanle said. "What did you see this time?" I replied. I could already see the signs of impending gossip which was indicated in her dramatic exclamation. Bolanle was one of the interns under my supervision at the pharmacy. Interns usually were not so bold to chat with the department head, but Bolanle was my bestie's younger sister and the time she used to spend hanging out with us had imbued her with familiarity even the workplace couldn't cure.  “I was helping Dr Andrews fill out a prescription for Jason Fashola.” “Who is that?” I wondered aloud. “That fine boy I told you about. The one that sings in the choir. But that's not the gist sef. It's what the prescription was for.” I wondered again to myself who this Jason was. Bola was always having a weekly crush on someone and it was difficult to keep track of them all.  “What was it for?” I asked with no interest whatsoever. I wanted her to get back...

               This is the second part of a series. For the first part CLICK HERE. Thus it began officially. He got a job in the same town Esosa lived in with her parents. Esosa also got a job. Between their busy schedules, every single free moment they got was spent together. It became one of the inside jokes of their group. If you couldn't reach him, you called Esosa. The reverse was also the case. He became more enamoured with her. The thought of her smile made him grin at odd times. He had not yet given her a ring, but he daydreamed about her dressed in a snow-white wedding gown declaring her love for him before an audience. He couldn't imagine being in love with someone else. He loved her to the point he sometimes felt inadequate. Like a destitute supplicant offering one naira at his God's temple, he feared he would never love her in the way she needed to be love. Whenever he told her this, she would always reassure him that he was enough for...

  He had imagined this moment a million times already. But the song was wrong. In his imagination, the song Beautiful in White by Shane Filan played over and over as she walked down the aisle. So as long as I live, I'll love you, Will have and hold you. You look so beautiful in white. And from now till my very last breath, This day I'll cherish. You look so beautiful in white…tonight. The song wasn't the only thing in his imagination that didn't match reality. The reason for her smile that had always dazzled him had nothing to do with him this time. Now, that gap-toothed smile bordered by two perfect dimples were focused on the groom. The man that wasn't him. The entire reception hall had stood up as the new couple slowly made their way to the dais set up at the opposite side. Tears of joy were being shed by some including those who shared the same table with him. Their friends. Her friends, he corrected himself. Before the couple arrived, they had all been talkin...

Once upon a time, in a land far far away, there lived a boy. Or a man. Maybe a boy-man. Whatever you choose. The point is this person had just finished his university education and now had a mid-level income job at a start-up company. Like most people alive, he had a name. His name was Adam.      Adam was a reserved young boy, man, man-boy, whatever you chose. He was the only son of his parents who had had ten daughters before having him. This remarkable fact was probably the reason why he had many close female friends.  His affinity and empathy for females had been detected at each stage of his life: from his formative years through his year at the university and now at his workplace. Girls, women, females in general gravitated towards him, confided in him, even those in relationships asked him for advice. While all this might sound good and well,  the general public's opinion on Adam's friendship with numerous females could be neatly divided into two. Adam w...

This is a story that you have probably heard before. Even though I wouldn’t wish it on you, it is very possible that you've featured in a story like this. For now, though, this is Bayo's story. Bayo had just entered that period called puberty about two years ago. Looking at him though, you wouldn't have known. He did not grow facial hair neither did he grow body hair neither did his voice upgrade to a deeper version. One thing was for sure; he had definitely started seeing girls in a new light. A rosy coloured light. There was this one girl in particular... Bayo saw her at his worship centre. She was dark skinned in colour, cut her hair low and was always dressed simply but elegantly. She and her family had started worshipping at the centre only   a few weeks ago. They always sat on the front seats, close to the podium. What especially called her to his attention was the spectacles she wore. Although he didn't know it yet, Bayo had a thing for girls wearing ...