by KREATIVE DIADEM | Apr 15, 2015 | FLASH FICTION, SHORT STORIES
DIG DEEP
As the Christmas bells rang with euphoria in the valleys of Arizona, the whole city was agog with the celebration. The squawking chickens were slaughtered without mercy as they were roasted for meals. It was time for all and sundry to feast on their favorite meals.
Despite the wild celebrations in the city, the house of the Williams was drenched in utter gloom as the Father of the house, Dr. Drake Williams was lying seriously ill, close to the point of death on his sick bed. It was dead into the night on the Boxing Day, the room of Drake was well lit with the incandescent bulb hanging above and the refreshing breeze flooded the room from the windows.
Keep digging!
Sitting at the bedside of Drake was his only son, Dennis. Dennis held on to his father with all his being since he had lost his mother to cervical cancer at the age of ten. The only memory of his mother left with him were the fragments of care and kindness she offered him while she was alive.
At this time when Dennis was about to get married to his beautiful fiancee, Yvonne, these were really trying times for him. He was really hoping for the support of his father as regards his wedding. All his father could boast of was a bungalow built on a plot of land with a beautiful garden at the backyard. Dr. Drake had spent most of his time working on the garden during his lifetime especially after his compulsory retirement.
The searing pain which came from the fangs of death gripped Drake as he gasped for air. Dennis’ face was red and swollen after sleepless nights full of crying. Dennis knew that this was the time for his Father to leave for the great beyond. As Dr. Drake was about to breath his last he kept pointing towards his brown velvet suit hanging in a corner, he pointed like one who wanted to say something. All of a sudden, Drake was gone as his heart stopped. Grief and weariness overcame Dennis but he managed to get to the suit.
He searched all the pockets of the suit like one searching for a precious pearl. He found a small paper folded as a pocket square. He unwrapped it and exposed what was written in it. It was in big bold capital letters: “CULTIVATE THE GARDEN”.
After the funeral rites, Dennis started tilling the garden with his energy and vigor. After weeks of cultivating the garden, he was getting frustrated. Two weeks to his wedding, on this fateful day; Dennis was tilling the soil and his hoe struck something strange, he struck a sack of sand. He brought it out, opened it and lo and behold, there were stacks of MONEY!!!
Dennis was wowed and that was the beginning of an overturn of his fortunes. He later became one of the richest men of Arizona and was happily married to Yvonne as they raised a happy family.
P.S.: This purely fictional and the creative thoughts of the writer. Please note that TREASURES ARE KEPT IN CHESTS,
GOLD DEPOSITS ARE FOUND IN THE DEPTHS,
VALUABLE MATERIALS ARE KEPT IN SECRET CHAMBERS,
DIG DEEP INTO YOURSELF AND DISCOVER WHO YOU ARE.
© 2015 Osho Samuel Adetunji
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Osho Samuel Adetunji is a graduate of Mechanical Engineering from Nigeria’s premier University, University of Ibadan. He is a poet, a blogger, a Public Speaker, an on air personality with a knack for short stories, inspirational articles and poems. He is a great thinker, creative and dexterous young man who does not only believe in excellence but also extols the tenets of discipline, hard work and effectiveness.
He co-founded THE COURTROOM in 2012. He is the founder of KREATIVE DIADEM, a new initiative which kicked off on March 1, 2015.He is an inspirational young man who is addicted to going an extra mile in all facets of life. He is also a lover of football, tennis and boxing. You can follow him on Twitter with the handle: @inisamosho.
by KREATIVE DIADEM | Apr 14, 2015 | FLASH FICTION
H IS FOR HIV
Something has happened. She knew right away because she felt it once
she entered the room. It was in the doctor’s eye. Pity was dancing in
the mire behind the glasses that made his eyes look like two huge
white balls decorated with black. She sat down without removing her
eyes from the doctor’s lens.
“In the test for HIV, we do not say negative or positive initially.”
Why was he starting with the negative? She knew the reason.
Stop the Stigma
“We say reactive and non-reactive.” Just break the news and forget
about the formalities. Her mind raced through all the means she would
have gotten it. That needle that the hairdresser used at the hair-care
shop? The kiss with that strange man at the bar? Was it that one night
thing with Fred or whatever his name was?
“You have to come back in six months at most for a more conclusive
test. The virus might be on a window period.” She could feel her
throat tightening.
It must be the way that girl that she saw having an
asthma attack in their secondary school felt. It was single, heavy
breath that came out like a struggle. She felt her view of the doctor
getting misty.
“You are not reacting to the virus. .You can go now.”
And her lungs wanted to explode with joy as her mouth and nose open to
let in air.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Buike Onah is a poet, a writer and a blogger. His has appeared in many
publications like Naijastories, Black Boy Review, Bukrepublik,
Kalahari Review and on his blog buikewrites.blogspot.com
by KREATIVE DIADEM | Apr 9, 2015 | FLASH FICTION
FREEDOM
I had barely entered the huge gate when his large eyes pointed in my direction like the nozzle of a gun in search of its target, his gaze fastened to my figure like the canine of a lion holding its prey. As his eyes pierced through my whole being, I managed to returned the gaze and there was a divorce between his married lips and his gap-toothed dentition was revealed.
His reddish-brown colored teeth were glazed with plague and edges of the crown worn out like a blunt knife. As I walked in his direction, I could see his wrinkles like columns of ridges as they covered the smiles like a blanket. Midway into the walk for a handshake with him, the stench of his mouth almost dragged my legs backwards. I managed to let out a wry smile instead of a smirk as I stretched my hand to shake him. The furrows in his callused hand almost sapped strength from my tender skin as he held on to it like a trophy.
How much do you treasure your freedom?
He was a tall man in his late seventies with a sagged potbelly which looked like a deflated tyre. He was scantily dressed with just a red towel around his neck and a black faded boxer shorts. As we took a stroll, I could see his back with a nicely drawn map of scars spotted with flakes of eczema. I tried to steady my gaze looking into his eyes and I saw compassion plugged into the sockets of the eyeballs. He often scratched his bald head which looked like a valley of water surrounded by white ferns.
He was highly respected among his clan as they all gathered to look at me like a circus show. Some grinned while others beamed with smiles but all was from a considerable distance. As we approached the Chapel for a fellowship meeting, his deep weakened voice cried out to others, “It is time for fellowship, let us gather here for prayers”, he said. At the sound of his voice, they all gathered to arrange the Chapel for a fellowship meeting. While they were putting things in order, he took me aside to have a word with me,
“I have been here for the past 25 years, I am a lifer* and only what brought me here was an act of anger which went out of hand”.
He cleared his throat and continued,
“I caught my wife red-handed sleeping with my best friend, and without thinking twice, I strangulated my best friend and the fight paralyzed my wife till today”, he said.
My hands shuddered, my eyes blinked and my heart bled like a thumb in the midst of thorns as it raced faster than a FERRARI.
“My humble submission is that whenever you are angry, just pause for ten seconds before you take the next action and do something great with the freedom you have”. He advised with his gentle fierce look.
*Lifer: a prisoner sentenced to life in prison.
***Purely fictional and creative thoughts of the writer.
© 2015 by Osho Samuel
About the Author
Osho Samuel Adetunji is a graduate of Mechanical Engineering from Nigeria’s premier University, University of Ibadan. He is a poet, a blogger, a Public Speaker, an on air personality with a knack for short stories, inspirational articles and poems. He is a great thinker, creative and dexterous young man who does not only believe in excellence but also extols the tenets of discipline, hard work and effectiveness. He is an award-winning individual who is multifaceted and consistently measures success by effective impact.
He is a writer per excellence with articles published on VAVANE AFRICA, THE SCOOPNG, KONNECT AFRICA, Paarapo and Home zone media. He co-founded THE COURTROOM in 2012. He is the founder of KREATIVE DIADEM, a new initiative which kicked off on March 1, 2015.He is an inspirational young man who is addicted to going an extra mile in all facets of life. He is also a lover of football, tennis and boxing. You can follow him on Twitter with the handle: @inisamosho.
by KREATIVE DIADEM | Apr 7, 2015 | SHORT STORIES
THE COSTLY PRICE OF PRIDE
The gentle breeze from the ocean whistled past the shores after the waves pushed ripples of water to hit the bank, the whooshing sound of the waves, the honking of the ships and yelling of the sailors planning for their next trip permeated the atmosphere. The port of Rotterdam is one of the largest ports in the world, always busy with different kinds of activities. Several licensed companies generated income from the port; one of them is Jeffrey’s Marina which provided shelter for tens of thousands of small fishing boats used by the local fishermen and tourists for occasional fishing.
Exhausted from the haste to meet up with the early morning schedule, legs heavy as lead and thighs stiff as a board, Ruth Van Bowen trudged and panted for air as she entered the gates of the Rotterdam Port. She has got 15 minutes more to make it to office as the early morning briefing starts by 8:00am prompt. Ruth, a conscientious twenty-five year old lady was known by her superiors as one of the brilliant heads running Jeffrey’s Marina; outspoken, bold, brainy all masked by a beautiful face. She had little or no respect for her subordinates or anyone considered to be a dullard, only individuals of her caste kept up with her as friends.
At 7:52am, she was just some few metres away from her Marina when she heard screams
“Help!!!!!! ”
She snapped her head back as she turned to look for the person in need. As her deep blue eyes scanned the area, she spotted a tearful bald-headed man trapped in a building gutted by flames. She was shocked and bewildered wondering how a stranger could have the guts to scream to her for help. The man was on the second floor of the three-storey building as he pointed towards the garage door on the ground floor amidst his hysterical screams for help. Dressed in his under wears as he had used his suit and trousers as a coat of protection through the sweltering flames and his fair-complexioned skin was darkened by the black soot from the flames. Ruth dressed impeccably in a white trouser suit, a red Italian hand bag and a pair of red high-heel shoes looked at him without an iota of pity. Pointed at the man with her finger and pointed also at her wrist watch meaning there is no luxury of time for such help. The irritating clicking of the high-heeled shoes as they hit the kerb signalled the majestic catwalk of Ruth as she headed for her office. She is a stickler for ostentatious gestures to display her pride. Barely a month ago, her closest friend, Jane told her about her obvious pride and disregard for the common-looking folks only to answer her in a rude way:
“I know that I am proud, I love it because I do get results and it gives me attention. I love the attention!!! ” she blurted out.
She however made it to the office by 7:58am and the click of her card in the identity recognition panel at the entrance granted her access into the building.
Pride!
Two weeks later
The colorful ceremony which rocked Rotterdam hosted people from different walks of life, it was the unveiling of the new board members of Jeffrey’s Marina. A new board after a decade was drenched in wild celebrations. Due to her excellent communication skills, Ruth was beckoned up by the Planning Committee to anchor the programme alongside one of her admirers, Smith Campbell. As the programme dragged to its beautiful end, it was time for the annual awards.
The New CEO of Jeffrey’s Marina, Dr. Sonck Van Gogh dressed in his cream-colored Tuxedo walked majestically to the podium. This is the first time in the history of the company that the position of the CEO was advertised externally and produced a CEO who is new to the system. The time everyone had being waiting painstakingly for finally came.
“The award of the best staff of the year goes to no other person than an efficient, humble, hardworking and compassionate fellow who had not only discharged his duties properly but also represented this company well to the outside world. Give it up for Mr. Frederick Douglas.” Sonck gladly announced.
With heads swinging and faces lost in awe, Fred, a rookie and one of the most unlikely guys to land an award in his first year marched to meet Van Gogh in the middle of the hall amidst resounding roar of applause. As he made his way back to his seat, Sonck’s voice filled the air:
“The motto of Jeffrey’s Marina is? ” he asked.
“Service and humility” the mammoth crowd responded.
“This young man bagged the award for saving my life and that of my three beautiful daughters two weeks ago from a building lost in a gust of flames. It was a show of love, bravery, humility and service to humanity. The company’s name was mentioned honorably in the media because one of our employees saved a stranger in dire need of help. Funny enough the alien has now found his to the top of the company.”
Obsessed with the dreams of winning the award for the past three weeks, doom finally struck as her shoulders sagged and head plunged down surveying the glistening tiles of the floor. With the award gone and Van Gogh as the new CEO, this was definitely the end…..
© 2015 by Osho Samuel Adetunji
by KREATIVE DIADEM | Mar 18, 2015 | SHORT STORIES
THE BIRTH OF HOPE
It had been an hour since the little man came out of the cemetery and sat on that bench at the entrance. In silence, he was looking at the people passing. Despite his tender and charming smile, nobody was looking at him; he even called some with their names, but they did not bother looking at him. Seconds, minutes, hours passed. Still nobody taking the time to check on him. They all seemed busy in their minds running to more attracting pleasures; when children had wanted to come and have a moment with him, elders were always there to hold them back.
He was seven years old, and dressed like the son of a peasant. Despite his unattractive appearance, he looked in perfect health. He did not seem lost, and no father and no mother was looking after him. A “happy orphan”, he could have said to be.
Early in the afternoon, he was still there, looking and smiling charmingly at people; no food had he eaten, and no water had he drunk. Nevertheless he was smiling. Time passed and a dove, unexpectedly, landed on his left shoulder at the same moment a little girl came to him. She was so shy that she quietly sat on his right. The boy turned to her with that same friendly smile;
– Why? he asked.
She looked at him with those deep brown eyes and shrugged.
– There come your parents. You’d better go now.
She briefly looked at her family showing disappointment, and shrugged again.
– Why? she asked in her turn.
– Because of you, he answered.
– Where is your mother?
– You are the one.
Hope is here
The little girl smiled wider. «Come on Divine! What are you doing here alone?» said the father angry. «It’s been hours that we’ve been looking for you…» her mother was almost devastated; but she was happy to see her daughter fine and safe.
None of the elders cared for the little boy with the dove on his shoulder. Divine wanted to say a word, but her parents did not let her do. They were already taking her away. She tried, but they would not even listen, so she kept quiet. She turned round and she only had time to see the boy and the dove vanishing like smoke in the air. They were gone.
When she got home, Divine told her grandmother about the little boy and the dove.
– Thank you my God. Your Name shall always be glorified.
And the same night, the old woman closed her eyes forever. A few minutes before, she told her daughter: «Divine is the next dawn…» Obviously, Divine’s mother did not get those words. She discussed it with her husband, who did not succeed giving a helpful explanation. They finally gave up.
Years passed and Divine grew older. She became an influent woman, internationally renowned for her programmes to educate poor children, and give them an opportunity to take part in the building of a wonderful future for Africa.
So many times, she returned to that bench where she met the little boy and the dove; but never again did she see him. Though she was still feeling his presence, she did not see him again.
The morning of her death, her grandson came to her with an incredible story. «Grandma, I met a little girl today…»
– She was well dressed, and she had a dove on her right shoulder. Right? Divine added.
– Grandma… How… How do you know?
– Your heart is great. Always listen to that little voice.
And Divine told her son: «Listen to Victor. Let him be the light in this tunnel.»
About the author
My name is Théodore René Ndebi, born in Cameroon.
I graduated in Banking Management.
But what really makes me proud and happy is WRITING !!!!!
I started writing around 1990. I write the most I can.
I mostly write for children’s future. As a child I had always dreamt of a world where poor children and orphans could be happy as well.
I have many unpublished collections in French: Chaque Jour Un Poème, Rêve D’un Soir, La Missive Du Petit Prince, Suis-Je Assez Bien Pour Toi…
I’m also author of unpublished novels in French (Cierge Noir, Plus Violent Que L’amour, Les Fruits De La Tempête…)
My first published novel THE LAST GHOST/Son Of Struggle got published in 2013 by AuthorhouseUK; it appears in the LOS Angeles Times Festival Of Books Catalogue 2014 Page 8.
Available online @ Amazon, Kindle, AuthorhouseUK, Barnes & Noble, Indie…
I wrote numerous award winning texts. Book Reviewer and Translator. Member of OneAfricanChild since 2013. Co-Founder of Le Salon Du Livre Yaounde-Cameroon.
authorrayndebi.wordpress.com
Ray Ndebi on Facebook
@RTNdebi on Twitter
Facebook Page My Soul & Mon Ame
by KREATIVE DIADEM | Mar 14, 2015 | SHORT STORIES
THE COST OF ENVY
In the ancient city of Babylon men lived by strength and ruled with wisdom. Civilization worked on all fours in the fortress of Babylon and the wealth of other nations swam like a mighty ocean to the chambers of Babylon. The Emperor of Babylon conquered the world by his invincible army; which was profound in might, strength and wisdom. Richest men of the world carved their niche in the valleys of Nineveh and hunted for fun on the hills of Assyria. Some would go on a safari to Africa and get more slaves who would till their farms for them. The members of the Black continent only had tickets to enter Babylon if only they were ready to be slaves for the warriors of the land.
The Great Babylon
As riches flowed like River Nile, wealth formed a mound as gigantic as Mount Everest. One of the richest men in Babylon, Gaius Henry, a tall handsome man in his early forties built an empire for himself in Babylon. He was respected by the people and highly regarded as one of the wisest men of the land. He has the highest number of slaves, the biggest of farms and the largest herd of cattle. His fortune became the envy of all and what all men wish they could have.
The fortress of Gaius which serves as his abode was an architectural edifice which makes the eyes of men wonder and a beauty to behold. It was built not too far from the palace of the King and quite a number of people do argue which one is the best. The fortress has 200 rooms, the inner chambers were laid with gold and its entrance was laced with polished furniture. The fortress shines and glitters as the wood were covered with gold. The curves and bends of the fortress were intricately designed and it became a marvel of Babylon.
Renard, a peasant farmer who was in his early seventies served as slave in the palace of the King. Asides his work in the palace of the King, he has a small farm he tills which was usually cultivated by his wife and children. The septuagenarian has being a slave of the King since age 22 when he was brought in from Africa after the Babylonians conquered the North of Africa. Renard on his way home would always behold the beauty of the fortress of Gaius and wish in his heart if he could have such a building. It was his custom to always look sternly and religiously at the mouth-watering edifice to the point that his tongue could almost wag. He would go back home sad, distraught, disturbed and frustrated as he has given up on himself.
A beautiful edifice
Lost in the wonder and the awesomeness of the Gaius edifice, unknown to Renard he never knew that Gaius noticed his religious worship of his fortress. Gaius wondered why one person would always look at his house every day and go home sorrowful. On this fateful day, Gaius decided to invite Renard to his chambers, he told his guards to bring him so he could have words with him.
“Why do you always look religiously at my fortress every day?” Gaius asked.
With fright and fear in his eyes, Renard answered: “My Lord, anytime I look at your house, I wish I had one for myself or a house close to the beauty of your house, But I am a slave and there is no way I could have acquired a land for myself talk less of building a house”.
“I think my Lord is wicked for I wish you will not be selfish with your wealth and share it amidst the men of Babylon and help the poor to be as rich as you are”
Gaius, a wealthy and humble citizen of Babylon had pity and compassion on the slave. Gaius said: “I understand your plight, but you are also wicked because you did not think of what the rich and wealthy go through to build their fortress, I will give you an assignment, I will give you a thousand shekel of gold, you shall keep it for two weeks, I will collect it from you in a fortnight”.
After the conversation, Renard departed from the fortress with a thousand shekel of gold in his custody. When he got home, he forbade his wife and children to enter his room as he kept the money in the treasure chest. He ordered his wife to sleep in the living room. During the night, Renard woke up intermittently to check the money. He was afraid and full of fear thinking that he would lose the money. This went on for a week as Renard was perpetually in fear; checking the money surreptitiously.
Envy!
A week after the meeting with destiny in the fortress of Gaius, Renard ran like a deer chased by a lion as he went to the gates of Gaius. He asked for permission to see Gaius telling the guards about the urgency of the meeting. Soon he was in the chambers with Gaius as they had a face to face chat.
“I could not sleep because of the fear which gripped my heart, I was afraid that thieves would visit me in the darkness of the night and go away with your hard-earned wealth. Take your money so that I could have my peace”. Renard told Gaius.
Gaius replied; “Why will you judge wealthy men and think that they are selfish? You don’t know a bit of what rich men go through in their fortresses. Learn contentment and build your empire gradually, bring my money, take a hundred shekel to start your business, go in peace”.
Renard learnt a great lesson after realizing what it takes to be a rich man. He garnered his wealth gradually until he had enough confidence to build great empires and gain his freedom from the King.
P.S.:***Fiction: a creative thought of the writer and any form of coincidence was not intended.
“He who is not contented with what he has, would not be contented with what he would like to have.” – Greek philosopher, Socrates
© 2015 by Osho Samuel Adetunji
About the Author
Osho Samuel Adetunji is a graduate of Mechanical Engineering from Nigeria’s premier University, University of Ibadan. He is a poet, a blogger, a Public Speaker, an on air personality with a knack for short stories, inspirational articles and poems. He is a great thinker, creative and dexterous young man who does not only believe in excellence but also extols the tenets of discipline, hard work and effectiveness. He is an award-winning individual who is multifaceted and consistently measures success by effective impact.
He is a writer per excellence with articles published on VAVANE AFRICA, THE SCOOPNG, KONNECT AFRICA, Paarapo and Home zone media. He co-founded THE COURTROOM in 2012 with Tijani Mayowa. He is the founder of KREATIVE DIADEM, a new initiative which kicked off on March 1, 2015.
He is an inspirational young man who is addicted to going an extra mile in all facets of life. He is also a lover of football, tennis and boxing. You can follow him on Twitter with the handle: @inisamosho.
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