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Hi.

My name is Ike. I am a writer. I drink way too much herbal tea and believe in the power of kindness, love and a good book.

I blog about Relationships, God and Style!

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Pages by Ike is a safe space that fosters learning and growth in unison through un-sober reflections! No pretension. No judgement.

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Blue Twine - A Short Short Story

Blue Twine - A Short Short Story

This is my first time trying out flash fiction. It's 300 words, precisely. Please let me know what you think, whether or not you write!  I love to learn. Love! #CaptainoftheGeekSquad

BLUE TWINE

Mama made me tie a strip of twine around my waist.  It was a long braid of faded blue strings with frayed ends. I hated it. She wore one too, beneath the folds of her old iro to keep it secure. The rest of the twine was attached to the black rubber pouch with which we drew water from the well.

Mine went around my waist five times, holding up my shorts. Mama said when I became a big man with longer trousers, my twine would still be a belt. I hoped not. It was especially tiresome whenever I needed to urinate. Twice now, the boys had seen unexplained wet patches on my shorts while we played. Why couldn’t I have a belt like my brothers? Why did their mother wear a new ankara every 5 days? Why did Papa hardly see us anymore; mama and I?

Mama shrugged at these questions. Iya okunrin, Papa’s second wife had 7 sons. A prophesy before we were born said papa would have many sons from his true woman.

Mama had one— me.

Today, Papa threw us out without our belongings. Mama wailed and ran madly down the crowded street. I scampered after, my steps finite with every stride.  Where was she going? Then I realized—she was headed for the river. She ran over the rocky bank and vanished under the murky current.

I ran along the bank, following as the current dragged her body. “Mama!” I yelled, my vision fought the distraction of tears. There was a red gash on her head. I squawked for help. She was wedged between two rocks now. If only I had a rope; I would tie myself to this tree and wade into the water. I looked around frantically-if only I had a rope.

 

Related Post: All the right things by Ike Adegboye (a short story about female sexual predators)

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Travel: The Weekend New Yorker

Travel: The Weekend New Yorker

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