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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All tagged Nigerian micro series fiction
Mayokun drove slowly in the shade of the trees that lined the drive way. Upfront, there was a road block made up of three large cubes of grey concrete with chalked-in graffiti .
“Park here.” Flavian said. She pulled over on the side, a few feet from the blockade. Two uniformed men stood beside a small grey kiosk on the other side.
Their heels knocked and their hands went up in salute when they saw Flavian. “We walk from here.”He said as his hand shot up in response. …
Hospitals are not as frightening as people say, not unless you are going to the ICU. Mayokun took the stairs up to the fourth floor of St. Barth’s hospital. No matter how many times she visited, there was no getting accustomed to these cold, concrete slabs of stairs. She held on to the concrete stair-banister, panting, as she pulled herself to the landing.
“God”, She wheezed, “I hate this place.”
The air carried the smell of cheap antiseptic and freshly prepared pharmaceuticals. She could taste the bitterness of the chalky-white pills at the back of her tongue. She gagged, then took a deep breath.
“Ok, I can do this”, She muttered to herself.
She started down the hallway and kept to the right, following directions to the ICU. Nurses walked by in a hurry, technicians in white lab coats breezed by. Prospective patients and family members holding yellow slips of paper, looking frazzled and tired dotted the hallway. The hallway opened up into a small, sunny alcove with a desk pushed against its back wall.
It wasn’t Bimpe behind the desk.
The new receptionist eyed her…
Entry 2 (Yawa)
“I still stand by it that Wiz Kid is not dating her!” Mayokun said, as Fali pulled over along the side of the unpainted outer wall of their apartment building. Mr. Kazeem, their landlord had started charging a parking fee within his walls and collected all keys to the gate— it was a flimsy black gate which hung nonchalantly between two unpainted posts, its weathered metal blistered orange with rust bubbles and wounds. Mayokun searched her purse for her keys to the pedestrian gate.
"He is!”Fali chuckled, “We can’t all be wrong. What’s the big deal if he is?”
“Publicity stunt aye. These celebrities have y’all on puppet strings,”Mayokun hissed, her keys jingled as she fetched it out…
