Voice of the little one!

It's a few minutes to 12am, and it's the celebration of the international day of the girl-child. I couldn't possibly let this day waste away without making my little mark on it.

Yes, not only because I am a girl, but because I see myself as an ambassador for every girl out there, as well as every other girl ambassador for me too.

It's not a fight that started today, neither was it the call during the summit a few years ago...

No, this has been the voice echoed over the hills and mountains, over the deserts and glaciers, over the forests and valleys.

Cries of the young one, her father's little treasure.

The Voice of the little girl screamed with joy as she played with her peers.

The voice of the smiling adolescent as she, innocently, whimpers along the streets, proudly hawking her oranges.

Oh, yes! I do speak of the proud courage on the face of that thirteen-ish student in the classroom, listening with all attentiveness, as she hopes for a future, a better one.

How can I forget the strong will of that twenty-something young lady, finding herself in a world that has already told her to keep her space? Even as she rumbles through the strives and hardships that we call life, she never gives up.

She may be dragged. She may be mocked.

But, no matter how often she's been told to go back to the kitchen, to perform the only duties she was made to do, to warm the beds of the other gender, she will not break!

No, she will not give in to their definition of her.

After all, she alone can define who she is.

This doesn't mean that she's not the caring daughter she's raised to be, the loving wife she's grown to be, the tough mother she had to be, and the woman society needs her to be.

Oh, yes, she can be all that, and still have a life, can't she?

Just like your sons and men, she could also juggle a career with her responsibilities, couldn't she?

Just like our fatherland, she hopes to give back her part to her homeland.

As God, most high had created Adam, so also he did make Eve.

He gave unto men and sons talents and wisdom, but he never neglected her.

She is also a part of this world. And she is much more than you see her.

If given the chance, encouragement, and support, then you will see that behind that cowering girl is a mighty soldier of the tomorrow.

Face a girl child today, no matter your gender, and tell her "You are special. The creator made you beautiful, and you can be whatever you choose to be. God is your strength."

Tied Up Alone

The sharp pang in my head snapped me back from the darkness I was surrounded by. However, the echoes of the cries and screams heightened the pain that ran continuously in my ears. Trying to open my head, I was almost blindfolded by the bright rays of the sunlight.

I attempted to do this again and this time around I was able to see white patches in the room I was in.

"She is awake!"

A small voice of a man a code so close to me. On parting my eyelids, the white ceiling above me greeted me, and this confirmed my present situation. I was not in my room and apparently, I wasn't in any familiar environment. 

Realizing this, I sprung my face to the side of the bed and caught a glance of two enormous men standing at the front of what seemed to be a door. Seeing that I was awake, the man stopped speaking and worked towards me.

Frightened, I tried to jump off the bed, but restraints on my arms and legs prevented me from doing so. All I could do was stare at the men, surprisingly, without the ability to yell at them.

"Oh, hello there, sleeping beauty." One of the men, a black-skinned, buffed thug with a red bandana tied on his forehead, and dangling from his hand, a long rifle.

Did I mention that I was scared? Well now, I'm pretty much sure I was petrified. 

Never have I seen a weapon as long as what the man held, and coupling it up with the men in control of it.

Struggling to break free from my sudden dumbness, I tore my lips with a slight gasp.

Getting my voice back, I did what any responsible human will do in my situation, or rather the opposite.

I shouted. "Help."

Somehow, I knew that my actions were stupid, but this was confirmed only after the men rounded into a burst of mocking laughter.

Calming down, I begged. 

"Please let me go. You have the wrong person. I'm just a poor, stupid girl. I don't stick my nose in businesses that don't concern me. Trust me, I don't have a good memory, so I will forget your faces as soon as I'm let out. I promise not to mention a word to the police about this."

The men exchanged a look, before laughing again.

And, I began to cry. Whenever I was faced with a situation that was greater than me, I always blabbered my way out of it. If that doesn't work, then I'll cry and get away.

But, now, neither seemed to work.

Not ready to give up, I pushed myself up on the bed, and after many attempts, I was able to hoist myself to my button, sitting up.

The men had ignored me and returned to the doorway. It was then that I took a proper look at the room I was held in. It was an enormous room, almost thrice my bedroom back at home.

The room was painted glossy white. Farthest from me was a couple of wardrobes and a door which I mentally took note of figuring out if escape would be possible through it.

Trailing further, I noticed a huge screen TV hanging on the wall adjacent to the bed, and on looking around, I saw that I was on a king-sized royal bed.

What shocked me the most was that I was actually restrained by nothing but a fancy lace rope.

God. Is this real?

Without thinking twice, I attempted to wriggle out of the ones holding my hands, but it could have been easier if my fingers were able to work through the knots.

I glanced up and noticed that the men were looking at me, but they didn't flinch.

Then, the other one, a much shorter fatter man, turned the knob on the door close to them and opened the door.

I strained my eyes to get a view of what was beyond the door, but I couldn't see a thing. The men walked out and when it was obvious that I will be the only one in the room, I screamed at them.

"Where are you going! I said you should let me go!"

But, they ignored me and I could hear their laughs, but this time accompanied by other voices.

My eyes widened. 

How many men were out there? Am I the only one held here? Why am I held here? Where is here?

The last I could remember was being carted away from our college with my other schoolmates and classmates. All I know was that everyone was crying and shouting at the abductors to let us go, but I remained calm as I watched the jeep that followed the truck they held us in.

Through the car's window, I squinted to get a clearer view of the man seated beside the driver.

On a closer glance, I immediately recognized him, and at that moment, something hit my face and I blacked out.

However, I didn't need to wonder anymore. The door came open, and in walked a majestic figure that turned out to be non-other than him.

Smiling, he said, "Good to see you again, Tabitha."

And I froze.

I knew them!

"Everything occurs for a reason. Good or not, it happens anyway."

These are called wise words, but who knows wisdom? Who dares calls himself wise? If life snatches away your beloved, would you be okay with that one-liner?

Anyway, we were bred with those words and taught to trust and believe in an entity we've never seen, not once.

I find it almost crazy that the world holds different meanings to our existence, yet everyone agrees that one being sat down, and suddenly made the world.

I mean, I would trust the guys with the scientific proofs, rather than the men robbed with attires bounded on books of beliefs that were written centuries before they even existed. 

As a child, I was told alongside many children who sat around my grandmother that life was like a book, and we are characters in it. Each stroke of the pen represented a second of life itself. 

I could recall how she'd laugh and say "Everything that is meant to be, will be."

Thus, I almost did not make an attempt that day when they raided our lives. After all, it started like every other day. We are already accustomed to the frequent fears and thrills of the actions of the bandits, or as my dad would say "the boys with the guns".

Just a few weeks ago, our neighbor and his family were collected from their home in broad daylight but as usual, nobody could do anything. 

Sunday comes as we mass ourselves to pray for their return, even though we knew deep down that this was impossible.

Yet, even though we claimed to be strong and faithful believers, we knew that one day it would be us next.

And, that's exactly what happened.

As the loud shouts of the gunshots drummed the premises of our school, we according to our natural instincts began to run Helter Skelter, unknowingly causing a ruckus that earned us no escape as we tripped over each other, and still ended up in their arms.

They carried us in their large trucks, both male and female, no matter how age or class. So, our school was an average private institute, but I must say that the wealthy breathe the same air as us in the school. I, for one, knew that even though my family couldn't boast of frequent trips to Dubai, we sure lived a pretty comfy life.

Thus, we hoped that we wouldn't last a day in their hands - their big, huge hands.

It was at that moment that I knew that I was so wrong. These aren't the arms that took Mariam last year, they aren't the ones that scooped away our neighbors, and they certainly aren't the boys with the guns.

No.

These were men.

They wore no mask. Carried not guns.

They were the guns.

But, the shocker of it all, I knew them.

________Author's Note: Hey, peeps. I'm Alexa here. So, I had this crazy idea to let my fingers type each day without an actual plot for a story. I have no idea what will happen, but I am sure that as I keep writing, bits and bits of the story will fall into place.

Are you ready to go on this journey with me? If yes, log in every day to read my one-day shorts, and at the end of this - if I ever find the end, we'll come up with a name for the story together.

Deal?

When will I meet the one for me?

 So, sometimes, I wonder if one day I'll meet the one - the one who will be mine.

Hehe, I know that this is really corny and cliche, but it's funny how many people in the world keep believing in love. I mean, there is nothing wrong with believing, but waiting for a soul mate, well, that's just off.

Even though I've written several romance-cliched novels, I still ask myself one question:

Is there such a phenomenon as "the one"?

Cause to me, I feel like many individuals just hook up for other reasons (and not love). 

People hook up for money (increasing their social status), to survive (having someone to share the bill with), to have children (blessed baby-factories), to not be alone (this is so cliched), and many more bizarre reasons.

But, it's only a few people that actually came together, all in the name of love, and most of the time, they never really worked out.

My experience of love, well... I've not had one yet, I think.

OK, I'll admit I have zero experience.

But I just think love is a farce; something unreal...something invented to create an illusion of fantasies that do not exist...something to just hold on to.

I guess with all the shit going on in the world, brief perfectness such as love is acceptable, but that does not mean they are real.

So far, the only love I know could be real is the love God has for me, cause believe me...if it's true that the creator watches from up there and still cares for us, despite how despicable we are (emphasis on meeee...) then I'll say that it is dope!

Anyway, I'm not writing this to put anyone off from believing in love, loving, or hooking up with your true love (if that's real), I'll just say that before you go heads over heels in love with someone, love yourself first. 

Before you go falling hard for someone, ensure you've got a soft landing ready.

Cause love might be beautiful, but nothing is most beautiful than finding love with/in yourself.

Okay, now that I've gotten this from my system...I'm off to writing another romance novel.

Maybe, just maybe, I'll find that true love someday.

Haha, I just hope so.👩

Photo by Vie Studio on pexels.com

Don't cry over spilled beans...

 Mara hurried down the lane, her feet swift against the hard road, as she followed the crowd of paparazzi. They were all in a haste to get the buzz, hot, and live. The teenage pop star, Kyle, was being crazy again, and they were sure to get that on the live feed. However, on getting to the skyscraper, Mara diverted from the others and disappeared into the backdoor. 

She made her way up the stairs, past the security, and weaved herself to the fifteenth floor, where the girls-sensational-idol was standing, about to throw himself off the railing. 

He had a bottle of brandy in his right hand, while his second hand gripped the railing of his apartment’s balcony.

 

 On seeing this, her heart leaped – it was worse than she had thought. He was practically about to shove himself down fifteen floors, and it would be all her fault. 

With a sharp scream, she called him, “Kyle!” 

That was the one call she ought to have made years ago. If she had only screamed as loud as she did, eighteen years ago, then everything would have not been this bad. 

She had become a coward. 

She had let her fear and uncertainties consume her, and her indecision had led the young man to stand over his own death. 

But, like a ray of sunshine, he turned his head to her, and suddenly, she knew the heavens had given her another chance to right her wrongs. 

Without hesitating, as she had done years ago. 

She ran. 

Like never. 

She leaped to him and grasped him in her arms, as tight as she could, knowing she would never let him go, never again. 

Kyle squirmed silently into her neck, and he looked up at her face. 

As though in a whisper, he breathed, “You are here now, mom.” 

The tears she had long held in her chest as guilty pains came rolling down her cheeks, as she smiled – sincerely for the first time, and asserted saying, “I am sorry, my son. I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry I was a coward.” 

These were the words Kyle had waited his whole life to hear as his purple lips pulled into a small smile. 

“Yeah, mom, I know.” He simply said. 

 

That smile burned Mara’s chest, and she knew at that moment that it was too late. He removed himself from her grip, and with one swift move, he was over the railing. She rushed to him, holding him by his arm, but he had his mind made up. 

He smiled again, but underneath that was a deep sadness that had swallowed him up.

“You can’t go back, you know, mom. It’s never going to be the same again.” 

 

With these words, he peeled her fingers from his arms, and even though she tried, he slipped away, and she watched – helplessly – as he fell down to the darkness already awaiting him. 

What was the use of her tears? They were pointless. 

She knew, yes, she knew at that moment that if only she had been brave when she needed to be, then time would have not gone against her. 

 But Kyle was right. 

She could not go back, as it would never be the same. 

Playing Cards

What is life like?... 

Life is like a box of playing cards, the more you see, the less you have, and eventually, you’ll be the joker. 

We are all seated around a table, with our pack of cards in our hands. Life is the game we play: some people are lucky with their cards and win a lot at the beginning. However, there are some that lose and have to keep playing over and over till they do. Yet, there are some that eventually give up, and dump their cards for others.  

The table is the world. The game is life. The pack of cards is our choices and decisions.  

The way we play around with our choices determines how we win each round of the game. Some choices make us, causing us to win some rounds. Yet, some choices break us, causing us to lose some rounds. However, giving up and not making a choice to keep playing caused us to be out of the game. 

We all have a joker, a wild card, that saves our wins during rounds. 

These wild cards are second chances at life, that we can either take or refuse. The Joker can be an extremely beneficial, or an extremely harmful, card. These can cause us to win it all, or lose it all. So, however, we let our decisions lead us, such is how our game of cards is played. 

How our life plays out, eventually.

Image by TanteTati from Pixabay 

The Girl Behind The Words

Do you want to know the girl beneath "Asides"? My name is Temiloluwa Ruth Oyelola, but Alexandra Oyelola is my authoring name, and I’m a Gemini, a close shave to being a Taurus. As a quiet gen-z, I grew up in Malali, Kaduna State, and I spent the majority of my childhood there. I attended Future Leaders International School until my fourth grade, even though I had attended two other schools during this time. From here, my family moved to Osogbo, Osun State where I joined Olive Branches Schools from 5th Grade to 7th Grade. In 7th grade, at the advice of my aunt, I wrote the Junior WAEC Examination. {Sorry to kids like me that had been forced to jump classes} Luckily, I passed and got enrolled in Baptist Girls High School. I spent a term in BGHS before we returned to Kaduna and I registered at Destiny College, where I completed my grade school and graduated in the year 2015. I became a Dufil-Indomie ambassador in 2015 after winning their promo for that year. The prize was to visit Disneyland, alongside four other winners and our respective guardians. During the process, I visited Lagos for the first time when we went for our France visa appointment. Yet, unfortunately, we could no longer go as the visa application was rejected for two other winners, and thus we were compensated on a monetary level. {Story of my life} After graduation, I went for a three months computer appreciation awaiting my admission. However, on missing my admission to Obafemi Awolowo University, I began working at a playground center. Here, I worked for a year and some months as a caregiver. {More of Nannie jobs with a collar} Afterward, I proceeded to Lagos State to write TOEFL and SATs to prepare for my studies in the United States. I passed both exams and was to resume Southwest Minnesota State University, but my visa got declined. {Wahala for who wan Japa!} Unable to proceed and raise funds for a second consular meeting, I left Lagos and returned to Kaduna. Fortunately, I got admitted into Ahmadu Bello University, to study Human Kinetics, a four-year course study. {ABU to the save!} While awaiting admission, I also became a member of the Kaduna State Triathlon Club, after getting trained by the Kaduna State Swimming Coach, Coach Yahaya, a blind but highly talented swimmer. He became my inspiration, and with this, I learned how to swim. {Thanks, coach Yahaya} However, I dumped swimming again when I resumed school at ABU Zaria. Currently, I am a part of the Volleyball and Handball team at my school. I plan to keep this up and develop one of these sports as a side career to boost my main dream of becoming a physiotherapist. {A girl can only dream...} In the year 2020, I completed my first novel titled, 366 Days Together, and this began my story of being an author. Following this, I made my first poetry collection which I called “Our Silent Words”. I became a published writer when I self-published my e-books at the beginning of the year 2021, via online publishing platforms. Later that year, I began writing my second book, a duology and completed the first book while going to school. To keep myself busy during the strike periods, I became an intern at KadaHive Innovation and Tech Hub, where I wrote content, developed my writing skills, coordinated several events, participated in community work, and had lots of other amazing adventures. The most memorable events I’ve had working with KadaHive are participating in the global cleanup for earth day, and co-hosting an earth art festival, both in 2022. In April, I also published the first book in my duology, titled “Dominique”, and for the first time, I had it monetized. My plans are to have my books, one day, on a bookshelf everywhere in the world, and probably, have one made into a movie. After all, a girl can only dream… These and more, are the story of my life. Yet, a book is not finished until the end is realized. I’m probably still midway through my story, but as the famous saying goes “life has given us many blank pages, and it is our duty to fill them with many amazing moments that would become our greatest memories.” Jump in, and let's explore life together...

Image by Michal Jarmoluk from Pixabay