People tell me I deserve the very best
But mummy said be content
Daddy said work hard until you succeed
But Chinedu told me to see the beauty in imperfection
Chibaby, nothing is perfect you see
He said to me
Even if things were perfect, we would never know you see
Because chi baby we are not perfect
We wouldn’t understand perfection you see


People say I can be every thing I want
But then mummy said something’s are wrong and some are right
And daddy says I’m a girl I shouldn’t say somethings
I went to Chinedu and told him
Chinedu, I know the things I cant be
I know the things I cant say
What can I be? What should I say?
And he smiled with his gap tooth and told me
Chibaby, anything.

And I’m screaming …
Anything. Anything ?
I’m drowning in nothingness.
Chinedu, The definition of my existence is in such an empty word
Where are the boundaries?
Show me a box so I can fit in

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1 Claim: Originally written by Nigerian Fiction member 101 - Pam

2 Nigerian Fiction title 148

I met this guy at Buchi's house party..
He told me things.
Things about me .. he analysed me.
Perfectly..
He told me things I wanted to hear
He told me I was emotional..
He told me no one got me
He told me I was shy
He told me I wasn’t a whore
He told me I was just misunderstood..
He told me I had a heart and I wasn’t as cold as people say
So I smiled and fucked him you see.
And then I stood up, picked up my purse and left the party
I was bored.
Buchi's present forgotten and still in my purse.

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1 Claim: Originally written by Nigerian Fiction member 101 - Pam (Pamela)

2 Nigerian Fiction title 143

By a candle-lit dinner and a blood-red rose, we dance. The surrounding darkness cloaks the pensive mood and it’s no surprise that you do not catch the tear drop rolling down my cheek. You swing me closer to the fire, to see how far I can go without getting burned. Our dying flames of passion, revived shortly, flaring up with a scorching heat as the eastern sun, and the redness of my flushed skin ignored.

Still, hell hath no fury as a woman scorned- as your woman scorned. I am aware of what is being done, aware but not wary. For the sole reason that the first time I got away with it, pouring wine over his chest, working well with my mother nature’s endowment of “woman”. With every stroke of his healthy mane, I smiled as the chains broke, unbound him from love, his true love, letting go of all he had laboured for, now willing to lavish all on me. But I saw nothing beyond this, so I left him in his stupor, drunken with irrational lust. He was blind, his vision blurred by the radiance of my youthful glowing skin.

As much as I resist, yes, I try not to meddle, but like litmus, my presence is a trial, testing the true colours of these proclaimed lovers who boast of their chemistry's strength. Usually, their passion, burning red, turns stone-cold blue.

Now, in our silent waltz, I can almost hear you say those three worn-out words. But you are wiser, you are being careful, as you tread around broken glass- from a wine glass tipped over, for you were angry that I resisted your forceful move. I know I take second place, I satisfy you when she is far away, but still you lie, insisting that you and I were meant to be. How could I possibly be your other half, when we are exactly the same? Non-superimposable mirror-images, we are exactly the same, replicas, trying to stay afloat on the same tiny boat, we cannot complement each other.

So I sink deeper into Lonely Sea, grasping for anyone to hold on to. I cling on to you, until my lifesaver comes to get me, breathe air into my shrivelling lungs, and bring sensitivity into this unconscious mind. But until then, I will wipe away this red drop emanating from my skin, a cut from the thorn of the rose you threw at me. As we twirl together, I’ll step to your anger, your every beating. I’ll stay quiet as you say your lady’s name instead, this is my silent waltz.

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Claim: Originally written by Nigerian Fiction Member 257 - OnePennyLess

Nigerian Fiction Title 112

Last night i had dream
i saw a stream so fresh and clean
come hither it said to me
come, bathe it whispered to me
a new beginning, a fresh start
a heart so clean, and a fresh, new slate
i wasted no time, i took off my clothes
to that stream so clean and sparkling
to the waters so clear and inviting

the deep end was all that was left clean
the shallow parts was a dirty green
still i was determined to take a swim
just then it began to rain
large angry drops splattered about
till my waters turned all dirty and cloudy
but, still by my side the universe stayed
for just as suddenly, the brightest sun shone
it dried the earth and cleared up my stream
so once again i waded in
to that fresh, clean stream once upon a dream.

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Claim: Originally written by Nigerian Fiction Member 187 - Pinkroses ( Edikan Udiong )

Nigerian Fiction Title 106

Child marriagesI hear my father talking about a wedding
I am thrilled
Perhaps, my cousin Sefina is getting married
Ah!!!!Lots of trinkets, lots of spices
Lots of music, lots of food.
I hear my father call to me; Alhaji Musa is here again
Only this time, with more men; He looks at me with those eyes
As if to bribe me to convince Sefina to marry him; I smile
old men and their funny looks
Mother is standing at the corner of the room; Her head is bowed, she looks sad
I know she would miss Sefina; I would too
I kneel before Alhaji Musa as usual
Him and his escorts nod their head, while father dismisses me
I run to the yard to play ball with my kings
My kings, my brothers, my protectors
Its unusual, they kick with no zest
While they talk in hushed tones
I ignore them and grab the ball; Watching out for father’s footsteps
I wasn’t ready for the behave-like-a-lady sermon
My kings are still lost in conversation; I try to interfere, but their voices vanish
They keep straight faces, I laugh and ignore them.
So they would miss Sefina?; Boys and their pretence…
If I get married, I want my husband to love me openly
Not like papa and mama…; Treating feelings like an abomination
I remember my English teacher
Anytime, her husband drops her at school
They hug and kiss. I giggle to myself
I want mine to be like that as well; I and my king waltzing on the dance floor
Like Cinderella and her prince; I shall be liberated!
My mother’s voice interrupts my thoughts; She calls out to me
Her eyes are dark, my joy melts into worry; Everyone would miss Sefina
I have to assist her in the kitchen for dinner
She always tells me I have to learn all these ""things""; that I would get married and have responsibilities
That’s a long way from now; At my age? 13years?
No, what I want to do is be a lawyer; And choose my husband myself!
Not some old Alhaji…
I once said that and I got the scolding of my life
She told me, my life didn’t belong to me
My life belonged to my husband, an old alhaji
Me and an old alhaji?
I’d rather dress in pink than marry some Old Alhaji
All that was two weeks ago…
Now I’m eating my words
Crying my eyes out
While my mum is dressing me up with tears in her eyes
I’m still 13yrs old and Sefina is doing the cooking, not getting married
It happens I was the white elephant, everyone ignored
Now I know why my kings were frowning; I know why my mother’s eyes were dark
Now, I know the reason for Alhaji’s visits were not for Sefina
Now, I would be no lawyer; I would have no prince charming
I would do no waltzing; I would be no Cinderella
Because I have no choice
My mother finally finishes and drops the veil to cover my face
Sefina and my other female relatives join to escort me to meet Alhaji and his escorts
I shiver in fear, I must be dreaming
I see my kings, standing at the corridor
They were lucky not to be born female
Their heads are bowed
No more football, no more hide and seek
No more school…
I thought it would take forever to meet Alhaji
Maybe I’d be 25 by then; a lawyer, before we get to him
But now I’m kneeling before him with tears in my eyes
I still thought of Cinderella, I still hated pink
I still loved school, I still loved football
I was getting married to Alhaji
I was still 13 yrs old.....

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Claim: Originally written by Nigerian Fiction Member 220 - Keke

Nigerian Fiction Title 105

They buzz like flies…..all these people around me
They zoom by…attempting to perch, to stay
But all i want to do is slap them off
Yes, all i wanted to do was close them out…
They can’t understand; No…they can’t….
Her smile; Her chatter; Her cries; Even Her….
Everything about her
Even when she creeps into my bed to disturb my sleep
While I slept…
It was 9months; No!!! 8 months…
8 months and I still had to go under the knife…
Oh…the pain…..the torment…..
But then she landed in my arms and all that pain disappeared…
Yes…..her smile….erased all that pain that I felt
Cos’ I held this wonder in my hand
She was from me….yes she came out from me…..
I bore this wonder….Yes my baby wonder
I watched her grow…
Bought her clothes, she wouldn’t wear in years to come
Dreamed of her graduation day…
Her wedding day…..
How beautiful she will look….
I overheard someone say how beautiful and peaceful she looked;
In the white dress…not her wedding dress, the one in which she was buried…
No, that was not the plan…
It was supposed to be her wedding dress
She was supposed to attend my funeral
I was supposed to see my grandchildren
The flies are buzzing again….
Something about”God knows best”
I need to go to my room
The flies are perching…
“Don’t let her be alone, she might do something terrible”
I hear nursery rhymes…
A fly must have opened that “sing-along” book
In the process of trying to put it away from me
Those nursery rhymes…
Those dress-ups we had together
End of the year party is next week Wednesday; She was supposed to sing
We were learning it together…We were…
The flies are buzzing again…“You need to eat something”?
I hear her voice…Is she here; can it be, is she back?
Its only my phone; my ring tone…Her beautiful cackle
A fly hurries to switch it off…Whats the use?
Can she switch off all the memories?
Her voice in my head?
Her face in my thoughts
My beautiful wonder…
She was from God…
How could he take her away again?
Why God? Why?
She was here yesterday?
Just a slight fever…
We both entered the clinic; but I came out alone
My beautiful wonder…
“is it true?...how did it happen”
Another fly enters to interrupt my thoughts…

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Claim: Originally written by Nigerian Fiction Member 220 - Keke

Nigerian Fiction Title 94

There is a part in Things Fall Apart that stays afresh in my mind
The part that says… ”he called you father”
and i thought of you Uncle; 
After Okonkwo killed Ikemefuna; what a betrayal….
I called you uncle; I respected you
Yet you killed me, just like Okonkwo… you betrayed my trust
I was a child; innocent as the word could be
All that filled my mind then was lollipop, pink and cartoons
You were older; as lustful as the word can be
All that filled your mind was lust, lust, me
I always wanted to hang out with you
You always wanted me to sit on your laps
Fine!!!I enjoy your company; you enjoy mine
I called you uncle; when I felt your bump
I asked questions; you said it should be our little secret
Mum had said, that was my “special place”
But you claimed it; you said it was okay
I smiled even though it was painful; after all you were my uncle
I called you uncle…
Ikemefuna called Okonkwo “Father”; yet he was killed
Even if he was to be killed, it shouldn’t be by his “father”
Now, I am older; all that fills my mind is unanswered questions
Feelings of rejection, low self-worth…
Why did it have to happen? What did I do wrong? I didn’t dress skimpy...did I Uncle?
I didn’t deserve it…not from you
After all….I called you UNCLE…

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Claim: Originally written by Nigerian Fiction Member 220 - Keke

Nigerian Fiction Title 93

Procrastination
Swaying seductively, batting her eyelids
Only the strong can resist her charm
Her scent calls her prey to dine with her
“Dine with me for a little while.” she says
“Stay the night, just this once.” She beckons
Its so amazing, how one night multiplies into more nights
Her seduction never wears off
“She gives at no price.” Her prey whisper under the daze of her spell
At no price? The wise and experienced know better
The price her prey pay is more than the comfort she promises
They leave scars on the skin of her prey
Reminders of the endless nights of relaxation
The pain outweighs the pleasure
Soon the spell would wear off and they will have to face reality
But some never learn their lessons
They walk straight into her lair and drown in her façade of comfort
“I offer comfort, let me put your worries to rest, lie at my bosom. She says in her raspy voice.
Every time she reassures her prey not to leave until tomorrow
When tomorrow comes, she says “tomorrow would come, don’t worry.”
Tomorrow is an endless rollercoaster
There would always be a tomorrow for tomorrow
She drowns reality and reinforces fantasy
At the end reality comes out tops
And suddenly she can be of no help anymore
Her seductive voice seems to be like the hissing of a snake
She seems used to the “Had I known” chorus of the men that have filled her room
If only her prey would listen carefully to the lyrics of the seductive music she plays
Their feet would teach them to run

Deji Adeyemi continues......
to run like a professional.
But she keeps calling and calling...
Her love is pain, her style is smooth, her move is sneak; snitching every second.
She offers her prey candies, like babies they are joyed and grateful in acceptance.
Like nurtured balm she soothes in the day, mid-day, night
but at dawn, she kills like a snake.
Even the ... innocent and naive are not speared, curious to find where her rattle abides, with stealth, generating enthusiasm, she calls everyone away hypnotising them with fruitless pleasure and by the time she wakes them up in the morning...
...they are ""chopped and screwed""

Procrastination, for you I compromise.
Lured by your savour, I'm so out of my mind.
Penny wise pounds foolish now makes loads of sense.
Today either my ""death"" or your shall put us part.

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Claim: Originally written by Nigerian Fiction Member 220 - Keke

Nigerian Fiction Title 95

When I said “I do”…I meant forever;
I signed a contract that would join our souls together
I cried, as I said those vows…
For better, for worse…
We had waited for these moments
A public declaration of what we shared for each other…
Signalling hands off marauders…
We were off limits
You belonged to me…and I to you…
It was heaven on earth…those fresh months…
We couldn’t do without each other…; marriage was good
Hmnn…my love…my sweet love
Then your hands started displaying its hidden talents
Yes your hands, because it couldn’t be you
You loved me; yes that’s what you told me…
“forever, till death do us part”
Your hands are different from you…
They have a mind of their own
You would never hurt me
I would hide those paintings, your beatiful hands have created
My body as its canvass…
Your beautiful hands that show their other side
A beautiful side, when you comfort me in bed
No one would see those paintings…
They are between us…meant for us only
After all the pastor said something about
“keeping everything between us…and settling our problems between ourselves”
God knows that it is your weakness…
It is my job as your second half to understand you…
I know I annoy you; I would try to please you till death do us part
I know you are still worried about our baby…
You…no, not you; your hands
Your beautiful hands attempted to paint on me…
And then it mistakenly shifted to the foetus…
Yes, even painters’ make mistakes…they paint outside the canvass
Today, Chinwe came to visit…
Yes, chinwe…you both dislike each other;
Chinwe, my bestfriend; my chief bridesmaid…
She asks so many questions; prodding about the miscarriage
She just wanted a full explanation; “it just doesn’t seem right”…she kept saying
And then, the remote fell; I bent over to pick it
My long signature weave flicked to the side
And chinwe...saw a part of our private collection of art…
Your painting on my neck…
The night before…you had soothed it…just after you painted on it…
With your beautiful hands…
She wouldn’t hear any of this nonsense; “you have to leave” she said.
No…she can’t understand; me and hubby are one…
Never to be separated…
She thought I was mad; I thought she was ignorant
She didn’t know you like I knew you…
You! My beautiful one with those beautiful hands
The one I love, and the one who loves me…
The only thing is that your hands have a mind of their own…but thats fine
because its for better, for worse...and i am here to stay

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Claim: Originally written by Nigerian Fiction Member 220 - Keke

Nigerian Fiction Title 91