Write Pad

Read my chicklit and speculative fiction flash stories straight from my write pad.

Muse and Image source: Amaka Amaku


Diamond Apples

Ice your scars.

Not in frozen water that’ll make them throb like your body did then. But in diamonds, maybe rubies. Just drape them with gifts, for you are majestic.

Feed your soul

Feed it apples and truths of varying colours. For who knows the colour of what truth? Just feed your soul that you are out, beyond and above all that.

And when it’s time to mine diamonds and barter truths help others. But help yourself first, leave to live.


This piece is for #16daysofactivism against gender-based violence and domestic abuse in December. It seeks to celebrate survivors, their advocates and females worldwide. But also to encourage you to say NO, Time’s Up! It discourages enablers of rape, sexual assault, sexual violent acts and forced marriage. Share this story with loved ones.

Bush Offence

Welcome to the Thin Line. This department is in charge of regulating reincarnation and rebirths of spirits and souls into the human world. And by extension, we are the thin line between life and death.

Quickly I want to remind you Souls about our rules before you sign your lifespan contracts. Afterwards, we’ll then stamp these contracts and send it to the Time zones in Glass Skies. They’ll duly notify Death once this life runs out of time. Okay?

‘Okay!’ Many of the spirits around me chorused while I mutely stared at the tall, feminine deity with hair of glittery gold kinks.

There are three ways to get your reincarnation license revoked permanently or for four generations. Permanent revocation will be my focus. Because every spirit here has just ended a four generations revocation wait. So if you don’t want to permanently lose your license pay attention.

There are three ways to get your reincarnation license revoked permanently. The third way is to cause or contribute to a human genocide.

The first way will be explained by my superior.

The second way is to offend a bush spirit being. If you have numerous bush offences your reincarnation license can be permanently revoked. We are all from the brown, red, black soil. The deep forest spirits are guardians of our soil carriages. If you offend the Bush, their extension into modern human life, we might not even find your soul to retrieve for rebirth or reincarnation. Yes, if you kill insects or animals indiscriminately without being from ancestral homes permitted to do so. You lose your license.

There is an eerie silence around me and I glance about. Bush offence had almost cost me a revocation in my eighteenth lifetime. My mother would have been furious because she wanted me to further her agenda north of the Atlantic sea in my next lifetime. I almost killed that odd looking bug that night but stepped back for my flatmate holding a bug spray and parker. It didn’t seem right to kill a creature whose name I didn’t know. A name I could call repeatedly in my dreams seeking its forgiveness for its murder. The way of our ancestors did hundred years and counting. I remember when I’d approached the rebirth office with my application. I’d researched its details well. The River Goddess Priestess’ family history, their residential country, Glass Skies regulation of spiritual commute there, my proposed lifespan, difficulties I was open to facing in that lifetime and of course my purpose for full reincarnation application. I didn’t add what I wanted to hate because it contributed to my death in the column to specify then. In the application hidden in the folds of my sweeping, white gown I filled that column. What life would you choose if you reincarnated on your own terms?

I snap out of my reverie to hear.

‘If you make a promise to a bush spirit or humans with deep-forest as their element of creation and break it. Licence revoked. Do proceed done this path for further instructions.’

As we walked up a flight of lush white grass towards a fountain of swirling grey rain clouds, silver lightening shards and caged evil souls. I remembered a person from a past life who had promised to marry a guy but broke off the relationship after enjoying the lavish benefits. That babe almost died in the end. It made me weary of cold mouths during a kiss or seeing part reptile eye part human when you stare long enough. Humans with deep forest element of creation are frightening. They are more unforgiving than my sea sisters. And much more cunny in binding a soul to a commitment.



Who are you?, you ask boldly.
I’m the 4am mist on western coast of your Atlantic Ocean.

I’m the chilly dawn winds that rustles the grass, waking up tiny inhabitants of the soil.

I’m not lightning but the assurance of it during a midnight thunderstorm. Who are you child of the forest to ask this river godling who she is?

Can’t you whiff my fresh ocean scent. Not of salty winds but of a bejewelled, blue eternity beneath the Atlantic.

The scent that makes you lust for the beach or fresh fish barbecue.