Flash fiction

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.

END

Advertisements

Coral Creatures and Sun flight.

Once I threw Coral George wrapper up to the sun and captured some of her fiery yellow streaks. While humans argued it was an eclipse. I wove these brazing streaks into bush baby leather which turned yellow. My feet were to soar since that day on. Filtering through life’s rubbish, ascending into bright clouded sky.

Once I found a unicorn at Ikeja stuck on a tiny notepad in between dusty stationery and plastic children sunglasses. I bought the notebook and set the unicorn free. Every other night I hear the notebook rustle in my bag, under book stacks, or in a cardboard filled with secret treasures. At midnight, that Thursday, I removed the note from its wrapping, So I began scribbling in it my plans, sun sparks and positivity. All just an excuse to carry the unicorn out and about.

Once. Many times. Most times. I win. I win when I’m attacked because I carry the most unsuspecting shield. Books. Pages poked with small scratches of golden, magical glitter.

END.

Sunny Views of Us

There are views.

There are views from a airplane window of bright pink, peach, red, purple and mint blue skies filtering through two layers of clouds as the sun sets.

Then there is the sight, sound and sensual feel of you sucking my yellow painted toes. As you kneel in front of my heating vulva thrusting warm pleasure into me with your dark chocolate phallus. What a view.  I moan arching my back, feeling your scrotum tickle my butt cheeks. Your full lips trail kisses from my big toe to my bronzed left calf. Your thrusts quicken making me moan and gasp louder. ‘Ifeanyi!’ I almost scream smiling. You bend on me to kiss my pinkish brown lips and I wrap my thick thighs around your muscled back. From our lustful embrace on the damp dinning table in the stuffy spare room. It was shoved here by you, my elder brother and two cousins under the direction of my Mum. She felt the caterers needed more space to set up the wedding party buffet. We shouldn’t be here licking, sucking, moaning, gasping nor having orgasms on squeaking mahogany. Yellow streaks of sunlight beam off the white walls caressing my blurred vision. I gasp from the realization that the sun has risen and uh intense pleasure. I should be bathed and seated with the make-up artist and my excited bridal train.

‘You are so beautiful’. Each word you say is punctuated with quick kisses. One to my erect left nipple then two kisses on my glistening brown right nipples. I giggle then whisper I’m so happy. You smile that smile that made me say yes to a private, extended kayak session the day we met. We watched the rosy sunset together as traffic crawled on the impressive Eko Bridge. Afterwards we ate the largest fresh fish barbecue with creamy coleslaw, plenty fries and sweet frozen yoghurt and chilled citrus beer.  Our moist lips separate then we nuzzle our noses against each other. We both chuckle at our ability to find time for ourselves, no time for sex, amidst our families and weddings craziness. I was whispering that I love how he moaned my name when I took his pulsing penis in between my lips. How I enjoyed him asking if he could give me head. His long fingers that make clicking taps on keyboards, engineering dark back ends like a tribal drum beat. How those long fingers with dark knuckles had popped open the  three metal clasp of my bodysuit. Then he’d hoisted me onto the table surface, spreading my thighs to kiss his way down my inner thighs, further down teasing my delicate folds, sucking my clit. Oh, what an erotic view! My whispering would have continued when we heard my mother say at the door, ‘Aisha nko?’. Where is she? Why isn’t Ifeanyi picking his calls, where is the groom?’ We froze blinking as birds chirped.  Quickly yet quietly we sat up, got off the table and began dressing. My mother’s voice moved away from the door while we shared our last kiss at our hideout.

END.

P.M.W

‘You are mad!’ he exclaims, laughing and closing his brown thighs.

I pull away, smiling. ‘Didn’t your mother warn you? I ask reclining on the headboard ‘Warn you not to follow pretty mad women when they sweetly call.’

Pretty mad women have houses that become unknowing homes, the saying goes.  But still you followed me that day to my house. That day you saw me crouched snapping pictures of the sprawling bed of green leaves.

END.