Eric Gichuru

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“You will not believe who has just walked past me like a minute ago!” Mikaya breathlessly says.

“Justin Bieber,” Amira responds, not taking Mikaya seriously – she knows she can get over-the-top dramatic for no apparent reason.

“Mscheeew! Your husband and your boyfriend!” Mikaya whispers over the phone.

“Who?” Amira asks, not sure what Mikaya is talking about. Before Amira can get more details, Mikaya breathlessly bursts into her office only to find Amira with a client.

Mikaya apologizes, walks out, then 10 seconds later, knocks on her door, scratching her head, and says, “Can I see you for a second? It’s urgent!”

Having noticed that Mikaya is not bluffing, Amira excuses herself, quickly following her. “They are at our manager's office,” Mikaya says as she walks a stride faster.

“I pray for your own sake you are not pranking me,” Amira hisses nervously between her teeth.

As the two men emerge from the manager's office, they spot each other at the same time. Willis waves at them with a stellar smile curved on his lips. They wave back as Amira reluctantly walks toward her husband, who is standing right next to Zane. “S**t! S**t! S**t! How the hell did I get myself into such a mess!” She mutters to herself.

“What are you doing here?” She asks in a surprised tone as she gets two meters in their range.

“Hey, come say Hi first,” Willis says with open arms.

She gives him a hurried hug and then awkwardly shakes Zane's hand. “Just happened to be around and then decided to drop by to see my buddy. I tried to call you, but you didn’t pick up,” Willis explains.

“You did?” Amira asks as she nervously rubs the back of her arm with her nails. The stinging pain alerts her that she’s badly scratched herself…

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“I, I, I…” Natela falters.

“You don’t even know who the father is?” Aunt Rhoda asks with a sarcastic air.

“I didn’t want to; he forced himself on me!” she whimpered. “Wait, what! Did Someone r*pe you? Is that what you are saying?”

“C’mon dear, talk to me; who took advantage of you?” Rhoda asks in a more reassuring tone. “You can trust me; you should not be going through this alone.”
The change of tact works because she blurts out, “It’s Kibathi!”

“Woi Mwathani! Who? MY KIBATHI? KIBATHI MY BOYFRIEND!!?”

Natela can’t make out her aunt’s expression. She looks shocked, angry, confused…, and definitely disgusted.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Auntie, I swear...”

“Don’t you auntie me; how dare you...where were you two...when did this happen?”
“At his house,” she whimpers.

“Did he drag you to his house?” She asks flatly.

“NO!”

“So you’ve been having a good time with my man while living under my roof & now have the nerve to tell me you are pregnant!”

“Was it the first time?”
“No, I mean yes!” Natela stammers.
“You’ve lost count, huh!”

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“Bae, do I look fat in these clothes?” She asks. “Noo! Noo! Babe.” He says acting surprised, knowing very well that she’s grown sensitive to her weight with the pregnancy.

“You think so?” She asks, not convinced.

“You are just made for cuddling, just the way I love it,” he flatters her.
“Awwh! You are so sweet, babe…”

“Babe, do you think I’m short?” He shoots the question out of the blues. “Whhat! She chuckles, why would you ask me that?”

“You haven’t answered my question yet…”

“Have I ever complained about your height babe? Anyway, you are tall in the right places.” She adds as she gives him a naughty wink.

“Is that you blushing?” She pokes him…

“No, I’m just wiping the speck in my eye” He lies.

“Tihihi! Liar!” She says as she jumps on him unexpectedly. “Now carry your own problems, tall man.” He breaks a thin sweat as he tries to hold her chubby frame.

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I’m already tired of your rubbish right now? Get out of my house and go be with your children from your whores!” She orders him as she flings the front door open.

“Hahaa, your house?” He sarcastically says.

“You can pick your toothpick, and your stupid electronics as you leave.” She says satirically.

“You can really get really b* sometimes,” Willis raises his voice.

“Who are you calling a b*tch? You are the worst kind of mongrel I have ever come across. Pick your boxers and get the f*ck out of my house,”

“Alright then, if I’m leaving, I’m taking my daughter with me,” he says as he walks towards Shirly’s bedroom.

“ARE YOU OUT OFF YOUR NUT, BOY? DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH MY DAUGHTER,” as she runs ahead of him, locking herself inside Shirly’s bedroom.

“OPEN THE DOOR, WOMAN!”

“SHIRLY IS NOT GOING ANYWHERE” she shouts back.

“Moooom, what’s happening?” Shirly, who has been awakened by the commotion, asks in a panic.

“Dad, daad, what’s wrong?” she calls her father since her mom is not responding.

He kicks the bedroom door twice, and the lock snaps. He then picks up his daugther who’s wailing in panic, and leaves.

“HELP! HELP! HE’S TRYING TO KILL MY BABY; HELP, PLEASE HELP; HE’LL STEAL MY BABY…”

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“I don’t think I can handle this anymore!” She says in a resigned voice as she gets ready for bed.

The only word her husband, who is comfortably seated with his legs raised on a stool reading the bible, can master is a brief ‘uh-huh’ and then goes on reading.

Wasike was eager to show off his wife’s culinary skills to everyone who set foot in their home. She was glad to play the happy, virtuous, industrious pastor’s wife for so long until she had enough of that nonsense.

Did you hear what I just said?

“Yes, I have,” said Wasike.
“What did I just say?”

Her tone has now captured his attention.
“You never listen to what I say, do you?.” the ceramic mugs she’s carrying are hang on their dear lives as she swings them all over in protest.

“That’s preposterous,” He fights back.
“Preposterous? Really? You want to know what’s really outrageous?”

A moment of awkward silence passes like he doesn’t not want to dare her say what was absurd.

“I will spell it out for you right now! For you to fling the doors of your home wide open for every ragtag and bobtail that finds its way here! As if that is not enough, you want me to slave all in the kitchen trying to feed the thankless bastards while you have a laugh!...”

by Eric Gichuru

She pauses for a moment as a dark cloud of sadness engulfs her. She lets out a stifled sob as she speaks in more of a muffled murmur that inaudibly tolls like a passing bell.

Finally, seemingly having regained her composure, she says, “When I met him, he was living in a shanty. He had only two knock-off suits that he wore every other Sunday for a gig that could barely afford him rent. He really changed when he became famous and got himself a few coins after I introduced him to the industry…he started sleeping around with other women…he became a drunkard…he abandoned his daughter and me…

you’ll need to understand that I am human too you know…I was angry about the crazy things he was doing out there. I wanted to be loved…then came along a man who showed me all the love I was missing…I know it was wrong, but I couldn’t help but fall for him. The problem is that he took advantage of the fact that I was emotionally weak and hurting…then came the most regrettable thing, the s*x tape.

It was not supposed to be created; more importantly, it was never supposed to be released to anyone. It was intimate between the man I loved and me, and then someone very dear to me, she was leaked it…

She tells the sob story. “I want to tell the women out there who are being abused by men that there is hope. I contemplated su***de. If I survived this attack from all angles, so will you…”

by Erick B Gichuru

Approaching a woman especially such a beut has always made his blood curl. He been tripping over himself from a distance for almost half an hour now psyching himself up to go talk to her as she worriedly she stares on the pounding rain.

“Let me walk you home. It will get dark soon” he instructs her with surprising confidence holding an umbrella. They walk in delinquent silence along the muddy and slippery road apart from a few awkward glance exchanges now and then. He also offered to carry her muddy sandals when they gave up on the way which she was happy to oblige.

Almost halfway home, a Mitsubishi Pajero 4x4 approaches them from the opposite direction navigating the muddy road like a knife through butter. The car slows down as the young lad on the wheel pulls down the window with a baffled expression on his face.

“Hey, Prissy! What are you doing in the rain without shoes?” He addresses her directly in a more than concerned tone.

“I...I was heading home and then got caught up in the rain, and he offered to help,” She explains.

He doesnt miss that she has stuttered for a second and that she has just given the lad half-truths.

“Hop in the car, I am heading to town to pick up something real quick; I will drop you home thereafter,” He says ignoring his presence like he’s a tool.

With a flustered smile planted on her face, she mutters some gratitude as she hops onto the passenger’s seat.

“The sandals!” the young lad demands.

As if he’s just suffered an amnesia attack, he gazes at his left hand only to find out that he is still holding her sandals.

Like a scalded cat, he hands them over to him. As soon as they slipped off his fingers, the car speed off, with mud splashing all over him...

_With Eyes Wide Open by Erick B Gichuru_

If you really want to be happy in life, focus on helping others.

𝗖𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗱𝗲𝗲𝗽𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗴𝗿𝗲𝘁! They met at the high-end barbershop/salon where she used to work part-time while still in college. He was a regular customer, but he’d never shown particular interest in her until he chatted her up one day.

They both hit it off instantly. Chris checked almost all the boxes. He was mature, good-looking - not as tall, but… - smelled nice, loving, Worked in an NGO, was spiritual, and confident…by the time they were 8 months in, they had settled on the names to give their two babies – Jayson and Lovina.

The problem was Chris was getting serious too fast and was becoming more possessive. He no longer wanted her posting s*xy pictures on Instagram, claiming she was embarrassing him. Chris no longer wanted her working at the barbershop. She knows why. He didn’t want other men hitting on her.

He also had issues with her frequent late-night outs over the weekends. She was growing sick of his ‘controlling’ behavior. He even tried to tame her spending habits, yet she wasn’t even asking him for money to spend. He wanted to wife her. He introduced her to his family and then proposed in an elaborate event where friends and family were in attendance. ‘Yes,’ she said in feigned enthusiasm…

She broke the engagement days later. Chris, in panic, tried to negotiate with her, including suggesting therapy, but nothing worked. She knows she shattered his heart, but she wasn’t ready to become anyone’s wife then. She had just turned 23 and had a whole life to live ahead. She wanted to explore the world, her s*xuality, her career, and make new friends…she had just landed a promising acting role on TV. Getting married, having babies, and turning down some acting roles because her man was uncomfortable with them would be the perfect recipe to ruin her budding career.

Fast forward to now seven and a half years later, she wonders what demons must have processed her to throw away such a relationship…

With Eyes Wide Closed by Erick B Gichuru

She’d never known that she could turn to a cursing, yelling, door-banging, irate b*tch until she got married and pregnant.

She knows he’s got a tall ego. She has never seen him shed a tear. He expects her to treat him with awe, just like the rest of the crowd out there, but she’s always happy to disappoint him. She enjoys intentionally doing subtle things that she knows will drive him mad.

He likes acting all mature and like he’s never fazed by anything, which irks her further.

The thing is that when it comes to a war of words, she’s a samurai wielding a three-meter sword while he’s a gardener playing around with a broomstick.

He has, however, mastered a way of dealing with her yapping. His mind goes to auto shut down; not hearing past the second word in any sentence, she starts with a negative tone. He, however, makes sure to add a few hmms and ahhs to sound like he’s paying attention.

On this day, however, he ignores her fussing about him helping with the house chores while she’s pressing some of her cloths. Feeling testy, she glazes his hand with the iron box, albeit briefly, to make it look like an accident.

For the first time ever, he flips on her angrily. “Eish, sorry, it was just an accident, don't be a bitch about it,” she barks.

By Erick B Gichuru