Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts

Friday, 16 December 2016

Bedtime Stories: Jesus Comes For His Birthday


I wrote this children’s story a long time ago. I do not know what inspired me to write it, but I had fun writing in symbolism. I wrote this for children between the ages of seven and twelve. If you know any child around you around that is between those ages, you can let him/her read it, or you can read it to them at bedtime.

Have fun with this literary Christmas story.


Jesus Comes For His Birthday

“Mama! Very soon, it would be Christmas again,” Adoma said with excitement. “We have to decorate our home so that Jesus would come again!”

Mrs. Bekoe smiled. “Yes, Adoma. Have you been good this year?”

“Yes! I can be sure of this one.”

Adoma was a nine year old girl who has obsession for Christmas, because of the decorations, carols and the most important of all, the birth of Jesus Christ.

That year, she promised herself to be good the whole year so that Jesus would be happy to spend time with her when he visited.

Her father came in, from town with Adoma’s three older siblings, with newly bought Christmas ornaments and a Christmas tree. She quickly ran down and was filled with the Christmas Spirit all at once.

“Daddy, when do we start trimming the tree?”

Mr. Bekoe thought for a moment. “Hmm. What about after supper tonight.”

“Yay!” She exclaimed. “I’ll get to put up the star this year.”

Kwadwo, her older brother, rolled his eyes. “You always do.”

“I don’t even care.” Kuukua snarled. “When you grow a little older……and matured, you’ll find that to be childish.”

“No, I won’t!” Adoma barked.

“Okay! Enough with the arguing!” Mr. Bekoe warned. “You guys shouldn’t be doing that.”

Adoma stuck her tongue out at Kwadwo and Kuukua and walked over to where the newly bought ornaments were kept.

“You guys are home?” Mrs. Bekoe asked, poking her head from the kitchen door.

“Yep!” Mr. Bekoe answered with a smile. “This Christmas, the malls are mobbed than ever.”

Mrs. Bekoe laughed heartily. “I have to go tomorrow and purchase foodstuffs for the holidays. I’ll have to go earlier than I thought to avoid traffic.”

“Mama, look! Figures of those in the manger!” Adoma jabbered. “Mary looks beautiful.”

“She is”, Mrs. Bekoe said, shaking the excess water of her hands and walked into the sitting room to check out the ornaments and the tree. “When do we start with the decorating?”

“Right after supper!” Adoma yelled with excitement.

“Whoa!”

“Can we have supper earlier today, Ma?”

Mrs. Bekoe laughed. “Anything for you, baby.”

“So, what about supper right now?” she asked.

There was silence. Nana Kwame, Adoma’s other brother checked their clock and it was past 1pm. 

“Oh come on, we haven’t even had lunch yet.”

They all laughed. “Patience moves mountains, Adoma.” Mrs. Bekoe said, and laughed again. Mrs. Bekoe liked to laugh heartedly. People would say that’s her hobby.

Adoma spent her afternoon, drawing funny pictures of Christmas. She even drew a picture of her and Jesus and wrote Me and Jesus under it.

She frowned. She remembered she had a grouch with a classmate of hers. They weren’t friends anymore because she accused Adoma of stealing her flowery ribbon.

Would Jesus still visit even though she’s not in talking terms with Michelle, her classmate?

Definitely.

Definitely not!

She just needed to find out.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Just before supper, when Adoma helped her mother set the table, she narrated her grouch story with her mother.

“Adoma, you have to make up with her as soon as possible,’ Mrs. Bekoe softly told her as she placed a spoon beside the plate.

“But Mama, I did not steal her ribbon!” she blurted out. “And what if she doesn’t want to talk to me?”

Mrs. Bekoe sighed. “Come, Adoma.” Adoma walked towards her mother as Mrs. Bekoe sat on the dinning chair. “You know, Jesus Christ did not come down from Heaven to die for only sinners. 
That’s why we sing Joy to the World, the Lord is come. We don’t sing Joy to Sinners, the Lord came for you or whatever.”

Adoma’s lower lip dropped and she sighed. “So, what should I do?”

Since school is on Christmas break, why don’t you visit her tomorrow? And if she still doesn’t want to talk to you, you’ve done your part.”

She nodded and smiled. “Okay, she threw her arms around her mother and hugged her. Then she broke free. “Let’s set the table, eat, and then trim the tree.”

Her mother giggled as her daughter pulled her from the chair.

_________________________________________________________________________________


After supper, the family trimmed the tree with the ornaments with music, playing behind Christmas music.

“Does anyone have anything he would like to donate before Christmas?” Mr. Bekoe asked his family, who were all watching the Christmas lights on the tree blinking.

“Yes. Yep!” went the responses.

“There’s a box in the kitchen. Just drop them into it, and make sure it’s full before Christmas Eve.”

“When do I get to put the star?” Adoma asked.

“You know it’s Christmas Eve,” Kwadwo said exasperatedly.

Adoma jumped up from the sofa and took some tinsels. “Time to decorate my room also.” She picked up more ornaments and walked to her room. First, she pasted the funny Christmas pictures she drew earlier in the day on her walls. She went on to use the tinsels around her room. She drew out a Christmas tree out of a green cardboard, cut out the shape, and pinned it on her wall.

An hour later, she was sitting on her, finished decorating, getting ready for Jesus Christ.

But there was one thing she had to do before Jesus could come.

Reconcile with Michelle.

Even the song Hark the Herald Angel Sing said God and sinners reconciled.

She stood up and looked for stuffs she wanted to donate; some clothes, books and toys. She took a piece of plain A4 sheet and drew a Christmas tree with ornaments. She wrote To whoever who wants it….Merry Christmas. She folded it nicely, put it into an envelope and sealed it.



Would Adoma get the courage to go and make up with Michelle? Would Michelle even talk to her? Would Jesus Christ even visit?
Check back on the blog tomorrow at this time to read the second part of the story.
Tell the little girl/boy to wait.







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Tuesday, 12 July 2016

The Story of a Half Painted Wall


The wall always knew that even though he is not fully painted and it has been left there for years now, he would be a freshly painted wall and people would admire the beautiful colour he displays. He would be smooth and made fine. People would stand in front of him to take pictures.


He is a half painted wall, and a half painted wall’s unfinished beauty is not appreciated. The rain comes down and washes away the little beauty he has. He always cries for the touch of a brush, for a painter to take him as a canvas and turn him into art. He yearns for the romantic stroke of a painter’s roller, to turn him into beauty and a dream.


He wants to feel the wetness of an emulsion paint, to attract sunshine and feel like home. He prays for a painter to take him as he is now, and turn him into something the painter would be proud of. He wishes for a person to lean against him, so that he can feel what the person is thinking.



This is the story of a half painted wall.

Wednesday, 22 June 2016

My Morning in a Short Story



Hello world!

Tuesday morning was something else for me. I’m a morning person but that morning made me feel like Morning has come earlier than usual.

This is my morning in a short story.


Stares at the ceiling
Stares at the ceiling
Still staring at the ceiling…..
What the heck.
It’s morning already? Oh shoot.
Oh please tell me it’s Friday…..Nah, it’s just Tuesday.
Hmmm. Bummer.
The gates of the store across the road clicks and clacks as the shopkeeper opens it ready to start her day.
She closes her eyes and muttered some words. That was supposed to be a prayer.
She snapped out of it, then slowly spoke, pondering on things she should be grateful for, then committed the day into the Most High’s hands, and everything and everyone else.
Time to visit the world of social media. First, WhatsApp. A few friends to check up on. The male friends ask the usual question.
Gm. How was ur nite???
Next; Instagram, Twitter.
Facebook is for the late hours of the morning.
She opened her laptop and chose the shortest workout video. The shortest is 5 minutes long, even with that, she does not go pass 3 minutes.
Hashtag 21st century girl problems.
Don’t worry, I’ll do the full workout tomorrow, she thought.
Chores time. Music is playing in the background. She sings along, knowing that her family members are used to her voice.
She drags herself to the bathroom to perform the daily hygienic routine. Staring absently at the mirror, she wondered why that thing like a pimple cannot seem to disappear.
The bathroom is a wonderful place to turn yourself into a famous singer performing in front of the mirror, who is your audience.
The mirror really sees things.
Her eyes looked funny that morning. She looked tired. Ah! She remembered. She slept way too late the night before.
Hmmmm. The life of a blogger.
What was she even blogging about?
She brushed that away and performed her skin care routine. Something can be done to make her look refreshed.
Makeup! But gosh, she had nowhere to go, so why makeup?
Oh forget it! She was hungry. The most beautiful journey to embark on when you are at home is a trip to the kitchen.
Opens one saucepan. Nope
Opens another saucepan. Not interested.
Opens another. She sighs sadly. She gave up.
She opened the first saucepan again. She sighed again. She cannot have anything better. She glanced at the clock. It was a few minutes pass 9am.
She went back to her room to open her planner. Hmmm, she thought.
The worst thing was, she forgot to have her personal morning devotion.
The End.


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