Mercenary Wife – 1

Mercenary Wife – 1

EPISODES: 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. ♥ It was a fashionable society wedding. The kind that dazed the imagination of guests and that had them talking above whispers. More »

He Knows You – do you?

He Knows You – do you?

Who better than the one who created a thing to know it? I always think to myself, I know myself. No one knows me like I know myself. No one gets me. More »

Dinner For Two

Dinner For Two

EPISODES: 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. CHAPTER ONE  ♥  The thought of her made his heart skip. It literally did—each, and every moment, he thought of her. And he thought of More »

Body On My Doorstep

Body On My Doorstep

EPISODES: 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. One ♣ THE jarring noise punctured my eardrums, pierced into my subconscious and destroyed my lavish sleep and picturesque dream. Damn! I hated alarm clocks. I More »

Key To My Heart

Key To My Heart

KTHH EPISODES TEN  ♣ ♥ ♣  HE rattled the iron-cast knocker that swung down the side of the gate. He hadn’t knocked first time he’d stopped by, he was doing so this More »

Key To My Heart

Key To My Heart

EPISODES: 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. ONE ♣ ♥ ♣ THE sun was still up in the sky but shadowed by the More »

The Forgiving Lover – my 1st story

The Forgiving Lover – my 1st story

TFL: 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. This was my first ever written story. I wrote it at 13—June/July of the year 1990. Then I self-edited it three months later, October 1990. More »

Unfaithful 2 – Flash Fiction

Unfaithful 2 – Flash Fiction

“How long have you been seeing him?” Again. My head reminded my battered heart to add again, but I could not muster the effort. “A month or so.” Ama didn’t look at More »

This One Night – Micro Fiction

This One Night – Micro Fiction

So yesterday Toykathy made a teasing remark on the Writers’ Guide 101 post about me writing an Erotica. Not a genre I have particular talent for but I once had my trial More »

House on the Hill

House on the Hill

EPISODES: 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. One ₪ MOYO TRAMPED DOWN the dusty sidewalk of the two-lane highway. The evening sky More »

Kiss Me If You Can – 1

Kiss Me If You Can – 1

EPISODES: 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. Kiss me if you can. It’s the title of a Ghanaian movie, I know. Not quite original since there is Catch me if you can More »



Read Two. PART THREE  ADESE emptied the content of the last pot into the bin, then took the bin outside and came back in through the kitchen backdoor. She blew out a More »

The Marriage Ultimatum

The Marriage Ultimatum

TMU EPISODES CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE ♥ He had gotten back to their hotel room and found her gone. She had taken only her handbag and phone with her. The suitcase she’d brought along More »


2016 – in review

A couple of hours more to go.

It’s amazing how we’ve come from January 1st 2016 to December 31st 2016. 366 days almost gone, with only a few meagre hours left to call the year a day.

I bet we are all grateful to see this day. I sure am. It went by so fast but I am, and I know we all are, grateful for every one of its day we were blessed with.

As I woke up this morning, still in my mother’s house and getting set to return to PH, I remembered that if my father was still alive, today would have been his and my mother’s 40th Wedding Anniversary. I remembered this morning and then, I simply thanked God for “what is” today.

How has the year been for you?

How did 2016 treat you?

For me, it started me on the last walk of my thirties and just for that, I learned, chose to learn, many things. I chose to let go many things and I chose to begin to “foresee” the coming of many things. It was a good year. Not as good as I’d hoped, and prayed, for but good. Good, so I am thankful for the moments and the hours and the weeks and the months and the year I was blessed with.

It was a good year for me as a writer and a blogger too. Again, not as good as I’d prayed for, but surely better than last year. This year, I published 5 eBooks, one of them a novel I’d been re-writing since 2014. It was a good year too for lifeandspices.com.

So many things I prayed for and did not receive. So many things I did not pray for and was given. So many, many more things I am still hopeful for. Today, the 31st day of December 2016, the very last day of the year, I say THANK YOU, LORD for 2016.

So, how was 2016 for you?

How was lifeandspices.com for you in 2016?

This was our first full year as a self-hosted blog, so share your experience here this year.

Which one of our free-reads delighted you most?

We had quite a few —

* House on the Hill

* Key to my Heart

* Body on my Doorstep

* Dinner For Two

* Beyond the Grave: Blood of the Innocent

* Mercenary Wife

And a bunch of short stories and Flash Fictions.

So, which one did it for you? Which was your 2016 all-round number-one?

As we reminisce and share, I thank everyone for being a part of LifeandSpices.com in the year 2016. I thank all who made it a point, and an act of affection, to purchase any, or all, of my eBooks. As this year draws to a close, I pray the Lord God Almighty to bless you and to lead you, and yours, majestically in 2017.

Thank you for sharing this year with me. I love you.


The Thief… who stole my heart

He was a thief!

And like the thief he was, he’d come, skulking, unseen and nimble-fingered.

How she’d not known he was a thief, Amina did not know. He’d come when she’d least expected it… But then, whoever expected the coming of a thief?

He’d stolen from her; robbed her of that which she treasured most. That rare treasure, the most priceless of jewels, she’d been saving, preserving for the one deserving of it.

But could she have stopped him?

Amina flapped her hand-fan, her swing aimed at the fly that buzzed by. She would have reinforced her defense walls had she known what he was. She would have locked the gates and stood as sentry against any false entrance, if she had anticipated his intentions.

The thought, and the imagery, soothed her and her hand flailed to fan herself.

But he had been coy.

The charlatan!

His tongue had been costed with sugar-sweet words and like a wordsmith, he had known what to say, how to say it and when to say it.

Sweet-tongued charlatan!

She should have averted her eyes and blocked off her ears. Amina hissed, flapped her hand-fan and beat at invisible flies. She should not have been over eager to listen his words and to clutch at them with her tender, naïve ears.

A liar, with no truth upon his tongue.

And yet, she had believed him.

She had, at the cajoling of his words dripping like sweet nectar, thrown open the door and allowed him to enter, confounding her more with each plunge, he was careful and steady to make.

Sated, he had become blasé. And with indifference borne out of constant knowledge and over use, he had walked through the door… and he had not looked back.

A thief and a charlatan!

But she knew better now. Amina narrowed her eyes, steadied her hand and waited for the perch. Then she swung the hand-fan and caught beneath it, the fly that dared to want a piece of her.

Thief! She would allow him no more. She was wiser now, steadier of mind… and of resolve.

“My priceless jewel.”

Lying words from a sugar-coated tongue. Oh, but why did they have to sound so sweet?

Amina slowly raised her head. And there he… her thief.

“Thieving scoundrel!” She cursed, and wished she carried more venom in her voice.

“I couldn’t stay away from you, so I returned.”

“You returned because you could not find any who would serve you honey from their garden without settlement.”

The words, spoken by her with more punch than the first, were a slap at her pride more than a sneer at him.

“I returned because I could find no one like you. No one as beautiful, as tender, as sweet.”

Liar! She should turn him away. Have none of him.

Amina opened her mouth to do just that. She was, after all, wiser now.

But if she sent him away and no one else came? She no longer possessed the treasure that made her truly priceless, did she? She’d given it freely… to him.

He was a thief and a charlatan. But he was now the possessor of her priceless jewel.

“You will not leave again?” Her voice pleaded even as she demanded.

“I will stay as long as I have you.”

She knew better, but she allowed her heart to cling to the lie. She knew better, yet Amina set down her hand-fan, and opened her arms to him.

“Welcome back.”


A 584 words Flash Fiction. A simple lesson: He… or she, can only do as much as you permit. Your body, your mind and your heart are your own… GIVE WISELY.


After 13 days, still no power. Go save a nation such as this!

Mercenary Wife – 10


He was relaxing on a coca cola—a couple of bottles of coca cola, Simon amended, drawing a satisfying sip. Paul was with him, avoiding his coca cola by wetting his gullet with a pack of juice.

It was the exact date, three months ago, when he’d exchanged vows with his wife at a glamorous wedding the city of Port Harcourt, and maybe beyond its boundaries, still talked about. It was two months, not quite exact but close enough, since his marriage had taken the shape he’d always dreamed it would.

“You look happy.”

Simon looked at his cousin—his brother and his best friend—and grinned. “I am happy.” Two months, more or less, it’s been happy days for him—and her.

“Good to hear… and see.” Paul commented, paused, sipped. “You and Richelle all right now?”

Simon laughed at his curious question and searching eyes. “We are.” He took a drink and aimed a wink. “Always told you we were and will be. But you never listen.”

WN 6 – Don’t be Complacent

Complacency stops us from higher goals and achieving greater things.

When a person is complacent, he will stop living — he will simply exist. And when a person is simply existing, the joy of living will not be found in him. He will be energy-less, stick to rigid routines, oppose new ideas or change and will typically respond to every “Good Morning” with “What’s so good about the Morning?”

Someone has once said, “Like water the complacent man follows the easiest course — downhill. And he draws fake strength from looking back.

Wisdom Nugget for today says: Don’t Be Complacent.


Culled From Rajendra Pillai.

Mercenary Wife – 9



It has been a good past few days. Simon decided good best qualified it. It was too early, too uncertain for blissful.

They shared the bed every night but he hasn’t fully moved back into the Master bedroom. He hesitated to do so. He still wasn’t sure of her. He had forgiven her. It had happened without his being aware when it did. He loved her. That was incontestable and unchangeable. And he seemed to love her more with each time he took her into his arms and made love with her.

But he still wasn’t sure of her true feelings for him.

She would never again betray him with another man. He knew that and knew it more with each shared stroke of passion every night. But was her heart his yet? That he wasn’t quite certain of and it haunted him because he wanted more than just her willingly-offered body.

He wanted more than her passion and her fidelity. He wanted her love. The one thing he was certain she’d never given to any man. Her love, pure, undiluted, unconditional… only his.

Mercenary Wife – 8



Simon stretched on the bed and blinked his eyes open. He had barely slept. He had found it hard to sleep after he’d returned to what he abstractedly considered his bedroom.

He pressed his fingers against his eyes as he pulled himself to sitting position. He had slept with her… had sex with her… made love to her… and he couldn’t believe that he had done it. It had started as an act of fury, a punishment. But somewhere in between his mouth devouring her mouth and his eyes beholding her naked form, it had changed and stopped being a punishment he was desperate to mete out.

What had started in fury has ended in love. For him at least, Simon thought and pushed to his feet, tossing aside the woollen cover.

She’d wanted him to stay. He’d been tempted to stay. But of course, he couldn’t. He stood in the bathroom and stared at the wall mirror. The bruise on his mouth was faded but the swelling on the lower lip was still visible. The pain on his body was still perceptible too. He had dared to come to his house; to come after his wife. Maybe he shouldn’t have fought… beat him up, Simon amended to his pride’s satisfaction. Maybe he should have had his idiot ass arrested instead.

He opened the cabinet underneath the mirror and took out the toothpaste and his toothbrush. He couldn’t have resisted pounding on the damned fool, he thought as his stomach clenched with remembered fury. He breathed purposely, lifted his toothbrush and killed off the fury as he blanked his mind and brushed his teeth.

Done, he tugged off his pyjamas and decided for a cold shower. It would further clear his thoughts.

Naked, Without Her Honour

She has been stripped of her honour.

That is what they tell her. She is now a woman without honour. Her cloth of honour, that covering that was accorded her, has been stripped off her. She is uncovered, naked, bare. She is less than a woman, an ignominy, a thing of shame.

Her mother has her head cast down. The shame of her unclothed daughter stoops her head. Her sisters, and her only brother, are mute with the humiliation that has taken their speech. They would not speak to her. They would not look upon her. She is the one naked, they are the ones suffering the bite of the cold.

He was her honour.

That lesson was ingrained in her the moment he paid her dowry. That meagre sum, that would not purchase ten parcels of tobacco, was the price tagged on her honour. He paid the price and claimed her honour.

She held her head high as she went home with her honour. Her back stooped to cook his meals and wash his dirty linens. Her stomach swelled and sagged to give him a child, a generation to carry on his name.

Then his fist struck her. Her honour, he threw her to the ground with punches and slaps and whips.

She cried out. They shushed her. She must not lose her honour.

His foot kicked the child out of her womb. Another foot broke the ribs on her sides. Soon she can only see with one eye and barely hear with her ears. Even worse, she became empty without the sac of her motherhood.

Her honour took it all from her. And she is the one naked, a thing of shame.


This was the Flash Fiction for the Etisalat Competition. It’s a 284 Word Count micro-fiction story. Bringing it on because… well, it is mine and I need to make an announcement.

PHED has struck again. Haven’t had Power since Wednesday. Had to type with my mobile phone on Wednesday and then proofread on laptop and post Thursday’s episode of MW. Now, the matter still lies unresolved and I don’t know if it will be resolved today… and today is Election day in Rivers, so movement is kind of restricted.

Bottom-line: Mercenary Wife may not make it tomorrow.

Let’s keep our fingers crossed though. Do have a great weekend meanwhile.

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