So the first part to this story seems to have caused quite a stir. It’s been a long wait and i’ve lost count of the number of emails that have come in demanding this. You have no idea how relieved I am that this’ done. You were patient, so in appreciation I have a surprise waiting for you at the end of this read. I promise you never ‘esperred’ it, but you’d love it.

So picking up from where Kingsley sprung up on Maame that he had a confession to make, here goes;

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She arrived at Alisa some minutes late. When he saw her, when he beheld her, she would have been worth many more hours of waiting for.

“Sorry I’m late.” She said, sitting down. She didn’t explain further, she didn’t need to.

“It’s…it’s fine” he stuttered. The waiter came with his plastic smile one, Kingsley beckoned him to give them a minute.

“I have a confession to make Maame. Please don’t judge me.”

“Can I have a drink first?” it was a question, but with the subtlety of a statement.

“Sure.”

Maame wasn’t thirsty, but she’d rather gulp kerosene than be caught unawares. She needed the time to work her mind, to psyche it, to think of all the unimaginable things he could say, to conceive news so terrible that he couldn’t shock or disappoint her. It was one of her many defense mechanisms.

She smiled and took her pretty time to sip on the glass the waiter had just filled up. Kingsley was gittery. It was like being underwater and running out of air; he had only so much nerve.

“I have a daughter, she’s four years old.” He blurted.

She said nothing, her face revealed nothing.

“Last day of Legon, we got too excited. We knew we didn’t belong, but I didn’t see how I could turn away from my responsibility. So four years later, I still think my Lisa is the most adorable daughter ever.”

“I see.”

“Do you? Maame? Because I’m fully aware that what I’ve said could cost me you. It’s possible you’ll decide that this’ just too much weight. I told you because I hoped you’d realize that if at the risk of losing you before I even stood a chance I still came clean with you, there’d be nothing I’d hold back –ever.”

Dang this guy was good! Or was he? By the way, who does that? Lays a ton on a first date? Who told him he stood a chance? O wait, he said he knew he didn’t. Eii, too much to process and look calm at the same time. Time to detour. Read More The Smirnoff Rapist -II

short story

She works at a recruitment agency around South Labadi. It’s her job to visit the eight companies they service and make sure that the secretaries, cleaners and other employees they recruited on their behalf are doing satisfactory work. She’s the fluid bridge between the companies and her agency and she’s good at what she does.

If there’s anything else Maame knows to do, it’s to dress. Not the kind of dressing that commands attention because of its obscene and risqué effects, she dressed like it was a trailer to a movie you couldn’t wait to see in 2016; not too much revealed, but enough to make you press replay.

She has a full backside that doesn’t make you notice her relatively smaller boobs. If there was any flaw on her face, it vanished when she smiled. If she were a mutant, her smile would be her super power. It garnished her with an illusive innocence that was both magnetic and reverential. The first day she walked past the security desk of Amos Financial Holdings, she had that smile on.

“Good morning sir” she said to the security man smiling “Can you direct me to the reception please?” the normally haughty and indifferent security man took it upon himself to make sure that this awesomeness of a woman got the CEO on his knees if that’s what she came there for.

“Thank you so much.” She said when he’d overstepped his powers by instructing the receptionist to do whatever the lady asked.

The receptionist was shocked, not by his effrontery, but because Abu had never done that before.

Maame went upstairs to meet with the Head of HR who had requested for the meeting the previous day. He gave her the details of the four vacancies they needed suitable candidates for, but he would have added his position to the list if she wanted the job. He was as tasteless at flirting as an English man is at eating his first bowl of fufu and palm-nut soup. Read More The Smirnoff Rapist.

short story

I’m still stunned by just how many people were blown away by the first part of this story!! I didnt know you guys liked sequels like that, eeii! Anyways, it’s here if you missed it. If you ask me, I think this last part is even better! Maukeni just lifts the bar  with this one. And I’m smart enough to tell the thin line between an intro and a nuisance :-)…so I stop here. I’ll let her finish what she started;

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‘I am pregnant with his baby’, the words hung in the air and I looked ahead blankly. I didn’t need to turn my head to see the concern in my mother’s face metamorphose into shock. ‘Oh my child, I am so sorry’ and then we both broke into tears. The last two weeks had been like that- we had synchronized our crying timetable. She cradled me in her arms like a baby- I wished I could be a baby again, with no worries, no anxieties, without this pain that seemed so deep, like a bottomless abyss.

I pushed the fried fish around in my plate. Even the fish’s eyes were full of pity. I didn’t have an appetite. Patrick had always said I was a picky eater, and he didn’t mind helping himself to whatever was left of my meal. Oh Patrick! I still kept hope alive that he would call me and say he was coming home, or that he would be sitting in the study, reading a book, or that I would hear him laugh or even call my name. The other night, I woke up at dawn and instinctively reached over to the other side of the bed. He wasn’t there, it was just me and the darkness- and the deafening silence…

The day of the funeral was drawing nearer. My baby bump was now rather visible and it was drawing just as much attention as the news of my being a widow was. I always pretended not to hear the whispers, ‘She is finally pregnant and the man has left her so tragically. Poor girl’. My doctor had advised me to avoid stressing myself out to avoid complications during delivery..so I ignored the whispers, smiled politely and tried not to cry too often. Except this one time! One of Patrick’s sisters, Cynthia, had not seen me since the pregnancy started showing. The day she did, she sneered at me and said Read More Till Death Do Us Part II- Keni Kodjo

Blog

What I’m about to show you is different, completely different from the weekly regulars here. This is an awesome different. The kind where you ask “But Ben, why did you brown us this long?”

Yeesss, it’s been very long, but in this powerful story, we finally break the ‘Guest Blogger drought’. If story-telling skills could be converted to Martial Arts ranking, Maukeni Kodjo would be Chuck Norris’ classmate. She runs this great blog here.

‘Till death do us part’ is a beautiful story that evokes a dozen emotions. It’s not long too. If you read it all I promise you’ll beg me for the sequel. So to save you from my incessant chatter, please, I present you with this Keni classic;

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I kept staring at the wall clock as if that would somehow bring him back. The seconds turned into minutes, and then an hour. When three hours had passed, three hours of just sitting there in disbelief, I picked my phone and called my brother. ‘Ekow, Read More Till Death Do Us Part -By Keni Kodjo (Awesome Story!)

Blog

Over the weeks, you’ve been captivated by the story of Kobe, who didn’t properly get over Afua before falling for Sarah. You’ve felt Sarah’s pains; sharing a man with his past. At a point, you even wondered what made a woman a mistress. Was it a matter of who a man was with technically, or who he was with in his heart?

Today, this epic story ends, and in style! Like I promised, I have compiled it into an e-book so you can seamlessly read the story from start to finish. Here is the link; —> Perfect Mistress, the e-book.

You can read it online or download it. It’s a small file, if you have any problem downloading it, send an email at Read More Perfect Mistress -The e-book.

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