Hello everybody.

First of all, I have to apologize for not posting anything here since last year. There is no sensible excuse for it. I was busy in school then when I came home, my old laptop was stolen. December and January have just not been my months honestly but now it’s all about to change.

People that know me well and even just ‘know me’ will know that I am very interested in fashion. I’ve been interested in fashion ever since I was small and I was restricted in Saudi Arabia from wearing what I wanted to wear. Since I can’t draw a design to save my life, I decided I wanted to study and write about fashion. Nigeria doesn’t have any ‘fashion studies’ course that I know of or ‘fashion journalism’ degree so I settled for just journalism in AUN. Hopefully, this year I will receive an email telling me I’ve been admitted to my dream school, NYU or Southampton Solent University. In the meantime, I got myself busy with learning whatever I could from blogs, websites, TV and even interning at Bella Naija. Creating my own fashion and lifestyle magazine with my friend Michi helped me realize what I wanted to do was not easy but I can defiantly do it.

2012, I promised myself I would leave a mark, no matter how small or insignificant is it. And I believe I have found my way of doing that.

On Wednesday, January 11, 2012 at exactly 5:11pm, I bought a domain name. My father was wondering why I was in tears but he gradually understood when I explained what wanted to do. He didn’t know much about it but from what he heard me say, he was confident I could do whatever it takes to make it work.

You all are wondering what it is right? Well …

Introducing to you all ‘Omoge MuRa’ (its Yoruba and it means ‘young lady dress up’). It’s a joint project I’m embarking on with Edwin (@EdGothBoy my PTS member and fellow fashion lover). Omoge MuRa is just not any other fashion and lifestyle website. It’s more of a blog with passion and personality. We bring you the latest in fashion news, trends, style tips, new collections, campaigns and editorials, plus how fashion affects your lifestyle and its influence in the music of today.  We are not going to be showing news from an ‘African’ point of view but as citizens of the world. So expect fashion related news and such from all over the world and Africa as well.

I know all the people you come here are not fashion freaks as me and Edwin are but I ask you to spread the word of ‘Omoge MuRa’ to all your fashion lover friends out there. We need as much promotion we can get and you all can help me out there.

With this however, comes the close of another phase in my life, twiddlemedee.

I’m not sure if I’m going to shut it down or just ‘let it be’. It doesn’t mean I will stop writing. The problem is that my new venture will take so much out of me and I don’t want to write and deliver mediocre pieces to you all. You all deserve the best out of me and I do not want to deliver less than the best. I will still write though and post them on other blogs. My posts on PTS will still continue and if other people want me to work and write on projects with them, I am all in.

Again, I’m in tears and awe because I know what I am about to embark on is not a small thing. One day, I want to be the editor-in-chief of Vogue Nigeria (yes, one day we will get there). A journey of a thousand miles start with a step and me setting up ‘Omoge MuRa’ is that step.

Thank you and I hope to see you all in the comment sections of the posts of ‘Omoge MuRa’. 🙂


The Decision

Posted: December 5, 2011 in Uncategorized

Hey everyone!

No original work from me yet …. but I have something for you guys! It’s a story written by my favorite person and big-breasted friend Fareeda. She wrote this a while back and I enjoyed it so much. I hope you do to.


Perfect silence

Tick tock tick tock  

The clock resumed its melancholic movements, each second dragging by unexcitedly

Total darkness

A single ray of light cutting through the pitch black reflecting from the security light the neighbors have

She’s very still, her breathing silent, legs crossed, clothed in only an oversized sweater that drops down one arm exposing the slender curve of her shoulders and her ‘oh so’ enticing nape.

He used to like kissing me here.

Her hair, medium in length, jet black and well-oiled  is packed up to show the beautiful definition of her jawline, her patrician nose and give those innocent baby brown’s a hint of sexy maturity. None of those hair extension things for her.

He used to tell me how beautiful I looked with my hair released from plaits.

There’s a knock, a soft one and the silence is broken.

He’s here…

She closes her eyes for a second, opens them back and gets up to open the door.

He’s standing in front of her, all 6 foot of delicious African man. There’s been a slight drizzle and his white t-shirt is sticking to him, showing her hints of his well packaged abs. She has always had a weakness for a well-toned 6-pack and he wasn’t lacking

He used to pose for me while I would make feeble attempts at capturing his body with pencil on paper

In all of one second, she takes a last look at the framed picture on the floor. She looks back up and closes the mental doors of her distress. Her straight face is transformed into a warm smile and she steps aside to let him in.

He walks in, unaware of what plans she has made in her head, oblivious that she is clothed in a sweater and dangerous plans.

She hugs him tightly making sure her bra free breasts presses against his hard chest leaving an impression.

His hands encircle her waist and they immediately notice she has no bra on. Quickly, he releases his hands and as he does, he notices her lack of clothing one her lower body.

“Reni is everything okay?” he asks

“Yes Koye. Come on to the living room. Hassan has extended his stay in Kaduna for another week and I got bored”

“You called me to come over at this time, because you were bored?” This contrasts with the urgent tone she had on when she called him. He’s getting worried. First she calls him to keep her company be 1:00am and she’s clothed in noting but a sweater and panties.

She walks to the living room. Is it his imagination, or did her movements seem more feminine?

She kneels and bends over as if to pick up something and he gets an eyeful of her panties. Flimsy white lace making the perfect contrast with her chocolate skin. She goes into the room to drop whatever she has picked and comes back to sit on the living room floor.

She comes back out and beckons to him saying, “Are you going to stand there all night? Come one. We’ve got lots to catch up on”

He goes and sits next to her, legs stretched out, arms crossed in his front.


He had to be made of stone not to notice, and notice he did.

Her legs are stretched out, left leg crossed over the right. Hands placed at her back balancing her lither upper body. Her breasts seem to stretch the material of the sweater.

Reni has always held a silent appeal to him. Unlike most girls, she seemed almost ashamed of her sex appeal and preferred to look simple, or cute as opposed to drop dead sexy. That didn’t work much. She was still pursued by many guys, because as innocent as Reni wanted to appear, she was blessed with the kind of sensuality that didn’t take much to bring out. Her smile emphasized just how pouty and soft her lips were. Her breasts did justice to any outfit, no matter how ill-fitted it was. Her skin glowed in the sun and her legs caused mental damage whenever she wore shorts or a short dress, but he had pushed all those to the back of his mind, because as appealing as he found Reni, she was his dearest friend and he loved her enough to not ruin their friendship.

But tonight it seemed Reni was determined to make that extra difficult. He wished Hassan would miraculously show his face at the door and he could find an excuse to go. His thoughts were going to forbidden places and he felt ashamed because as much as he didn’t fancy Hassan for her, he was a decent guy and didn’t deserve him thinking about doing things to his girlfriend.

Things that would make Reni blush and laugh out in her sexy tinkle.

As in in response, he feels movement down there.

This can’t be happening I’ve got to tell her to get some proper clothes on.

She’s looking at him with a silent hunger, her mind visualizing the things that were going to happen. He had always fancied her. She knew it, but always chose to ignore it for the sake of friendship. Tonight, that would change.

He looks up at her. Her mouth always partly open as in in expectation of a kiss.

As in by reflex, she bites her lower lip and moves towards him

She leans on him and they start to talk. Jobs, friends, bosses, mild aspirations.

For the last time, she forces the mental image of Hassan’s fury out of her head.

She starts to nuzzle his neck, closing her eyes and sighing slowly

“Mmmn. You always smell so nice Koye, almost edible”

This elicits a chuckle from him. “Okay now”

She presses closer to him. Making circles on his neck with her nose and breathing slowly down his back.

“Your T-shirts damp. Take it off. I’ll dry it”

He starts to decline, but she pinches him. As soon as his arms go up in protest, she takes the t-shirt off

She goes off to dry it, making those slow movements. He knows he has to get out soon. He’s not thinking straight anymore

She comes back in; with no replacement t-shirt and presses play on the stereo.

The Weeknd -“The Birds part 2”

Oh uh oh .. with a nigger like me

“I love this song” she says and starts tracing patterns on his chest.

Soon, he starts tracing patterns on her arms, he moves to her lower leg. Almost without conscious though, he moves to her thighs. She doesn’t budge

Please mercy please, lemme fall in love. She begs me

He’s in an alternate universe. One where both he and Reni are half naked with her pressed into him. It only makes sense that they start kissing and their hand movements become bolder.

Oh she lost … control

“Snap out of it Koye, you’re making a mistake.”

He already hates himself for doing this, but he forces her away from him. Her soft, pliant body.

She’s looking at him confused, lips swollen, little parts of her hair standing.

“You have a boyfriend Reni. Why are you doing this?”

She looks at him and slowly, tears begin welling down her beautiful eyes.

“He’s married with a child Koye. He’s been lying to me”

Anger sweeps through him. He wants to kill the slimy bastard. He wants to destroy his overpriced face and beat him to a pulp. He wants to…

He looks at her, so sad, yet still so appealing.

He wants to, no needs to be there for her.

The Weeknd’s “Wicked Games” starts to play

He would have to break up with Sandra soon, because he was going to that place and there was no going back

He moves closer to Reni, her head buried in sadness.

Bring your love baby I could bring my pain

He lifts her face up.

I got my heart right here. I got my scars right here

His hands move down to her waist, she doesn’t weigh very much so lifting her up is relatively easy

There’s not enough time for them both. Hands roaming urgently, a new sense of urgency infused into both of them. There’s only here and now. Koye and Reni. Reni with her eyes and crazy body.  Koye with his pent up needs and sexy abs.

The Weeknd – “Gone”

Break it, drop it, drink it spill it baby touch your body, body

You gotta taste it feel it, rub it on me baby don’t you worry

Trashing everywhere. Reni breathing hard under him. Koye’s weight bearing down on her

I’m sorry Sandra

I’m sorry Hassan.


Hopefully after finals and my presentations, I’ll be able to post original work from me. School sucks donkey balls!

It’s all about ME!

Posted: December 2, 2011 in Uncategorized

As the title says, it’s all about me today! Today is my birthday and I am nw officially legal in every state and country in the world (I’m also birthday mates with the lovely Britney Spears)!

Yay me!

I asked a couple of friends to write something for me for my birthday so I could make a post out of it. Say whatever you like, no one, shall spoil my day. ^_^

Now on to the washing ….

This one is from my darling Dayo, the love of my life.

My dearest Deola,

I’ve met a lot of people, interacted and had many relationships, yet, I could say that it would be hard to find anyone I would call your better. I don’t know anyone who accepts her flaws and works so hard at self-improvement like you do. You do not pretend to be better than everyone else, and even downplay your talents. Your humility continuously humbles me. You have been through a lot in life, and while those events scarred you, they’ve made you a very strong person. Since you endured all that you did, and still persevere, there’s nothing you can’t handle. I’m absolutely confident about that.

As you turn 21, you have no further excuse to hold on to childhood and/or immaturity. You’re a woman in every sense of the word, and you are truly ready for the world. I feel blessed to be able to say I know you, and I’m totally lucky to have had your love but even more, the world will be a better place with you in it my dear. Remember who you are, where you come from and what it took for you to get where you are right now. Be not influenced by others; rather, be the positive influence. There’s nothing you can’t do. No achievement is beyond your reach, no challenge is insurmountable my dear. You are not alone; I am with you, and will always be there as long as God wills it.

There is nothing I know of in this world that would suffice to adequately convey the depth of my feelings for you. I have nothing but the highest appreciation of who you are to me, and the import of how that affects my life. I truly cannot imagine my life without you in it. I couldn’t have made it this far without your support. Nobody knows, or understands me better than you, and no one else has such a way with me like you do. You inspire me to be a better person, to positively push my limits. You give me this instant peace of mind, like everything is surely going to be better just because you’re smiling. You bring out the very best in me. I owe you a lot, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to totally repay you.

I guess I’m just trying to say that I’m glad I met you, and I will always love you.

Happy Birthday


This one is from my best friend, my fruit sister, my crazy-white chick friend Coco

People suck. Really. And I’m not talking about the good kind of sucking with yogurt and maple syrup. No, the really annoying kind that make you go “beht why?”

I remember when I first started at AUN. One of my courses was a design class and our first assignment (that I recall) was a group one. I strongly disliked group assignments (I was already in one for an assignment in another course and my partners stunk on ice). More so, because we didn’t even get to pick our partners. So, I got stuck with the oldest guy in the class, and one Fausat who wasn’t even in class that day. Imagine my joy 😐

Anyhu, I did the assignment because I didn’t want to have to deal with my partners. And on the presentation day, as we were about to go into class, this chick walks up to me and goes “hi.” Of course I stared at the babe. How does someone look like a nerd and a goth chick at the same time? Anyways, that was Fausat. So, I briefed her on the presentation, and we did good ^_^

We weren’t friends or anything. I’d see her in class (when I was really paying attention), or around school sometimes. We’d say hi and move on. Sometimes, we’d sit and discuss the guys we were with. Eventually, we started fooling around with each other whenever we met on the road. We understood each other’s madness. We were cool like that. We still weren’t tight though. That came much later after an amazingly sad/hilarious/confusing series of events.

Sometimes, I just sit (or lie) and think, and I remember what we’ve been through together. Some stuff you wouldn’t even believe 😀

4:18 parties, club house food, game nights at cafe, charades, stupid boyfriends, family ish, doing course assignments last minute, fruit sisters, fights with ‘friends’ 😀 *sigh*

*cue violins*

There’s a lot of stuff I’ve gone through, and I can boldly say Deola is part of the reason I made it through. And that’s why she’s my friend. She inspires and encourages me all the time. Makes me laugh. Understands me. Gets all my attempts at humor ^_^

I don’t make a lot of friends. I’m really very antisocial. But Adeola Fausat Labake Adebiyi, I’ve come to realize, is a truly amazing person. Of course, she has her shortcomings, but who doesn’t. What we have has stood the test of time. Personally, I’m amazed (and thrilled) she’s still here. And I’m glad I didn’t just put you in my ‘weird people you should probably avoid’ box that first semester.

I love you sis, and I wish you the entire best, plus a lot more.  Happy birthday.

*cuts violins*

#np- Cheap Trick – I want you to want me. *air guitar*

This rap/poem is from my big-breasted love Fareeda

Brown-eyed Chaos

Pretty goth-kid with an extra-large ass…eeh

Yup, that’s what I thought the first time I saw you. I still can’t tell if I was close or far-off the mark.

Nevertheless, it’s been nothing short of comically surprising ever since I met you. This is for you Dee…

Pretty brown eyes, walks like a platypus.

The experience of an elder, the mischief of a naïve youth

An ass that inspires men to write about the treasures hidden in the Dark Continent

Beautiful, smart, talented and a freak to boot

You’re constantly pushing, never limiting giving a mental middle finger to life

Passionate, and did I mention a freak to boot?

Add more freakiness tinged with the slightest ounce of remorse for whatever she does

No hear, don’t care, that’s the kinda girl you are

Future money maker, excellent booty-shaker

Before I end up sounding like a failed rap artist, I’ll end with this,

A brown-eyed combination of delightful chaos is what you are

I don’t want you any other way

Happy Birthday Dee

Love, Fareeda

Kelvin wrote this for me! Gosh I have foolish friends.

Its Deola’s birthday today, a lot of nice things will be said about her and bla bla bla. You know, birthdays are just opportunities for people to suck up to you and get in your good books. If you’re having a party, they gats behave so they can feature. I’m not gonna pretend on here and begin to wash Deola and shit. Omo and Ariel aren’t easy to come by this period and I’m tryna save up for the Christmas period.

So Deola hits me up and asks that I write something about her cos it’s her birthday. Now if that’s not love of self, I don’t know what is. I mean she was literally saying “I want you to wash me on my blog” She sugar coated it though, saying “write anything, good or bad” Of course how many people will write bad? ME!!! I really wish I could tell you guys about how Deola has such a healthy *coughs* appetite for “shawarma” *please note that shawarma as used in this context can refer to anything that goes into the mouth*

Deola also has a certain weakness for Ice cream, so guys if you wanna set that P and you’re thinking  of how to slip a ‘knock you out’ pill, her ice cream will be a good place to put it. For those of you who haven’t seen her, Deola is quite loaDDed, so you’ve gotta be able to deal with that. Oh! The babe and vodka, that’s another relationship right thurr.. I marvel at her drink-ability. *shudders* Oh yeah, a part of me thinks Dee (as WE call her, that’s me famzing) also has a thing for ladies…

At this point, I’m just gonna shut up before i cause a ruckus up in hurr..

Happy Birthday Dee..  may your days get brighter and may Joy colour your world. Shit! 312 words.

Victor, my fake husband, wrote this for me

Deola Adebiyi is one of the coolest people I know, no jokes. I met her for the first time about six months ago and we hit it off like we’d known each other for ages. Apart from the usual stuff that people would notice first about her like her amazing smile that light up a room and bring life to a frozen heart; her banging body (that can bring life to another body part); & her fabulous sense of style there’s something else that got me totally smitten. It’s her warmth.

Deola is a happy child. I say this with all sincerity. She can literally brighten up your day when she’s on a roll. She talks a mile a minute, totally honest and always looks on the bright side. One of those people you hate ‘cos you think their life is all shiny and perfect hence their optimism. As I got to know her I realise that it wasn’t ‘cos she lived a charmed life but ‘cos she chooses to be happy in spite of the shitty world we live in.

I admire her strength, her brilliant mind, her willingness to learn, her hardworking nature and her cheerful nature.

So today, I’d like to say happy birthday to a truly happy child. God bless you Deola. May all your dreams come true, you of all people deserve it. 😀

This message was not sponsored by IGNIS washing machines & persil.

This one is by Bankole 

She’d do too much for herself and for everyone else that does too little.
I asked her why and she didn’t seem like she knew the reason, all that was apparent was that in doing she finds joy.

I began to admire her because, for a while, doing had not been so exciting for me, not because I couldn’t do but because I wouldn’t

For doing for myself, and maybe for others too had become a tasking chore, much like taking a bath on a day when the light from the sun hurts your eyes and you would rather hide under a rock and suck your thumb.

She inspires me because she does.

Because she does, what should be difficult … As if it were not.

And if you know her, you would know that’s what’s great about her.

Happy birthday Dee,

Because you do!

Last but not the least, Wole wrote a sweet but beautiful poem for me

A poem for you.

This is a poem for you

It’s a sort of birthday dress, brand new

Woven from the silk of Dreams come true

Dyed with Hope and Success in all you do

The forest of Kindness I went through

And carved its buttons from the tree where Love grew

They hold it together perfectly.

They would, I knew

Just as true Love will find and hold you together too.

The hem is a never-ending

Smile you can always renew

Theres a design on the back, I drew

It looks like a string on careful view

Such as those spun by the Fates whom the greeks appealed to

Clotho, Atropos and Lachesis too

Whom even the gods could not subdue

This string, as it refers to Life for you

May it not be cut before its time is due

Happy Birthday.


*Update!!! Toxic made  a picture for me!!!!!*

I'm a foine gyal!











Thank you all for all the calls, mentions on twitter, text messages and just being there for me. I really love you all. God bless you the same way you have prayed for him to bless me. 

Bye Guys!

Spoken Word Poems

Posted: November 27, 2011 in Uncategorized

Hello everyone.
So a few weeks ago, a friend of mine read some of the poetry I wrote and invited me to recite/perform at her event. She’s the president of the Honors Society here at AUN and they were raising money for charity. I was happy to participate and I read out two poems, one I wrote specifically for the event and one I wrote a while ago. I was nervous as fuck but the performance went very well and people liked it. So instead of asking for emails to send them out, Wole said I shld post them on my blog and let people read them.
The first one is called ‘My mama told me’ and the second is called ‘My love’. Hope you like. 🙂

my mama told me

I asked my mama one day
Why I couldn’t read well
I asked my mama
Why words were jumbled up in my brain all the time
I asked my mama why the kids made fun of me so much
Because when I read things out in class, they didn’t come out right
And it wasn’t because I was African
I asked my mama why I was so different from the others

The doctor said I was special
My mama said ‘No, she’s just plain stupid’
Have you ever heard of a Nigerian girl having dyslexia?
I am a full functioning human being
But my brain is so messed up that when I read words; they jumble up
I’m a twenty year old Nigerian student who has to survive on SpellCheck to pass and get good grades
When I write, I have to depend on my brain not to screw up, but you can’t turn it off or on
When I write stories, they always asked why things were spelt wrongly
I just tell them “I’m dumb”
Cos that’s what my mama said

Have you ever asked a friend how to spell the word ‘boy’?
Or ‘maybe’?
I have
And it wasn’t because I had dyslexia
No, it was because I was dumb
My mama said so
My teachers paid special attention to me
They said I was special
That I would make it no matter what
My mama said I was dumb
I wrote a story for my teacher, one day
She said it was beautiful
That I would make a great writer one day
I showed my mama and she said
‘Chuck it away child. It won’t amount to nothing.
Your different.
You can never become a writer.
You can never write the songs, the aspirations or the beauty within and around you
All you can do is depend on SpellCheck and hope
Pray that a nice man will look over your stupidity and notice your smile instead’
My mama said I was dumb
I just think I’m special, different from the others

my love

Humor me
Yes, I want you to humor me and tell me how my body is meant to look like
Educate me, inform me and tell me the rules, the guidelines, the regulation I’m meant to follow
To be a perfect 10
Because when I was born I wasn’t given a textbook
I wasn’t given lessons in ‘Perfect body 101’
Never went for class, had teachers or wrote exams in this particular disciple
But I had magazines, telling me I’m too fat to ever look good
I had the TV showing me different ways of throwing up and hiding an eating disorder
I had billboards showing me skinny girls looking glamorous and otherworldly
And like growing naïve young girl I believed and swallowed everything I saw
I put myself down so low I’m surprised I’m still standing
Starved myself and forced myself to believe that I was not good enough
Not pretty enough
Not perfect enough
I wanted to look like the girls in the magazines
Tall, skinny, with long hair and green eyes
The way I look now should show I did not succeed
After almost dying and a year of therapy I realized I was being a great big fool
I realized that no one sets a standard for something that belong to me
No one should tell me how to look and how to smile
No one tells me what my body is meant to look like
No amount of magazine covers and music videos will make me order for grass instead of a nice juicy cheese burger
No amount of stares and whispers will make me rethink a dinner order
No man will make me feel ugly because I don’t look like the girls he stares at all day on the computer
I love my body
I love every single contour, scar, freckle, spot and piece of my body
I love my mother Theresa arms even though I look like I have extra chicken skin hanging off my arms
I love that when I walk my thighs jiggle
Thunder thighs I hear they are called
I love my chubby cheeks that make me look cute
Without them I would be … let’s not think about that
I love my thick dirty brown hair
Sure it’s a hassle to comb but the feeling of not buying weaves and spending money in the saloon is worth it
I love my body
I love the fact that I’m shaped differently
And I’m not another clone tailored and fashioned to society’s ridiculous standards
I love the fact that you can’t find another me splatted on the pages of a superficial magazine
I love the fact that I’m special, unique, and different from all the other girls
Though it’s wahala buying jeans with these hips of mine
And looking for products for my hair
It’s all worth it in the end
Because it is all pure unadulterated me

Will post a new story soon. I have exams and ish coming up so I’m mega busy.
Bye guys :*

The Song

Posted: November 18, 2011 in Uncategorized

*Whistling a jolly tune while sweeping and cleaning up*

Hi guys! I didn’t see you there! Well, this is where I put the excuses for why I haven’t blogged or done anything here right? I wont bother you with that cool story. Just know that I’ve been mega busy with school and my final projects.

Anyway, I have a story for you all today! It was inspired by the song and music video of ‘Nothing’ by The Script (the drinking version of the video). I’ve been using music as a source of help for some of the stories I’ve been writing (Sleep Reaper was inspired by ‘Bedtime Story’ by Frank Ocean and I have another story called ‘We found love’ inspired by Rihanna’s hit song ‘We found love’ which I will share with you all later).

So sit back, and enjoy. Comments and criticisms are welcome and needed.


May 11th, 2011

The rain had started again. We were all used to it. Living on the tip of Ireland in Waterville (Ironic, right?), meant that that you should be used to rain. Waterville was once called the ‘rainiest village’ in Ireland. I don’t believe that though. I just think they weep so much which makes the rain fall so much.

On this very day, we were in the pub. Me, Conner and Dylan were nursing a few pints and laughing about the abysmal weather. We were cracking a joke about the busty maiden who brought us our pints when suddenly the door of the pub opened and shut suddenly. The open door brought in wind, a bit of rain and Aaron.

Aaron looked terrible. He was covered in a mess of dirt, leaves and drenched in water. As he sat down next to me and declined a pint from busty Jane, we all noticed his red eyes and tear streaked face. Aaron was not a man of tears so this meant something was terribly wrong.

“Aaron, what seems to be the matter? You look like the devil’s piss!”

He didn’t talk. Just stared at us.

“Come on boy-o! Tell us what the matter is. We are all good friends.”

“I’ve looked for her everywhere …” he said in a small but emotional voice

“Who? Is it your wife Siobhan? She should be at home!”

“She’s missing.”

“Aaron, are you sure she’s missing?” Dylan started. “She could be over at Conner’s place with Maria or my place with Maeve. The storm may have trapped her somewhere. Once the rain stops we can …”

“I’ve walked ad checked in every single house. I’ve gone to the edge of the village, I’ve screamed her name. I found nothing.”

One by one, we all realized what had happened. We all knew where Siobhan was.


“Yes Cian?”

“We need to tell you something. We kept a secret from you. We shouldn’t have but ….”

“What secret? Was my wife having an affair?” He jumped up from his seat. “Has she run off with the man?? Lemme find him and feed him to the dogs!!!” he screamed.

“Aaron, we are sorry.” Dylan said standing up, trying to calm Aaron down.  “We shouldn’t have kept this or in fact, we shouldn’t have done this at all.”

“Done what? What did you do?”

“We forgot to do something Aaron. Something so important and so essential.”

Aaron now had a look of worry and confusion on his face. I stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Sit down Aaron, get yourself a pint and listen. But just know that Siobhan will never come back. She is back where she belongs.”


5 years ago

“Jane! Pour me another! Let me drown my sorrows in a good pint of beer! Let me forget what that wrench did to me!”

“Now Aaron, you know I can’t give you more. You’re well over drunk now.”

“I don’t care! I want to be drunk!  I want to forget that … that thing that calls herself Lorna! She … she chopped my heart and fed it to the dogs!”

We watched him shout and rant while we drank our pints. He looked around our age, 25. He had sandy hair and light blue eyes. A smile that would make any maiden start wetting their panties. It was obvious he was in pain; he had eyes that told you his emotions.

Suddenly, we heard a ‘thump’ and we saw him trying to sit back up on the stool. He had fallen off and was now shouting with the stool about how ‘everybody wants him to fall and fail’. I was getting particularly bored with him and decided that I was going home.

“Boys, let’s go. Today’s drunk is boring. I have work in the morning. Besides, we have wives to get to.”

Dylan and Conner stood up and we made our way to the door when I felt a tap on my back. It was Jane, trying to hold the drunken man up.

“Can you dear boys help me? We are closing up and I don’t want to throw him in the streets. He seems to have suffered a bit of heart break. Would you?”

That’s how we made our way down the road, shuffling the drunken man between us. He was very quiet which made the journey a little bearable. I never imagined my Sunday night would be spent carrying around a drunk.

The cobbled road from the pub to the main village passed by the sea. There was a short stone wall built to separate the sea and road. The wind that was blowing was fresh and salty. I had the sudden urge to sit on the wall and let my wind wonder. I missed the sea and the cool water around my ankles. But we didn’t have time for that; we had a man to take home.

Suddenly, he started talking. He was ranting about ‘Lorna’ and a wedding. On a normal day, I would have listened and consoled him but I had other things on my mind. My mother was wondering why after five years, Maria had not gotten pregnant yet. I knew the truth why but I couldn’t break my poor mam’s heart.

In a flash, he broke out of Dylan’s hold, jumped over the stone wall and was running down to the sea. We all started after him. As soon as he saw us coming, he started moving faster until he was thigh deep in sea water.

“Come back here! We need to go home!”

“Lorna!!!” He shouted to the sea. “My dear sweet Lorna! Come back to me!”

“Cain, what are we going to do now?”

“We have to find a way to take him back with us.”

“But you know we can’t enter the water …. ”

“Yes I know, we all know. Maybe we should leave him and he will find what he wants.”

“Find?” Dylan chipped in. “We are the only ones who knows the secrets of this place. I bet he doesn’t even know that they exist.”

“He doesn’t. Our fathers told us and they were the last of the generation that knew the truth.” I reply. “He can’t know either. It’s too risky. It’s too dangerous.”

As we were talking, we didn’t notice that Aaron was now waist deep. He stood still like he was in a trance. We all turned to him and saw he was moving deeper into the sea. He could hear something. We were beginning to hear it too.

“Boys, we know what to do.”

At once we took out our ear plugs and put them in. We had the habit of carrying our ear plugs around ever since we heard the song the first time. The first time we all heard the song and Sean was killed in the tragic ‘swimming’ accident.

We waded into the water and got to Aaron. He was crying and blood was beginning to come out of his ears. The song must have been louder now and it was striving to make Aaron go mad. He fought us and refused to come with us. But after a few kicks and slaps, he calmed down and we were able to drag him back to land.

Aaron was clutching something red. It looked like a piece of cloth but when he opened his hands, we saw it was a red scarf.

“How did he ..”

“He must have found it in the sea while we were talking. The murúch must have wanted it back and started singing her song.”

“But now he has it. What should we do?”

“We do nothing.”

Dylan and Conner stared at me like I was mad.

“Nothing? We can’t just do nothing! He has the red scarf of a muruch!!! As soon as the sun rises, he will have a maiden at his door! What will he do then?”

I looked down at him and I saw sadness in his eyes. I doubt he was following the conversation we were having.

“His heart is broken. Whoever this Lorna girl is must have meant a lot to him. He heard the song of the muruch, he must already love her and there is nothing we can do about that. She will come to him and they will mate.”

“And if she finds her red scarf? What will happen then? Once she touches the scarf everything will come back to her. She will leave him for her true home. He won’t be able to handle that!”

“Then let’s burn the scarf once they get married. It’s what we all did when we found scarfs at this same sea. That way, she will never find her scarf and her memories will never come back.”

Dylan and Conner didn’t like the idea but there was nothing we could do. Aaron was babbling about the beautiful maiden he saw; how he dearly loved her and could spend the rest of his life with her. When we finally got him to a bed to my house, I heard him say a name, Siobhan.


Now five years later, we remember we did not burn the scarf. We remember that the day of his wedding to Siobhan, we were all shit drunk and passed out. We forgot to burn the tie that connected the muruch to her true home. As a human, she was a quiet woman who went about her duties as a wife. She would never adjust to living on land. She could never get pregnant and she was always taking ill.

 But we could never get rid of them.

We burnt their ties to the sea once we knew the truth of their existence. How we wish we didn’t do so. Now they could never go back and we could never leave them. The song of the muruch kept us tied to these beautiful women of the sea. Our fathers warned us. They told us of the dangers.

But we didn’t’ listen. Now our ears are blocked with the song. 

Dream Reaper

Posted: October 25, 2011 in Uncategorized

*Cleaning cobwebs and dust from blog*

Hey everyone. I won’t bore you will a long excuse for why I haven’t been posting (actually, when you have professors like mine, you won’t have time to shit sef). Instead, I have a story for you. 

Been trying out a new style of writing actually and this is my first major post ever since I started writing like this. This story was inspired by the Frank Ocean song ‘Bedtime Story’. You all have to download that song, it’s awesome. Sha, sha, here it is. Comments and criticisms are greatly needed and appreciated. 🙂 



3:32 am
I turn away from my clock and face my ceiling. I’ve counted each and every sect and facet in my ceiling. I’ve counted millions and millions of sheep. I’ve worded out all the lyrics to my favorite songs. Read 126 books (I counted). Nothing works.

I can’t sleep.

I haven’t been able to sleep for the past 2 weeks. I looked it up and read that after ten days, I should be dead. I pinch myself from time to time, making sure I’m still in this world and not dreaming. I have tried several medications, acupuncture, massages but still, my eyes just won’t close.

Doctors have no clue what’s wrong with me. One suggested I should place myself in a coma-like state so that my brain can rest and rejuvenate. Even after 10 hours, the charts show that my brain activity was still the same, not decreasing or trying to rest. I had no REM or NREM (rapid eye movement and non-rapid eye movement which are the stages of sleep). My EEG levels where fine. In other word, my eyes were just closed. No sleep or rest at all.

What should I do this night? Should I write another play? Maybe read my new order of books. I have so many possibilities. So much time on my hands. My company went public on the stock market and it blew up. I made so much money that I retired as the CEO. Now I wish I had something to occupy my mind.

I had something before through.

She looked like Yemaya in a pair of Seven Jeans and Loubs. Fair, beautiful with golden brown hair and striking green eyes. . She was half black American, half Spanish. She was everything a middle aged man like me needed. An escape from the real world. My wife and children were always globetrotting and spending my money as fast as I could make it. She was my personal slice of heaven.

But now she was gone. Three weeks ago, she called it off. Said she couldn’t stand what I was doing to a fellow woman. I offered her everything; money, clothes, a new flat and even two new cars. She returned it all and disappeared.

Gone without a trace.

I’m in love with her. I don’t think she knows how much she means to me. I tried letting her know it wasn’t all about the sex. I showed her the other side of me; beyond the stone wall I had built. My wife attempted to climb it. She got over it but with her cheating and ways, she never got a chance to peek into the royal chambers.

Now my nights are filled with no sleep and thoughts about her. I keep counting the seconds, 1,209,600 of them to be exact. I keep counting the time until I will be able to hold her again in my arms. I keep hoping that one night, before begin my rituals, she will crawl into bed with me and sing me a lullaby. And then finally, I shall be able to rest.



I am so so so tired.

I don’t understand it anymore. It’s as if my body thinks it’s night all the time. I fell asleep at a fricking board meeting!

Lucky for me, I am one of the agencies’ top closers so I was just let off with a warning. I was also allowed to go home and rest. I do need it. These past few weeks have been so tasking. I’ve been working on the Murray account and getting Jonathan Murray, the CEO of the one of the world’s biggest oil and gas company, to sign with us has not been an easy task. It’s been grueling but the nice check in the mail will be worth it.

The driver was waiting for me and flashed me a polite smile. I’ll probably have a nap in the car before I get home. I don’t understand this sudden tiredness all the time. Apart from being late to work for the past two weeks, I’ve just been falling asleep in random places. While on the bus, on the line to get coffee and even when I was walking to get ginger from the food produce store. No amount of coffee helps. It’s becoming a huge problem for me.

The car pulled up in front of my building and I took the stairs. That should jolt me awake a bit. But even with the little jog upstairs to the fourth floor, I still yawned and felt sleepy. This was getting out of hand. I would have to see a doctor about it. Maybe I was having that weird disease I saw on that show ‘House’.

My apartment was nice and cozy. I flopped on the couch and arranged myself into a fetal position when I heard a noise from my kitchen.

I suddenly stood up and picked up the baseball bat that I kept by my door for moments like this. I had a year of karate so I was confident that I could at least stun the intruder and call the police.

mi querida’

I recognized that voice. I lowered the bat to the floor and I ran into the kitchen. My father was there cutting onions and smiling.


“Sueña, how have you been doing?”

“Don’t do that again papa! I had a bat in my hands already!”

“Don’t mind me. I missed my daughter and I decided to make the trip down here to see you.”

“Awww papa! And I see you are already making dinner.”

“Yes mi querida. I am preparing your favorite, paella. Go change and wash. By the time you are done, food will be ready.”

mi querida. My darling. This is what he has been calling me ever since I’ve been born. He called my mother mi alma. My soul. They were so different yet so attached to each other. They met while he was on a holiday to America. She was a poor but beautiful black American woman while he was a rich and influential Spaniard. As my father said to me every time he told me the story, ‘our eyes connected and our souls fused.’

After a long shower, I came out to meet the wonderful meal of paella laced with chicken. As we ate, me and my father talked and laughed. He dropped in time to time like this and it was refreshing.

When we were done, he made coffee and we moved to the living room. We were talking about work and I mentioned how tired I was when he suddenly stopped me mid-sentence.

“Did you say you have been feeling so tired lately?”

“Yes papa. But it’s nothing. I’ve been so busy lately. I’ll take the day off tomorrow.”

His face suddenly changed. Something was up.

“What is it papa?”

“Do you know what your name means?”

“Beautiful. Mama told me.”

“Your name is a corrupted word. It literally means sleep.”

“So what papa? My name is fine either way. “

He looked worried and continuously shook his head. I’ve never seen him like this before. What was the connection between my name and me being so tired?

“Papa, what’s wrong? Tell me.”

“You are a súcubo.”

“A what?”

“A succubus.”

“Papa, you have been watching too many episodes of X-files. I’m very normal.”

“NO Sueña! Listen to me!”

Papa had never shouted at me before. I have never seen this look on his face before. I was confused and worried. I decided that listening to him was the best option here.

“Papa, what were you saying?”

“You are a Succubus. You survive on the life force of other humans, mostly men. It’s been in our family for centuries now. I didn’t think I could carry it and give it to you. When your mother gave birth to you, your grandmother made sure you had the name ‘Sueña’ to represent your heritage. I never knew you would get it … It was just a name!”

My father was rocking back and forth now. Tears had started escaping from his eyes. I was too confused to accept. I tried touching him but he resisted and pulled away.

“There are different types but yours is particular.” He continued. “You take the ability for the men to sleep and use it to rejuvenate and rest. After you are filled ….”

“What papa? What happens?”

“The men die.”

I sat there in shock and confusion. This could not be true. I was normal. Just a normal woman. I didn’t believe in such. I started thinking about all my exes and if any of them had dropped dead. My father was possibly overreacting.

“Answer me!”

Papa’s voice brought me out of my thoughts.

“What is it papa?”

“Have you been with any man recently? Have you allowed a man to fall in love with you?”

My mind went to Kola immediately. When I broke it off with him, he was practically in tears. I couldn’t take what he was doing to his wife. I couldn’t be with a married man. Even though I loved him with my heart and soul, I had to leave him. I had to find my own and not be attached to someone who already belonged to another.

I stood up and started to the door.

“Sueña, where are you going?”

“I have to see someone.”

“It may be too late.”

“Papa, I just want to check on him. He will be fine when I get there.”


One week later

Kola’s funeral was a small one. The young woman who cried the hardest was said to be his mistress. She looked otherworldly with her long brown hair and green eyes. The wife didn’t care though. She knew she would inherit all that Kola left behind. She would live a comfortable life with her boyfriend and her children would grow up well.

At the end when everyone was gone, she stood there staring at the freshly covered grave. Her tears never ceased. Her father came and stood next to her and held her hand.

“What did the reports say?”

“He … he died in his sleep.”

“Did he?”

She looked up to her father and back to the tombstone.

“He died in my arms.”

“You made it? I thought he would be gone by the time you got there.”

“He …. He said he loved me papa. He said he was tired of waiting. He was tired of waiting to hear his lullaby, his bedtime story.”

“Sueña ….”

“Papa, he’s gone. And it will forever be my fault.”

He started walking away when he heard her shout out loud like she was in tremendous pain.

“Sueña, are you okay?”  He rushed over to where she was doubled over in pain.

“My body … I ache. All over.”

He started shaking and stood up. He spoke in a little voice as if talking was bringing him pain.

“It has started again.”

“What has papa?”

He sighed and tears formed in his eyes.

“You need to feed again.”



Posted: October 6, 2011 in Uncategorized
Yes I’m back to writing. Been busy and studying for my GRE exam which is next week. Let’s fashi that for now.
Anyway, I wrote this poem last night. I hope you like it. Leave comments and such. 🙂
I’m tired.
Yes I said it, I’m fucking tired
I’m tired of writing stupid love songs about a man who doesn’t care
I’m tired of looking at photographs and listening to songs and remembering you
I just want it all to go awayI’m tired of the long mid-night walks alone
I’m tired of being lonely
I’m tired of seeing couples eating pizza or making out while they walk
I’m tired of crying myself to sleep every night and wishing God would answer my prayers
I’m fucking sick of it all

I’m an emotional girl
The kind that cries when watching sappy movies
The kind that falls in love easily
The kind that trusts too much
And the kind that gets heartbroken way too much

I fall in love way too much, my heart can only take so much
So please don’t make me fall for you
Please let me be and let me live
Let my heart find a way to heal
Because your kind has done too much to me
Your kind has stolen my secrets like a con man
Your kind has made me hate

So when I say I’m tired of it all
I mean I’m tired of love and missing it in my life
Because I know you won’t give me what I want
I know writing this means nothing to you
I know talking or asking or even just being alive doesn’t anything
So please
I’m tired

Next week, I’ll have a story for you all. It’s done but it needs some editing. I’m in a supernaturalish mood now. I’m getting obsessed with floklore and legends and ish like that. So expect my first story of this kind next week