A Collection of Prompts

A Rainy Night

By Etienoabasi Nana

I’ve honestly never believed in the whole “feeling comfortable under the covers, blinding rain pouring at night outside, with hot sweetened coffee on one hand and a romance novel on the other” trope.

It sounds too…unrealistic. Pause. First of all, before you pull the ‘You don’t have an imagination’ card on me, hear me out.

I live in Nigeria, and when rain falls, the only thing I think about is turning off as many light points as I remember I own so I wouldn’t have to pay for new ones. I already live paycheck to paycheck as it is. So, Hello? I don’t have time to use my imagination.

Secondly- read? Please. It takes a certain level of concentration to read any Francine Rivers special and be fully immersed, and that definitely can’t be possible with the downpour that at best only leaves me concentrating on praying for the roof not to fall.

I sigh now, patting my brand-new novel shut as I hear the first raindrops patter succinctly overhead. I get up to switch off the light points robotically and fill some water into my tiny metal kettle. Hot, sweetened coffee however? that I could do.

Laugh

By Etienoabasi Nana

So, my early teenage years were the most rebellious in my life. I have never understood why I treated my parents that way, but it did give me many stories to tell, especially one of my favorites-One my Dad likes to call my ‘bravest’ stunt.

I was thirteen, fresh into the age. Already long past the novice stage in 2go-sweet. I hadn’t seen my period yet-cha Ching. My crush had given me a birthday gift a few months earlier-he probably would’ve given me a ring if I wasn’t literally a teen. Life was good.

But ugh, my mother. She was the bane of the moment.

Imagine her telling me to steam tomatoes and select beans. Me. The Princess. And she did this very uncalled for thing called seizing my phone anytime she asked me to do something in the kitchen and I ignored it to text.

In my defense, I needed to reach Veteran before the end of the holiday. She had NO right to stunt my progress.

I was seething in anger, so I did the most logical thing at that moment. I stomped off, making sure she heard every step, and I walked out into the backyard. The mission was to run away, except she of course realizes how unreasonable she was being, calls me back and gives me my phone. Perfect idea. Etieno you’re so smart.

But I had almost reached the front yard, and she hadn’t called me back yet. My mind was panicking. Did this woman realize she might never see me again?

Had she not put one and one together to figure out she was better off keeping the peace by handing me my phone?!

Front yard now. The gate was staring at me. I stared back. Of course I couldn’t run away! I barely knew the way out of my estate! My mother knew this, most likely why she didn’t bother herself.

Oh, but go back to the kitchen in shame? You must not have been following this story then.

I quickly panned the compound. Nearly all my daytime hiding places were uncomfortable to huddle in the night and the blinding cold. One last object blocked my vision. The Cars. Of course.

The Toyota Sequoia was unlocked, to my relief, and I entered the back-est seat, making room around the chairs to lay and sleep.

They would look for me. They would look for me and regret seizing my phone.

****

I woke up with a start. The pain in my neck reminded me that I was laying on hard plastic and not my comfortable pillows. Where was I?

It was hard to breathe, it was dark, and I was alone. I began to panic, till I remembered where I was, hiding in the car.

Nobody had found me.

I was a little disappointed, really. My Parents and siblings usually found my hiding places within an hour max, the reason why I had to create new ones every three days. I decided to go back into the house and sleep. Don’t sleep in the SUV, kids.

Casually walking to the front doors, I didn’t expect the locks to not budge. But it made sense. They usually locked the front doors at night.

Would have to go through the back door. Stressful, but no biggie. I made the annoying one minute journey to the back. Locked too. My senses heightened in alarm. They locked me out-wait, THEY LOCKED ME OUTSIDE?!

My brother's window was a few steps away. I screamed and yelled at him and begged him to wake up but when that one sleeps just forget it.

I don’t know why I did what I did next. I honestly never thought about it much, and I barely remember how I got to that solution now, but I used my spindly thirteen year old legs to walk to the garage, carry the tallest ladder and begin to climb into the house from the balcony.

I don’t know why I wasn’t scared, but I do remember telling myself not to look down.

I reached the banisters, and I jumped over and into the house. I swear to God.

The next step was to silently enter the house, and the balcony door made far too much noise for me to hope not to get noticed. I had barely opened it all the way when I heard my father’s gruff voice.

“Who is that!” He yelled, getting up to fight me, probably thinking I was a thief.

“Daddy it’s me!” I whimpered, my voice nearly betraying me, full tears and tiredness finally getting the best of me. I really at that moment just wanted to sleep.

My father made sure to tell all my siblings the story the next morning, and they made jokes about it for at least a year. But I noticed this. When my Dad remembers it, he doesn’t recount it with anger or annoyance or sadness in his eyes. If I’m not mistaken, I’m pretty sure he retells it with a laugh.

A Trail of #100 Notes

By Etienoabasi Nana

I picked it up when I saw it

Red and brown and crisp, then I ran home to show my mother.

I saw her smile fade into a bitter frown when she saw what I held proudly with both hands.

“Who gave you That one?” She asked, her voice low.

I could already feel the Slap incoming.

My tongue suddenly stuck to the roof of my mouth.

“Didn’t you hear what I asked you?” She said again, raising her voice up a notch.

“N-nobody-y.” I spat.

“Better go and return it where you saw it before I knock you.” She sneered, turning back around. I fled.

The spot where I remember picking the crisp, pinkish note was replaced by another. My forehead wrinkled in confusion. I picked it up.