Triangular Flowers


You laugh; something closer to a hysterical outburst and you remember you swore never let her tickle you like that. She looks at you like you are a pet. Suddenly you realize how ripe she looks and isn’t she curvaceous, you ask yourself. Some boy is winking at you pointing at her legs; you remember the drawing of her you tried with little success to bring to life. You shrug it off saying maybe that could have been the game changer, who knows if she’d want to pose naked. Some jealous wind carries sand into your eyes; you curse nature and enquire from her what God is thinking at the moment. She laughs!

Her hands are tiny you discover and wonder how they could work if they were to hold … you drift back; she is explaining how windy and dusty these days are.

“Sweetie, do you think we could find somewhere cool we relax”

Yes, you say quickly and in such relief that you feel like carrying her.

You call her Mijita, a girl that rubbishes your advances and lets you into a cesspit. You’ve grown accustomed in it and you laugh each time she insists you are just friends. She is not only beautiful but very hot. Your friends keep reminding you how weak you are and that you should state your position. You know that! She walks slowly, holding your hands and you hate how Mama mboga and her friends are accustomed to staring at you silently only to rupture in gossip the minute you disappear. It must be the fleshy avocado you bought from the other kibanda you think and it’s true, you felt as if you cheated on her with the other mama mboga but you repented. The priest was amused, yes his face read a strained bewilderment and it must have been because he never wanted to burst into laughter inside the confession booth lest the faithful think that he is … ouch, you moan. She jabs your ribs complaining of the slow response and you wrap your arm around her shoulder.

“Babes, do you remember you owe me something huge, you said a huge can of ice-cream remember” she looks at the interlocked hands and smiles. “The bigger the can the better. You know I used to think that I would never find someone true and someone I can trust like you. You are way too sweet, creative and funny. I love you so much.” You both settle on some well manicured grass below a tree at the backyard of your house and somewhere no one will dare interrupt.

So you were saying?

“You are just so real like I’d want a man like you forever in my life”

Yeah, as if you didn’t

“Ati you are acting sarcastic,” she rolls her eyes. She stares into space then directly inside your eyes then lets her stare fall on some old bicycle on the veranda. “You know sweetie I really do love you and it really unexplainable to me. How you behave, the way you respect women and you don’t drink. You are the perfect example …”

You scamper away in your mind. You notice how her short dress has retreated to her hips. You are suddenly excited as you keep nodding and twisting your lips in agreement. Her skin looks so soft you can almost smell it, you want to touch. There are countless of times you’ve touched her and it always felt good but you wonder how it would feel in such an open and free space. You wonder how electric the thighs have grown to be and what kind of voltage they’d exude without the normal clothe insulator. You swear that you’d beg to be executed under this method. Verily, you plan on lobbying the International Human Rights body under the banner of the UN with a 100 page document on the benefit of such kind of execution and you have a name drafted already “thigh-nomics” an elliptical but very effective type of neutralization covering the all the death wishes. Something warm holds your hand as it tries to move, you realize she has beaten you to your game. Her hands ran across you arms to your thighs and suddenly wander closer home and damn – Pulitzer. Shocked, you wail “Brenda, what the hell?” she rubs. Goddamn you tie your mouth with your tongue.

“Let’s go fuck Chris”

You jump out of your senses and stammer. She leads you into your house and it looks new. You stare at the surrounding – amazing you think. She lets you sit on the bed and tells you to watch.

“Do you want it slow or violent?”


“I mean come here”

You can readily swear that you don’t know how you found yourself on her lips. She kisses as if she was taught since she was a kid. You try to reduce the speed because your heart is pounding like shit and it makes you look like a virgin. She lets you free and undresses you without stopping then looks at it without reaction.
You drift away. Does it look small or is she scared at the monstrosity. Well the latter seems far-fetched. Say something, you say under your breath. She grins widely. Oh God, what the fuck? you think you are a fool.
“Do you want a blow or the hand?”

Uhm, can we at least get you off those clothes to … well … she hijacks you thinking with the feel of warmth upon you.

Brenda are you sure, you silently whisper. She can’t respond.

“Chris, this whole thing is crazy. I know what we just did and I am also hell sure that we can’t be more than friends. I am interested in another guy and I know you don’t like it but it’s the truth. You are artsy and very independent minded. I know it’s me you capture even metaphorically in your artistry. It makes me happy and at the same time very…

You wonder, what was the meaning of all that. You loved it and is she the adventurous girl you just witnessed.
Well, I won’t take that – your voice is thunderous. You grab her ass and poetic lines flow through your veins. You affirm again more clearer. I won’t take that! She suddenly looks tiny; you let her ass alone and wonder if detectives are coming along this way on the report of a missing girl and what if they find you holding her ass? You have no enough money to bribe them but you can’t resist fondling her breasts once more.
“Ok, we’ll be doing this twice every month but you are and never will be my boyfriend!”
Did I hear an applause, you ascertain by looking inside her eyes.

Are you sure, Brenda?

“It’s all I can do”

She leaves saying thank you for such an exhilarating afternoon.
“To more,” she salutes goodbye.

There is a way she learnt to kill herself a little at a time. And you aren’t sure how she’d survive handling two lives and what? You suddenly remember that some other bastard will rein on your parade.

Fuck you Brenda!


4 thoughts on “Triangular Flowers

  1. I love the attempt. Maybe to just bring something to your attention:

    There is a constant shift in the point of view. If you start on a second person, stick to it till the very end.

    Also, punctuate your dialogue, better if each conversation is on its own line. Ensure every word you use on dialogue adds something to your story. There is one point you used way too long dialogue. That can be cut a bit to make it sound natural.

    Strike the rightful balance between showing and telling. Avoid too much showing and/or too much telling.

    And keep writing, hoping to read more. Sorry, I gave a late feedback, it took time.

    Liked by 1 person

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