Valentine for my love, Anita

Valentine is fast approaching and in a few days’ time streets and restaurants will be donned in red.  The anticipation is unmentionable and anxiety is slowly hitting the nooks. My lady friend Anita is a stressed lady in the office today. She has not decided on which dress to wear on this very day she holds in high regard. She tells me she’s been to Woolworths, Prada and Ankarasha stores and still has not settled on one specific dress. It is not the prices that has not made her settle on any yet, she has money, it is about finding the right texture, material, the right tone of color, the length of the dress and the design it bears. Anita takes cloth line labels very seriously and considering the occasion, it has to be a popular one. It must be associated with a celebrity. A Gaga, Kardashian or at the lowest possible a Lupita’s resent wear.

Anita’s previous Valentine didn’t go so well. She was a clandestine to a legislator who for obvious reasons didn’t show up at their usual hotel after being cornered by his wife (and forced) into a matrimonial duty, as un-regrettably later explained. On that fateful night Anita was forced to sleep alone (in her valentines dress) in a wide erotically spread bed praying and hopping that her love eventually shows up. Even in the middle of the night, or at worst in the morning before she would have to be forced to walk (alone) in a red dress on her way back home. 

I Am A Creative Writer

I am a creative writer. I write about imaginary things and events, nothing real, things that only live and exist in my head. The events are not real and the characters may (sometimes) have supernatural powers like read other people minds, fly or even die and resurrect again. As a creative writer I make snakes walk and dance, I make pastors fall in love with their congregants and even make relatives give birth to geniuses out of abominable relationships. I am a creative writer (and) so everything I write about is not real and exists only in my world. This is to say you cannot make me accountable for my imaginary characters. How can you accuse me of defaming you, lying on the same bed with your arch rival or conniving to have you poisoned just because my character exhibited traits same as yours. Real characters cannot accuse imaginary ones. Imagine a dead man coming on to complain about the man who inherited his wife.

In the case number 492BC, I hereby present before you, your honor, complains of one dead man Mr. Archer. Your honor, Mr. Archer, a dead man, is a very grieved spirit today. Mr. Archer, a dead man, has in several unusual circumstances been forced to humiliation, embarrassment and (spiritual) disgrace by the (ill mannered) defendant who has today, before this honorable court admitted to sleeping with his wife and engaging in intimate sexual intercourse with his wife in their matrimonial bed, the same bed they bore their two children Faith and Solomon. Mr. Archer, a dead man, is irritated further by the fact that this has been made a norm and this (infidel) defendant wakes up in the mid morning sun and greets his neighbors jovially instead sneaking unnoticed, like normal adulterers do.