African StoriesLife and General Fiction StoriesNaija Stories

The Pen is My Companion

The kettle started singing just as Lucy got to the kitchen. “Oh my.” She quickly brought it down and began to make breakfast.

“Good morning mum,” Sophia ran down the stairs to meet her mother in the kitchen.

“Good morning, sweet. How are you?”

“Very well, at least I had a good but short night sleep.”

“That’s because of the storm last night. Fortunately, I slept well and early.”

“What are my pretty angels talking about?” Andrew kissed his wife and hugged his daughter.

“Nothing serious,” Sophia drew back from her father and moved to check the egg.

“Why hasn’t Kelvin woken up?” Andrew asked, looking at his wife, then at the stairs. “He could have overslept, I better check up on him, he said moving towards the stairs. Just then Kelvin appeared.

“Hello dad, hello mum,” he greeted his father and moved to his mother, popping a kiss on her cheek. Andrew stood frozen at the spot while Lucy cried out, hands akimbo. “What a way to greet your parents.”

“Oh mom, how else should I greet you guys?” He adjusted an invisible tie, stood straight, let out a cough and bowed, “Good morning to you Mademoiselle Lucy, Monsieur Andrew, çava bien?”

They all laughed. “I’ll get you,” Andrew said moving towards Kelvin.

“You know that’s impossible, I’m twice as fast as you are, dad.”

“Race you to the garden,” Andrew said and took off, Kelvin following suit.

“Like father like son, naughty boys,” Lucy murmured, smiling.

Well, that’s the morning I always wish for. Instead I wake up to constant fights. Mom and dad are always fighting. The neighbors are tired of intervening every time. They’ve left us to our fate. My sister is in her finals.
My pen is my only companion. It bleeds for the trauma I go through.

Why not share?
Tags

Related Articles

Leave a Reply

Check Also

Close
Back to top button
error: Content is protected !!
Close
Close