Manual Molly Moccasins -- Surprise (Molly Moccasins Adventure Story and Activity Books)

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The truck-driver turned away from the scene, speechless and in shock. He felt a slight prickling sensation on his right forearm and realized that in the accident his watch had been crushed, the glass face broken into pieces, a few of which were now protruding out of his skin. One by one droplets of blood began to spill onto the watch, spilling like the snowflakes from the heavens, spilling like the ash from the flames. His nose was bleeding. The blood began to obscure the numbers of the tiny clock as he looked down upon it.

He could no longer read the time. It was kind of funny really, that that was his first instinct, and I think I actually laughed for a brief moment. I laughed as my life spiraled out of control. As if it was a joke. Then I saw him let go of the wheel and turn towards me, grasping my hand, and in that instant time froze. I was lying in a hospital bed, tubes taped all over my body, and I knew it was my deathbed because God knows I would never allow myself to be trapped in a hospital for a long-term stay otherwise.

My fear of this place was palpable; I could smell the sickness in the air through the tubes in my nose, feel the pain of it in my eyes straining against the blinding white of the walls. Someone familiar was holding my hand but it felt strange, rougher and yet slippery as if I would lose the grip of the embrace at any moment.

It was my husband, staring at me with his beautiful brown eyes, this time full of only pain and grief. We had grown old, and his face was strange to me now. It seemed as though he had already started mourning my death, and I wondered how long I had been lying in this hospital bed.

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I heard faint bubbling noises and some beeping. I figured this was from those infernal machines of the hospital, and that laughter I heard must actually be crying from rooms down the hall, but then I started to smell coffee and I was back in that coffee shop so many years ago. His friends were leaving, we were leaving, but he held me back for a minute. Scandalous; I had just met this guy! But I think we both already knew what was there. His face, the same face, I reminded myself. He was pulling a blanket up to my shoulders.

Cold… And then it was raining and I was sitting on a bench in soaked clothes freezing my flesh, no, I was sitting in his lap now and we were kissing and there was a ring on my finger.

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But the liquid was washed away by the rain just as my tears had been washed from my cheeks, and he laughed. I was angry now.

Molly Moccasins -- Surprise (Molly Moccasins Adventure Story and Activity Books)

I was so confused at this, angered by this, because I had no memories of this. The round, black framed clock suspended on the wall of my hospital room began ticking audibly, blending with the beeping of those machines, growing increasingly louder as I focused my attention on it. I was back in the car and there was a tractor-trailer about to hit us in the other lane.

There was no trace of love in his eyes at that moment, the same way it was purged from his face in the hospital. The only thing frozen in his face now was pure terror. He almost convinced me that our love was divine. That the universe might actually be conspiring in our favor. Until that same God that felt so inclined to bring us together and show us the world decided to tear us apart with a casual snap of his fingers, tearing our families apart and taking all of the love with him. That was my final thought. It would be fear. But no one else would know this. His hands eventually betrayed his novice only just before he pulled the curtain over the cadavers to hide the faces, trembling only in the moment of delving closest to the painfully widened eyes in order to force them shut.

The elder EMT on the scene nodded, pulling out a clipboard and proceeding to fill out the necessary paperwork. The sun was beginning to set. The elder sneered with her face still tucked down into her papers. In an instant the elder EMT imagined their faces upon the impact, wide-eyed and gaping in terror. Being beyond blurred now from the marring fire it was impossible to read into the faces for a detailed portrayal of the couple. The EMT saw the minimal damage on the body of the other victim of the crash, the truck driver, repaired by a few stitches.

She also saw the damage forever lurking just beneath his eyes that doctors would never fix, altering his gaze forever, painting his story across his face.

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She saw the black ashes littering the snowy ground and pictured the families at the funerals, black umbrellas in the rain, black dresses in mourning, black boots scarring more wounds upon the damp earth, black hearts infected by Death. Probably muttering some shit about how peaceful their faces looked in the casket. The EMT saw the black emptiness now, consuming the world that could have been, fragments passing by in a whirlwind: a ring, a gown, a kiss, a marriage, a home, a child, a family, that future, those lives. The EMT then saw memories from her own life, familiar faces cycling momentarily within her vortex of thought as if waiting to be sucked in, their hands raised, grasping at nothingness, meaninglessness, an empty black backdrop.

At least they were together, she thought. But it was only an instant, just an instant in time. And then there was just the EMT again.

And their faces turned back into the faces. They all turned back into nothing but lumps under a tarp. So much for being immune. Me too, she responded silently to herself.


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Why would anyone want to see that? It was still snowing and she shivered, and for a minute toyed with the idea of retiring next year and maybe moving to Florida, yes that would be nice. She would be fine, she thought. She always was. But tonight all she wanted to do was drink until every last face became a blur. Short Fiction Mother says they are family. Mother says they are all my Iya. Mother says family is stronger than anything. Women still need some mysteries and everyone needs family. Trust them. Mother says I will make a good Ifa wife. I said two words that day.

It was a beautiful Yoruba wedding my mother adorned everything in shades of purple lace.

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Mother chose him. Baba says Nigerian men will always have multiple wives. Mother says comprehension is not a requirement for following instructions. Mother says women have a role to play, it is not easy but it is necessary. He had a nice face, round, kind. Mother says, being ruled by emotions is an Oyimbo quality. Baba says they are simply proof of his wealth.

I am simply proof of his wealth. Mother says she thought about taking another husband. Mother says our system promotes tradition and togetherness. Last night she asked, what are your other options? Do you want to come back to Ibadan with us?