Is your daughter ready for puberty? Let her discover everything she needs to know ahead of time – and in the privacy of her own room.
Rest assured that your daughter… or your granddaughter… or your niece… will find everything she needs to know within these pages – from emotions, to periods, to her changing body… It’s all here, and she can read through it at her own pace – and dip into it whenever she needs to.
Inside, she’ll discover:
The reason why emotions become so strong during adolescence – and what she can expect when they start to rise
Exactly what puberty is and how it prepares us for adulthood
What changes boys are going through at the same time as girls are navigating puberty
How her body will change as she grows up – make sure she knows what to expect before it happens
Everything a teenage girl needs to know about hormones (you might want to read up on this too!)
A complete guide to menstruation – so she knows exactly what’s happening in her body before it begins
The full lowdown on pads, tampons, and menstrual cups – let her decide what’s right for her
Everything she needs to know about period hygiene – plus the embarrassing problems you want to reassure her happen to everyone (and how she can minimize the risk of them happening)
The details most puberty books leave out – how teenage girls can use food and exercise to make their periods much easier to handle
An introduction to romantic feelings and changing friendships – don’t let these inevitable storms catch her off guard
Inspiring journaling prompts to accompany every chapter – so she can reflect along the way, preparing herself even more thoroughly for what’s about to come
“I can’t handle another battered woman. Please, I’m going to bed.” Abigail sighed. “I’m tired.”
“Would you want one on something else?” Toya squinted. “There’s one about choice.”
“We said we’d do at least three each time we meet,” Sybil said softly. “The brute I was in a relationship with beat me up at the back of our house while my mum prepared food for him in the kitchen.”
“Can you read it, Sybil?” Toya said.
“I have to.”
“Before we read, though, some of our readers found the post on sex offensive. We have to apologize,” Toya said.
Abigail clasped her hands in front of her forehead. “Indeed. We are sorry.”
“Sex as a topic, though, needs to be talked about, and Mrs. P,” Sybil said, “as I remember her was in a dilemma of sorts. We would have been unfair to not talk about it.”
“We are sensitive. To our audience and to our writers, so going forward, we may privately send a message to such a writer,” Toya said.
Sybil shrugged. “Then how do people who are not inclined to write us but want to learn about what we think on such matters have access to it?”
“That’s a strong point, right there. We are not counsellors, but we have experience.” Abigail sighed. “We share from our experience.”
“God will help us.” Sybil sighed too. “Let me read.”
Hello BSS Crew. My name is SI. My husband and I grew up in the same neighbourhood, and our families were friends. On more than one occasion, his father had stumbled into physical altercations between my parents. As shameful as this sounds, many people knew my father physically abused my mother, and my husband was no different.
When we started to date, one promise he made to me was that he would never treat me the way my father treated my mother. This made me love him more. Especially after my older sister got married to a brutal young man. Her case was even worse than my mother’s. So pathetic she’s back at home because the last time her husband beat her up, he almost killed her.
The first time my husband raised his hand at me, it looked to me like a mistake. We had an argument and he slapped me. It was just one slap, and in my mind, I told myself there was probably one slap in every girl’s life, as they say. He never apologized and everything just died down.
However, the next time we argued, he yelled at me to shut up or he would shut me up. The rest is history. He shut me up that day. And he has done it again since then.
I was ashamed to tell my mother and sister my husband now beat me. They looked up to me as the one who married right. To protect myself, I decided to stay away from whatever aggravated my husband. That way, I hoped the beating would reduce or stop.
Recently, however, he did not even need to be aggravated. For any small thing, he would slap me or shove me. He never beat me to a stupor and would sometimes insult me that my father did worse to my mother.
On a visit to my parents last Christmas, a small argument started. I wanted to walk away as my parents were seated right there in their parlour, with my sister. My husband pulled me back as I started to walk away and shoved me. I shouted at him to leave me alone. Instead, he slapped me twice and pushed me to the floor. Next thing he walked out of the house and drove back home.
My parents blamed me for raising my voice at him and told me to take a taxi home with our two children. And beg my husband for forgiveness. More shocking is that even my sister too agreed with this verdict.
I went back home and begged my husband as my family advised, but I think this is all so wrong. I don’t want to end up like my mother and sister who have no self-esteem or self-value.
I have a great job and I am ready to leave this abusive relationship before it degenerates, but I am afraid to take the step without my family’s support.
“She has our support. That’s the first verdict.”
“One of the biggest issues women face is lack of family support. You’d ask me what that mother is still doing in her husband’s house. Her family would have blamed her.”
“What kind of nonsense is that sef? Why would my mother watch a man slap me and push me down?”
“My mother will bring out a knife for you. Are you mad? Anyway, it’s late. What’s the verdict?”
“We have helpline numbers. She has our support. She’s in Lagos. It’s easy to get help for her.”
“She should leave him then? With the children?”
“No, she should get counselling. I think he’s a copycat and only because he knows her family’s history.”
“But he could get worse and do worse.”
“Yeah. That’s why she needs to call in. Get help and professional counselling.”
“There are excellent experts on this kind of people.”
“She’s right to not want to be like her mother and sister.”
“That is an important attitude to have. Refuse to accept.”
“Look inward and be strong.”
“Take charge. Step out.”
“It can be tough if the family is not supportive but there are many supportive women out there. Like us.”
“Reach out for help if the family is not giving one.”
Running from the beast had never been my plan. I had thought he would be my final stop but I was afraid of what he could do to me. After escaping his clutches, and with no money and a place to go, I was disgruntled. My only companion was my hand-crafted pouch, which housed my silver mirror, potions book, a gray blanket, a matchbox, and some herbs and fruits.
For weeks, I wandered aimlessly and only relied on nature to keep me alive. I felt and looked filthy. In those weeks of wandering, a proper meal and bath became a luxury. I would have settled for a while in the village close to the beast’s fortress but fear of him coming to recapture his slave prevented me. At this point, my stupid search for a happy fairytale ending fizzled. I only wanted to return home.
On numerous occasions, I tried to retrace my steps but just couldn’t remember where I came from, what the name of my village was, or who my people were. In fact, it was hard for me to remember the past events in my life. My memories became foggy and faces, and names disappeared from my thoughts. Oftentimes, some things would become familiar, but that was it. After a while, I gave up on my quest to return to my village. I doubted I’d recognize my home even if I found it.
My amnesia could have occurred due to several reasons, but most likely the unstable instant hair growth potion. I had not used all the right condiments for it and had substituted some unavailable ones. The potion had worn off quickly and left me with uneven waist-length hair. My memory loss could have also been caused by the numerous strange fruits and plants I lived on during my wandering weeks. Aside from the amnesia, I suffered other weird side effects. There were moments when I looked almost three times my age. My skin would become wrinkly and pale, and my hair would be gray. Other times I’d look like a fresh teenager with cheerful cheeks and lively skin. Due to this ‘disease,’ I became withdrawn and insecure.
Finally, I found a small settlement to call home. I sold potions to make ends meet and withdrew from the society. I became a highly skilled and sought-after potion-maker, and later created an elixir, which helped control my disease. It kept me young and beautiful, though its ingredients were rare and pricy.
My name soon became famous and attracted wealthier, more desperate clients. Human leaders and creatures alike sought after my expertise. However, one visit from a king ended my career and changed my life forever.
He was the most handsome creature I had seen on two legs. He had wavy brown hair and bright blue eyes. His jaw handsomely jutted out and elevated his full heart-shaped lips. His face, carved by a healthy beard, thick eyebrows, and an aristocratic nose, balanced out his features. He was muscular, a head taller than me, and held an aura of warm sophistication. I was smitten.
When he visited me, his eyes were watery and sad. His Queen had just passed. She died during childbearing and his newborn daughter had survived but barely. He needed a potion to save his baby’s life and he was willing to pay any amount.
It took me a minute to realize. He was available!
I had only one request in exchange for the potion: his hand in marriage. He agreed without blinking. After our agreement, the procedures and wedding happened in the twinkle of an eye.
It was amazing. I had given up on my dream of marrying royalty and living happily ever after but now I was a queen. Of course, the King knew nothing about my past or my disease and I intended to keep it that way. He overcame his grief by pouring love on his daughter and parading me everywhere he went. I became his beautiful and talented trophy wife. At this point, I was dedicated to maintaining my ageless beauty and I needed the elixir to do so. Its ingredients were peculiar to its purpose so I had to attain them in secret. And so, I charmed a palace guard called Felix to do my bidding.
I mostly ignored the king’s daughter. She was quite pretty. She had jet-black hair, and her skin was so fair, almost white. She was a nice and naïve girl. Her whitish complexion irritated me and the fact that her name described her appearance annoyed me more. I secretly nicknamed her Pasty to mock her fair skin. I wasn’t interested in her well-being or how she lived her life.
The King, however, wanted me to be close to her. I found it unnecessary. I didn’t marry the king so I could be a mother figure to the girl! On numerous occasions, he would send his daughter to me. I dreaded those awkward moments and tried to avoid them at all costs.
On one of my off days, as in the days when my body would deteriorate to an old woman’s, my guard was running late. He hadn’t returned with the ingredients for my elixir and I was aging too quickly. I was quite worried and afraid someone would find me, so I remained in my inner chambers throughout the day. The guard finally brought my goods and I quickly mixed the potion. I had to wait six more hours for the potion to be ready.
Now, I looked and felt 60 years older than my real age. My elixir was finally ready. On the first sip, my door opened to reveal my stepdaughter. She gasped as she noticed how old I looked. My hand shook and spilled some of my elixir on my vanity. I quickly downed it and ordered her out.
I summoned her back after I regained my ageless appearance. “What did you see?!” I barked.
She pointed an accusatory finger at me. “You…you’re an old woman! An old witch who bewitched my father!”
I slapped her. “Wrong answer.” She gasped. “You saw nothing and you will say nothing, Child.”
She clutched her cheek, “You expect me to help you deceive my father, your husband.” She sobbed. “I can’t and I won’t.” She chanted.
I quickly became weary of her and commanded my guard to ‘dispose’ of her. He was shocked at my request but quietly obeyed, nonetheless.
I proceeded to clean up my spilled elixir. I couldn’t afford to allow the palace maids to become suspicious as to why I had it lying around. As I wiped away, I noticed my silver mirror had a few drops on it. What caught my attention particularly was the manner the mirror absorbed the elixir. Soon after, nothing was left of it. I was astonished and continued to gaze curiously at the mirror. The mirror began to shake, a bright light shot out of it and then it sighed in relief.
“Free at last!” it exclaimed. I was not afraid, only inquisitive. My mirror could talk!
“Who are you?”
“Oh, thank you for releasing me from my silent prison. I am Miroir, the enchanted one who sees all. I was cursed by my former master and turned into a mare mirror. For liberating me, I surrender my services to you,” it said.
I nodded. This was a most welcome development.
Days passed and my guard failed to return from my bidding. At first, I wasn’t worried. The days turned to weeks and I became paranoid. I was aging again and feared I wouldn’t be able to create another elixir before I was discovered.
“Miroir, show me Felix.” Miroir’s screen rippled for a moment, and soon, an image of Felix appeared. He was in the forest not too far from the castle. He was dead, and his body had begun to decay! That little minx had charmed him to kill himself! I was furious.
I growled. “Show me that ghastly stepdaughter of mine!”
An image of a moldy forest cottage appeared before me. Pasty stood outside the cottage, washing clothes. How pathetic. I didn’t know how and when I developed such a dark nature because all I could think about was ending her life. I was immensely upset she was still alive and looked younger and more beautiful than I could ever be.
As if possessed, I gathered every toxic, poisonous, or foul substance in the castle and expertly mixed them together. At this point, I looked like a crocked old woman but I was on a mission to end Pasty. Knowing how naïve she was, I dipped juicy red apples into my concoction. The apples absorbed the poisonous substance without changing its outward appearance. I grabbed Miroir and headed to the forest.
By the time I arrived, Pasty was not alone. Seven dwarfs were having an early dinner with her. They seemed familiar to me. Two of them tinkled my memory the most; one with a big button and the other with round glasses wedged on his nose. I decided the stay the night and wait till they left.
The following morning, I was startled awake by a faint tune I’d heard before, but I couldn’t pinpoint where it came from.
“Heigh-ho! Heigh-ho!”
The singing signified the dwarfs’ departure. I finally had Pasty to myself. I carried my basket of poisoned apples, approached the front door, and knocked weakly. Pasty answered almost instantly. I had been afraid she’d recognize me but I had forgotten how naïve she was.
I chuckled. “All alone my dear?”
She nodded. “Why, yes, I am, but…”
I looked around. “The little men are not here?”
“No, they are not,” she said.
Good. “Would you like to purchase some juicy apples from a struggling poor old lady?” I lifted the basket to her face.
She sighed. “I would but I’m penniless.”
I smiled. “Well, for being honest, I’ll give you one free of charge.”
Her face brightened up, she cheerily thanked me and chose an apple. My eyes widened with expectation as she slowly brought the apple to her rosy lips. The world slowed down dramatically. The feeling of anticipation and eagerness felt so familiar, I couldn’t shake it off. For a second the past few years flashed before my eyes.
I remembered it all. My days with Lady Méchant, my night at the ball, the ghost town, the frog kissing, the dwarfs, the beast, everything! I remembered my ambition and wishes. I remembered who I was. I most definitely wasn’t a twisted witch trying to kill a 14-year-old girl for no tangible reason. The fairy tales I studied and the advice of my horoscope poured into my memory in that frozen second. I suddenly realized what was happening and who I was. This wasn’t the fairy tale I hoped to feature in and this wasn’t the role I wanted to play.
I cried but it was too late. “Snow White, no!”
Shame overwhelmed me. I had previously refused to call her name because of my bitterness, and anger. This was not me. The potions. Oh no.
The agonizingly slow second suddenly flew by and Snow White bit into the apple. She instantly dropped to the ground. Prying the poisoned piece from her mouth was pointless. The apple was so poisoned tasting its skin was as effective as eating it whole. I was already the villain in a fairytale. I had poisoned her, and no matter what I said from now on, everyone would see me as Snow White’s stepmother, the ugly, old, wretched, wicked witch.
I did the only thing that seemed sensible. I fled.
MYOPIA is used by permission of the original author, Ifeoluwa Ogúnyinka Instagram: @ife_writes
“The heading is confusing.” Abigail stared closer at her screen. “She’s been married for sixteen years not that she’s sixteen.”
“My bad,” Toya said and laughed. “I just saw sixteen.”
“But was she saying she was denied sex sixteen years ago or now?” Abigail scanned the page. “Her words are unclear and make the story difficult.”
Toya sighed. “Do you want to read it?”
Abigail shrugged. “Sure.”
Dear BSS Crew. I am so blessed to be able to write to you. This my story is quite weird, and I don’t know what to make of it. I got married at sixteen, sixteen years ago.
Abigail arched an eyebrow. “Oh, there it is. Anyway…”
Let us just call my husband Mr. P. He was almost double my age at the time, but my father thought he would be the best husband and would be able to take care of me. Mr. P wasn’t very rich, but he did provide for me. Since then, we have had six children. I know it may seem as if I am raising issues that are old, but I just want to find out the signs of a man who is cheating.
On our wedding night, Mr. P went out to drink with his friends. I was a virgin, innocent and afraid, and I must confess, grateful he didn’t come to me that night. He came back dead drunk and slept off. In fact, he did not consummate our marriage for almost a month, and even then, it was sharp-sharp.
Sybil burst into laughter. “Asewo!”
“No judging!” Toya said but she was laughing too.
Abigail chuckled. “Will you let me continue?”
Toya waved her on.
As a young girl who knew nothing more, all I was used to was Mr. P’s come-and-go style. I never knew what it meant to have an orgasm or to be satisfied sexually. My husband was not romantic in any way. He provided for me and the children and that was it. He deals in spare parts, so he has a lot of male contacts and little or no females. As he became richer, we moved into our own house and he insisted I have my own room. Our six children are growing and doing well, the last being six years old.
I sit strange that at my age, my husband comes to my room only once a month? Sometimes two months before he will show up.
“He’s gay,” Abigail interrupted herself.
Toya arched her neck. “Does she say so?”
At first, I didn’t know who to talk to until one of my friends said she saw him going into a nightclub, but not with a woman but two men. I have checked his room hoping to see any signs, but I see nothing. Sometimes he comes home drunk but will quietly go into his room and sleep. I haven’t seen any signs of women around him. Only men. It is confusing because I expect a man like him should be more sexually active. I myself am a very beautiful woman.
Sybil giggled.
Recently, one of my husband’s big customers has been coming to the house when my hubby is not around. He is a mechanic and he tells me I am very pretty. He buys things for the children too. I am a housewife and when the children all go to school, I am alone, and this mechanic guy comes around. He makes me feel beautiful like my husband has never done. We have not done anything, but it seems as if it will happen if he doesn’t stop coming around.
I am just confused because he told me my husband is not interested in me or any other woman and won’t even mind if he sleeps with me. Of course, I told him off but I have been thinking. After I read Abigail’s story, can my husband be gay? Or he is not normal? Or is it because this mechanic wants to sleep with me?
Abigail drew in a deep breath. “Thoughts?”
Sybil moaned. “You should know better, Abigail? Are these the same signs?”
“Well, they’ve been married for sixteen years and she doesn’t have a clue what normal is.” Toya shrugged. “This mechanic wants to sleep with her so we can’t accept what he asserts.”
Abigail scratched her neck. “Honestly, Moses showed no signs of being gay. We had a normal sex life.”
“What would you call a normal sex life?” Toya made air quotes.
“Well…”
Toya cut in. “Because you had the experience. No clue he was gay so what was normal?”
“Yeah, I get you,” Abigail said. “Once a week?”
Toya snickered. “How many times is normal for you, Sybil?”
Sybil chuckled. “I married a soldier. He’s hardly home. But when he is, it’s dessert after dinner.”
Abigail screeched. “What about you, Latoya Odion?”
“Listen, it’s not the same experience for every…”
“Answer jo! You swore to be open when you agreed to form BSS.” Sybil did a little dance. “Catch am.”
Toya laughed. “It’s a daily dose when he’s in town.”
Abigail grinned. “Studs! You ladies married studs.”
“Don’t hide behind Moses, Abigail. You are married now. So…stats!” Sybil said.
Abigail yawned. “I maintained my once a week.”
The three laughed.
“What’s our verdict?” Toya said.
“Despite the fact that the mechanic wants to sleep with Mrs. P, I think she should take his accusation of Mr. P seriously. He was not double her age so we can safely assume he’s forty-eight or younger. At his age, men like sex. Who he is having it with is now the question.” Toya shrugged. “My verdict is she needs to have a serious conversation with him.”
“If they are not used to serious conversations, she can’t have one now,” Abigail said. “Moses never sat with me to talk about anything and I can’t imagine even prompting one.”
“I have no clue what to advise this woman,” Sybil said. “I feel her pain, though. With a horny mechanic to deal with, it can’t be easy.” She sniffed.
“It’s not funny, Sybil!”
But they all laughed again.
“Let’s throw this to our audience.”
“An easy way out.”
“He’s gay.”
“I think so too, but it can’t be proved yet.”
“She should set him up.”
“Maybe she should ask Mechanic to get evidence for her.”
“Wow! That’s brilliant.”
“But dangerous! Mechanic wants her.”
“She must cut off from Mechanic!”
“Now, I really need a stiff juice.”
“Let us pray.”
But what do our readers think? Please comment below.
“And 30 beautiful women, come on!” Sybil pressed her lips. “Yes?”
“Why don’t you guess,” Abigail said.
“Love definitely,” Toya said.
Sybil raised her hand. “I’m betting it’s neither. A thousand bucks on sex.”
Toya waved. “Sex and love, yes?”
Sybil exclaimed. “Not the same at all. Love is not sex!”
Abigail nodded. “And sex is not love, I hear you.”
Sybil arched an eyebrow. “So, a thousand bucks on sex?”
“Yes, if it is about sex, you pay us a thousand each,” Abigail said.
“And you both pay me…”
“If it is not, tough,” Toya said.
Sybil gasped. “Tough? What’s tough?”
Toya gave a sweet smile. “That you get nothing. We are not betting, you are.”
“Silly goose!”
Abigail laughed. “I’m reading.”
Dear, BSS Crew. My name is AI. I have placed a bet on my sister’s love interest. He should give me the use of his car for a whole year at my request. He will fuel it, and service it even if I am using it. He’s my best friend and has wanted my sister for the longest time but he never said anything to her. I think my sister will say no to him, but he thinks otherwise. Did I make a good bet?
“What?”
“That all?”
“Yep.”
“What does he want from us?”
“If it’s a good bet.”
“Meaning?”
“Why are you asking me, I don’t know him, lol!”
“I just…whatever. Is that sex or love?”
“Not money, of course.”
“Love definitely.”
“It’s not clearly stated.”
“A brother would not place a bet on his have sleeping with his sister.”
“Boys are silly like that.”
“Sexist!”
“Well.”
“So, what are we doing?”
“No idea.”
“Let’s pray then.”
“Pray what? What’s the question? What’s our answer?”
“No question, no answer. Lol.”
“He just wants our opinion, I guess.”
“Betting on your sister is not cool. He should have her back.”
I couldn’t believe it! The stupid frog refused to become a prince for me. Moving on, I decided to review my list again.
Lily’s potential routes to happiness
1. Cinderella
2. Sleeping Beauty
3. Rapunzel
4. Little Mermaid
5. Beauty and the Beast
6. Princess and the Frog
7. Snow White
8. Frozen
The opportunities I had left were simple. Of course, meeting a beast was unpleasant but surely not as unpleasant as kissing frogs. I also decided to take stock of my adventures so far and try to pinpoint the reason for my failures. I looked through each fairytale on my list and summarized each ordeal. I read and compared my summaries to a horoscope I acquired when I was in my ‘Cinderella phase.’ I realized I had been going through my list in the wrong way.
“Letlifetakeitscourse. Relax. You will reach your destiny. Be warned, wishes are fickle beings who obey no man.”
This was what my horoscope said about me. At the time, I was strapped for cash and could not afford a detailed explanation from a fortuneteller. What I paid for was the basic instruction all people who shared my birth month got.
When I first read it, I thought it was all vague nonsense and I continued with the quest of becoming Cinderella. After that plan crashed, I got a new interpretation of the horoscope. I understood, ‘Let life take its course’ as I should assist my life to reach my destiny, grab the bull by its horn, steer my own wagon, and all. That interpretation was now stupid, but back then, it made perfect sense. I had believed the natural course of my life was to search for my happily ever after, looking for opportunities for a fairytale ending. With that mindset, I had kissed numerous frogs and contracted disgusting diseases!
Now I decided to interpret the horoscope for what it truly was. I would let providence take its place in my life. Go with the flow and all that. My initial idea had been to look for some dwarves and befriend them or find an empty tower and wait for a prince to notice me. Instead of all that, I began to wander about. I went wherever my feet led me.
The first few months after my transformation were uneventful in the sense that I didn’t meet and marry a handsome prince. I, however, busied myself by collecting knowledge and relics from the towns, villages, and kingdoms I passed through. My collection consisted of a very beautiful silver hand mirror, a book filled with recipes to produce potions for all kinds of things from instant hair growth to dwarf-repellant, a fancy hourglass, and a journal.
My new outlook on life kept me constantly positive. I couldn’t shake the feeling things were about to change for the best. On a whim, I decided to choose a random recipe from my book and create. The recipe I got was for a laughing potion which required basic ingredients. It included a feather from a sparrow’s left wing, a freshly bloomed hibiscus, slime from a frog’s back, a sprig of parsley, the fin of tilapia, and salt. I decided to set up camp in a forest nearby, as the forest had all the ingredients I needed.
I successfully acquired all for my recipe, and brewed a healthy portion of the laughing potion. I wouldn’t know if it was successful unless I tried it on a person. I decided to then sell it to anyone who would tolerate me. This did not, however, happen.
On my way back to the neighboring village I got caught in a net trap. Who could have placed a trap so close to a human settlement? I feared for my soul. I inspected the rope used to make the trap. It wasn’t the kind of rope used to capture wild animals. It was not as rough or strong. It was the kind used by knights to tie up prisoners. This meant one thing. I had fallen into a trap set by cannibals.
I screamed for help but knew it was futile. It was midday; the markets would be filled with busy buyers and sellers. My frantic cries were drowned out by the bustling hollers of happy traders and shoppers. I wouldn’t be missed. No one knew me in this village. My only hope of survival was to be noticed by a wanderer. It was a fat chance. All I could do was wait. I tried to make myself comfortable but it was pointless. I hung from a tree in a stinky net.
I ended up waiting about six or seven hours; it was hard to tell. My neck felt stiff and my back hurt. I had tried to while away time by falling asleep but I couldn’t. I continuously visited my curious forest critters, squirrels, to be precise. It was annoying. I was lucky I wasn’t visited by any snakes.
As the sun began to set, fear sank into me. My captor would soon come for me. I broke into tears of helplessness. My wails became louder when I heard rough footsteps from afar. My captor was coming to claim his bounty. The footsteps were soon accompanied by gruff harmonious voices. Cannibal feast songs, maybe? I strained my ears to understand what they were chanting.
“Heigh-ho! Heigh-ho!
It’s home from work we go!”
That was the chorus of workers heading home. I was saved! Tears flowed freely as I shouted for help. My cries weren’t heard immediately. I spent about five agonizing minutes screaming. The singing stopped and I sighed. After a moment of curious and confused murmurs, seven men appeared from behind the tall trees. The men weren’t what I expected. Maybe I was really high up in the air or the evening light was obstructing my vision or the forest trees were too tall but these men were short.
“Dwarfs! You’re all dwarves!” I cried. My Snow White fairytale had come to save me, and I couldn’t be happier.
“Of course, we are!” growled one of them. They all had round button noses but he had the biggest nose. They seemed offended by my observation. I quickly apologized and begged them to help me out.
Big-nose scoffed. “And why should we help a dwarfist like you?!”
I scrunched my nose. “What is a dwarfist?”
“A dwarfist is a person who disseminates -uh-I mean discriminates against dwarfs,” said a dwarf with round glasses wedged on his nose. It was the silliest term I had ever heard but I kept that observation to myself.
“I promise, I am not a dwarfist. I am only a damsel in distress!”
“And we are simple workers returning home. Goodbye!” Big-nose scoffed and stormed off. The other dwarfs followed him.
“Wait! You can’t leave me like this, please. I’m hungry and achy. I don’t want my captor to find me here!” I begged.
“You’re out of luck, young lady. These ropes belong to a fierce man-like beast and only a fool would rescue you. You’re on your own!” The dwarf with glasses (‘four-eyes’ is what I nicknamed him) said.
“The dwarfs I’ve read about are more caring than you bunch…but if a man-like beast is coming for me, I don’t need your help anymore. You can leave me here!” I said.
“Crazy dwarfist!” muttered Big-nose.
Four-eyes shrugged. “Uh- well, suit yourself.” He seemed astonished but left with the others.
A man-like beast! This was amazing. I figured the whole Snow White approach was a little far-fetched for me. Finding dwarfs proved to be easy but getting an evil stepmother queen/witch who was obsessed with beauty seemed like a lot of work. If my captor truly was a man-like beast, I could go through the Beauty and the Beast route easily!
So, I shifted about in my net and waited patiently for my captor. I didn’t wait long. The forest trees began to shake, and birds flew from their nest in fear as growls sliced through the normal nighttime sounds. The beast approached.
I giggled in fear and excitement. It felt like I was walking up the stairs to the ballroom again. Butterflies went rampant in my stomach and I forgot all about my discomfort. The silhouette of a bear, standing tall on curved hind legs with a wide head and chest, pointed ears, and slim waist, stood before me. He lifted a lantern up and growled when saw my face. He raised his gigantic paw, which cushioned long, sharp claws, and slashed it in my direction. I squeezed my eyes shut in fear he’d strike me. Instead, I landed on the ground in a loud thud! He had broken the net with only his claws. The pain of the fall was a welcome feeling. It helped wake up my stiff limbs. I sighed and stretched on the ground.
“Get up. Follow me. Don’t run.” His voice was cold and sounded like a never-ending growl. “I’ll catch you. Stay quiet.”
I couldn’t see details of his face, but some of his features couldn’t be concealed by the combined dim light of his lantern and the moon. He was covered in long curly fur and had two sharp incisors sticking out of his mouth and stretching down to his jaw. His nose looked permanently flared and had rather distracting hair sticking out of it. He really was an ugly fierce-looking beast.
“Hurry up. Don’t stare!” He stormed away.
I scurried to gather my belongings: the laughing potion, some leftover ingredients, my trusty book of potions, a silver mirror, a matchbox, a tiny pot, and a spatula. His steps were long and large. I had to run to keep up with him.
He didn’t talk much but I tried to start a conversation with him, nonetheless.
“What is your name? My name is Lily.”
Silence.
“Do you live here in the forest?”
No reply.
“Can I quickly return to the inn where I stay and grab the rest of my belongings?”
“No.”
“Why not?! I hope you have suitable things for me. I don’t even have a lot actually.”
The beast abruptly stopped and turned to face me. “You are not a guest. You are a slave. I am your captor and your owner. Now be quiet!”
“Rude!” I muttered.
I, however, remained quiet after that. I didn’t want to annoy my future husband. After all, I wanted him to fall in love with me. It was quite a long walk to the beast’s fortress.
I couldn’t make out the details of the fortress but it was a grave-looking gothic castle. It exuded intimidation and fear. I couldn’t help but feel like I was orchestrating a horrific death for myself. He had called me a slave which was quite scary. The inner castle was dimly lit but it was bright enough for me to see clearly. The beast led me to an endless-looking spiral stairway. I gulped deeply. Surely, Belle had not gone through this kind of emotional torture from her beast, had she?
“Starting tomorrow morning, you will look over my garden and keep my castle clean. You will speak when spoken to and ask no questions. You will not and cannot escape. You may ask for a favor, which I will grant based on how I feel, once a week.” The beast stated as we climbed the stairs. I was mute with fear.
“This will be your sleeping quarters. I will open the door every two days so you can do your duties. I will punish you by starving you if you break my rules. Questions?”
We reached the top of the stairs and came to a sturdy-looking metal door. The beast unlocked the door and pushed me into a stale spacious room. It consisted of a single metal-framed bed with gray sheets, a pillow, and blanket, a bathtub and toilet hole, a kitchenette with two metal cupboards, a charcoal stove, and a small window.
My mind buzzed with questions but my mouth refused to utter them. For a month, this was my life. The mute slave of a grumpy beast! I was half-dazed most of the time. I was reliving my days as a slave to my stepmother. The only difference was the beast wasn’t as malicious as Lady Méchant. Instead, he was icy and emotionless.
I finally snapped out of my month-long state of shock and decided to confront the beast. I had to get him out of his grumpy mood and get his romantic ‘lovey-dovey’ juices flowing! The beast’s favorite day of the week was Saturday so I cornered him.
He was in his study, staring out a painting of a family that consisted of a father, a mother, and two sons. I assumed it was his family. I still did not know his name so I called him Beasty, which he hated.
“For this week, the favor I request is fully detailed responses to anything I say or ask,” I said. Unlike his automatic response, a growl of dismissal, he turned to face me and nodded.
“What is your name and who are you?”
“Before I became this ghastly creature, my name was Adam. I was a pompous fool of a prince,” he stated without blinking.
“How did you transform to become a -uh… this form?”
“I was a spoilt brat. I provoked an evil witch and she cursed me to this horrid form. Before you ask, there is no cure or potion to reverse my state. This form is permanent.”
I gasped. “Surely, there must be a way. I’ve heard that true love’s kiss can break any curse.” Of course, I knew his story and I knew he could become a prince again. I was surprised he didn’t know his curse was reversible.
“Oh, that boat has already sailed. I’ve had my chance to be set free but I lost it.” He frowned.
“I’m confused, but don’t worry, I’m here to liberate you! We can fall in love and live happily together!” I cheered.
He laughed first, then replied, “Sorry, but you’re too late. I already fell in love with a young lady, but it wasn’t reciprocated, and I had to let her go. The hurt of my heartbreak caused me to beg the witch to make my condition permanent. If the kindest, sweetest, most caring woman in the world couldn’t bring herself to love me, then who could?!” He raised his voice, it sounded like a brewing storm.
“No, no, no! I am here for you! We can meet the witch together and beg her to redeem your human form. Please! I need this. You’re my ticket to a happily ever after, please!” I wailed.
For the first time, the beast exploded in anger. His hazel eyes became onyx, and all his claws and teeth grew to double their size. His fur flared and stood straight off his skin. I shuddered in fear as he advanced toward me.
“You foolish girl!” He swung me over his shoulder and carried me all the way back to my stuffy hole in the tower.
He jammed the door and locked it, almost destroying the bolts that held it together. Immediately I could no longer hear his angry stomps, I rushed to the cupboard where I kept my belongings.
During my period of being mute, I had busied myself by practicing my potion-making. The castle was in what I felt was the heart of the forest. It attracted all manner of harmless creatures and harbored a variety of plants, both rare and common. I used whatever ingredients I could find from it all to make potions. I had sensed the beast would be difficult, so I had some resources stashed away. I searched my book of potions and glanced through the recipe for instant hair growth. Perfect! I had almost everything I needed to make a fairly stable potion.
I worked swiftly, and by late afternoon, my potion was ready. It needed to settle for at least six hours but I didn’t want to wait any longer. I wanted to escape as fast as possible. I was going to use the long hair the potion would give me, to form a ladder down the castle. It was an absurd idea but I felt it was my best option. I immediately downed the potion. According to my book, a fully matured potion would take about an hour to activate. On an empty stomach, I doubted anything would happen soon. I could only pray the beast would not visit me with supper that night. Hopefully, he’d be too angry to come up.
The sun set, and it was nighttime, but nothing happened. I was afraid but relieved the beast had not come. Suddenly, my stomach began to quiver and my head ached. The potion was activating. I poured important belongings into a pouch I crafted, hung my hair on a harness attached to the window, and leaned out of it. As I watched my hair begin to grow and flow out the window of the 15-storey tower, I heard the faint familiar stomps and grunts of the monster. ‘No, not now. Please not now!’
I began to frantically yank my hair from its roots to make it grow faster as the beast sounded nearer. My metal door groaned slowly as the beast opened it, my hair was not yet as long as it needed to be for me to make a safe landing. The door fully opened to reveal the beast holding a tray of food.
“I came to apologize. You are a fool but my problems are not your doing.” His head was bowed and I whimpered. He looked up.
We glared at each other for a split second before he realized what I was doing and dropped the tray. He flared up like before and stormed toward me.
Panicked, I dug into my pouch and threw the first thing I touched at him. My old laughing potion. He was disgruntled a second and I used the opportunity to jump out the window. I gripped my hair for my dear life as I slid down the tower. The adrenaline rush shielded me from the pain my scalp underwent.
I was halfway down when the beast roared. “You fool!”
It was a gut-wrenching roar, but its effect was demolished by the silly cackle that followed it. “If you don’t get back here, I’ll stew your bones!” He giggled. He even wheezed. The more he tried to talk the more he laughed. The whole situation was ridiculous.
Immediately I hit the ground, I took a blade out of my pouch and messily chopped off my hair. The beast was paralyzed with laughter. By the time the potion wore off, I was already long gone.
PROVIDENCE is used by permission of the original author, Ifeoluwa Ogúnyinka Instagram: @ife_writes
“I am curious about this person’s age and gender,” Toya said.
“I say sixteen. Female,” Sybil said.
“My guess too,” Abigail said.
Toya sighed. “That will be tough. Let’s read please.”
Dear, BSS Crew. My name is AC. I am eighteen, going on nineteen, and a lower-six student at a school where my mother is a teacher. My mom divorced my dad when I was in middle school. A few years ago, my dad passed. Mom started to date again. She’s dated all manner of men. Recently, I discovered she was dating my crush at school. He’s nineteen and I guess it’s okay. But is it? I am ashamed and upset. My friends think my mom is weird, and I am hurt.
“I didn’t expect that.”
“I did, sort of. If a person says they are ashamed of another person in that context, it’s a relationship.”
“Is it permitted to date your student?”
“I’m not sure he’s a student. He’s nineteen.”
“The school system is a little different from ours. They have the A-levels, which are like the 13th grade. Most times, students would transfer their credits to a full year in college.”
“That’s true.”
“So, okay, mom is dating a nineteen-year-old. Is there anything wrong with that? Let’s say he’s not a student and not in the same environment with AC.”
“She’s a free woman. He’s an adult, although maybe half her age. They are both free to date.”
“That is true. But now look at the circumstances. Mom has a daughter who is about the age of her boyfriend. I can’t imagine how sad this must make her, daughter.”
“It seems it’s not hidden too and probably alright after all for a teacher to be in a relationship with this student.”
“We assume he is a student. AC doesn’t say.”
“Well, the relationship is not wrong or illegal. AC is feeling so sad and deprived. What can she do besides running away and praying.”
“She shouldn’t run away. God will help her overcome.”
“Okay, besides running.”
“She needs to have a frank conversation with Mom.”
“I think so too. Mom is free but she needs to think about her daughter.”
“I’m not too in support of this, though. Mom is free to date anyone she likes, why would she be monitored?”
“Because she is a mom, duh!”
“So? Does being a mom mean I cannot live my life?”
“Of course you can, but as a mother, you have a responsibility towards your children.”
“Yes, to feed and provide for them. If I have done that, can’t I live my life?”
“What’s the definition of provide for? Is it only food and accommodation? What about mental and emotional provision?”
“Yes, a mother should indeed think about her children’s wellbeing. Emotional and mental.”
“There’s too much going on in the world, so home should be the same. Family should be mindful and sensitive and not make decisions that will aggravate one another.”
“So, when will Mom live her life, and be happy?”
“I think there has to be a middle ground. This child’s father is dead, and even the divorce must have been stressful. However, Mom should move on and be happy.”
“So, what are you saying?”
“There should be deep conversations, and each party should try and express their thoughts without being judgemental.”
“Trust needs to be built or rebuilt so mom and daughter can have a good relationship. They need each other.”
“I don’t think there’s anything shameful in Mom dating again, a free adult like herself.”
“AC should seek help from a therapist or counselor who will give her professional help.”
“Yes, and on that note, shall we pray?”
“What if this relationship is not legal, and only AC has found out?”
“Then she needs to call her mother to order. The relationship must end.”
“Can she report to the school authorities?”
“She’s not a mandatory reporter, is she?”
“If she is, she must report it. If she’s not, I’d say talk to Mom and other people who can warn Mom.”
“What if AC is just suspecting there is a relationship.”
“Then, totally easy, she should pray for peace of mind and focus her energy on her studies. Mom is an adult!
“For me, beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” Toya said. “I don’t care how you look as long as you are a perfect fit for me.”
Abigail rolled her eyes. “Says the girl who has only dated handsome men in her life.”
“The word handsome is quite subjective as we all may come to understand it,” Sybil said.
“People are beautiful in different ways. Some may not check it off on our perfect list of looks but they check off other things that are more important,” Toya said.
Abigail sighed. “Why am I hearing that word perfect again from you, Toya?”
Toya grunted. “Because, Madam Abigail, your definition of perfect is different from mine!”
“Are we being sassy now?”
Sybil laughed. “Abigail, please.”
“I have often wondered a lot about these things. What really is beauty? You see someone who looks really, in quote, beautiful, but their behaviour is ugly.” Abigail shrugged. “They start looking ugly to me. I don’t care if you won Miss World or Mr. World, you are ugly to me if your beauty is only in your face and body.”
Toya chuckled. “Wow! Who riled you, babes?”
Sybil shrugged. “For all we know, this choosy may not be about looks.”
“It usually is,” Abigail said. “My husband called me a beautiful witch. He detested me until he realized I wasn’t that wicked soul I was painted to be.”
Toya threw up her hands. “Ah, now I see Abigail’s passion.”
“Let’s read this message. I’m sure there will be a lot to unpack,” Sybil said.
Dear, BSS Crew. My name is BT. I am twenty-five years old, that age every woman revers and every man worships. I am in my most mature, most beautiful year, and the suitors are overwhelming. Is it normal to not feel any attraction to twenty or more young men seeking to date me? I love men, don’t get me wrong. I have dated some, but each just seems to lack one thing or the other. Too tall, too short. Too boring, too hyper. Too laid back, too driven. Too old, too young. Help me. I don’t want to end up alone.
“Do we remember one story trending at a time about a woman who went to the husband store.”
“I don’t think I know it.”
“You should look it up on Google. Just type in the husband store joke or something like that.”
“Checking it now.”
“The question of choice is huge. My mom used to tell my sister and I that the peak period for a woman is from 15 to 25.”
“Really? Maybe in Mom’s days.”
“Well, maybe.”
“I just read the husband store joke. Hahaha!”
“BT should read it.”
“She must, haha.”
“So, these days, 50 is the new 30. So, women like us are in their thirties and still feeling like twenty.”
“The body clock, especially if you want to have a baby, does not obey that rule.”
“Oh, but it does. In Mom’s days, you didn’t see many women having kids into their fifties but we see it now.”
“You’re right.”
“I think for anyone, knowing what you want is important.”
“And also, what you don’t want. Very important.”
“I am married and have been for some five years.”
“I’ve been married six years.”
“I’ve been married for three years.”
“I’ll say that there is no need to rush. Twenty-five is mature, and a good age to open your eyes wide.”
“My father would say, shine your eyes.”
“Exactly. Don’t succumb to pressure from friends or family.”
“Twenty-five is a great age to get married but millions of people got married earlier or later.”
“Very true.”
“Don’t play. Let the people you don’t want know. So they can move on.”
“And choose who you want, or eliminate all the options and focus on being Miss Right and believe me, Mr. Right will find you.”
“Or you will find him.”
“Either way.”
“Remember the husband store, though.”
“Be objective. Think of yourself and what you want. Who you are.”
“Think of what you don’t want in your life and how they weigh on what you want.”
“Pray.”
“Yes, pray sincerely to God. No hide and seek in prayer.”
After the whole “Frozen” saga at the ball, my life returned to normal. Normal in the sense that my village had become a winter wonderland; Princess Isabel ran away and turned the Kingdom’s forest into an icy mountain. Our kingdom was thrown out of balance into fear but I couldn’t care less. My life was more agonizing than before the ball fiasco. I guess it was bearable because I had hope of a happily ever after.
To be honest, my theory was still valid. Unfortunately, I’m not among the chosen few maidens to have a magical end, but the princesses were living a cliché fairy tale life. I wasn’t afraid of the deadly winter my kingdom was thrown into. I knew the gentleman Princess Donna was with was a crook with ulterior motives. I knew the princess would eventually marry a commoner. The only difference between their story and its original was that the King and Queen were alive. They might as well have been dead because nothing else changed in their story.
A few weeks after the ball, the kingdom returned to its normal state. The royal family embarked on their happily ever after. I couldn’t help but ask myself, “What next?”
This couldn’t be it for me. I couldn’t continue living this wretched life. Surely, my story wasn’t over. There had to be something great and magical waiting for me somewhere! Regardless of the Cinderella flop, I had a little hope. I wasn’t going to allow myself to settle into the mundane life of being a slave who married a slave and gave birth to slaves.
I decided to start my research all over. I went through other fairy tales in detail, trying to find the one best suited to my life. The Little Mermaid was crossed out for obvious reasons: I wasn’t half-fish half-woman. The Snow White approach was also a little far-fetched. For one, Snow White was young and extremely beautiful. Not to be pathetic, but I wasn’t exactly the epitome of female beauty. Besides the chances of me being a princess and meeting 7 dwarves were quite slim. The Rapunzel story was one of my favorites, but my shoulder-length dark-brown hair did not fit the bill at all. I had never even visited a tower not to talk of being locked up in one.
The more I researched, the more it became pointless. I just didn’t fit any of the requirements to be a princess. After my father passed, I suffered insomnia so becoming the Sleeping Beauty was not going to happen. Finding a beast to fall in love with, just like Belle from Beauty and The Beast, was a little too risky and desperate, even for me.
Two years passed and I was slowly consumed in my desire to find happily ever after. My stepmother, Lady Méchant, passed away. My stepsisters found husbands and moved away. I remained in my family house. Luckily, I was left with the house and what was left in it. I basically spent those two years researching and waiting around for fate and destiny to happen.
Then, I decided it was enough! I had to get up and grab the bull by its horn. Obviously, the magical happily ever after wasn’t going to visit me in this small village. Besides, this was Cinderella’s (Queen Ella) kingdom. By staying back in my family home, I realized I was preventing myself from happily ever after.
So, I left.
I wasn’t sure where I was headed but I was prepared for it. I made a list of all the possible fairy tales that could become my story along with discoveries about their characteristics. I decided to start by becoming a sleeping beauty. I was aware I wasn’t royalty, and I had no fairy godmother, but I was determined. I would venture into the nearest kingdom which had a royal family without an heir.
That ambition soon crashed. The first kingdom I stumbled upon seemed to be a ghost town. Everywhere was covered in dust and cobwebs. The houses seemed to be empty. Shops were all closed. The marketplace was filled with rotten food. I saw no animal, pet, or livestock. I stayed in the kingdom for about two weeks in an abandoned little cottage that had a small backyard garden. I tried to understand what had happened to the people in the kingdom. I decided to visit the royal castle in the village.
On the grand gate, there was an announcement pasted on it.
“Come one, come all! Come and celebrate the sweet 16 of the Princess, for she has evaded the evil witch! Rejoice with us on this 6th day of April 1400 AD.”
1400 AD? That was twenty years ago. This kingdom has been dead for twenty years?! How? I decide to let myself into the castle. What I saw blew my mind away.
The path from the inner gates to the doors of the ballroom was filled with unconscious guards and staff. Everyone had passed out! They were all breathing so at least they were alive. The ballroom itself was an eyesore. It seemed as if everyone in the Kingdom was in this very room. At the center of the room, a beautiful young maiden slept in an opened glass case.
This couldn’t be happening again! At least this meant I was most definitely not sleeping beauty. I could cross that possibility off my list. I didn’t waste another moment in that ghost town. I ran for my life. If this was Sleeping Beauty’s Kingdom, it meant Maleficent was not too far behind. The evil witch had not noticed me throughout my stay so I wasn’t going to jinx my luck.
After escaping the ghost town, I decided to review my list.
Lily’s potential routes to happiness:
1. Cinderella
2. Sleeping Beauty
3. Rapunzel
4. Little Mermaid
5. Beauty and the Beast
6. Princess and the Frog
7. Snow White
8. Frozen
I hadn’t included all the fairy tales I knew about, like Merida,Mulan, and Pocahontas. Those tales were just too daring and required me to roughen up a little. Of course, finding a beast to fall in love with was less challenging than experiencing what Merida went through. However, I was a lady-like lady. I didn’t have the energy to be anything else.
Looking at my list, I discovered I still had a lot of ground to cover. Fortunately for me, my aimless travel led me to a swampy area. I decided to try my luck at finding a frog. This was a tricky situation. The fastest way to find a prince and avoid diseases from kissing frogs was to find a good witch.
A small town lay on the outskirts of the swamp. I interviewed the natives and was soon directed to a creepy-looking hut that housed the oldest townsman. The hut stank and was murky. The old man lived in it. He was an herbal doctor but had no magical powers. He thought I was crazy after I explained my dilemma to him. He, however, told me he knew nothing about a prince who was turned into a frog. He advised me to move on with my life and face reality. I ignored his advice. Obviously, he knew nothing about fairy tales and the powers of true love’s kiss.
I stayed back in the town for two more weeks. My mornings and evenings were spent searching for and kissing frogs. I tried to stay away from poisoned frogs but that was futile. I had to take a break from my search when I fell ill. The old man treated me to the best of his abilities and scolded me continuously for my “stupidity.” I was not discouraged. I knew my frog was waiting somewhere for me.
My recovery was swift so I returned to my swamp search. The evening afterward was the foggiest I ever experienced. The air in the swamp seemed thicker than usual. I could hardly see my own hands. I couldn’t breathe and started to lose consciousness. I thought, “This is the end. At least I died trying.”
“Hello? Are you alright?” A faint voice called out to me.
I wasn’t sure how long I was out but it felt like a long one. I blinked a couple of times to see more clearly. I tried to remember what had happened. Yes, the fog. It had completely cleared.
“Are you alright, Miss?” The voice was clearer now but it was quite small. I looked around but there was clearly no one around me.
“Down here,” it said.
To my utter amazement, I noticed a tiny greenish frog staring at me with its moist beady eyes.
It croaked. “Don’t scream. Or hit me.”
I yelped in celebration and did a crazy little dance. I had found my frog! My frog prince! Take that, silly old man! I snatched the frog off the ground and nestled him in my palms.
“Finally!”
The frog shrank in my palms. “Uh, what is going on here?” He seemed curious, and a little afraid.
“My word! It was so hard to find you but I’m glad I found you before I died. Thank God I don’t have to kiss any more disgusting frogs!” I cried. I proceeded to explain everything to him. He joined in my excitement. He was finally going to be free from the curse!
Without further ado, we both puckered up for the kiss that was about to change everything. I squeezed my eyes and brought the frog to my lips.
*Kiss*
I blinked. Nothing happened. The frog’s lips were still puckered. I kissed it again but this time with my eyes wide open. Nothing!
“Are you sure you’re a real prince because nothing is happening?”
“Let’s try again.”
We did but there was no sparkly magical light or transformation. I only looked like a crazy girl kissing a frog. I desperately pecked all over the frog’s body until it protested. I couldn’t understand what the problem was. I had found the frog! Why wouldn’t he just become a prince?! Was my heart not pure enough?! I couldn’t say I loved him. I mean I love the idea of him but that should have been enough, right?
Defeated, I returned to my rented room in the town with the frog. We had nothing to say to each other and decided to sleep. We both hoped that maybe the transformation would take place while we were asleep.
A week flew by and nothing changed. Marco as I named the frog, seemed to be more depressed than I was. I decided to pack up and leave the town. I even crossed out Princess and the Frog from my list. Marco was angry with me for giving up and hopped away after an outburst. Honestly, I didn’t care how he felt. I still had a lot to do and I wasn’t gaining youth with these passing years.
As I approached the gates leading out of the town, I noticed a dark-skinned maiden with short curly black hair. She held something in her hand and took it close to her lips. That something happened to be Marco.
She kissed Marco, and suddenly literal sparks began to fall. What the—? Marco disappeared from her palms and transformed into a handsome prince. He exclaimed happily and kissed the girl again. I was going to lose it!
Really? Really! Why was my life so unlucky? For crying out loud, I found the frog! Couldn’t fate just pity me and rule in my favor? How could my life be so jinxed? First, the Cinderella flop, then the Frozen saga, the Sleeping Beauty ghost town, and now this.
I stormed past Marco and his new boo. He didn’t even notice me, as he was locked in a tight embrace with her, filled with too much joy.
For good measure, I turned back and shoved them both into the nearby pond, which circulated the exit of the town.
Besides, it wasn’t á la mode to have a husband who was turned into a frog.
*á la mode is a French expression that means fashionable.
PERSEVERANCE is used by permission of the original author, Ifeoluwa Ogúnyinka
“Or maybe she’s snobbish and quiet and they are unable to win her,” Abigail said.
Sybil scoffed. “Win her to do what?”
Abigail rolled her eyes. “Join office hangouts, na. What else?”
“Huh, office-gini?” Toya grunted. “This doesn’t sound like general something. It sounds personal.”
“Let’s read it then,” Abigail said.
Dear, BSS Crew. My name is NEW. I work in a large corporation in the accounting department. As you may imagine, there are many high-class men and women who are highly intelligent and proactive. I pride myself as one and I think I have had a few flings. I don’t really subscribe to office romance but recently, a new girl came to my office. She’s very smart and extremely pretty. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I have a huge crush on her. Apparently, quite a few of us guys like her. And I think she likes us all right back. I’ve taken her out twice now, and so have four of my office mates. I really like this girl. I want to be serious with her but how do I stop her from going out with other people?
“Dang!”
“It’s not a bad word, I swear.”
“Oh please.”
“She’s a player. The new girl.”
“What do we say about players?”
“I say steer clear.”
“But he likes her.”
“She doesn’t like him, or she won’t go out with other guys.”
“She may just be trying out those guys.”
“That’s not a good thing…trying out people.”
“I’m just wondering what he is doing to stand out to her.”
“I don’t think he should compete with other guys.”
“How does she know he’s in love?”
“He’s not in love.”
“Then why is he asking us for help?”
“Okay, he is serious about her, but I think he’s not showing himself as different. You get what I’m saying?”
“He’s taken her out twice and she’s gone out with four other guys in the office? I say, leave her alone, please. She’s a player.”
“I don’t think you should label someone you don’t really know?”
“I’m not labeling her. How do you go on dates with five men in your office? New girl!”
“It’s a new girl syndrome.”
“Could it be that she’s oblivious of these men’s interests?”
“How do you mean?”
“She may think they just want to hang out. Platonically.”
“Hmm, that will really be strange. If she is not aware of these men’s interests.”
“She could think they are just being nice. Especially, as we assume she’s not a player.”
“It’s an assumption.”
“So, let’s look at both ways. If she’s a player, steer clear. She’s not worth the trouble.”
“I’ll hold that thought.”
“If she’s not a player, get a little aggressive…”
“Aggressive?”
“I mean, become more expressive of his feelings.”
“Hopefully, those feelings are not fickle, or he should just keep them to himself.”
“Infatuation fades with time.”
“So, give it time. Whatever you plan to do, wait for a few weeks before you do it.”
“I totally agree. If he’s sure it is not infatuation, he should take her out and be a little bit more aggressive. Buy her an expensive gift. Or tell her how he feels.”
“Ask her to stop going out with other guys.”
“I don’t think so. That may put her off.”
“If it puts her off, he will lose her.”
“Ugh!”
“I’m sleepy, I’m sorry.”
“I think we have said what we think.”
“You said you were holding a thought.”
“About her being a player. A player is usually someone who has been hurt and is out to get revenge.”
“Then he should stay away. She will hurt him.”
“Or he could help her heal with his love.”
“True that.”
“Being a while I heard that expression.”
“Lol.”
“It all comes back to him. God will help him discern if she’s a player or not. And if he’s infatuated or not.”
roses n chocolates: women's romance at its best 