Tag Archives: Literary Criticism

Mimetic Approach to Analysing “Love’s Deity” (A purely thematic approach)

UDE, Chiedozie Orji.

Department of English, University of Lagos.


The poem “Love’s Deity’ is, indeed, another work of literature which possesses a huge degree of mimeticism. This implies that this poem is one which projects several key issues that are peculiar to everyday life. These issues, no doubt, make the poem one that can be defined based on the extent to which it imitates life.
The poem captures the plight of the persona who finds himself in an uncomfortable situation of unrequited love — that is, he is in love with a girl who does not share his feelings and affections. Through this knowledge, it comes as no surprise that the persona either knowingly or unknowingly raises several issues which serve to explain not just his predicament, but also, the predicament of others who find themselves in love. Therefore, it can be said that the poem “Love’s Deity” captures themes which include: the theme of love; the theme of fate; the theme of defiance; the theme of callousness of the gods; and the theme of man’s belief in the supernatural amongst others.


The theme of love is obviously central to this poem. This is because it is the very reason for the persona’s struggle. He, the persona, just like many others, finds himself in a situation whereby his love is not being reciprocated by the object of his affection. The subject of love is a universal concept which has always complicated matters or made people happy. Hence, it can be said without any form of doubt that the theme of love, as projected by the persona, reflects the society.


Another theme which helps to project reality is the theme of fate. This theme is captured through the persona’s insistence that he has been given a part to follow by the childish god of love; hence, he has no choice but to follow this part — that is, the part of loving someone who will never love him. This theme, also, is in tandem with the classical notion of unavoidable destiny; little wonder the persona accepts his fate by constantly stating in the refrain that he loves a person who will never love him. This theme, definitely, projects realism through the insight provided on the persona’s condition and of course, through the similarities it shares with the classical notion of unchangeable destiny.


Closely related to the theme of fate is the theme of man’s belief in the supernatural. Man, as an individual, is one who believes in the existence of superior beings such as gods, demons and angels etc. It is, therefore, because of man’s belief in these elements and in the power they possess over man that makes man to always acknowledge them through praises when things are going well, and of course, blame them when things are not going well. This theme is well captured in the poem in that the persona believes that the god of love is the cause of his predicament, even without any clear evidence. The persona does not believe the fault may be from him, probably in terms of affluence or physical attractiveness; hence, he seems it worthy to blame not only the god of love but also, the gods who created the god of love. The presence of these supernatural beings is also exposed in the third stanza where the persona suggests that if the god of love is allowed to continue acting with impunity, other gods will likely follow suit, and by so doing, these gods will challenge Jove’s supremacy.


Of course, another theme which depicts realism is the theme of man’s defiance towards elements of the supernatural. The persona describes himself as a rebel and atheist. These words imply that he does not have much regard for religion and the gods, and he acts out these descriptions by insultingly calling the god of love a child. He continues to show his defiance towards authority by suggesting that the gods who created the god of love did not mean much. This suggestion implies that the gods are incapable and restricted when it comes to handling critical affairs. Finally, the persona brands the god of love as irresponsible. This, unequivocally, speaks of the persona’s blatant disregard for superior authority. Obviously, this theme is a universal concept because many a man, from time immemorial, has always been blasphemous towards the supernatural beings.


In conclusion, this essay has discussed the poem “Love’s Deity” based on the extent to which it imitates life. Several themes were raised and succinctly discussed with a view to proving that John Donne’s “Love’s Deity” is a poem that has a lot of verisimilitude with life.

A Realistic Approach to the Poem “May 29”

UDE, Chiedozie Orji.
University of Lagos, UNILAG

The poem.


The poem, “May 29”, is a realistic one that graphically depicts the Nigerian political society. The poem is a satiric one which centres on the farcical nature of the Nigerian democratic system. According to the poet, democracy, as practised in Nigeria, is not in line with the tenets of true democracy. Instead of the Nigerian democracy being an affair for every citizen of Nigeria, it is an affair for a select few, that is, the rich, the political godfathers and the electoral candidates which are metaphorically referred to as “sacred cows”. The poet continues to criticise the Nigeria’s version of democracy by mentioning several flaws in it. He shows these flaws by describing the system as one that is infected. Finally, the persona admonishes that Nigerians should practise proper democracy by giving the people the opportunity to select their own leaders.

The title is significant to the subject matter and thematic content of this poem because it is a date that shows our return to the democratic system of government after decades of military rule. Little wonder why the 29th of May is regarded as Democracy Day in Nigeria. This day is one that should represent a new beginning for us Nigerians; however, it is not so because our democratic system is flawed by issues such as violence, preference for the rich, incompetence, godfatherism, anarchy, restriction of the press, amongst others. All these issues, no doubt, show that this poem is one which accurately portrays the Nigerian society.

Obviously, the issue of violence is central to the understanding of the subject matter. Violence, as an act, is one which pervades the Nigerian political system at all levels of government. It is not uncommon for political leaders and candidates to employ thugs that will aid them to suppress or intimidate the opposition. The persona sheds light on this issue by mentioning the disregard with which the rule of law is held in the country. He emphasises the obvious irony by defining democracy as a system of government where the practice of the rule of law is absent, that is, instead of having peace during elections, we have bloodshed. The except below strengthens this argument:
“Democracy
Without rule of law”
Democracy with
Deoxygenated blood”

Closely following the theme of violence is the theme of anarchy. Anarchy suggests a state of lawlessness. The Nigerian society is described as lawless by the poet due to several anomalies. To exemplify this state of lawlessness, we use several instances highlighted in the poem such as the decision to allow only the rich to govern; the violence that mars our elections; the absence of press freedom; and of course, the blatant disdain with which our constitution is treated by the political elite. Anarchy is further emphasised in the poem when the poet advises the ruling elite to give the people the power to constitutionally choose their own leaders instead of imposing leaders on the people through unconstitutional means.

“Let authority
Emerge from the people
Let the have the right
To alternate leadership”
What makes anarchy stand out as a theme is the sharp contrast between the two systems — democracy and anarchy. One symbolizes orderliness while the other represents chaos. Due to the obvious difference between the two ideologies, it becomes ironic that the Nigerian democratic system is deeply embedded in lawlessness.

Another theme that is central to this analysis is the theme of incompetence. The poet draws an image of a blundering person as he tries to define the Nigerian democratic system. To him, nothing about our democratic process is worth emulating and this is because those in charge did the weigh the advantages and disadvantages before making the decision to return to democracy. This explains why the persona, in the fifth stanza, describes the system as “premature”. He goes on by stating in the subsequent stanzas that our democracy is counterfeit; hence, it will never work unless we go back to the basis by giving the people the power to select those they want as leaders.

One cannot discuss the Nigerian democratic system without mentioning the problem of godfatherism. Political godfathers are powerful individuals who impose electoral candidates on the people. These godfathers can go to any length in order to ensure that their candidates win. This practice, unquestionably, limits our democratic system. The presence of these godfathers make the candidate untouchable, that is, these candidates cannot be rejected by the people irrespective of whether they are qualified or not. To further show that these candidates are untouchable, the poet describes them as “sacred cows”

Another issue that helps to give credence poet’s stance on Nigeria’s democracy is the fact that only the rich can contest elections. Abraham Lincoln defined democracy as a system of government that revolves around the choice of the people; but in the case of Nigeria, it is a government of the rich who rule for the benefits of the rich. This problem vividly support the writer’s claim that our democracy is infected.

The poem is structured in twelve quatrain stanzas. Each stanza, undoubtedly, is used by the poet to reinforce the main idea of this poem. The poet is consistent in his criticism of the Nigerian democratic process by clearly mentioning the different flaws in our democratic system in the stanzas. The stanzas are uniquely structured in such a way that no two stanza mention the same problem. For example, stanza two presents the system as one reserved for only the rich while stanza three exposes the bloodshed that is inherent in the Nigerian democratic process. Aside these differences, one can, without any iota of doubt, conclude that all the stanzas reinforce the fact that Nigeria is not practising the right form of democracy. Also important to note is that the stanzas lack any form of rhyme or regular meter; instead, the poet ensures musicality through the repeated use of the word “democracy”.

The diction — choice of words — employed by the poet is simple and straightforward. The poem is one whose subject matter can be easily deciphered by the reader due to the writer’s use of everyday words. Also, the choice of words is also important because it helps us establish that this poem is set in Nigeria. For example, the use of “May 29” as the title reveals a specific date, and constant repetition of the word “democracy” or its adjectival variant “democratic” help us to establish that the pun centres on democracy in Nigeria. Asides the use of somewhat complex expressions such as “rinderpest, suffused, deoxygenate, and Francis de Sales, to name a few, the poem is to a large extent easy to understand.

The persona’s tone can be described as satiric. This satiric tone is evident in the way the poet mocks the Nigerian version of democracy. It is worthy to note that this mockery is geared towards bringing about a change in the Nigerian society. The poet ridicules contrasts the Nigerian version with that of other developed democratic countries by sarcastically bringing his own variant of Abraham Lincoln’s definition of democracy. Instead of calling democracy an ideology that is people oriented, the persona calls democracy a system that has been reserved for the rich. He satirises all the lacunas in the Nigerian system, and he concludes by calling for a revamp of the system, that is, one that will ensure people’s participation.


Conclusively, this essay has been able to prove that this poem is realistic by discussing extensively on its form and content. The issues mentioned in this poem will, most certainly, convince any reader that this poem adequately mirrors the Nigerian political society.

Email: Chiedozieude@gmail.com

WhatsApp: 09090953414

UDE, Chiedozie: Pragmatic Analysis of Chibok Girls. GBAMLOG.COM

Literature is so significant that it can perform a lot of functions. One of such functions definitely has to be the affective function. Literature can be affective when it aims to produce certain effects on the reader. Having established this fact, it is ideal to state that this essay aims to display the affective power of literature by conducting a pragmatic analysis of the text Chibok Girls.

The text in question has its characters and setting drawn from real life; hence, it can be described as a realistic text. It contains the investigations carried out by Helon Habila in the North-Eastern part of Nigeria. The investigation revolves around the history and causes of insecurity in Nigeria. Because of the presence of the writer at strategic places that have been affected by violence instigated by the dreaded sect, Boko Haram, this text can be described as one which contains first-hand information on the prevalent issues plaguing the country.

The title of the text is significant because it captures the most notable and internationally-recognised crime perpetuated by Boko Haram — that is, the abduction of 276 school girls on the 24th April, 2014, by Boko Haram. This title, however, does not constitute the focal point of this report. Rather, it serves as an instance which illustrates the ruthlessness of the Boko Haram sect.

Insecurity, as highlighted in the text, is as a result of activities such as terrorism, bad governance, corruption, religious-instigated violence etc. All these issues no doubt are bound to have certain didactic or other forms of effects on the reader. Some of these effects include: pity, fear, anger, apathy, and the didactic lesson of early prevention.

Pity is one of the major effects this text has on the reader. This is plausible because ruthless and despicable acts of Boko Haram on harmless civilians will without doubt draw out the pity of the audience. A good example is how the mother of Riskatu, one of the abducted girls, is made to narrate the painful events of the day her daughter was kidnapped. This instance, surely, is significant because it captures the pain and suffering which the parents and the relations of the abducted girls are going through because of their ignorance on the status of their daughters — that is, are they alive or are they dead? Another object of the reader’s pity has to be the abducted girls who will now serve as wives and concubines of terrorists instead of being with their families and completing their education. Unarguably, the pragmatic effect of pity is brought to the fore through the theme of terrorism.

Another pragmatic effect the text will likely have on the audience is that of fear. Human beings are creatures who fear a lot of things, ranging from known and unknown dangers. In the case of this text, the reader’s fear is justified because of several reasons. One of these reasons has to be the reader’s in-depth knowledge of the activities of this sect, and another reason for the reader’s fear, obviously, is the fact that the reader is a Nigerian; hence, he is not completely safe from the violence caused by the nonchalance of the government towards small and large-scale criminal activities and, of course, violence instigated by religious extremism as seen in the way Yusuf, the elder brother of Shekau, was able to spur his followers to commit several atrocities, and also, through the Maitatsine Uprising, as described by Helon Habila in the text. Hence, one can be certain to say that the themes of violence, terrorism, religious extremism etc., are sure to instigate the feeling of great fear in the reader.

When talking about the pragmatic effect this text has on the reader, one is sure to mention anger. The reader is surely going to experience anger at the government because of their nonchalant attitude towards fighting crime and safeguarding the lives and property of Nigerians. This attitude is captured by Habila in the way he narrates the transition of different government and the way they have all handled insecurity with levity. The focus, however, centres on Jonathan’s regime as president because it was during his tenure that the Boko Haram sect committed their most notable atrocity — that is, the abduction of the school girls from Chibok. The security agencies are also not innocent. Habila, through his report, captures instances where soldiers decided to collect bribes instead of arresting offenders. Surely, the callousness of the government officials and military personnel will surely emit the anger of the reader.

Furthermore on the pragmatic effect this novel has on the reader is that of apathy. Apathy in this sense means disinterest. This disinterest encompasses both religious and political participation. Because of the extreme way in which the insurgents attacked churches, many Christians, especially those living in areas in the North, will, of course, find it difficult to feel safe during church service; hence, they will end up avoiding service to God. An example of Boko Haram’s ruthless way of dealing with Christians is captured by Reverend Madu’s story on how his church was attacked. Muslims themselves are not exempted from religious apathy. Habila reports stories of clerics who were killed because they spoke against the tenets of Boko Haram. All these acts of violence against religious institutions will surely make the readers feel discouraged about religion.

Still on apathy as a pragmatic effect, one can, of course, not gainsay the fact that the activities of Boko Haram has caused a lot of people to become apathetic towards politics. This is evident in that there has been no elections in Chibok for years because of the fears of an attack by the terrorists. This political apathy will surely manifest itself in the reader because they will, without doubt, contemplate their safety during elections, and this will ultimately make them sit at home instead of voting. Another cause of political apathy definitely has to be the Nigerian irresponsible government. Helon Habila does not mince words as he reports how the government both at federal and state level have played huge roles in the current malaise of insecurity plaguing the country. Knowledge of this irresponsibility on the part of the government is likely to make the reader brand everyone in politics as birds of a feather; hence, the reader will surely show nonchalance towards politics.

Finally, the didactic lesson that can be learnt from Habila’s report is that early action by the government towards the prevention of crime is the solution to insecurity in the country. Habila draws attention to this by constantly reporting or emphasising how the various governments in Nigeria have ignored the signs of an uprising until it became out of hand as seen in the Maitatsine Uprising and Boko Haram Insurgency. Because history is deemed as a great teacher, it is expected that Nigerians (both the government and the readers) should learn from past mistakes in order to avoid repeating these errors.

In conclusion, the text Chibok Girls is one which captures the realities of people living in Nigeria. It is set in Nigeria; therefore, it may be regarded as one which will have lots of pragmatic effects on Nigerian readers. Some of these effects have been discussed in this essay; thus, proving that the text Chibok Girls is one which can be defined based on its affective powers on the reader.

Ude, Chiedozie Orji.

CALL FOR VOLUNTEERS!!!

Dear Esteemed Readers,
LITC — LOVE IS THE CURE — is hosting its second charity outreach on the 27th of December, 2019. So, you all are cordially invited to take part in it. Assist us in any way you can. We receive donations in form of cash, clothes, food items and toys. Join us today, as we spread the love during this period.

For more information on this, text or call the following numbers:
1. Chiedozie Ude *09090953414*
2. Chidinma Okonkwo *08180073734*
3. Afolabi Shobowale *08183848314*
4. Ekene Muolokwu *08127866274*
5. Andre Orji *08105463252*
6. Tochukwu Okoronkwo *08145697832*

PERFECT SEDUCTION: HOW I SEDUCE MY ENGLISH TEACHER.| GBAMLOG.COM

I Seduced My High School English Teacher, It Was Totally Worth It

“Blood, sex, and death.” Those were the three things Mr. Fitzpatrick taught us were part of every gothic horror novel. He was the high school english teacher I hopelessly crushed on, and I couldn’t help but notice that his eyes lingered on me when he said the second word. Sex.

I was a senior then, about to graduate. Glued to my seat even in the late, late spring when my classmates were terminally zoned out, focused on graduation, the summer ahead of them, college. But I still had unfinished business here, and today he was wearing a black tie over a light blue button-up and jeans that were just snug enough to drive my imagination wild. When he perched on the edge of his desk reading from The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, I let my eyes wander up and down his body, imaging a new use for each part.

He was the new cute teacher this year, the one the girls whispered about between classes. Mr. Fitzpatrick is looking good today.I’d tried to pretend I wasn’t one of them before, it’s not interesting to have the same crush as everyone else. But his charm was undeniable, who else could make the classics so sexy? Every day when he taught his inflection would bounce up and down with passion as he taught us about Bram Stoker and Shirley Jackson.

When he taught Dracula he became brooding and obsessive, delving into each character. Even in the clinical, fluorescent-lit classroom it was sexual. I spend the 50 minute class period imagining his lips — his teeth — on my neck, finding me in secret, lusting after my “life force” as Stoker says. The week he spent on, The Haunting of Hill House, was one of the most oddly erotic of my life. The text was thrilling, I was in a constant state of suspense and I held myself to not reading ahead, and being completely present in class when he talked about the role adrenaline plays in our bodies physiological state as we read. I didn’t ask, but I was sure my increased interest in him was one of those byproducts he was talking about.

When graduation was only a few weeks away, I felt bolder. Surely I should make a move, if the consequences of being rebuffed were so low? What could they do? I was almost gone. And so I became consumed with the idea of hooking up with Mr. Fitzpatrick.

At first, I thought I could be subtle. Mr. Fitzpatrick certainly noticed when I wore something low-cut or a little more form-fitting. Once I entered his classroom in a dress that particularly accentuated my curves and I could have sworn I heard him groan. But understandably, he never did anything more than cast a lingering glance my way.

He’d get in too much trouble, I reasoned. I’m going to have to be the one to do something. So I put my mind into creating the perfect plan: I’d just have to present him with an opportunity he couldn’t say no to.

The senior end-of-year dance was coming up, and I inserted myself into the planning committee long enough to serve as an official liaison and ask Mr. Fitzpatrick if he would be a chaperone, apparently we were in desperate need of one (I didn’t ask anyone else). A light flickered in his eyes as I carefully enunciated the word desperate. Hopefully that was a look of comprehending my agenda. He agreed to the task.

I bought new lingerie, black and red and lacy. I wore it under a loose-fitting white sundress, pure and virginal like a gothic heroine, but dark and carnal underneath.

At the dance, I added a note to the clipboard waiting for him as a chaperone. It was the regular list of rules to enforce and emergency contacts. My note was underneath, it was a line from Draculaalong with his room number:

“No man knows till he experiences it, what it is like to feel his own life-blood drawn away into the woman he loves.” CLC 345.

I never went to the dance. Instead I made my way through the dark and empty corridors of the school until I let myself into his classroom. I brought with me one candle to break up the darkness without relying on the fluorescents. Lighting it and setting it on a desk in the front row I climbed into Mr. Fitzpatrick’s seat behind his desk, pulled the straps of my dress down so the top of my lacy bra was revealed, and crossed my legs with my heels resting on the edge of his desk, waiting.

It was a long wait. He didn’t find my note right away, but it became pleasurably agonizing, every tiny sound I heard in the hallway seemed like it could be him approaching. I got excited and then mellowed again when I realized it was my imagination. When he did come, I didn’t even hear him approach.

“Adrienne.”

It was a guess he made as he entered the classroom, it was too dim to see my face but I had made sure the glow illuminated my nearly bare legs. I was glad he was expecting it to be me.

“Mr. Fitzpatrick.” I acknowledged him and removed my legs from his desk, slowly crossing them in front of me.

“This note… what are you doing here? We shouldn’t be here.”

He was saying the words, but even to someone who wasn’t engaging in wishful thinking they sounded unconvincing. He didn’t want them to be true. I stood up and leaned against the edge of his desk, facing him, opening my legs a bit so he could imagine himself between them.

“Mr. Fitzpatrick, I’m sorry if you’re misunderstanding. I just wanted to discussDracula more.”

He moved closer, grinning.

When he was close enough that I could touch him, I grabbed his tie and pulled his body into mine. I could feel he was already hard as he pressed against the loose fabric separating us. The situation excited him as much as it excited me. “You’ve always been my favorite student, Adrienne, but I could get in a lot of trouble for being here right now.”

Pulling harder on his tie, my mouth found his neck. “I’ll just have to make it worth your while then.”

He groaned and his hands found the undersides of my thighs, pulling me closer to him and moving us both back so I was resting on his desk. I slide back farther and wrapped my legs around him.

“I just wanted to experience this before graduation,” I told him, “I’ve been trying not to make a move all year.”

Even in the low light, I could see the smile that spread across his face. He says he loves the way I look lying on his desk. I respond by feeling the bulge in his pants, attempting to grip him through the fabric and feeling him grow.

“We need to make this quick. They’ll look for me if I don’t come back.”

“Perfect.” With the suspense building as long as it had, I wouldn’t last long in his arms anyway.

I heard him unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants but I didn’t look away from his face. Even in the dark he looked handsome, brooding. I wanted him to tell me more about sex and blood and death but I also just wanted to experience it with him — all the parts of being human, all the things worth writing about.

I was happy there, to be a willing participant in a fantasy I was sure he had. Happy when he slid the lace panties I’d brought for the occasion off, happy when he didn’t bother to remove my bra but instead pulled my breasts free from it, and especially happy when his body met mine.

While forging a path with his mouth from my neck, down to my collarbone, and then landing on my breasts he pulled me closer to him and entered me. The speed with which he poured himself into me belied his eagerness. I knew he wanted me as much as I wanted him to. As much as I’d fantasized about him wanting me.

Lowering himself so his face was next to mine he whispered, “Adrienne, if you want to be a great student you’re going to have to finish me off with your mouth.”

Kneeling before him I skipped the niceties and began blowing him full on right away, working my hand around his shaft in tandem with my mouth. His hands worked their way through my hair, separating it into two ponytails he held firmly as he used them to guide my head onto his cock, increasing in rhythm until I felt him tense up, his hands clenching my hair. Pulling my head down on him, he held me there and emptied himself into the back of my mouth. I could taste the saltiness as I removed myself from him, licking my lips.

It was the perfect end to my senior

year.

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I Seduced My High School English Teacher, It Was Totally Worth It | GBAMLOG

I WISH TO LOVE YOU LONGER | GBAMLOG 

I WISH TO LOVE YOU LONGER

*phone call *
Boy: Hey, hun!
Girl: Hey.
Boy: I missed you at school today. Why weren’t you there?
Girl: Yeah, I had to go to the doctor.
Boy: Oh really? Why?
Girl: Oh, nothing. Just some annual shots, that’s all.
Boy: Oh.
Girl: So what did you guys do in Math today?
Boy: You didn’t miss anything that great, just a lot of notes.
Girl: Okay, good.
Boy: Yeah.
Girl: Hey, I have a question to ask.
Boy: Okay, ask away.
Girl: How much do you love me?
Boy: You know I love you more than anything in this world.
Girl: Yeah.
Boy: Why did you ask?
Girl: *silence*
Boy: Is something wrong?
Girl: No. Nothing at all. Um. How much do you care about me?
Boy: I would give you the world in a heartbeat if I could.
Girl: You would?
Boy: Yeah of course I would. *sounding worried* Is there something wrong?
Girl: No, everything’s fine.
Boy: Are you sure?
Girl: Yeah
Boy: Okay. I hope so.
Girl: Would you die for me?
Boy: I would take a bullet for you any day, hun.
Girl: Really?
Boy: Any day. Now, seriously, is there something wrong?
Girl: No, I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re fine. Everyone and everything is fine.
Boy: Okay.
Girl: Well, I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow at school.
Boy: Alright, bye. I love you!
Girl: Yeah. I love you too. Bye.
THE NEXT DAY AT SCHOOL
Boy: Hey, have you seen my girlfriend today?
Friend: No.
Boy: Oh.
Friend: She wasn’t here yesterday, either.
Boy: I know. She was acting all weird on the phone last night.
Friend: Well, dude, you know how girls are sometimes.
Boy: Yeah, but not her.
Friend: I don’t know what else to say, man.
Boy: Okay, well I gotta get to English. I’ll see ya after school.
Friend: Yeah I gotta get to Science. Later.
THAT NIGHT
Girl: Hello?
Boy: Hey.
Girl: Oh, hey.
Boy: Why weren’t you at school today?
Girl: Uh, I had another appointment with the doctor.
Boy: Are you sick?
Girl: Um, I have to go. My mom’s calling on the other line.
Boy: I’ll wait.
Girl: It may take a while. I’ll call you later.
Boy: Alright. I love you.
-very long pause-
Girl: *with a tears in her eyes* Look, I think we should break up.
Boy: What?!
Girl: It’s the best thing for us right now.
Boy: Why?
Girl: I love you.
THE GIRL DOESN’T COME TO SCHOOL FOR 3 MORE WEEKS AND DOESNT ANSWER HER PHONE
Boy: Hey dude.
Friend: Hey.
Boy: What’s up?
Friend: Nothing. Hey, have you talked to your ex lately?
Boy: No.
Friend: So you didn’t hear?
Boy: Hear what?
Friend: Um, I don’t know if I should be the one to tell you…
Boy: Dude, just tell me!
Friend: Uh. Call this number, 433-555-3468.
Boy: Okay, thanks!
BOY CALLS THE NUMBER AFTER SCHOOL
Voice: Hello, Suppam County Hospital. This is Nurse Victoria.
Boy: Uh, I must have the wrong number. I’m looking for my friend.
Voice: What is their name, sir?
*boy gives info*
Voice: Yes, this is the right number. She’s one of our patients here.
Boy: Really? Why? What happened? How is she?
Voice: Her room number is 646 in building A, suite 3.
Boy: WHAT HAPPENED?!
Voice: Please come by, sir, and you can see her. Goodbye.
Boy: WAIT! NO!
THE BOY GOES TO HOSPITAL, AND TO ROOM 646, BUILDING A, SUITE 3. THE GIRL IS LYING IN THE HOSPITAL BED.
Boy: Oh my God, are you okay?
Girl: *silence*
Boy: Dear, talk to me!
Girl: I..
Boy: You what?
Girl: I have cancer and I’m on life support.
Boy: *breaks into tears*
Girl: They’re taking me off tonight.
Boy: Why?
Girl: I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t .
Boy: Why didn’t you tell me?
Girl: I didn’t want to hurt you.
Boy: You could never hurt me.
Girl: I just wanted to see if you felt about me the same as I felt about you.
Boy: Huh?
Girl: I love you more than anything. I would give you the world in a heartbeat. I would die for you and take a bullet for you.
Boy: *crying*
Girl: Don’t be sad. I love you and I’ll always be there with you.
Boy: Then why did you break up with me?
Nurse: Young man, visiting hours are over.
The boy leaves and later that night the girl is taken off of life support and dies, but what the boy didn’t know is that the girl only asked him those questions so she could hear him say it one last time. She only broke up with him because she knew she only had 3 more weeks left to live and thought that it would cause him less pain and give him time to get over her before she died.
NEXT DAY
The boy is found dead with a gun in one hand and a note in the other.
THE NOTE SAID:
“I told her that I would take a bullet for her, just like she said she would die for me.”

SECRET SHARED : ROMANCE WITH MY PILOT

By L.M Adeline

We made it down the short aisle. Standing in front of the cockpit door, she gave three quick knocks. A second later, a sandy-haired young man with thick glasses and a space between his front teeth poked his head out.

Oh dear

. I hated to admit that my shallow Southern heart sank, though I politely pulled my grin a little wider, reminding myself what the

C

in S.E.C.R.E.T. stood for. If my fantasy man wasn’t…

compelling

, I didn’t have to go through with the fantasy.

“Is this our lovely visitor?” he asked with a lisp.

Oh dear

.

“Yes,” the flight attendant said. “Miss Dauphine Mason, this is our multitalented First Officer Friar. Miss Mason is keen to see what goes on in here. It might help her with her fear of flying.”

“Ah, yes. Dispel the mystery and the fear disperses. That’s Captain Nathan’s specialty. He can show you around while I stretch my legs. Three’s a crowd in here! Good luck!”

After mangling all those S’s, First Officer Friar made a beeline to the back of the plane. Out the window in front was a dark sky; below, nothing but black water. The high whine of the engines masked the screams in my own head as my legs now turned to cement. Eileen nudged me through the narrow doorway.

“I’ll be back in a little while,” she said, looking at her watch. “Enjoy your flying lesson.” She shut the door behind her.

The pilot sat silhouetted in the window. The only thing I could see above the seat was the back of his head. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, only his white shirt, the muscles on his arms apparent beneath his sleeves as he flicked a number of switches from left to right on a panel in front of him. Thankfully, the white noise drowned out my pounding heart.

“Be with you in a moment, Dauphine. I just want to make sure autopilot’s running smoothly. A robot takes over for most of the flight from now on. A very smart one.” There it was. That accent again. The man from Security! The man with the sexy British accent! The air left my chest and the pressure squeezed my lungs. Feeling tantalized and terrified at that same time had a bad effect on my stomach. I slapped both hands on the curved walls of the cockpit to steady myself as the plane rose and straightened. The pilot faced a wall of lights and levers that seemed to blink and shift on their own. Then he finally turned his chair around, aviators off, brown eyes on me. I gasped. “Don’t worry, we’re on automatic, but we’re not going to be alone in here for long, so I apologize ahead of time for the furtive nature of our interlude,” he said, loosening the top button of his uniform. “But I need to know, before we continue with our tutorial on the safety of flight: Do you accept the Step, Miss Mason?”

I couldn’t believe this was happening. “Here? Now?”

“Yes. Here and now. Trust me when I say I can help you with your fear of flying. And a few other things too, I suspect,” he said, leaning back into the plush leather of his pilot seat, taking me in from bottom to top.

“I’ve never been in an airplane before,” I muttered, stalling.

“I understand that,” he said, steepling his fingers. “But you are doing a fine job of your first time.”

Standing four feet from a complicated instrument panel that the pilot was

no longer

facing, I watched dark clouds whip by the nose of the plane through the high, narrow windows.

“Are we…safe in here?”

“Very safe,” he said. “Safer than driving. Safer than almost any other activity you can do at hundreds of miles an hour, high in the air.”

“What if there’s turbulence?” I asked, just as we hit a little bump. I yelped. My arms flew up to grasp the ceiling.

He took it as a cue to gesture me over to him.

Here we go

! I slowly, carefully, closed the gap between us, and over his shoulder got a better view of the world before me. It was dusk, but light poked through the clouds, illuminating little towns and villages nestled in the foot of a mountain range. They looked like a strand of jewels dropped from a great height. It was beautiful, but still I felt gut- punched and queasy. Levers and buttons continued to move in a ghostly way all around us.

“Turbulence is just air pockets. The plane will ride through it. And I’m right here if anything goes awry.”

I stood above him now, his head level with my breasts. “Do you accept the Step?” Handsome face, kind eyes, great smell, manly hands, but the clincher truly was his beautifully tailored shirt. Terribly shallow, I know.

“Yes, I accept.”

“Then may I help you off with your knickers?”

I almost laughed out loud at the old-fashioned British word for panties. I was wearing a pencil skirt and pumps, and a button-up pink angora sweater. The low ponytail completed my ’50s-housewife-on-an-errand look. It couldn’t be helped; planning my outfits always calmed me, and today I needed to be calm.

“Tell me more about how safe I am,” I begged, as his warm hands gently undid the back of my skirt, letting it drop to the floor.

“Well, Dauphine,” he said, inching my panties, or “knickers,” down, “takeoff is the hardest part. So much can go wrong. But we’re well past that now.”

Standing before him, I closed my eyes. I could feel his fingers unbuttoning my sweater, easing it off my shoulders.

Ohh

.

“Now the middle part of flight,” he said, leaning forward to nuzzle my soft line of pubic hair, kissing it. “That’s the easiest…sweetest part of the ride. But still, you never want to get complacent. Sometimes it’s deceptively easy. You still need to be careful, to watch for subtle signals.”

I stood over him, my legs trembling. He reached back to undo my pink satin bra, slid it forward, and dropped it. Standing there naked, for a second

I forgot the plane was flying on its own

! It was black through the window. I wasn’t sure if we were flying over mountains or water, but I closed my eyes. If I couldn’t see it, it didn’t matter. I placed my hands on the ceiling again, pressing my body forward into him. He was so at ease, so in command as he gently urged my legs farther apart, reaching up to pinch and circle my nipples, like I was an instrument panel he knew exactly how to operate.

“How does the autopilot know what it’s doing?” I asked, so deeply aroused by his thumbs now expertly parting my cleft, I thought my knees would give.

“It listens to me. I tell it what to do and it follows my instructions,” he said, leaning forward to kiss my clitoris, now centered between his thumbs.

“Mmm, you taste so good, my darling,” he murmured, his fingers now joining his mouth, slowly gliding in and out, agonizing me. I felt every knuckle against my most tender parts, prodding my clitoris forward, as his mouth fully encircled me. I grabbed his head as it moved beneath me. Then I felt that rush, fast and hot, and the mounting energy as his urgent tongue fluttered and flicked, his fingers darting in and out. All I could do was shut my eyes and arch back, dying and shuddering as I exploded with a new kind of pleasure, moaning into the ceiling, his tongue lapping relentlessly at me, my hand over my mouth to muffle my cries.

TALES OF OUR FIRST ANNIVERSARY 

By KrisEdu

When we put the top of our wedding cake in the freezer (to be enjoyed at our first anniversary) we had a vague idea of what married life would be like. We had no idea that our first anniversary would see me with serious health concerns, pregnant, and my husband without a job. The celebration of that day made us truly appreciate each other and our marriage.

Because of our strict budget, I had planned to spend our anniversary at home. I was going to surprise my husband with a romantic dinner and then we would going to watch our wedding video while we ate the top of our wedding cake. Determined to find the perfect gift, I hopped on to eBay to see what I could find. I quickly discovered that the traditional first anniversary gift is paper, and as it happened, Metallica (both mine and my husband’s favorite rock band) was going to be playing two days after our anniversary in a city nearby. I jumped into bidding for the tickets with extra money from a side bartending job in hand. The bidding stopped about $20 short of my budget. I had found my “paper” gift – Metallica tickets. It looked like my plans were going to come off perfectly…boy, was I wrong!

I was disappointed when I took the cake out of the freezer only to find it had mold spots growing on it (I didn’t know we were supposed to wrap it in plastic wrap AND put it in a Tupperware container!). I began to get anxious when we couldn’t find our wedding videos anywhere. I really started panicking when the paper coupon book I had made to go with the tickets got destroyed by the dog. When I found out I had to have a rather major medical procedure the day after our anniversary and wouldn’t be able to attend the concert with my husband, I began to suspect a conspiracy.

I took the spare $20 and a picture of our wedding cake to a talented friend of mine, and she agreed to recreate the top for me. The evening of our anniversary, everything went off without a hitch. The romantic, candlelit dinner was superb. The wedding cake top was so perfect, my husband didn’t even suspect that it wasn’t the original. I had even managed to track down our wedding video, and my Mom sent it to me with 2 days to spare. When the time for gift giving came, I pulled out my envelope and handed it to my husband. When he opened the card and the tickets fell out, the look on his face was worth all the effort I had gone through. I explained that I had gotten the tickets before my medical procedure was planned so I couldn’t go. I told him I had spoken with his best friend who had agreed to take him.

His mouth just hung open – gaping like a fish. I began to worry that maybe he didn’t like the gift as much as I had thought. After what seemed like an interminable period of silence I finally asked, “Don’t you want to go?” He suddenly looked at me and grinned. He handed me my present saying, “I guess all the struggles this year have brought us closer than we thought … We really do know each other well.” Curious, I opened the envelope he had handed me. When I opened the card, two tickets fell out. With some extra money he had scrounged up, he bought me tickets to see Metallica as well. Because of his procrastination, he had waited to get the tickets until after my medical procedure had been planned. His tickets were a week away near where we had family we could stay with.

When people ask me the most romantic thing my husband has ever done, I usually shock them by saying something about a Metallica concert. Until I relate the whole story, they don’t understand that our first anniversary truly demonstrated the love we had for one another.