The Joy Scribbles

hi... A follower requested a short story by me a while ago. here is what i have of Annie so far.  She put the cigarette to her mouth. Inhaled the minty smoke and breathed it out through her nose. “I’m Annie”. She squat down to put the cigarette on the floor exposing her sexy thighs and then stood up before stubbing it out with her leopard print heel. It crumbled, the filter still intact stained with lipstick.  “I’m not much of a smoker.” she said reapplying her pink lipstick. “One puff and I’m good. Probably a waste of money though.” Her biracial hair was tumbling away from the top knot bun and she was trying to pin it up. The sweat glistened on her long neck. “I like to dance. That’s why I’m all sweaty. I’m always dancing when I’m out. It’s ridiculous.” She slid through the club door, turned and called out “Dance with me”. He tossed his cigarette to the street and followed. Her slim figure slid through the crowd easily while he struggled to keep up. He kept his eye on her as he

Dear Grandma I can't forget the day you said you'd see me in my dreams. Or the day my cousin screamed "Mampho o sule". And I'm trying not to cry but I cry so much man. I cry about everything. Did I cry this much before? Did you know I cry so much? I cry almost as much as I breath. Sometimes I have to hide behind my shades and hat. I just started drinking tea again. I'm not hurling it but I haven't tried the one you liked. It scares me. I have a baby sister. So I'm not a baby anymore. And sometimes I wish you'd gotten to see it. I miss you terribly. I wish you'd visit my dreams tonight. Love, Tshepo.

Dear Thandi, I know I'm bad at keeping in touch. But there is so much to say. Technology is so impersonal. I'm sorry. I want to hold you, see your face when I tell you something shocking, hear you laugh. I miss you. terribly. Don't doubt it. I just can't do this online life. Just make sure when you come home this time I get to see you. I love you. Hope you're staying blessed. Xoxo

I’m about 1.5 meters of skin if we forget that bodies are made in loops and bends. I’m about ten shades lighter than black, One shade darker than yellow bone, Apparently still not quite yet red bone. I’m still light enough to sunburn easily, But too dark to tan. Yet not too dark to get darker. My bruises start out green ending in purplish-black patches that hurt almost as long as they last. While Hot showers and back rubs leave me red; Boys who suck my neck complain they cant own me. My legs are a patchwork of dry skin Cracks that sometimes remind me of pans drying after rain. If you pay attention you might notice the tiniest bits of hair. Elsewhere it grows thick, untamed, An expression of myself I’ve got scars Little stories but none in ink just yet. Just folding, healing skin. Little treasures of beauty spots hide across my body Like constellations against a the sky. Instead of silver they’re black Against my 10 shades l

Again I am super late due to power cuts. But here goes Dear Sir, I don't feel like writing down your name today. I no longer refer to it. Or hold it with the reverence of a little girl learning her first teacher's name. I no longer repeat it to people as if to remind them you once belonged to me. I no longer repeat it to myself in an attempt not to forget you. I try to remember not to say it. I try to remember that they're sick and tired of hearing it. I try to remember not to tell stories that make me laugh if you're in them. Or stories about the first time I did this or that because goddamn it you're in so many fucken memories. So sometimes I whisper it before bed and other days when I'm too busy to remember it crawls into my dreams and holds me. I keep trying to remember that you are no longer comfort. You are no longer home. Your bed is not a place I can bare myself anymore. I can no longer cry in your arms. You can no longer see me as the definition o

Hi... unfortunately living in a third world country means that i sometimes have all day power shortages apparently. I had no idea. In other news. Hi there stranger, I slipped this note in your back pack this afternoon after I saw you start an argument with a combi driver on a rainy day. Here's the thing. We're all having a pretty shit day. Its raining furiously. My shoes are soaked. And for God's sake I left my house for a cafe cause there was no power and the cafe didnt have power? So I genuinely don't know why no one has taught you that some arguments aren't a thing. That the scorn in your voice is a bitter acid that pisses us the fuck off but only burns you. Does it make you feel better? Does it make you feel manlier to remind the combi driver that your job is better than his so he needs to hurry the fuck up. Shut Up. You're beneath him for simply being so fucken rude. what are you a twelve year old spoilt kid? Here sir a three rules to having a good da

I thought someone was moving in there. I thought I felt your little feet. But I woke up to the trickle of blood between my thighs. What kind of mother never hears her son leave? Never really knows if she dreamt him up? God I wish you'd stayed. Note From author Some women really wish their periods would arrive. They're others who wish they wouldn't arrive out of pain. But Imagine the women who are waiting on a little gift.

How are they so many of you? Lord. I can't keep up. Maybe I take too many naps and sleep too long. I feel like I'm always chasing... Always so confused and for a very long time I sat and watched. Then I turned twenty. And as if for some reason God decided that Twenty was the year. Doors opened and we walked through. I can see you clearly now. Everyday's to do list is one step closer to I made it. And every sleep less night is one less dream and for once I'm really glad man. I'm really fucken glad I'm not feeling like you're slipping away. I'm trying to keep up. I'm really trying to stay awake.

Dear Aaliyah I remember when I found the scan of you by accident. I asked mom if we were having a baby and she said it was a scan of daddy's tummy. I didn't tell her she was lying because it had her name on it. You don't tell old people they're lying. But I remember going to bed that night and praying you were a girl so you could get some of my old clothes. I waited for you for so long. And then you arrived a small ugly thing with a full head of curly hair that wasn't any fun to play with and by the time you could play I was too old and busy. You fell asleep waiting for me to finish my homework and read you a story. That's probably why you don't read much now. But yesterday you said "look the clouds are pregnant"and I beamed with pride because you remembered the metaphors we went through. and mom said "where'd you learn that?" and you said my sister. And never for a second when I'm yelling or moving out or somewhere in betw

Dear Mom and Dad, Guess what? I'm going to make it. Thanks for making it possible. Sincerely, Somewhere in between a grown woman and a little girl

Dear Crush, I don't want to write this. This letter would remind me too much of how we began in endless possibilities and ended in Nothing.  I've got a thing for boys who read books, speak multiple languages and smell good. You are all of those. But it seems I've also got a taste for men with no taste for me. Do I taste dull? Do I taste stale while you taste like candy floss? Soft and sweet but so incredibly unhealthy. So incredibly unhealthy how many times you want to be just friends while your hand is in my pants and there's tequila in my breath. I use to think you were awesome and it makes me sad to watch your light flicker the faster I run away. I wanted to be friends. But you lied. I can't stand lies. Not when I'm giving you all of myself. I can't stand lies. Not when I'm giving all of myself. _ Nothing