“Trisha” is a sizzling short story that is fast-paced and narrates from the second-person point of view an incredibly intriguing story of a woman in her forties. The story is short but interestingly explosive. Mustapha Enesi brilliantly holds a reader spellbound in three minutes and keeps them wanting more. If you love adventures, “Trisha” is definitely a must-read for you!

– Editorial Team

obey my wishes
like you always do
give me seeds
like you always do.

Sunday

You’ll wear your Christmas cloth –pink blouse tucked into a sky-blue skirt that will hang slightly above your knees as you walk down the street of Ipata. You’ll brush sides with people; some, as fast as a passing wind and some, as slow as a car with a dying battery. You’ll hiss at the old man that’ll whistle at you. Smile at the lady that’ll call you pretty. Frown at the boy that’ll touch your breast and dash into the crowd like a daytime thief. You’ll heave when you finally make the turn that’ll take you to The Church.
The pastor will be standing on the pulpit, his bald head will reflect the fluorescent bulb that’ll hang above him, and as he shouts, Praise-da-lord! His reverberating voice will touch the souls of the people sitting in the hall and they’ll chorus, Halleluiah! You’ll have missed a lot; the opening sermon and the choir hymns. Still, you’ll find a seat and cross your legs.
“The world will end in a few days, Gbadura!” the pastor’s prophecy won’t have time to breathe out of his tongue when the congregation will jump into prayer. The service will end and you’ll walk through the street of Ipata, again, it’ll be empty and the air will smell of wood-smoke, of death.

Monday

The smell of akara will hang in the air, the smell of the living. You’ll find your way to Kalunga’s shrine. You’ll hold a nylon of two live chickens that’ll wriggle and cluck. When you get there, you will remove your shoes before you step on the palm frond mat.
“Trisha, why are you here?” Kalunga’s raspy voice will seal the tiny room full of red and white pieces of cloth. Your body will quiver as you drop the nylon of chickens. You’ll watch them wriggle, cluck, and disappear into thin air. Till now, everything you have ever wished for had come to pass and if the world was ending you don’t wish to end with it.
“I want my wrinkles to disappear, my money to grow, and my life to never end,” you will whisper into the palms of Kalunga. His palms will glow into your face and he will give you his lines.

Tuesday

The T.V will be full of news, people are mysteriously disappearing. You’ll light your room with incense sticks, a flavor that smells of emptiness. You’ll be braless when you look at yourself in the mirror, you’ll look nothing like forty-three. You’ll call Musa over the phone, and tell him you need prayers. When he opens the door, you’ll chant the lines Kalunga gave you. Musa, with the perfect torso, height, and complexion will open his mouth at the sight of your breasts. His heart will pound between his thighs. He’ll try to run, but the door will not open. You’ll jump on him and make him jab his waist into yours on the sofa. His body will shiver and he’ll disappear as soon as he comes. Your thighs will bleed semen and as you wait for Wednesday to come, you’ll chime the verses again.

obey my wishes
like you always do
give me seeds
like you always do.

About The Author

Mustapha Enesi writes short stories from Nigeria. His works have appeared in The Kalahari Review, The Story Tree Challenge Maiden Anthology and elsewhere.