Deroda's Diary

  Life was back to normal. Occasionally I had thoughts about Beatrice, but it was not from the place of sorrow. I knew better, even though it was hard healing. I wasn't mad at God but I found it difficult getting back to him after a long period of not talking to him. I could never avoid Sunday Church cause my parents will not have it. I would sit with them and distract myself through the sermon. This Sunday after our long discussion about Beatrice, I decided to pay attention.  "What was said to you at the point of believing?" The voice of the preacher echoed through the auditorium. "A God that gives all that you want?" I felt the air in my chest tighten.  "We would be lying if we said that." He chuckled a little. "Christ the author and finisher of our faith said in this world we will have troubles, but this we know," His fingers tapped on the pulpit, "that we have overcome like he did." He wiped his forehead with an handkerchief.  ...

Mrs Williams came over to the house. She looked way better than the last time I saw her. She seemed to have totally come to terms with Beatrice's death, she laughed easily and loudly too at the jokes. I felt very uncomfortable at this. It was barely three months and she was forgetting Beatrice already. At least, that was what I felt. I must hold on to every memory of Beatrice, she would have done the same for me. I couldn't go back to life like nothing had happened. Mrs Williams gave me Beatrice' bible, she felt she would have loved for me to have it if she had the chance to say it. I left her and mum discussing at the dinning table to go and inspect the bible in my room.  I sat on my bed, my hands clenched the bible to my chest. I have seen Beatrice read from it countless times. We would read from it together sometimes. I turned it around, inspecting it. It had a blue cover laced by glitters with a mini pocket at the back. NKJV. Would there be some secret inside? You know,...

  Before this time another year, I may be gone, In some lonesome graveyard, Oh, Lord, how long? The ground around my feet was wet. Partially conscious, occasionally I slightly lift one up to see the dry ground under it. As though the clouds were aware of the grieving party that stood some distance below it, it had showered its bliss briefly. I wondered if it thought it could wash our misery away with some drizzle. The shower had set the mood for more weeping instead.  "Dust to dust, may the soul of the departed rest in the bosom of our saviour where we shall meet again in heaven," the soothing voice of the preacher echoed in the almost empty yard. I heard Beatrice's mum let out some loud sob at his words. I am yet to shed a tear since this nightmare began. I still feel like I am in a dream I would wake up from. Her body was there in the coffin lifeless, no doubt, but it was still unreal to me.           I took a look at the house I have come to kn...

  Jimi was walking me to my hostel. I enjoy his company. He is good at keeping a lively conversation, sometimes I think he sees right through me. We talk about anything. He has been trying to get me to talk about what was making me withdrawn. Some days, I feel bad for thinking such thoughts and want to stop, only to fall back into it. Jimi was talking but I could not hear him. The mild sorrow I felt, the full moon shining above us and the street lamp that cast a gold glow on the wet and empty street, making the atmosphere serene seemed to have set me thinking. For the first time, I noticed him. How come I never thought about him in that way?        "This night breeze is doing so many things to my head," I muttered. I shook my head to regain composure. Jimi was saying something about idols when I came to. "Huh." "Idols," he said again. "What about them?" I asked confused.  "I use to think about the Israelites and I'd say, how difficult ca...

Let me see your countenance, Let me hear your voice, Sweet is your voice, Your countenance is comely. -a secret lover                      In my world, I was Ivy the girl he was desperately in love with. We'd hold hands and enjoy each other's company. Some weeks into our relationship, we hugged and kissed. One day, we went giggity-giggity . Dating Stranger was fun. He was super rich. We travelled a lot. Places I have never been. We tried new foods, played a lot (pillow fight, water fight; all that stuff). We had couple goals, fights, moments. It was my fantasy, everything was possible. Nobody gets hurt. Or so I thought. You use your imagination to get what you don't have. Once I really wanted to go to Italy. I simply looked up pictures of it and voila my own Italy experience right on my bed. It was almost like the real thing.         "Abigail, have you ever h...

Welcome back Deroda family! 🤍🤍 You are all fair, My crush, There is no flaw in you. -a secret lover              Those stories where the ugly lady gets the handsome guy, yeah those ones, I got tired of reading and watching them too. My story is different. I would not say ugly, I am not. He was a stranger with a pair of glasses that looked really cute on him. We will call him Stranger. Come now, my love was not blind. First, he was short, alright medium, something like that. My dream guy should be tall, but this was the one my eyes picked. Second, he had a funny walk and stammered when he spoke. It was cute to me anyways. The irony. Third, he was not popular (I am not into popularity, but you should be influential and intelligent (he was, but not on the geeky level I find attractive).           I never had a crush until then. It started on a sa...