White Christmas

  Folashade tried to round up What she had been doing in the office 
It has always been like that. Everyone goes for Christmas break. But for Fola, as she is fondly called by closed pals, never leave the office until late into the night. Even during festive seasons. 
 If it were possible, she would work for twenty-four hours a day and all year round. 

  She locked her office door and checked the others. She knew her colleagues never ever remember locking theirs. She self imposed on herself as the office ‘mai-guard’.  
  This memorable Christmas evening, Folashade tried to remember the last time she was truly happy. Not to talk of celebrating Christmas.  
 She never knew her parents. She was raised by missionaries who were kind and good hearted enough to send her to school and gave her the best education money could afford. 

 She had never had a reason to celebrate or rejoice, except on her graduation day, the day of deployment and when she got her high paying job. 
  As she was seated in her car with her head hunged on her sagged shoulders. She went into series of thoughts; the thoughts of all the heartbreaks she had gone through. Abandonment, rejection, manipulation and unfulfilled expectations. 
She was about to drive out of the parking lot when from her peripheral view she saw some commotion about twenty yards to her left. 
She as still trying to make sense of what was happening, when someone  clubbed a man on his head with a heavy metallic weapon and tried collecting valuables from him. Immediately, Folashade needed no soothsayer to tell her what was happening. She knew it was a robbery attack. 
  Several attempts were made by her to call the police, but to no avail. Then she remembered her soldier friend who helped her sometimes ago when she was unlawfully detained by Road Safety Corps. And she remembered he had told her to always call on him whenever she find herself in trouble. She dialled his mobile and  informed him about the incident . 
 Some minutes later, the rogues took to their heels, but  the victimized man was rushed down to a near by hospital. He was lucky to have someone around. He might have been  killed by those robbers. 
Everyone is looking for ways to celebrate Christmas. Thiers was by robbing people. 

 Folashade was busy as usual, working on a project her boss assigned to her when her intercom buzzed announcing the arrival of a visitor 
 She was still trying to figure out who it might  be when this young man walked in with a bouquet of flowers. 
 Folashade was wondering who he was. 
“Hello Shade” he said. 
Folashade was taken aback. 
“It’s obvious you did not remember me” 
He continued. 
“I’m sorry please, do I know you?”
The young man laughed softly 
“Well, apart from you saving my life about three weeks ago, I believe I know you due to your closing time. I’ve been observing you for a while.”
 Folashade was speechless. 
She stood there staring at the man, taking in his subtle good looks. 
“Oh by the way, I’m yet to have a chance at introducing myself. My name is Adesayo, ‘Desayo for short.”
“I’m Folashade” She said, still in reverie, she stretch her hand in exchange of pleasantries.  


  Folashade stared through the window as she was doing some chores in the  kitchen. In a jiffy, she dropped the knife with which she was slicing fruits and was soon lost in thought; wrapped up with the joy of marriage and motherhood.  
While she was busy reminiscencing about her life, her hands were on her tummy,  as she gently rubbed her baby bump absentmindedly. It’s been two years the duo gladly said ‘Yes I do…’
Every  Christmas is their wedding  anniversary, they often trying to relive how it all began. Still in brooding on series of her experiences,  she concluded that If she had ever been told that she would have a reason to celebrate Christmas and other festivities, she would have laughed it off hysterically. 

 Who would had known that it was her future husband she pioneered his rescue that fateful day.
 ‘Desayo had been wonderful  and more. They had started dating after several visits to her office. He had been persistent and stubborn. 
“God had shown me that you are my wife and I’m not letting you go. I’ll keep coming until you accept to be my wife”
He had said after many attempts to take her out which she had turned down everytime. 
But as destiny would have she had accepted. 
She was glad she did. She had a white Christmas, ironically though, that year. 
And she knew that this year’s Christmas will be whiter and filled with joy and laughter.  The baby kicked joyfully in her womb as if it had been listening and knew how happy the mum was. 
Folashade looked at his gesture, she smiled. 

Written by Adeleke Julianah aka Jules.
Thank you Jules for doing this despite your busy schedule. You are celebrated.

P.S Jules is now a full fledged writer…bagging Creative Writers’ Association of Nigeria’s Literary Queen of the year award.


32 thoughts on “White Christmas

  1. The storyline and plot’s kinda mystical, I like that…inspiring a sense of spiritual mystery, awe and fascination; in that inspite of Sade’s lonesome existence and workaholic lifestyle, she just had to be at that particular location, at that time that shaped her destiny and turned her fortunes around for the best! One good turn does deserve another and Sade penned her own lifestory, the moment she decided to help out a fellow human being in distress….he, whose missing rib she incredibly constituted! Nice twist and great effort Jules; plenty kudos to you and Happy Holidays! LOL


  2. Wonderful as usual. Fate arranges wonderful meetings in awkward moments. May we not be so blind.

    I love the happy ending. It’s been long I read a short story with happily ever after.


  3. I always dream of a white Christmas too. And big sis is at it again. I enjoyed reading the story but it had too much cuts and I think that’s what happen when a writer has too many thoughts. Ah! Sis. Jules. You try!

    But notwithstanding, those who published it should have edited it well before posting.

    When you reread, you will understand.


  4. If this is your official start point in fiction, then I want to strongly advise that the chimamandas and anyaegbunas of the literary scene to take heed! Because Jules is coming, and she’s coming very fast!

    Beautiful story up there. The impromptus declination in the tragic graph of the protagonist is awe–inspiring. I found a place for hope in your story. I want to say once more that this is beautiful.


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