These are my responses to Plinky Prompts. You can also visit:


Pardon me if I take my time to disrobe. Call it coy, but I don’t feel comfortable enough with you to reveal much of me in this introductory chapter.

To me recounting my life’s story is synonymous with stripping under glaring lights, before inquiring eyes. “But you were born naked. It’s such a natural state,” people remind you, but they conveniently forget to mention that moments after birth you were smuggled into a blanket and safely tucked away. And thus began your life of hiding – hiding behind your smile, your makeup, your mother’s skirt, your bedroom door, your glazed eyes. We peer round reputations to see who’s watching; peep through cracks in our defenses, to see who noticed. So when there’s a call to come out, we hesitate — and understandably so.

If you don’t mind, I’ll just take off my shoes for now….

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I’ve lost the sense of security that a home is supposed to provide. This was stolen along with my belongings when strangers walked into my house one night in April.

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I am a veritable ball of weirdest (I’ve been told), so this one’s easy for me. I hate it when people who never buy newspapers (it’s only a few dollars people) ask to read mine before I have read it myself. Argggh!

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It’s not one particular book, but any work put forward by Caribbean writers, telling the tale of Caribbean people in their own tongue. The language does not render the story any less worthy of being told.

“Play is children wok. Let de chile play na.” I tell him as I watch our girl chile playing hopscotch by sheself in de dusty yard. I din say it in no rough way, but I still regret de words as soon as they leave my mout.

“I sure she have homework and plenty oder tings she cud be doin’. You spoiling she ent? Rel bad too. When she come home toting a big belly is you to blame eh. Remember that.” He say, and I cud see that he wasn’t pleased. De big vein on his forehead dan pop up like a monster, and that tell me straightway he not pleased. De way his jawbone moving up and down tell me bad tings goin’ on in his head. Any lil ting cud trip him off at dis point. So I dress-back.

I doh answer he ‘cause I doh want dis to turn into a big ting. Another big ting. I jus want my lil girl to get a lil chance to be a lil girl. I doh want he to start to get on bad, call she inside and create dis big unnecessary scene. I doh want he to lock both of we in dis two by four place we call a house and rush down de road to de nearest rum shop, to drink out his pay packet wit his good-for-nutten frens , for us to end up having nutten to eat for de whole of next week. I doh want dat. So I doh say nutten.

But my brain still woking. How a pregnant belly supposed to come out of a six-year ole chile playing hopscotch by sheself on a Friday evening? Lawd de tings dis man does come up wit to play wit me brains. Is not true that I spoil she. I just want she to experience what a normal chilhood feel like just in case she turn woman, and she find sheself in de same mess I in, at least she will have a lil bit of normal to look back on. ‘Cause I doh even have dat.


Chile – child

Cud – could

Dan – already

Dat – that

De- the

Din – did not

Dis – this

Doh –don’t

Dress-back – relax

Ent- Not

Frens- friends

Lawd- lord

Lil- little

Me- my

Mout- mouth

Nutten – nothing

Oder – other

Rel- really

Sheself – herself

Ting- Thing

Wit- with

Wok – work

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I read this prompt while suffering in traffic, pleading to an ac subverted by heat, feeling the onset of a migraine thanks to the honking motorists who thought that their commotion alone had the power to clear a path. So I allowed my situation, instead of my commonsense, to dictate this response.

Sitting in that car, I wished only for the power to fling heavy-duty booby traps into the paths of deviant driver who rode the highway’s shoulders. Maybe not just this highway but probably all highways far and wide where deviant drivers roam… And as a secondary ability, I want to delete this confession from the memory of any one who thinks any less of me after having read this. Cause I’m really a nice person. Truly. I am. LOL

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I’m not intimidated by thunderstorms…as a child I was told that this ruction resulted from a clash between God and Satan. And after you’ve heard mortals battling in the room next to yours, this becomes tolerable.

I’m not afraid of the dark…I expect that the commotion above – like any other commotion – will knock a few lights out, leaving my world pitch black.

But it’s the company I’d rather do without. You see, they choose their moment of visitation well. When my TV faces me with a blank, useless stare, my laptop’s life is perched on the red crescent on the top of the screen, and my Blackberry gives me that blinking red evil eye, I’m forced to entertain those random thoughts, those nagging thoughts, those all consuming thoughts.

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