Shea Butter Baby
- Reads 841
- Votes 3
- Parts 11
Ongoing1h 22m
Last published Sat, Dec 7, 2019
The power of melanin is dangerous. The way my skin glows like gold with just a layer of momma's famous shea butter and coconut oil mix. The way my skin and hair attracts the sun and curls stand at attention but yet falls like a weeping willow tree. The way my hips and ass struggle to fit in this size 12 but stomach is as flat as the salar de uyuni. The way my face is as hard as stone but full lips quickly forms into a soft smile with any encounter. My words as sharp as a blade that speak nothing but truth. My eyes turn into pools of honey whenever light finds itself attracted to them. When I walk in a room, all eyes are on me, as i swing my hips and poke my chest out in confidence. I am not always this way though. My honey eyes shed nectar every once in a while watching the news. Another one of our men shot down in cold blood. Rather it's by the men flashing the red, white and blue lights or if it's by one of our own. The mother crying and screaming to the press in anger and grief is labeled as bitter because "she shouldn't act that way in public" When really the viewers are too cowardice to admit that her words sting with veracity. Another little chocolate girl gone missing, two days of recognition, three years of nothing besides her face on the gas stations, corner stores, and any other local store window. Life isn't all golden for a shea butter baby.
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βBhoot pisach nikat nahi aavey, Mahavir jab naam sunavey...β It was late at night, when I heard a knock on the window. I froze hearing the knock. Slowly, I got up from my study table and tiptoed toward my bed, trying to decide if I should check the window. But something told me not to, so I climbed on the bed instead. I'm not opening that window. I know how in horror movies, the main character hears some creepy noise and runs straight towards it. Like hello? do they not care there could be a whole-ass ghost waiting to jump on them? Another knock. I squeezed my eyes shut, gripping the blanket tightly. If this is how I die, I swear I'm haunting the ghost back. I was on the verge of running to wake up my parents when I heard a sneeze and then... my name whispered slowly. "Pratiksha." It clicked in an instant. Oh god! I shot up from the bed, hurriedly unlocking and opening the window. Before I could even react, he tumbled through and fell directly on the floor with a thud. I gasped in shock, half laughing but also panicking at the sight of him in my room. "How did you-" I started to ask, but he quickly clamped his hand over my mouth. I stared at him. He leaned in closer and whispered, "Don't make noise, or we'll both be in trouble." What. Is. Happening. ~~~ If overthinking was a sport, she would have won every time. He, on the other hand, one moment, he was the smoothest guy around. The next, he was doing something completely silly just for fun. Together, they were like a perfect mess. But a twist of destiny tore them apart. Six years later, they met again, the love that once bloomed was now buried under layers of hatred, from both sides. Could they move past the hurt, the anger and the six years that had turned them into stranger?
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