My muse

My muse Welcome to Debby’s corner where you get lifestyle hacks and motivational contents that will keep you in track in your career journey.

01/03/2025

Make it sound poetic…

You're a warrior in a one-sided battle, fighting for a love that refuses to fight back. Your heart beats for someone who doesn't hear its rhythm. You're addicted to the ache of loving in vain, pouring your soul into a void that echoes with emptiness.

Deep down, you know it's time to surrender, to stop feeding the flames of false hope. Yet, you cling to the promise of a miracle, a light at the end of the tunnel that might just be the dawn of self-deliverance.

Perhaps, it's time to confront the truth: the only heart you need to save is your own. The only love you need to fight for is the one that will set you free.


🩸DO IT NOW! DO IT SCARED!🩸When I published my first book in 2020, I wasn't sure what to do with it. Strange right? I mea...
04/08/2021

🩸DO IT NOW! DO IT SCARED!🩸

When I published my first book in 2020, I wasn't sure what to do with it. Strange right? I mean who goes all the way out to spend so much money to publish five hundred copies of a brilliant book without having any clue on how to sell them?

That was me in 2020, I had written the book after a few encounters I had with some emotionally abused teenagers. The book is dedicated to every African girl child. I was passionate about it so I went ahead to publish the book even when I wasn't sure of myself.

Okay, fast forward to 2021, I vowed to become visible and I'm already seeing results. One thing about this writing journey is that once you're on the right track you'll never stay too long at a spot.

Yes! I was scared to death when I didn't sell much copies of my book YOURS SINCERELY, STAR after publications. But I didn't dish writing creative contents because of that.

In fact, it became my motivation to tell the world that I'm right here building a network. Don't get me wrong, the moment you start believing in your self more than the rest of the world do, you'll begin to find strength in your failures.

Now before you say, "who will buy it when I publish it?" Please, write that book first. Do it now! Do it scared!

PS: The book is still available for purchase. DM to get your own copy

©Deborah Udochukwu Obiorah.



__Bloody claws_🐾Episode 2              ♦Ada's POV♦The scotching February sun has been brutalizing my already dark skin, ...
17/02/2021

__Bloody claws_🐾
Episode 2

♦Ada's POV♦

The scotching February sun has been brutalizing my already dark skin, turning it into a more darker complexion. How do I report this unruly creation to it's creator? Arrgh!!! I feel oppressed! I must have to make it to mother's shop before I collapse and never get to complete my gist. I know you need me alive, so I'll pass.

You know I'm a little bit impatient to tell you all about it. So maybe I can just get talking since I'm almost a stone throw to mothers shop.

Last night, I heard father telling the other neighbours about Ife's. He said she set off that morning as usual, dressed to kill. It was on a valentines day and the whole neighbourhood was rowdy and brewing with music. I remembered begging mother to allow me attend the little party holding down the street and she shut me up with an offensive 'no'. I never told you, mother can be a pain in the neck sometimes, but she was right for stopping me. At least I am only seventeen and I didn't know how horrifying life could be out there. I pretty much felt suffocated whenever she spread her wing if guidance. But now I know why.

Least I forget, I personally did not see Ife that morning, but father said she walked a little down the street before she was picked up by a man in Lexus 370. If it were before, I would be curious to know what kind of dress she wore for the outing and of course, how she looked on her makeover. I must have been crazy right? Yeah! I was, but just a little bit.

On that very day, she left and never returned. I sat in front of mothers provision shop as usual but this time with Ona. Sad to remember how she kept spewing nonsense about cakes, chocolates, flowers and love bla bla bla....I hated having to baby sit that kid whenever she missed school due to her illness. She knew exactly where to hit me and snap me back to reality when I'm loosing it and trying to escape from this planet.

The valentines day celebration ended with me having to clean up Ona's smelly vomits and shudder at her scary manifestation that night. As I was busy helping mother pack up so we could close for the day after the whole radda radda, Ife's mother dashed into our shop crying and pacing up and down. Mother dropped off all she had in her hands and went to question her.

"Mama Ife, what is the matter?" Mother asked.

"My sister, I'm finished!" She answered almost in a rush.

"Tell me, what happened?" Mother questioned further. At this point I was beginning to lose my cool. Why is she taking so much time to explain the reason for her sudden outburst.

"Mama Ada, my daughter is missing, no....I think she is in trouble! Oh God save my daughter..." She said and bursted into more tears. I literary held my jaw with both hands and stared at the woman in confusion. This isn't the first time Ife would be home late from her numerous outings, so why was she making a big deal out of it this time? I was getting irritated but decided to stay put and wait for mother to resume the packing since she had the only available torch light in her palm.

"Mama Ada, they want to harm my daughter,,,,, aarrr...aarrr...but my God will shame them"

"Amen! Nothing will happen to Ife. But can you tell me what is going on first?" Mother had suddenly become curious and wanted to get to the real matter.

"I got a call from Ife this evening, she called with a strange line. And only to hear her crying and pleading with a shaking voice that I should come and save her. She sounded scared, mama Ada. My Ife is in trouble"

By this time, mother was holding her with both hands with the torch light lying on a nearby table.

"Did she tell you where she is and what happened to her?" Mother asked.

"She couldn't even say much. She said she doesn't know where she is at the moment. And she was calling with a phone she found in the room where she is being locked up."

"Hei!....and you still have time to cry?" Mother shouted and rose up from the chair holding mama Ife. "We need to go to the police station" mother suggested.

"Thank you mama Ada, that is why I came. Please let's go"

Immediately they both made to leave my jaw dropped and my hands fell to my laps. I was so shocked that I didn't know when mother handed the torch light over to me. Her voice snapped me out of my reverie. "Pack the remaining goods and take Ona home. Tell your father that I'll be back soon" That was all I needed to be assured that I was still alive. I hurriedly packed up and headed home with Ona in great fear. I was beginning to get scared of this world and the things happening inside of it. What would be the fate of Ife by tomorrow, would she be lucky enough to come back safe? Oh! I'm as worried as you are but I'll keep my hopes high and believe she'll be back before day break.

~To be continued~

PS: I'll be dropping Ife's POV next. I know you're as curious as I am. Let's find out together in the next episode. 👁

Flashback picture: Those days as a teacher. 💓

©Deborah Udochukwu Obiorah
17/02/2021
@ Mymuse.com

"Bloody claws" (Episode 1)She was your typical city girl with hourglass shape and a cute dimple on the both sides of her...
15/02/2021

"Bloody claws"
(Episode 1)

She was your typical city girl with hourglass shape and a cute dimple on the both sides of her cheeks. Her white set of teeth were a perfect craft work from the best crafts man who crowned his work with a fine gap teeth as his signature. Her brown skin glistered in the ray of the sunshine.

She's Ife, the only daughter of an aged widow who lives at the city centre in a house that smelled of herbs and dust. I've accompanied mother a few times to purchase herbal drugs from the poor widow, that was usually when Ona convulsed and gritted her teeth like she was going to die. Our neighbours said she is an "ogbanje" but that is a story for another day.

Ife was a blinding light just as her name entails. She had the most beautiful figure in the neighbourhood and had all the guys perching around her like houseflies. Often times, I sit in front of mother's provision shop and watched as she danced down the street with different guys.

As days ran into weeks, and weeks into months, she began to step down from flashy cars on different occasions. The one thing that made me curious, and not to mention, madly jealous! was the features of her different men. They were all handsome and rich from their demeanor.

I hate to admit that I can be nosy sometimes but I really didn't care if I got caught reading up Ife as a book. She could make an interesting cover of a famous magazine. You know, I hate to admit that I almost tripped twice while staring at her. It hurts even more to remember how mother's sharp eyes made me look like a wet fowl. She dragged me by the ear into the shade of her shop and mouth-wiped me until I surrendered to her motherly advice and admonishments.

Mothers words were so loud in my ears that it keept echoing even in my sleep...."all that glitters are not gold" . I had so much wanted to be like Ife, not until yesterday when the story of her demise came knocking on our door at dusk. Her wailing mother kept shouting "efuemuooo...efuemuooo" (I'm lost...I'm lost)

You must want to know why and how she died, right? Yeah, I know you do because you love gossips😋 well, at least you can count on me for the full gist since I'm not stingy. But mama beckons on me to bring the chickens to roost, but I'll certainly be back before sunrise.

PS. I'll be dropping subsequent episodes at a stretch for one week. One episode per day. Hope that can serve as my welcome back gift to you? 😘

I'm back online people....yey!!!!💃💃💃💃I know you missed me so no need to ask. And guess what? This time I'm back to stay. Anticipate more stories 👍

©Deborah Udochukwu Obiorah.
15/02/2021
💝

"Native sisters"From the streams of Oyi to the cassava farms of our aging Fathers,Our earthen pots  swallow our distant ...
12/02/2020

"Native sisters"

From the streams of Oyi to the cassava farms of our aging Fathers,
Our earthen pots swallow our distant gossips,
The river laughs at our jokes,
While the green leaves of the forest trees clap in unseen admiration.

Our up right souls converse in heart felt exhilaration.
We stand. elegantly shaped,
By a potter whose works alone can breath.

We are the "mgbologu" of our African tribes.
The waists that wears the beads,
And the eyes that adores the 'uli'

We trekked with bare foots adoring our African soil.
Our faces glow with the joy of a free born.
Ours is a glorious heritage.
One history that can never be erased,
Is 'us' the native sisters.

Cheers to the womb that birthed us all...my Brave African Girlfriends💝

.

Yours penly,
Debby💟
12/02/2020

______I want to write_____I want to write,Of snows and shooting stars,Cities with colourful lightsShining endlessly like...
31/01/2020

______I want to write_____

I want to write,
Of snows and shooting stars,
Cities with colourful lights
Shining endlessly like the eyes of God.

I want to write,
Of dancing waters,
Sky scrappers and descent houses hugging each other in a street that smells of nothing.

I want to write,
About a country,
Which cultivates true democracy and
Upholds unity in diversity.

I want to write,
Of Renaissance and Revolution,
Freedom and independence,
But African Renaissance remains a myth to me.

I want to write,
Of-faces, faces stretching with lines of smiles,
Smiles not conquered by doubts.

I want to write,
Of-dreams, dreams not r***d by fear,
Fear of a falling nation,
A nation which values animals more than humans.

I want to write,
But there's nothing intriguing to write about.
Our fantasies have been shoveled into the pit of penury,
Our smiles broken into ugly wrinkles and sardonic laughter of a million yesterdays.

I want to write,
But the blue blood of my bleeding pen had convulsed and littered the pages of my book.
Where then shall I write?

©Nnagbo, Deborah Udochukwu.
26/01/2020
💝

______TELL YOUR OWN STORY______Today, as I was working on my new book, I came to a point and decided to take my time to ...
21/12/2019

______TELL YOUR OWN STORY______

Today, as I was working on my new book, I came to a point and decided to take my time to develop a particular character. But, at a point I paused and went to gather two of Adichie's literary dictionaries (that's what I call her books) and as I glanced at the pages my hands stifled and I suddenly lost my guts to continue writing.

There were a lot I wanted this character of mine to be, one of which included a weak fellow with locked up emotions. A man with a strong desire to break out of societal limitations and cry when he needs to cry. But then I also wanted my readers to be pleased with this same character of mine who was going to represent 95% of mortal men, particularly Africans who are wounded but have lost their voices to the society, and as much will never be able to cry.

At some point, I began to imagine how Chimamanda Adichie would feel, think, react, and pen down same thoughts that were in my mind. I wanted to journey through the pages of AMERICANA to figure out how a thirty five (35) year old Nigerian adult would react after going through the exact thing my character went through. But I realized one thing, her story was different. We never had the same story so there was no way I was going to find the answers I sought for in her own story. And there was no way I could think, feel, react or even write as she does because I didn't and will never experience life the same way she did, visit places she had been to and, meet people she had met.

I figured out there would be a lot territories to cover before I would be able to tell my stories.

So I came up with this conclusion after much thoughts. We all have our different stories and we should tell those stories in our own ways. No matter how imperfect we may think they are there is no one, I repeat, no one that can tell our stories better than us.

To wrap it all up, this is my words of encouragement to my self and other up_and_coming writers out there. Even though we all do not get the same opportunities in life, attend the same universities, meet the same people, have the same magical story books, and even have the same mentors and coaches, I believe that so far we have that spark (passion) we should never stop telling our stories, with our own voice, in our own language, and with our own bleeding pen.

"My Judas" I haven't written in a while,And I want to tell you why.I was drunk with a bitter wine.So I took to the stage...
27/10/2019

"My Judas"

I haven't written in a while,
And I want to tell you why.
I was drunk with a bitter wine.
So I took to the stage to whine.

In the morning before the night,
When the hug of the betrayer was tight.
I was lost in a sisterly visit,
A friend from the linage of Judas.

When the sword came dangling from behind,
I gladly pretended to be blind,
Until I beheld my blood littered on the floor.

It was a stab of betrayal.
From a friendly parasite that has sucked me dry.
I was innocent and naive.
I only thought the world was all rosy.

Now, I've survived with only the part of me that tastes for revenge.
But I was thought to repay evil with good.
Thus says the Christian holy book of worship.
I wish I never read those lines. (Jaw drops)

©Nnagbo, Deborah Udochukw.
26/10/2019
MyMuse❤

  I'm a lone wolf, a voiceless ant in a hole.When I cry the world echoes back with laughter.This lass, a faint shadow in...
12/07/2019



I'm a lone wolf, a voiceless ant in a hole.
When I cry the world echoes back with laughter.
This lass, a faint shadow in despair.

But I'm not spitting the woes of this battered heart.
No! I can't be complaining, life ain't partial.
This life; a journey to the wandering soul.

Oh pitiable lass, a spilled mess of abandonment.
Cupped by the leprous hands of strife,
And imprisoned in the fading jar of hope.

Who says there's hope if we stay alive?
Please say it again, my heart delights in such deception.
Yass! Tomorrow could be better, but who knows tomorrow?

The bottle of tomorrow is sealed by the supreme one.
Such bitter fate we can't foresee today, if only we do...
Maybe we could decide to do things differently to avert the wrongs.

(Sobs)

"The substance of things hoped for,
The evidence of things not seen"
That is faith in the christian holy book of worship.

Let's keep hope alive!
(Hebrews 11: 1)
Las las we go enjoy!

©DEBORAH UDOCHUKWU NNAGBO.
13/06/19.

IN_YOUR_EYESI see...The image of a fighter,The one who lives to fight next,like my chocolate cream soldier who lives in ...
12/07/2019

IN_YOUR_EYES

I see...
The image of a fighter,
The one who lives to fight next,like my chocolate cream soldier who lives in the pages of "Arms and the Man"
That is the highly esteemed image of greatness.

I see...
The energy and strength of a bricklayer, the husband man that strives to feed the hungry worms in the bellies of his little unfortunate infants.
That is the spirit of humanity.

I see...
Visions of territories to be conquered,spoils to be gathered from the camps of our foes.
That is the soul of wit.

I see...
Ouch! The vision has become blur,I see nothing but doubt, fear,wraps of failure,grief, bitterness,hatred and discouragements.
They are the hackers of dreams.

I see...
You and the dreams of a thousand yesterdays, locked in a combat room(mind). You can unlock the door and let reality suffocate you, wrap your wounds with the splints and grab a chilled glass of guts to enable you fight next time.

Now, I can stop seeing...
But then, until the whole world crumbles at your feet, don't you dare stop fighting back.

Ouch!🤦🏻‍♀ Did I come all the way here to separate a fight? Oh! maybe not...I think I was sent to jingle the bell for break time,we need to pause from life's struggles sometimes and take a chill pill to relax and get ready for what's ahead.

The fight never ends!

YOURS SINCERELY,
DEBBY
❤❤❤❤❤💖💖💖💖💖
25/05/19

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