“In a rough way the short story writer is to the novelist as a cabinetmaker is to a house carpenter.” – Annie Proulx
As I mentioned in yesterday’s article, for the next phase of my writing challenge, I’ll be shifting gears from essays to short stories and poems. This is exciting and a little nerve-wracking for me as these forms of writing will force me to dig deep, paint vivid images in just a few words, and let my imagination run wild.
And that begins today.
So for today’s challenge, I’m exploring storytelling by writing a short story. My first story will be on the theme of a “chance encounter that stirs long-buried memories, changing the course of someone’s day—or even their life.”
How did I arrive at that? I simply Googled ‘writing prompts for creative writing challenges’ and picked one of the easy challenge prompts I saw. I will gradually grow into the tougher prompts but for now, I’m just a baby storyteller.
Anyway, I chose this writing prompt because there’s something powerful about unexpected moments that appear out of nowhere and shake us from our routines. These encounters bring back memories we thought were forgotten, that reveal parts of ourselves we’d buried, and in some way, set us on a new path. Today, I’ll be exploring this idea, bringing to life the kind of fleeting moment that holds more meaning than we realise at first glance.
Here’s the short story:
Echos from Ikoyi
Adaeze stepped out of her office building on Awolowo Road, the afternoon sun casting long shadows as Lagos began to exhale from its chaotic morning. It had been a gruelling day of back-to-back meetings at the marketing agency where she worked, and she was desperate for a breather. The streets of Ikoyi were a mixture of quiet wealth and bustling noise, and though she had lived in Lagos for over two decades, the city’s unpredictability never ceased to both exhaust and fascinate her.
The streets buzzed with the low hum of car engines, the rhythmic honking of yellow danfos, and the occasional cry of vendors hawking their wares. Adaeze walked swiftly, blending into the crowd as she made her way toward the small café on Glover Road where she often went to collect her thoughts. Her phone buzzed in her bag, and for the first time in hours, she ignored it. Today, she needed space—just her and the city’s steady rhythm.
But something shifted as she reached the corner. A figure on the other side of the street caught her eye. The man’s gait was familiar, too familiar, and before she could help it, memories she had long buried surged to the surface.
It was 1998. Adaeze had been a wide-eyed, hopeful university student in Umuahia, still wrapped in the illusion that the world was kind and predictable. That was the year she met Chike. He was a final-year law student, tall, with a deep voice and laughter that could fill a room. She remembered their chance meeting at a university rally, where students protested for better living conditions. The memory came alive—Chike standing next to her in the crowd, shouting with conviction, his presence calming in the face of the charged atmosphere.
They had shared so much in those months—a whirlwind romance filled with long walks on campus, heated debates on politics, and stolen kisses under mango trees. Adaeze had believed then, that Chike was her forever. But life, in its unpredictable cruelty, had snatched him away with a suddenness that still haunted her. He had been killed in a car accident on his way back to Lagos. She never got to say goodbye.
The ache in her chest deepened as the memory washed over her. The figure across the street moved again, and Adaeze blinked, almost losing him in the crowd. Her heart raced. Could it be? It was impossible. Chike was gone. Yet, something about the man’s posture, his walk… she couldn’t stop herself. She crossed the road quickly, dodging okadas and fellow pedestrians, her breath catching in her throat.
The man stopped by a small kiosk, buying a bottle of water. As she approached, he turned slightly, and their eyes met. The world seemed to freeze.
It wasn’t Chike. But the resemblance was uncanny—so much so that Adaeze felt the ground shift beneath her. The man’s eyes, though, held a different story, a different weight. He looked at her, puzzled at first, and then a slow recognition dawned.
“Adaeze?” The voice was quiet, hesitant, like someone unsure of a distant memory.
She stared, her mind racing to place him. Then it clicked. “Obinna?”
Obinna had been Chike’s best friend. They had all been close once, back in Umuahia, before the accident. Adaeze had lost touch with everyone from that time after Chike’s death. She had fled to Lagos soon after, eager to leave behind the pain and memories.
“You…” she struggled for words. “You’re here.”
Obinna nodded, his expression softening. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. Lagos, right?” His smile was tentative, as if he too was sifting through memories.
They stood there, frozen in the moment, the sounds of Lagos fading into the background. Obinna gestured toward a small bench nearby. “Do you have time?”
Adaeze hesitated, her mind screaming that she had work to get back to. But something about the moment felt too important to brush off. She nodded, and they sat together in silence for a while, watching the steady stream of people passing by.
“Chike,” Obinna finally said, his voice breaking the silence. It was not a question, just a name hanging in the air between them, heavy with everything unsaid.
Adaeze’s throat tightened. She had spent years avoiding this—avoiding his name, avoiding the hurt. But here, in the bright sunlight of Lagos, it felt like the right time to finally let it out.
“I never thought I’d think about him this way again,” she whispered, staring at her hands. “Seeing you brought it all back.”
Obinna nodded, his gaze distant. “He was special. I’ve thought about him every day since…”
They talked, then, about the old days in Nsukka, about Chike’s passion for justice and his dreams of making a difference. They laughed over old jokes and shared moments that had been buried for too long. The grief, once suffocating, began to soften in the shared remembrance.
“I think he would have wanted us to remember him like this,” Obinna said after a long pause. “Not just the pain, but the good times too.”
Adaeze nodded, feeling a strange sense of peace settling over her. “I think you’re right.”
When they finally stood to leave, the sun was lower in the sky, and the city was shifting into its evening rhythm. Adaeze felt lighter than she had in years, like some invisible weight had been lifted.
As they said their goodbyes, exchanging numbers, Obinna smiled. “Maybe we can catch up properly. It’s been too long.”
Adaeze agreed, feeling like this chance encounter was more than just a random moment. It was a turning point. An exhilarating yet calming experience. As she walked back toward her office, the world felt brighter, more hopeful.
Sometimes, she realised, the past never really goes away. It just waits for the right moment to resurface, reminding you that even the most painful memories can bring unexpected healing. And perhaps, just perhaps, that chance encounter could change more than just her day. It might just change her life.
The streets of Lagos continued to hum around her, but Adaeze felt like she was finally in sync with the city’s chaotic yet beautiful rhythm.
So, what do you think? Did I capture the essence of a chance encounter that stirs long-buried memories, changing the course of Adaeze’s day, or even her life? I believe that I did. I may have a long way to go to improve my use of literary figures of speech and other writing techniques and styles, but I believe that for a start, this can be considered ‘ok’.
As I wrote this story, I was eager to see where the story would lead. It was just a figment of an imagination but sometimes in real life, a single encounter can shift everything. And in writing this story, I’m hoping to have captured that magic of how life can take a sudden turn because of one unexpected meeting. I may come back to this story in the future but for now, I’ll stick to improving my response to writing prompts like today’s and trying my hands with as many types of storytelling as I can for this challenge.
P/s: If you have any questions about creating content, writing, or the story above, please leave a comment below or DM me on Instagram!
