“What the hell is that?” Jasmine asked as Alana placed a wooden figurine about two feet tall onto the end table in Jasmine’s living room.
“It’s an African fertility goddess. Mbaba wana . . . something or another. It’s Zulu. Do you like it?”
“Girl, you know I don’t believe in that stuff.”
“I know, but you and David have been trying so hard to have a baby. And I know it’s really been getting you down that you’re still not pregnant. I thought this would cheer you up.”
Jasmine twisted her mouth.
“If it helps, I only paid five bucks for it,” Alana said.
“Girl, you already know!”
* * * *
That night, Jasmine awoke to someone poking her stomach. A heavy-set, brown skin woman with long dreadlocks stood over her. Jasmine thought about screaming, asking the woman how she got in her house, who she was, demanding she leave.
The woman turned, looked straight in Jasmine’s eyes, and making a popping sound with her mouth, she poked Jasmine one last time in the navel before vanishing.
Jasmine quickly shook her husband lying beside her.
“Whaaa,” he said groggily.
“Take off your shorts!” she said as she shuffled out of her panties underneath the covers.
word count: ~200
This is in response to Sunday Photo Fiction: write a story around 200 words based on the provided photo prompt. Click the froggy icon to read other stories and add your own.