.jpeg "A WORK OF ART - The Canvas of Grace: A Woman's Truth (prose/story) - Best short stories to read online, Daily fiction blog, Original short stories")
The city hummed around her, a symphony of ambition and fleeting desires. But Pringle moved through it with a different rhythm. They might have called her a girl with CLASS, yes, but her education came not from fancy institutions but from a divine classroom. She wasn't chasing the fleeting recognition of CLASS REPS; her mission was higher. "I be Jesus REP," she'd often declare, her voice a quiet testament to her source of strength. She stood firm, anchored on THIS GRACE of the WORD, a foundation so solid it could never be DISGRACED by the clamor of the WORLD.
Being the SALT of the earth – that was her undeniable FATE, a purpose woven into her very being. And living a life pleasing to God? That wasn't just a goal, it was her unwavering FAITH. She didn't need GOGGLES to see THROUGH YOU, to discern the intentions behind the smiles. No, she didn't even need GOOGLE to see the TRUE YOU; her spirit perceived it all.
The "ballers" would approach, their smiles flashing, revealing gleaming TEETH. They'd go that extra MILE, not for her heart, but because of what they saw: "Coz I GOT T*TS," they'd murmur, their intentions as transparent as glass. But Pringle would just smile back, a knowing glint in her eye. "Who wan use me do SHARWAMA?" she'd think. "My God also got TEETH." A powerful truth that resonated deep within her soul, assuring her that GOD'S GOT IT.
They might plan to kpai her JOY for NIGHT, thinking they could extinguish her light, but Pringle knew better. Her JOY would surely come in the MORNING. And she had a message for them: "Either CHRISTIAN OR RONALDO, no dey DRIBBLE me." She wasn't a game to be played, a ball to be manipulated. She wouldn't be spun around like OKOCHA, expecting MERCY from the unkind.
Pringle believed in the NAKED TRUTH, raw and unveiled. But that didn't mean her well-covered, sculptured curves were a CLOTHED LIE. Far from it. Her very form was a testament to design. All her PARABOLA – the natural curves of her body – they were no HYPERBOLE, no exaggeration. She truly had CURVES to place your heart in CUFFS, captivating and compelling.
Her very WOMAN BODY naturally WOO MAN BUDDY, it was an undeniable, inherent power. Even her ANATOMY is AN ART TO ME, a masterpiece crafted with divine intention. The GEOGRAPHY of her PHYSIQUE was a potent headshot trigger to the CHEMISTRY of man's BIOLOGY, a natural, undeniable attraction.
"This double BOOBS you call your BOO," she’d muse, observing the hungry gaze of those who looked at her chest like YOUTUBE videos – something to consume. If her BR**ST alone showcased her BEST, then her chest would truly HEAVY her, a burdensome weight of superficiality. If it were only SLITS and TILTY TITS that defined her worth, she for no happy dey show TEETH, her smile would be a hollow facade. And if to sey na only MILK in this life, then life for obviously SUCK – not in a MEEK or fair way, but in a desolate, unfulfilling manner.
While they were happy she was BURSTY, captivated by her form, Pringle found her deepest joy elsewhere. She was happy Christ was her BESTIE. They might wanna strip tts and sip like a jug, stretching and tugging like a thug, but their desires meant little to her. Her CHEST satisfaction, that was her THRESH SURE, a sacred boundary. It made what they saw not just flesh, but a TREASURE CHEST – not because of the tts they yearned to "teeth," but because NA CHRIST IN ME MAKE ME DEY CHEST OUT with true confidence and purpose.
Her ear had a hole for EARING JEWELS, yes, but an extra for HEARING sweet words, words of truth and life. She had a hot NECK for choking PECKS, fleeting moments of affection, and a LONGER THROAT for a DP THROAT, but her purpose was not to satisfy lust. She knew they had ZEAL for her BRA more than for BRAZIL, a burning desire to solve the MATH of her FIGURE EIGHT. It might be sweet to BAMBAM with her BUMBUM, but this bobby ASSET popping more than an ASS SET.
Ultimately, Pringle didn't depend on the fact that she GOT TTS; her reliance was firmly placed on the fact that GOD GOT IT. She had left the WORLD behind, its fleeting pleasures and empty promises, to stand on the WORD. She didn't need to look back to become SALT, for she already was. She was a work of ART – SEXY BY NATURE, beautifully crafted. And as for not drowning in the SX SEA? That was NURTURE, the constant spiritual cultivation that kept her afloat. She wasn't GLO, but she truly GLOWed, and her GLOBE is GLOBAL, her influence far-reaching. She stood out tall, magnificent and poised, with Christ as her HIGH HEELS, elevating her above the mundane.
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