BEULAH {somebody, start somewhere} by Gloria
Miss Clara bamboye climbed the stairs gently to the rooms, she was being careful so as to catch the slightest sound. It was unusual to meet her sister’s house quiet at this time of the day, the normal scene to have greeted her would be Beulah, her niece sitting on the parlour couch with her legs crossed, paper and pencil in her hand writing down lines from one of her favourite TV programs “shake it up Chicago”. That was Beulah’s second best TV show after Aunty Clara’s own TV program, the popular and award winning “MEET THE JORDANS”. For a moment Clara began to wonder what on earth could have changed the routine, or could it be that her niece wasn’t back from school yet? Of course not, her sister had told her before she left her office where she went visiting, that she had called Beulah’s class teacher, Mr…
Stand Up Stand Right By Gloria
Show me a man who settles for anything, And I’ll show you a man who has no vision. Show me a man who’s only good at knowing everything about everyone else, and I’ll show you a man with bleeding future. Show me a man who’s always looking for the cheap way out, And I’ll show you a man whose end is in the emergency ward. Show me a man who has no regard for Decency and self value, And I’ll show you a man who has thrown his pearls to the pigs. Show me a man who doesn’t regard righteous living and morality, And I’ll show you a man with a tragic ever after. Show me a man who sees only impossibilities, And I’ll show you a man who’ll amount to nothing. Show me a man who would never stand up for his right, And I’ll show you a man…
Midnights by Mirabelle Morah
As she slept through the night she heard it again. This thing—whatever it was—that kept her awake and kept her scared. She’d gone to sleep at a friend’s house once, hoping it’d stop, but rather it continued. The next day, her friend coyly kicked her out of her house. Every night she turned the mirrors towards the wall, shut her windows tight and locked her room door. Not forgetting the kerosene lantern she lit every night and made sure it burned bright, so she could see the shadow of any monster that would creep into her room. It didn’t stop the sounds, or the terrible dreams that felt too real. Hope you slept well. By Mirabelle Morah
The End of The Beginning by Ogala Osoka
Once, the world as you know it did not exist: a huge vacuum that was intoxicated with emptiness. Long time ago, before time was born, before light, or even darkness existed, the universe floated behind a thick layer of nothing. It reeked of robust emptiness so much that space was solid with meaninglessness. Desolation spread; running into every corner until this vacuum became sore with depression. Consciousness would be a plain miracle. There is nothing beautiful about being oblivious; there is nothing ugly about it either. Sometimes, life is its own nemesis. Darkness is not so different from light. Good is only isolated from bad as the edges of a coin separate its sides. This world floated, void of extremes: it was raw perfection held in space. The world lay bare, its dimensions filled with hollowness, save a corner preserved for miracles. Like a flower blooming from concrete, in intense…
October 1 Special Recipe | The Lagos Bus Stop by Augustus Bill
“Mile 2! Oshodi!” Voices of drained hustlers filtered the air, as each dressed like the streets they represent paced about snatching passengers. There was no dull moment here, this was Ojota, and you better decide early on which bus to enter before two conductors dragged your luggage like a piece of meat served to two hungry beggars. “Bros, Oshodi?” One was already breathing down my neck, the Lagos sun was no longer bathing him, he was swimming in the heat; sweating profusely like a man who just had a hot quickie. Scars were like signposts on his cheek, each of different size pointing to different angles, and his skin colour already bleached black by the Sun. Without waiting for an answer, he had already dashed out to snatch the luggage of a man approaching the bus stop, that’s what they do. They assume you are going their route and without…
Dear Dove by Veralyn Ugian
Dear Dove, Everything hurts this night, from the hot steam from my old cooking stove to the cold rainy night and lonely street, preventing me from going out to watch the stars and feel closer to your abode and finally to the fact that am not really his love after all, another is, this hurts my heart so much. Am not really sure my hunch is right this time, but trust me my hunches are always right, but why do I still feel I need another confirmation after his friend confirmed it also, perhaps am waiting for that kind of one, wherein I will be in a white garment and drown in water. Am so pensive this night and am really sorry this not how our letters should go. My friends have deserted me and my eyes can’t pull together in soundless sleep, cause am deep in worry, Then I…
Sad by Julius Deh
On that fateful day, the rain came down in torrents, so much that one would think that the angel kept watching over the tap in heaven had slept off. Wale stood in the middle of the deserted road leading to Lewis Street, contemplating whether or not to continue his journey. His shirt was weather-beaten and he was soaked to the skin. Here he was an outcast in his own country when he was meant to be in the comfort of his home with his wife and kids but no, Wale could not bear to look at his wife and inform her of the loss of his job. How was he going to explain to his kids that they could no longer eat what they liked? How was he going to settle his bills? All these questions and more flooded his mind with each trying to gain superiority. Wale quickly remembered…
SHORT STORY | HUNGER IN HEAVEN by | Onyekachi Onuoha
HUNGER IN HEAVEN They sat in ethnic lines with hearts filled with great confusion. In their decisions, though it differs the various choices of the majority pulled down the rain amidst cloud. Silence had settled the cloud and rain fell in their heart. Their homes were left in a tyranny of hunger and starvation. Some of their puppies suddenly became thieves and the honest ones were desperate for survival that honesty became so strange to them for it was no longer marketable in the habitats in which they reside. They sat in their habitats without strength to dance as it were of yesterday after the illusion. Cow, a man very keen in the honesty of his brother remembered what happened in their country called Crook. He could not withstand the hunger that complicated his thought. So he called his brother, “Goat,” as he stood up from where he sat. “I…
Dear Mrs Grey by Abstract Writer & Blogger | Ufana Ishoyor
I love you, Alyson, You’re the best thing that has happened to me and I don’t want to let go of that. Your smile is drug enough to fuel my addiction to you… not you, my addiction to us. Hi Mrs. Grey, it’s your future hubby, Mr. Grey talking or in this case, writing. I hope you’re well. Piz, you stepped into my life and everything changed and I’ve come to know, it is a meant-to-be relationship. I’ve had my past love experiences but this doesn’t feel like any of them, it feels different on a whole new level, way deeper, and more intense, like you drilled a hole into my very core and planted yourself there and no, I don’t want you out. I want you to spread your branches in me and plant your roots firmly. I want you to be my all and my nothing. I need…
I’ve Got My Love Now by Mira Morah
I just want someone to hug, and I’m wondering if it’s too much to ask for. I’m not sure I can ever remember a time in my life when I woke up sad every morning and turned in even sadder, every night. This is the first time I’ve chosen to be honest with myself or anyone. To tell the truth and to not run away, only to come back more scared. And so, I opened up my heart and let him in. I can’t remember doing such a thing until he came. I’ve always enjoyed the bliss that comes with solitude but now, I don’t think I want to enjoy that bliss any longer. I just want someone to hug, and I’m wondering if it’s too much to ask for. My parents believe in God. I used to, maybe I still do. I’m not sure, so I’ve prayed to whosoever…
A Boubou For Momma
I see them hanging on a rope — all so beautiful. “Five-Five hundred Naira!” The seller announces from behind his wares of beautiful boubous and dresses. I’m thinking of momma, all she’s done for me. “Five-Five hundred Naira only!” He announces again. The black boubou with a butterfly motif catches my eyes. It’s pretty. I glance at my purse and I wish I could afford it. It doesn’t matter the cost. I know she would be overjoyed if I got it for her. But I can’t afford it, I simply can’t. So, I walk away. – Mirabelle Morah
Waking up in Biafra
I wrote this story exactly when I was 16 and put it on my first blogspot account, as inspired by Chimamanda Adichie’s book, Half Of A Yellow Sun. I opened my eyes and there I was, standing in the middle of chaos. Disorder everywhere. People running Helterskelter, babies crying, women screaming. I wish I could say that I didn’t know what was happening but someone had already secretly whispered into my ears what was going on. Amidst all the running, I met an old man under an almond tree. He let me pick up some almonds. I was afraid to pick them all, I wanted to leave some behind for the hungry people running for their lives as well . Boom! I heard it. A few meters away from me, a house was on fire. Another Boom! And the nearby birds joined in the flight for safety. In all the…
An Interesting Glance Into A Teenager’s Mind | Dear Dove By Veralyn
Dear Dove, It was nice being around you today. I have this weird feeling of love, like teens in love for the first time, lols, I am still a teen. I feel butterflies all over my belly coupled with the stomach upset am having, all thanks to Mrs Beans, my worst meal. But mom’s delicacy has to be my choice because I eat from her purse. I feel so drowned in love… I can’t shout for help, I’m so choked up in you and all I can do at this point is wish and imagine you understand. At this point I don’t mind if you don’t love me, because all that matters is my love for you, which I long to express. I want to scream into your ears that I love you so so much, hold your neck playfully, make my hands your muffler for this rainy night, peck…