Faruq leaned forward to catch the ten naira note the man in the blue sedan threw at him, missing the note by a few millimetres. The note fell to the ground and one of his colleagues quickly grabbed it. Faruq sighed and looked away. Before polio hit him last year, he had been a bricklayer. … More Faruq
Nancy was her name before she decided to move back home two years ago. She had raven hair which was always braided in finger-sized weaves. She had dark skin and her beauty, average, did not turn heads. Her decision to move back home came after she visited the village to bury her grandmother three months … More Sabango
Bankole stared at his girlfriend with uncertainty. She arrived a while ago after calling and demanding that they needed to talk. Her tone had been very serious and Bankole was so sure he was going get broken up with. He tried to think of a reason why she’d be so mad. Maybe she found out … More Assurance
Jerry’s eyes dissect the old woman in the seat across him: furrowed white brows, puckered pink lips that ease into the black of the rest of her skin—her skin isn’t as loose as he thinks it should be; it doesn’t match the whiteness of her brows. Her beauty is quaint, the testimony of a face … More Rosaries and Misbahas.
How wise is it to be stupid? I mean to be stupid when that stupidity is considered sane? I think that one of the challenges that come with growing up fast, with quickly maturing—in ways that are not physical, is the things you miss. In truth, I wrote this first bit up there last year … More How Wise Is It To Be Stupid?
If he were to describe it to someone, he couldn’t. It was quick and it happened at a speed light couldn’t even compete with. He knew he would always remember these spilt seconds with the amount of accuracy people remembered tragic things. Donald saw a creature or whatever it was leap out from the scattered … More Piss and Death.