A Rehearsal of Shame
The people in your city are inflated by a need to slash and burn, and you are already a dress...
Read Moreby Ayosojumi Akinsanya | Jan 24, 2024 | Fiction, Magazine | 0 |
The people in your city are inflated by a need to slash and burn, and you are already a dress...
Read MoreThe melanin queen was perched on a bar stool, Checking me out from head to shoe. Her eyes were...
Read Moreby Fatimat OKhuosami | Jan 22, 2021 | Fiction | 0 |
Fatima Okhuosami’s Death Porn 101: A Practical Guide to Clout chasing and Exploitative...
Read Moreby Nneoma_Mbalewe | Oct 4, 2019 | Fiction, Fiction, Magazine | 0 |
She reminds you of Bisola.
Your fingers turn into a fist and your smirk turns to a scowl.
How dare she?
by creativeriterz | Aug 15, 2019 | Fiction, Fiction, Magazine | 0 |
Perdition: You see avarice turn into a pool and jump in hastily. Have you forgotten that even too much of sweetness brings forth dire consequences?
Read Moreby Resoketswe | May 27, 2019 | Fiction, Fiction, Magazine | 1 |
The Silent Plea was the second-place winner of the June Collins Elesiro Literary Prize &...
Read Moreby PrincessNaya | Nov 30, 2018 | Fiction, Magazine | 18 |
I loved my mother. She was my father’s typical script, playing roles that were directed only by patriarchy. My mother fitted perfectly into his constrained perception of what a woman should be; the type that says ‘you can only...
Read MoreI remember the first time I saw my father hit my mother. We were seated around the dining table having breakfast. My parents were arguing about something, their voices low, when suddenly, my father leaped out of his chair and in...
Read MoreNana was telling us the story of the sun and the moon today. Rana and Wata. Nana’s Hausa was spoken like she was the first student of the gods of the kanem Bornu empire. Even when she was wrong, it was difficult to tell...
Read Moreby Oluwaseyi Adebola | Nov 30, 2018 | Fiction, Magazine | 0 |
I eased myself gently into the old, brown sofa in the sitting room, my hands on my sore back. My dirty white eyes settled on the aged brown clock hanging obediently on the wall. The seconds hand moved round and round but...
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