During my life, people spoke very little of death because we were all brought up to believe that death was quick to answer to his name. But people always spoke about the afterlife; the glorious splendour that is the reward for all those who live well on earth… [8mins]
They are friends again; now that the traffic has turned that sleepy green and there are no potential pedestrian customers in sight… [2mins]
You dream a beautiful dream – of glistening drops of rain water falling as the western sun sets with an orange glow, of flowers the colour of blood and fire, of papa’s laughter and mama’s singing… [2mins]
What if it was a ruse, and he was alive? What if he appeared as soon as she stepped out of the car, his face filled with rage and disappointment? Had he not warned her against stepping into his house? …[6mins]
“This place stinks, Joe. Why did you bring me up here?” The attic has the same musty smell as the old books that Joe keeps hidden under his bed in his room, but times a hundred… [4mins]
AFREADA and Africa Writes invites writers to participate in a 500-word competition which is based on Chigozie Obioma’s latest novel, An Orchestra of Minorities.
Girl, before your father implanted you in your mother’s womb, before being assigned your X’s and not the salubrious Y’s, you were in the water, in the air, in the elements… [2mins]
A farmer’s son, saw the civilians of their village roam the streets near the countryside border. He asked his father if he could join the revolution… [1min]
I always imagined I would die in a car accident. It would be predestined, not even the seat belt would save me. A car driving at a high speed would ram into my side of the car and BAM! …[8mins]
The endless chatter felt as if someone was re-assembling waste shrapnel in some form of convoluted reconstructionist dilemma… [8mins]
