Category Archives: Short Stories
As much as I love to read, so too do I love to write. One of my dreams is to write a novel one day and hopefully have it published. Here you will be getting short stories from me. Please read and comment. Your feedback is what will make me improve and become a better writer. Please be honest. Like Soyinka said, “the greatest threat to freedom is the absence of criticism.” Your critic is always welcome. You can send your feedback per email: firstname.lastname@example.org if you do not want to post publicly.
If you enjoy writing as well and you have a short story or poem you will like to share, we will be happy to read it. If you have always wanted to be a writer and are still hesitating, start now. Don’t hold back. Write anything, just write. That is where it starts. Write write and write some more. The scariest moment is the start, but like Maya Angelou would say, “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” This is your time, share your story.
The afternoon sun was boiling and almost everyone was stripped to their waist, bare backs soaked in sweat. The metallic click of iron and brass as the motor boys went through their work provided a kind of soothing music which, coupled with the hot sun sounded like a midday lullaby to lure an errant child to sleep.
Sleep was out of the question however. That Sango needed to come and collect his car today and there was still much work to do. ‘But how can one work under this raging sun?’ Achale wondered. Not too long ago, he looked around to be sure that he was at Bonaberi after asking himself time and again if the town suddenly sprout wings and flew closer to the sun. ‘Chai make place no ever hot so!’ He exclaimed.
Tiptoeing around the others, Achale made his way to his favourite spot; a place he accidentally discovered and which has since then served as a sanctuary. Lowering himself to the ground, the cool breeze was a welcome relieve from the blazing midday heat.
He was suddenly lost to the heat and sounds around him. Everything became a blur as his mind zeroed back to that long ago moment that seems to have happened a century ago but which actually was just a couple of years now.
He was his own manager and had several people under him. Nevertheless, hearing the stories of those who have traveled abroad, he felt he was in limbo while the real action happened abroad.
He sold his small but expanding business and went in search for the Patron as people referred to the guy. Funny thing was nobody knew his actual names. Patron was what everyone called him.
Money changed hands and Patron got to work. Within a month, all Achale’s documents were ready and he was about to soar the skies to the land of plenty; a land which he had been made to know flow with milk and honey.
Little did he know the excitement could become his worst nightmare.
Closing his eyes, he could well picture and smell the hot dogs and hamburgers he used to eat. Pictures of the pristine whiteness of the snow during the winter months, which usually made him shout in glee like a kid being offered its favourite toy.
All these swept past before a smiling Achale until the smile died when he reached the moment he was handcuffed and led away like a common thief.
As fate would have it, his visa had expired for a while and he was living undercover for almost a year when his luck ran out and was arrested and sent to jail, where he was stripped of all what he possessed and shipped back home like a common criminal, stripped of all dignity and pride.
The loud bang of metal penetrated his foggy brain and like a dose of cold water, he was brought back to the reality that was his now.
With a sigh Achale grudgingly walked back to join his colleagues, the memories neatly tucked away like a precious treasure chest, leaving a bitter-sweet taste and waiting to be dug up again during one of those boiling but gloomy days.
The tears flew and the frustrations mounted with no snowy weather to quench the heat, the iron bore the anger and frustration like it was responsible for his being stripped.
‘I am a king. I mean who sleeps in such comfortable surroundings? With servants on the go rushing to do their bidding? A King to be sure’.
Moh’Mandem had a smile on his face as he tossed this way and that on his bunk bed. The loud bang of the bell slowly penetrated his sleep fogged brain and brought him to the land of wakefulness. With a sigh, he dragged his leg off the bed, struggling to hang on to the last vestiges of what brought up the smile. Turning his head left and right, it downed on him that he had just experienced one of those fanciful dreams that momentarily takes his mind away from the reality that is his today.
Mama had gone to the market and papa to work when uncle Ngwa, papa’s best friend, came in with this girl.
She was tall, about 1,75m, 20 years of age perhaps. She had long dark curly hair falling down her shoulders, bumping and bouncing as she went along. Her colour was dark ebony and she walked with the graceful gait of a cat. She had the face of an angel and her body was one to die for.
She was wearing a black neck-halter blouse, fitting tight to every curve of her angelic body. Her breasts underneath her blouse were firm and subtle, with the rounded nipple imprinted clearly at the front. Her slim-tight fitting white jeans brought out the roundness and firmness of her taut bottoms, doing things to my blood pressure a visit to the doctor wouldn’t help.
As they came closer, she looked at me. Her eyes were hazel, a combination of brown and green. It was the most beautiful eyes I ever saw. I never saw such colours before in an African woman. I was enveloped in them, sucked up and packaged off, lost and thrown away forever. And then she smiled at me. A kind of heat break through my body, as I shivered as if cold. I looked into her eyes, enveloped in her smile and I knew I was lost forever.
I went to uncle Ngwa, hugged him as I took his briefcase. “Welcome uncle.”
Where do I start?
How do I start?
I know you are watching over us mama.
I know heaven is a good place.
oh mama, I hurt so bad
I miss you mama
I sit and think of all the things I want to tell you.
Sharon is in secondary school, mama. She will be graduating form five in 2 months.
She looks just like aunty Ethel mama, at least that is what most people say.
She loves eating Eru mama, she loves music. She sings like an angel, she laughs like an Angel.
And Nnoko mama, he is adorable. He is now 10. He loves sports. He loves t.v. mama. He looks like daddy.
How is he doing mama? I know he is sitting there beside you in heaven.
I miss daddy mama.
Tell him I love him.
Tell him Nnoko looks just like him. He said he wants to be a doctor, do you know that mama? He wants to be a doctor, just like daddy. Yes, daddy would be very proud of him.
Oh mama, I hurt so bad.
He hit me again mama, he hit me yesterday. He told me he didn’t love me.
He told me he was leaving me for her.
He took the motar pistle mama. It landed on my side.
I felt my ribs breaking. And then he pulled my hair. It came off my scalp mama.
He was drunk again. He said I was a bitch. He said I was bringing him down.
He said my family was rotten; that we were filled with disease. And that our disease was affecting him.
He told me to leave mama, he said I should leave.
I should go with my evil possessed children.
Mechane is just a baby. Yes, I named her after you.
She is a beauty. She looks just like you mama. She smiles like a fairy.
She laughs all the time, my little angel.
She keeps me going mama. They all keep me going.