Am I allowed to dream of you? Holding hands and talking loud When humans are asleep? My back to the wall, legs crossed Your arms around a pillow, Talking about how our days went And how we're looking Forward to the weekend. Am I allowed to think of you? As mine, belonging to me and… Continue reading Am I Allowed To Dream of You?
Death, cancer, short story, flash fiction
He checked the watch on his left wrist. "Phew, it's almost 8." He started to put his laptop in his bag as he made to leave the office. He tried to keep his mind on the steering wheel. "I just hope she's fine", he muttered under his breath. The door wasn't locked when he got… Continue reading Has Bibi Eaten?
Dear Dee, I know this is no way to start a letter, but being forced to survive against all odds has probably destroyed every iota of courtesy that a letter like this demands. We were near perfect, you know, until I decided I wanted to be another Katnis Everdeen and wouldn't listen to anything else.… Continue reading The One Who Didn’t Stay : A Sci-fi Story.
Hello, I'm Dele and I'm in my last year of junior secondary school in a public school in our area. I live in Ibadan with my parents and five siblings. Our family is quite a happy one ,although sometimes, we don't get enough of what we want. I always give a big portion of my… Continue reading Tiny Seeds of Society.
SUNDAY. Mum was sitting in the backseat with me as we drove back from the hospital, sobbing in a way that thawed at my heart. We’d just been told I had three more days to live. I really wanted to cry, but I was too shocked to even move my lips. I took a… Continue reading When My Sun Set.
We sat in the dark and the only thing that was on was the ceiling fan. For the first time, I wasn't fully clothed and did not feel weird about it. My head was on his chest. "Fola, how right is this? ", I asked. He said nothing and caressed my ears. "Did you hear… Continue reading Of Fola and Spiralling Feelings.
I touch the cold walls, to know how it feels to be cold for the last time. I hold my dish of the stale meal and stare at it for a while. Because by tomorrow, this dish would be here and I would not. I sit, hold my head in both hands and sigh. There's… Continue reading Cold, Cold Prison Walls.