Search for Topics or Keywords.
Posts that’ll interest you…
Follow me on TwitterMy Tweets
To thine own self, be true!
‘Wow! Is this how make-up sex feels like? We need to quarrel more’, he thought with a smirk.
‘Oh fuck!’, he cursed.
‘My courage will not be squashed; I’ll tell her my feelings today’, I soliloquised, as I passed by an electoral poster of her father. I always look forward to seeing her alighting from the chauffeur-driven SUV but oddly, she wasn’t in school today.
A crowd lurked around her house. People conversed in hushed tones, gathered in twos and threes. The usual euphoria was absent. I moved towards Rotimi as I sighted his customized Arsenal jersey in the crowd.
‘Guy, wetin dey happen?’, I asked, tapping his shoulder.
‘Baba, you never hear ni? Otunba & his family were assassinated last night’
Image Source: Deviant Art
My sweaty palm held the stock of the sawn off gun tightly while the other wrapped around the barrel. Shadows of the marauders were visible from under the door.
‘You fuckers ain’t getting away this time’, I mouthed.
I had woken up to the fuzzy sight of my wife’s breast amidst her agitated taps. She had been breastfeeding Oreoluwa.
‘Won tun tide!’, she whispered.
In a frenzy, I reached for the gun wrapped in an old newspaper under the bed. I told the shaken woman to lock the door as I tiptoed to the foyer.
Facing the entrance door, I squeezed the trigger. Then two more times. No sound rang out.
Fuck! I didn’t collect the shells from Audu before he traveled.
The banging persisted. I dashed to the kitchen exit and tucked the firearm under a pile of dry twigs. I thereafter returned to let the robbers in.
Learning, Laughing, Living and Loving it!
A 20 something with a web space...
Why keep all of that frustration within when you can vent?
"A short story is like a kiss in the dark from a stranger." Stephen King
Your Stories. My Stories. Our Stories. Please forward all enquiries to firstname.lastname@example.org.