I settle down again in my former position, curling into the chair. “I’m Ebo,” the stranger says when he sits on his. “Nice to meet you.” “I’m Nina. Nice to meet you too,” I reply, meaning it. After a beat, he confesses, “I’m here to hide. You?” I think about it. Technically, I’m not hiding. My people know where I am. “I’m recharging my social battery,” I tell him. He grins. “That sounds much better than hiding.” Curious and taken …
Category: Fiction
I’m an introvert. This means that I love to stay indoors, enjoy my own company a little too much, and so simply inviting me out is not enough. You need to convince me that it’s in …
Written by Balogun Iretomiwa Arsela stood naked in front of the full-length mirror and took a good look at herself. She couldn’t believe what she saw; it seemed so surreal, impossible. Suddenly, an arm came from …
Written by Winifred Òdúnóku 1 You’re supposed to be doing an assignment on your laptop, but your mind is far away. Sitting across from you is Fela, a fellow student who shares the same sleeping space—one …
“Babe! Your phone is ringing!” Maria called out to her husband as she pulled down her favourite black night dress. As usual, he was still there long after she had finished her shower. She was used …
Written by Toluwani The apartment was dark and silent when they entered and smelled sweetly of sandalwood. Being home calmed Anansi immensely. She had secured her prey. She shut the door softly and turned on the …
Written by By Toluwani (Note: Oxa is pronounced Osha) At 6:35 am, the sun snuck in through the window and alighted on Anansi’s face. She awoke with a start, already on her feet, naked, and covered …
Read part two here. Confused but grateful nonetheless, I hurried home to take a much-needed bath to wash away the last few hours of my life. I was on the edge of a breakdown, but I …
I gasped as I was unceremoniously pushed onto my knees in the centre of the town square by one of the men who had arrested me from home at the crack of dawn. I faced the …
You meet him at the supermarket. You are at the counter, ATM card in hand. Chatter rising and falling, music bouncing on the walls. He taps your shoulder and you turn around. He has a strong …
There are stories of the ghost who limps, or weeps, or runs into the clothing shop on Sunday mornings. They say she is searching for her husband’s mistress. They say she walked in on a Sunday …