short story

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ice cream bowl

The plan with Kayode was that the babies wouldn’t come till the third year of marriage. Part of the plan was also to have loads...

I met Ifeanyi in 2016 at the Kenneth Dike Library, University of Ibadan. It was one of those days when I went to the library...

    “Mushin Olosha! Mushin, mushin wole!!” hollered the conductor who draped on the yellow bus horizontally stripped with black. I had boarded the bus...

News of tears… Sidi treks hastily on the narrow pathway that lies on the road virtually towards the stream and the stall for making cassava...

The only person in the world that could bring down Annie from the edge of that rooftop was lying in a mortuary cooler just a...

Grandmother Bama looked from one to the other, and could not, for the sake of sanity decide which one was more foolish. There, they sat,...

  That evening at my street was particularly serene. It wasn’t the usual bustles and blaring horns of okadas, it was the young pigs that...

She liked to look at the walls. She liked to look at the whiteness of the walls as he moved above her. She regurgitated the...