Beasty by Natasha

The beasty creature shook the foundation of the ground as it chased Wanita through the thick bush. God!  Finally, a meal. Those little mouse had tricked him and made him starve for five days. Heavens help them when he catches.  Getting closer now. It pounded its feet harder on the ground to increase her fear.

He was doing nothing wrong. By nature,  his kind feasted on humans.  Humans were brutal to his people,  they deserved every amount of devouring.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Geez, they sure know how to scream. One more hop and it is over. He braced himself to take the last hop.

"Where's this water coming from?"

"Cheker wake up man, Cheker!"

He grunted as he realized it.

"Dude get up. It's time to go hunt."
"I had a great feast I almost caught."

"Yea right, in your dreams."

His brothers laughed at him as they breathed and soared.

What category of animal do think the beasty creature is? 

High Road by Natasha

Jerry stared at the man, now old, shaking, looking with glazed eyes. Spotting the white under his nose. Old habits never die.

"Son,  it's me. You don real good for yourself."

This man that took everything from them.

"Damn little punk!  You no different from your whore mama. You damn kids running around my house. Go fine your mama, I ain't your daddy."

As always, he was high that night as he chased them out into the dark cold night.

This man that smashed his mom's head when she was pregnant with Gina.

This man that put a gun to his twelve year old son's head and threatened to shoot.

This man that left them broke as hell and alone, watching mama bleed from the hundredth head smash.

"Mr. Jerry sir,  do you know him?"
Jerry stared at this man. The words echoed

"Jerry honey, we gotta take the high road. We gotta be better."

This man!

"Mark,  take him to the hospital." Jerry marched away to his place of solace.

He slumped down on the beautiful stone and relieved all those years.
With every memory that popped, he wept heavy tears of buried anger.


Where do you think Jerry went?  

TIDE by Kamsy

"Oshodi Oshodi! Enter with your change o!"

There is a tide in the affairs of men.  Jide knew that so well.

Back in the day, going for lectures, never missing any all night reading, submitting his assignment on schedule, grabbing the A's and B's and clutching home the comfortable 2:1.  He had achieved his one plan. Jide was certain he would beat the tide in the labour market.

It took his years of sending applications and going for interviews, his mother almost dying and being chased from their rented house, for him to realize,that in the tide of the affairs of men, one must pack up different escape plans because the current blew without warning where it was headed.

"Oga complete my money."

"Conductor abeg, please, I no know say I no get the complete money. Abeg na interview I dey go like this."

Hanging on the Danfo bus, in his slashed faded jeans and orange washed off shirt. Jide stared at this one like him, in his clean white ironed shirt and trousers, gripping his brown envelope with a serene focus.  He wondered where the current will blow this one.
 

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Lost by Natasha

At a certain point in our lives,  we lose who we used to be,  that we may discover who we are meant to be. I believed in these words.

That was why I did not resist when my fraternity brothers told me to take my first bottle of beer even though my only kidney was barely living up.

That was why I took my turn on drunk Annabelle after my Kappa Z brothers.
That was why I  joined  the dare game to rob a bank after final papers.

I knew at that point,  standing in the  bank, screaming
"Kiss the floor! " I  had lost who I used to be and sure hell was not discovering who I  was meant to be.  But what could I do now?

I laid there, hearing the wails,  breaths seizing.  I lost who I was, thinking I'd find who I'm meant to be, but here,  now, I reflect back and think about who I could have been.



What do you think happened to him? 

White Flags by Tony Madukwe

This letter is about my plan to kill myself. I am exasperated with this thing people tell me is my life and with how I have adeptly destroyed the "bright prospects" you made of it. When grandmother died last year, she took with her the last half-reason I had to want to continue this struggle of living. After you called me with the news, I sat staring at the wall for a long time. Then I opened my eyes wide and my nostrils and my mouth but still it seemed I could never draw in enough air to fill my lungs. I knew at that moment that my body would slowly forget what it meant to breathe right.

Right now, the uncertainty of whatever lies beyond death has become more attractive than the certainty of life's daily agony. My heart and mind are no longer accepting arguments on why life is better. They agree that plunging my body into death is the most sincere act of faith. And of mercy. Tomorrow you will read about my suicide and the world will convince you that I have done a foul and cowardly thing. But you must understand that they speak from ignorance. You must remind them that if they did not know the battles I lost, they cannot judge my white flags of surrender.

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Broken by Natasha

Skyler was the glue that held  their marriage. He was the foundation that held the pillar of them both. The one light that the world needed . . . Skyler.

"Blow the candle baby!" It was his sixth birthday.  He stared at the cake as though contemplating. He turned to his parents with those deep blue eyes. "Mummy I want everyone to put ten dollars into my piggy."

"Honey,  why?"

"Mr Cherri Buggy has to go to the doctor for his runny nose."

Everyone laughed,  Skyler, up on his tactics of championing his cause for the neighborhood animals.

Now her life was broken.

That was her kid, always thinking about others, always believing. Monica stared at the words on the stone.

"Skyler Scott.  .  . Loving son. Neighborhood Buddy."

She snatched her hands away from Jason's grip.  She glared at him with her swollen eyes.

"You should have watched him."

She walked away. Jason knew it was forever. He could still feel the bitter taste of the liquid.

It's okay, by this time tomorrow, it will all be over. Forever. 

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The Hero in My Soul by Natasha

The children stared at Janet with tears as she desperately yanked the balcony door. The black smoke coming from the flames in the hallway was seizing their throats. Janet yanked the door off and saw people gathering down.

"Thank God! Over here, we are here!" She waved.  Five men pushed the bouncy castle close to the balcony "Get them to jump!"

They each jumped down to the bouncy castle, safe. Except Jenny whose legs were stuck.

"Please don't leave me, please!"

"I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

Janet pulled the wood, but it wouldn't budge. Took deep breaths and pulled again.  Flames were beginning to blaze in. They coughed and gasped for breath.

"Jenny,  it's okay, I'm he--" She coughed hard. "I'm here."

She took the blanket and covered Jenny.  

"Ms. Janet."

"Yes honey?"

"Thank you for being a good teacher"

They hugged as their tears mingled. Janet went back to pulling the wood.

When the firemen finally came. They saw them, surrounded by flames.

For years, the whole town sighed when they remembered the speech of little Jenny at the funeral.  The teary speech that started with "The Hero in my Soul."

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SEPTEMBER 24th by Aisha

The day my mother fulfilled the promise she had been promising me – September 24.

"Ovie,  one day I will slap you and you will recite all that times table that you don't know"

She always bluffed with her dramatic declarations of groundbreaking beating.

September 24th came with a cool morning, happy singing birds. That afternoon descended with the good news of Papa Ejima's return from the village.  Papa Ejima was notorious in the compound for his huge nylon bag of SUYA whenever he returned from travel.  A very gentle man that led me astray.

In the joy of his return, that was when Mama remembered she forgot to buy pepper.

"Ovie come and buy pepper from Mama Iyabo for me."

Was I to leave this jubilation for common pepper? No way.

"Ovie, Ovie!"

My talent of jumping like a frog came in handy as I took the front row. Thank God, he was giving me my own.

"Banggggggg!" her hand landed on my ear.

The rhyme started immediately.

"2x1=2

 2x2=4

 2x3=6. . ." I made the ancient Babylonians proud for the rest of that day.

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Boxing Show by Kamsy

"Useless man!  Look at you. Shame on you, wuuuuuuuuuu!"

"You are cursed! I don't blame you,  is it because I pitied you and married you."

"You pitied me,  hehehehehe,  when no woman wanted to marry you, have you forgotten how you were begging me,  begging me to look at your disfigured face and the sorry toothpick in between your legs!"

"Me,  toothpick!, how dare you!"

I ran to my favourite viewing spot, to watch my boxing show.

Mummy was on daddy now,  throwing punches at his jaw as though she was pounding her cassava for the day's market. Daddy was screaming like a little girl,  haha,  as usual. Mummy will win this one again.

Out of nowhere, our old iron came up. Mummy's hand went down like a sack of rice.

When our neighbours ran in and some went out and came back with the people that are our friend on the street. I knew that my daily boxing show was gone,  and so I wept heavy loud tears. 

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Adios Mr Sneaker by Natasha

It is just complete silence now. 

Who will tell ma that I drained you Mr Sneaker to get her that shop? 

Who will tell PA, I gave my blood sweat to wear out Mr Sneaker?

Who will know understand our bond Mr Sneaker? 

God!  How I loved you that first day PA brought you home. We were going to reach greatness together. Oh Mr Sneaker this is where our journey ends. I hope you find peace where you are now.

Funny how flashes of our playing days are popping up. I guess it is to relieve it before the silence reigns. The bright dreams of that sixteen year old taking the bus to the city that day. Feet perfectly fit inside Mr. Sneaker. You were my comfort. You pushed me to fight on, and I did. Our  plan was so clear, our success so certain. 

 You were supposed to be here with me. Here on this court. I will always remember you.

"And Jimmy Scott shoots the ball for the win. Holy Maclony! even without his old boots on tonight, he is a beauty to watch! But we all will miss that boot. "

 Viva Forever Mr Sneaker! 

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