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Prose -
Short Stories
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Written by Jude Dibia
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Friday, 03 July 2009 10:05 |
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It lay in her palm, looking as innocent as a miniscule piece of communion bread. She had discovered it minutes ago. It was in a transparent brown medicine container. It stood out, surrounded by other multi-colored multivitamin capsules and pink allergy tablets. She should not have looked. Thirty minutes was a long time to wait for someone, especially if you had nothing else to do.
“Wait for me in the apartment,” Oche had said over the telephone. “The gate man will let you in. He has a spare key. I will only be thirty minutes.”
Thirty minutes. She was used to waiting for him, but not like this. The first time she had waited was at his work place. He owned an up market French-style bistro that sat comfortably in the savvy commercial district of the island suburb. He invited her not long after they started having sex. The gesture had surprised her. |
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Poetry -
Love & Affection
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Written by Dave Chukwuji, Writer & Poet
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Wednesday, 01 July 2009 19:19 |
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I walked down Orion Avenue
the cobblestone walkway
Were a work of art but none
that my questing heart could exalt
you would think it’s a beauty to behold
what beauty can a street possibly possess
if there are no women walking it… |
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Prose -
Short Stories
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Written by Osahon Akpata
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Wednesday, 01 July 2009 19:13 |
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It was Sunday after church and Tunde was excited. His parents had finally, after much begging and pleading, agreed to take him to his friend Tijani’s party once the service was over. He had made the point that Tijani’s home was only a five minute drive from Our Savior’s Anglican Church. His friend was from a Muslim home and was doing the unusual thing of hosting a birthday bash on a Sunday. Tunde’s mother had first objected. “We can’t go straight from church to a Muslim house for a party,” she whispered to her husband. “How will that look? What if the meat has been prayed on by an Imam? Is that the right thing for us to do if we eat it?” |
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Poetry -
Life & Creation
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Written by Ainehi Edoro
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Tuesday, 30 June 2009 18:13 |
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When the scrambling for truth is over And God, suffering from the munchies, Is eating travelers off the narrow road, Let us meet at a market place like Facebook Far from airless cloisters where Zealots have turned zombies, Mummified by martyrs and Stripped naked by saints Nailed to metaphors made of ore. |
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