by Mary-Jane Writes, published 6 months, 2 weeks ago
A really short story written for 100WordsAfrica.com that won 100 USD.
Baba’s been bedridden for months. I never knew that a human could produce such foul smell.
The farming season is here, and mama is weary.
Alhaji Gambo already has twelve wives, but he is the richest suitor so far, and he has always had eyes for me.
Three weeks after the bride price has been paid, after I felt the shriveled slimy thing go inside me, I became another trophy.
One cold night, I felt warm hands fondle my breast skillfully, arousing my deepest need.
“Let’s help ourselves tonight, our turn is still far” it was Khadijat the fifth wife.
by email@example.com, published 1 month, 1 week ago
Eko sat on the brim of the wide bed venting, her face oily and nose runny; her lips corrugated from the harmattan wind. After her chores she had entered the bedroom to stretch her back on the colorful woolen duvet. Her wrapper held tight above her breasts. As she made to the wardrobe, the door creaked and her husband stormed in wearing a caftan with trousers that seemed to have been used more than it wanted. There was grave silence, only for the rotor of the ceiling fan above.
Her husband tiptoed to the wine cabinet and a glass crackled, its amorphous pieces rippling on the floor, "I have the divorce papers on the table" he finally mumbled. As he walked out of the bedroom with the gait of a cat, she knew it was finally over; the cement that had held their wall of marriage for three years had broken like a piece of glass. "think about the children, what will become of them" she said quivering.
"you should have thought of that before your act".
"remember all our promises" her filmy eyes peering at favor and Ira. The affair with her acclaimed cousin was out at last.
by summer, published 1 month, 1 week ago
The small crowd gathered in front of my tailor's shop that chilly Thursday morning spelt trouble.
I hadn't forgotten to sew the expensive aseobi for Lotanna and Owei's wedding. I kept putting it off till we travelled that December. only two days before the wedding, I trudged to my village's market and found a tailor willing to fit me into her busy schedule.
"Madam, don't worry. come Thursday morning. if you don't meet me, you will meet my apprentices" she had reassured me, as she took my measurements.
That Thursday though, when I arrived, I found the gate padlocked.
"na me be the apprentice," a short, stout girl announced loudly "she go nkwo market and she no drop key. O dị ka unu ga-alaghachi"
Some protested and cursed, but the crowd began to dissipate. That was when I noticed the lone daffodil.
It, and the tailor's absence was clearly a sign not to attend their wedding. After all, I had chosen to go just to convince everyone that it didn't hurt that my ex fiance left me for lotanna four months ago.
Laughing, I picked the daffodil with tingling fingers, and stopped the next bike I saw.
by rishama, published 1 month, 2 weeks ago
From a distance one could easily tell the cloaked figure was worried. It was a frail woman, hiding under a black shawl and pacing in front of the two heavy doors that stood before her. On a closer look you would see that she clutched a red rosary in her hands, furiously reciting parts of the Hail Mary that she could remember, as if that would somehow bring her the clarity she so desperately needed. But then again, there was no one around this parking lot for miles except the legal team waiting behind those oak doors of course. Twice now, she had walked away from the doors. Going through them would mean her life was over. But yet, she paced.
Finally, she stopped abruptly and straightened, allowing the shawl to fall to her narrow waist. She was going to walk through those doors, face all seven lawyers and tell them her truth. She paused with her palms on the doors, then she pushed open. Everyone stood up at her entrance, but she held up a hand to silence them.
"Yes" deep breath "I killed Okoro"
Her voice broke " I killed the only man I've ever loved"