Browsing: Flash Fiction

Aguba was inconsolable. He woke up sobbing but his wife did not move a muscle even though she was awake. It was becoming a usual occurrence for Aguba to wake up at times like this and she was already getting tired of asking. Some nights he wakes up happy, some other nights, he cries out in pain.

Amadi looked her and smiled. Indeed, God was in support of his next move. After the dibia had told him of the nature of the sacrifice required to bring him out of his predicament, he had asked God for a sign. He knew it was wrong by all standards to kill an infant, but he was at his wits end. So he prayed and God, seemingly, heard.

So he took her hand, turned her to himself and reiterated, “I would never do anything to hurt you, Aisha. I’d rather die”. She smiled and kissed him. She didn’t want promises; all the men she had met never kept any. She loved him and she was grateful he felt the same way. “If you die, I die”, she thought, but she didn’t say anything.

The debtor walked in and it was the town’s brute. Head of the agberos and king of ‘boys’, Capone was the devil in flesh. Ochanya could not imagine being the wife of the man who had ruined the lives of most girls in the community, but she had no choice.

The next time he walked into the area, he came in with three scary-looking boys. Ugwu was ready to take out his obstacle and its carrier. He wasn’t going to allow anything to get in the way of his admission; the first one after writing JAMB for eight years.

Adeola handed her cellphone to the terrified young man, who surprisingly stayed back. In a nod, she asked him to read out the message she just received. He obeyed. It read: YOUR TIME IS UP. She heaved a sigh and closed her eyes.

My mom was the Queen of Mischiefs, and as we got closer to her dying day, she would often talk of one final mischief. No one saw it coming. The next day, seven young men showed up claiming they are my mom’s first son. Please, Nigerians help me. I don’t know who I am anymore.

The longest she ever stayed with a family is 3 years. Usually when they tire of her, they accuse her of stealing something and then send her away. She would roam the streets for days and then they will come looking for her. They would take her back and hold a family council where another relative will offer to take her.

She told them she was going to be away for a year, and everyone got curious. In fact, they were confused. They expected her to be happy, but she wasn’t. If something had gone wrong, they couldn’t tell what it was. The gloom oozing from her was just too strong.

From where she stood, she could make out her twins girls, but something didn’t seem right. Sharply, she turned to look at the scoreboard. Shoot! The scoreline was a tie.

Aisha nodded and even feigned a smile. She looked at her mother’s swollen face and tears well up in her eyes.

Grace turned, collected what he was offering and started to walk away. She was everywhere, and her shrill voice was dishing out commands. The Army General, Grace, was going to set up a base, and she needed her foot soldiers to get going.

After two hours and twenty-seven minutes of actively trying in hunger and tiredness; weak limbs and banging head, my generator is finally on.

When I came to, Strange Boy was talking to one mai magani bera – an otapiapia vendor. The vendor didn’t have sniper, so the boy settled for traditional rat poison commonly known as otapiapia. He picked up his wheelbarrow, dumped his shovel in it and bid me farewell.

Mr. Olumide, our neighbor, is involved in some next level shit. Word reaching us is that his dearest wife, (eight years childless), went into labor at the same time his sweet Sade did.