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Moby Dick

I sat at my table. It was Wednesday. I had sandwiches and a ginger beer on Wednesdays. I sat silently observing everyone around me. A woman who was trying to shut up her two year old in vain, the potbellied man who looked at the daily paper like he was going to enter into its black and white depths, the sullen looking teenager who wouldn’t stop chewing on gum, smacking his lips in sickening fashion.

A Day In The Life Of Superman

Clark cracked open his eyes. The sun had just started to come out in all its glory. It took him some time to get his bearings as he stared at the ceiling. He tried to shake off the depression he felt creeping in, but it just kept coming. He sighed

Lois stirred beside him. He turned to her and smiled. It had been almost a decade, and she still looked as beautiful and feisty as ever. He was still as in love with her as he was the first time he saw her. Her almond shaped eyes, her strong nose and the hard line that was her mouth; even now she was frowning slightly in her sleep. Then slowly, as Clark watched, she opened her eyes. She saw him and smiled.

LOVE STORY

In a galaxy not so far away, I stood in the command centre of the ‘Sinero’ (don’t ask i have no idea why we named it that either) and took in the sights I was privy to through the strong Plexiglas that stood between us and outer space.

The space station was the pride and joy of our defence corps; it has regularly been defined as the sturdiest structure in the world. We were probably the most elite force in the world but we didn’t even have a name; we just kinda called ourselves the defence corps. That was it, but we were feared and revered all over the world.

A Happy Poem

You once asked me to write a happy poem

“Why so gloomy babe? The world is beautiful”

For you My Love,

I could write about the sun rise

Kissing my face gently at dawn

As I wake, tangled with you

After long nights

I won’t mention the emptiness

I now feel at those moments

Those same rays, now unwelcome intruders

When I am here alone

My only company, the demons that you left

The Girl Called Fortunate

I’ve been told the stars have names, every single one of them. That some people who did not have problems decided to pass their time by naming them. White people! How is that even possible? There are too many of them and they all look alike, how could the namers tell them apart?

I try to concentrate more as I look at them, to see if I will notice some differences that had earlier eluded me but I see none, the only difference is that some are bigger and brighter.

The Ahosi (A short Story)

“Charge!”

The commander’s voice rang like a bell above the thumping of the drums in the clear afternoon. We sprang from our crouching position like thunderbolts from the hand of Xevioso, all three hundred of us moving as one.  We reached our objective after a short sprint.

Plague

“Get your things now!” screamed Tolani Williams at his teenage daughter, Ashley. He was frantically stuffing things into a little duffel bag.

“Daddy? What’s going on? Where are we going?” asked, the clearly terrified teenager.

He looked at her. She still looked beautiful even with the strain of the last couple of days. She had lost weight. She had her mother’s high cheekbones, bright eyes and full lips. Her natural hair was neck length. It looked haggard now, but so did his. He hadn’t shaved in over a week, his hair was a mess and he was sure his clothes stank

BOOK REVIEW: A Conspiracy Of Ravens by Othuke Ominiabohs

A Conspiracy of Ravens is the second novel by Othuke Ominiabohs (author of Odufa), a political thriller. As suggested by the title, the novel follows the players and the pawns in a high-echelon conspiracy connected with every historical threat to the Nigerian State, from the Civil War to Boko Haram insurgency and Niger-Delta militancy.

Christmas Dreams

Paul awoke suddenly, bed drenched in sweat. He looked around him to get his bearing. He couldn’t see much. There was no power.

‘Thanks Nepa!’ he thought. He was alone in his room. He glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table; it read 5:02am. He sighed, if he slept for an hour more, he’d have to get to work. He ran a hand through very short hair and rubbed his eyes, what was the dream he was having again? He could have sworn that he was having a dream. His heart relaxed, he hadn’t even realized it was beating fast, he took a deep breath and gave the room another once over. Whether because he was afraid of some unseen intruder or because he just liked peering into the darkness, he had no idea.

A Brief Conversation

A mans sits in the middle of the park. Brooding, perhaps. It’s snowing, not so heavily but enough to be wrapped up. He wasn’t wrapped up. He was dressed moderately.

Not how you dress in December, not in this side of the country. His head, bowed down. Thinking, perhaps. He’s surrounded by children. They play, loudly. Occasional screams; nothing loud enough to break his concentration. No.

Yes, he’s thinking now. So much so, he doesn’t notice the child sitting next to him. The child is properly dressed for the weather but still, feels the sting of the December winter. It’s really cold.

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