african contemporary literature

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Infections of Love #5

Read previous episodes of Infections of Love by Mo Priye THE SQUARE ROOT OF LOVE My Dear Julia. I now understand the forlorn looks characters try to portray in adverts and films and in a well told story. I’m that character, listening to the whistling wind, looking through the window of a moving bus, staring out into the woods, seeing not the sunshine nor the green trees nor the buildings in between, trying to figure out which of the options would be less shattering. I know why your eyes are shaped like a broken heart. Their grey reflections are, without doubt, a result of a sad heart and I’m not proud to be one that caused that. I’m not proud to be the one who made you lose that infectious smile which spreads across your face like red tint on ripening tomatoes. Now I’m wondering where you kept that smile.…

Go Getter (Go-Get-Her) #14

The Ballerina berries were still on the drawer where she had left them, and her mother sat reclined on the sofa in the sitting room listening to the disquieting static the T.V was sputtering with dark shades on. She was feeling so at home, and not dead at all like Sharon had wished. And with a cold can of Pepsi sitting on the stool, she looked like one having  a sun bath.   Miss Sharon knew that her mother had noticed her entrance though she still failed to make any indication. She stood there resting her shoulder on the doorpost of the dining room, absorbing the hate that was filling her up. She knew what her mother wanted, knew that she knew the mission was a success, and was waiting for a report. She wished again that she had tasted the berries, one at least if not all. That would…

Go Getter (Go-Get-Her) #8

*     *     * Mrs Osifo, Sandy’s neighbour who had provided the car which conveyed Sandy to the hospital sat slumped on a couch in the waiting room, deep in thought. She muttered words of prayers that were only made audible in her heart, she wished they would ameliorate the fear that clouded her mind. The forlorn expression still remained on her face and her eyes were puffed up and bloodshot from lack of sleep and occasional tears. She thought back to that sunny afternoon, ten years ago when she   had entered into the sitting room to meet her only daughter in a bloody pool, the old fashioned air conditioner- which was the costliest thing in the house then- was on and it hummed noisily as it cooled the atmosphere, chilling her daughter’s blood. She had ran out of the door in pure fright and screamed the loudest she could but…

Secrets #7

“I’m so sorry, Sade.” Eyes narrowed, she shook her head, confused. “What exactly is going on, Niyi? Niyi blew out a breath with his mouth, ran his hands over his face and turned to Kunle, who was staring at Bunmi with a look of shock on his face. “Kunle.” Slowly, he turned his head to look at Niyi and his eyes narrowed. “Yes, what exactly is going on, sir?” “I am your father, Kunle. Your mother and I…” “You brought your mistress to live in my house?” He turned back to an open-mouthed Sade and shook his head quickly. “It wasn’t that way, at all. Agnes has never been my mistress. I had a brief relationship with her and that ended almost two years before you came into my life.” Still looking at his wife, he waved a hand in Kunle’s direction. “Kunle was born, as a result of that…

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