domestic violence

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Biyankavitch #3

Tanko’s shocking return had awakened the entire Bahago family. They had gathered around him like he was the eighth wonder of the world. This was a man that had disappeared and had been buried; five years he was gone, but here he sat amongst them, in flesh and blood. He was not the Tanko they knew, but he was the son and brother they had lost. For Tsakani, he was unreal. This had to be his twin. Someone was screwing with her head. If she could have fainted a second time, she would have, and maybe awoken to find it was all a dream; but not to see his face searching hers curiously as he had done. But all she could do was take in every detail about him she could absorb, starting from his head to his feet, and then she would stop and shiver. If he looked at…

It’s Another Novocaine Saturday #16

If you are yet to like my new Facebook page, Wall of Accents, please do so, for kickass content. You can read more about the page here My mom, the religious nut she is, will always tell me, “Nothing is ever hidden under the sun. One day God will expose you.” It makes me always wonder what type of mother she is. Normal mothers support and protect their kids but my mom will gladly throw me under the bus to please Jesus. And today, she has reared up her ugly head to remind me that nemesis is at my door. “Mommy, I have heard you,” I say to her on the phone. I don’t even know why I answered her call. I am in the middle of something here. “Ojonoka, pray o! Pray well-well! Devil wants to use you.” Devil is already using me. He’s six foot…

For Better, For Worse (Jamila 2) by Sally

FOR BETTER FOR WORSE JAMILA 1983 “don’t let her out of that gate!” Evelyn stopped, looked at one of the soldiers manning the gate and turned around to face Jamila who was standing at her veranda. “Tell him to let me go.” She stood under heavy, windy rain, shivering non stop. “Come back in, Ev. You will catch a cold.” “I have to take my sister to the po-police,” she shivered. “Please, tell him to open the gate.” Jamila walked out into the rain when she noticed Evelyn’s resolve weakening. The wind beat against her body and she did her best to stop her kimono from flying open. “Come in, my dear,” she reached out and touched her. Evelyn shook her head and began crying. She once was a sweet woman, not too long ago, but what Jamila now saw was fear and despair and she felt deeply sorry for her. “Come, let’s…

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