Ursula’s light was usually on before anyone else’s at home. She woke early and bathed earlier than her parents, her two younger brothers, the neighbors. The glow of her windows held out as two white blots on a dark screen. Through the thick ambiance of dawn it remained that way, hours before anyone else woke … Continue reading The Biology of Affection
This is the last of the Ephemeral Twilight Series. You can read part 1 there: An Ephemeral Twilight: The Light and part 2, here: An Ephemeral Twilight: The Darkness For Disappointment, like a lover on her period. Penny lived in a gated community at Spintex, hidden at the sides of a long stretch of dirt road. It bore … Continue reading An Ephemeral Twilight: The Myth of Plato’s Cave
This is Part 2 of a short story I posted on here a week ago. Click on this link to read it: An Ephemeral Twilight: The Light He woke up naked in the sand, the squint of his eyelids slowly drawing his vision into focus. It was morning, dawn. He could tell from the grey darkness … Continue reading An Ephemeral Twilight: The Darkness
The drizzle blinded his windscreen, the frantic movement of the cars wipers doing little to help him see the uneven undulation of dirt road in front. Directing the wheel with one hand, he used the other to scroll through his phone for her number, the cars Bluetooth picked up the call. Outside, the rain fell … Continue reading An Ephemeral Twilight: The Light
He sat beside the window and waved her goodbye. She watched him leave, her head following the boneshaker till the cloud of smoke from its exhaust pipe slowly settled, leaving dust where the rickety bus once stood. In silence, she turned around towards whence she had come; through the ticket office, into a porch, then … Continue reading As You Are: My Husband, My Friend.
From the balcony, a chubby teenage girl in glasses noticed a blue van pull in through the rain. She put down the novel she had been so engrossed in but seconds before and took off her glasses. Downstairs she could hear her mom and dad rush outside, she watched as they placed an umbrella over … Continue reading Fat 2: Family Ties and Lost Love
This was my submission to the ADA open call for writers. I have always had an interest in the horror genre of film and recently began experimenting with some of its elements in my writing. Unfortunately my story was not picked; which is not surprising considering I still have a long way to go in … Continue reading Junior, My Boy (et dissimulas pecatta mea)
For Bernard, who came up with a wonderful title for something "I could write one day". I'm sorry its not a social commentary on youth trends and social yo yo. I hope this makes you smile though. It was a regular Friday evening when I met her. Music, alcohol and dance, I had chanced upon … Continue reading Ponks and the Skirts
Writers Note: There’s a fire in a pit, for some reason these are the first words that came out my brain when I opened word just now so that's what I will go with. There’s a fire in a pit ….. When there’s a fire in a pit my son what do you do? Do … Continue reading About Man, Who Once Upon a Time, Came Upon a Fire.
For Daasebre Dwamenah, who inspired the sadness inside me even before I knew what heartbreak was. Sing with the Angels, please. If the clouds darken and it thunders and you cant sleep When it rains and rains and the rain does not stop I will ignore my racing heart and walk through the rain So … Continue reading Rain, A Love Story
I write; Of warriors who once upon a time came upon a witch They had been travelling for days after a loosing war; had seen brothers slashed to pieces by the enemies sword, impaled on sticks for vultures to devour, cowards! They had been chased out, like dogs from the battlefront. And so they walked … Continue reading Of Warriors Who Once Upon a Time, Came Upon a Witch.
I am 30 years old and already my head balds, I wear trousers and a fading grey tee shirt, the shirt is not fading, the lettering of Columbia across its chest is. I sit inside my stall clocking in a few details before I leave, the ink to my bic pen is all the way … Continue reading Hard Times; a Metaphor to Being a Man