Posts

The list of the top 20 stories to qualify for the judging stage is ready. The list was compiled following five-day the voting process where some stories had almost 300 votes to their names.

Shortlisted writers for Flash Fiction Writing Contest:

1. Dela Azojani Adeorike

2. Stephen Ezennwa

3. Jesutofunmi Fekoya

4. Hauwa Hala Nuraddeen

5. Umeh Prisca Ijeoma

6. Deborah Johnson

7. Nana Khadija Yahaya

8. Mary Emmanuel Bawa

9. Eniola Balogun

10. Idris Ayanfe

11. Chiziterem Chijioke

12. OYENIRAN TOFUNMI EUNICE

13. Ruqayyah Saghir Nabage

14. Yunusa Ibrahim

15. Gift Ukay

16. Ishola Ubaidah

17. Annie Ifinedo

18. Rabi Lawal

19. Aisha Bint Mahmud

20. Khadija Musa

All 20 shortlisted stories were beautifully relayed but only three will winners will be announced on the 28th.

The judges will judge based on story line, theme, how well the rules were followed, diction, punctuation and many other factors.

2nd Runner up- N2,000

1st runner up- N3,000

Winner- N10,000.

May the very best story win. Best of luck to all.

I make the tea

Brewed slowly

 With a pinch of rage

A spoon of negativity

 And a cube of toxic people.


I stir the tea

Mixed solemnly

By a pensive hand

And some sobriety

 And watch as the people

Dance to their tune

A bland unmelodious rhythm.


And when they are at ease

And they think I’m at peace

I pick the cup

Raise it gently to my lips

I can hear them chuckle in victory

They will intoxicate my life

Again with rotten things

 Then I let go of the cup

Watch them spill and ruin the ground

The people, the bad and the toxicities.


                                    I
  You were far more interesting as a mystery The perfect profile with a fine faceOn your adventurous timelineYou had sensible picturesAnd captions that said you were nice


                              II
You were far more fun in my imagination Witty linesAnd cheesy repliesYour eyes in that picture Suggests so much humour Our conversations were so funny in my mind.


                         III
You were far more reasonable by my thoughtsSensitive to the feeling of othersSober when seriousSensible when soberYour views were very matureBecause in that picture You had on a turtle neck sweatshirt And some nerdy glasses.

                              IV
You were far more intelligent in my spurnsYou effortlessly brush through art, music and sportsYour views are philosophyYou cherish historyAnd are always hungry to learn more.

                           V
You were far too sacred in my thoughts Then I made the biggest mistake, your fallI ruined our unrelationshipBy sneaking in your direct messagesAnd discovering that you were just another flop.

I

Is it yours?

When it can be taken away 

As swiftly as you came

With no notice,

This time, with no prior notice.


Is it yours?

When the only thing 

Between you and the grave

Is one last breathe

And you have no control


Is it yours? 

When you feel you have a grasp

But it spurns out of control

And all you can do is watch

Pray, it will stop


Is it yours?

Because when it’s the end

And the Angels come

You can’t tell them to wait or stop

They just take it away and it’s forever gone

This life you live the way you wish

As if created on your whim

You say it’s yout life

But it can end anytime

And you are just an audience

To the life you lived

You wish it will rewind

You have changes to make

But its a lot too late

Your deeds will pay

So again I ask

That life you slaved for

And the end of the day

If you can’t decide its fate

Is it yours?

My heart is throwing tantrums today

Telling me to make it stop

Make her stop feeling the varying dark emotions

Which cease her at random moments

Like many different cards slotted in the same money machine.

 

 

My heart is sulking today

She said I didn’t swipe away

From the photos of dead bodies that lay

Strewn everywhere on the streets of Israel.

 

My heart has gotten herself a pair of muffs 

To shut her ears to all the stories told

About pain and struggle and torment children face 

My heart looked at my lifestyle and said ‘theirs is no way to live’

What my heart fails to get is that it touches me too

It shakes my soul the stinks of this world too

But I can barely do anything to alleviate it

And that makes my heart agitated.  

She said she can’t believe I can be so heartless.

 

 

Today my heart is shedding uncontrollable tears

A small girl, barely an infant tore her life to an end

A baby who can not say Mama has been raped 

A man was told it isn’t his place to feel any pain

And try as I may

To calm her down

Tell her that I just can not scream for them stop

My heart has a mind of her own

So she cries some more

And I wonder

Who is a bigger coward

I, who’d watch sorrow play

And do nothing thinking I can’t stop it

Or my heart,  who’d shut her ears 

To the cries of the world

Believing she can do nothing to make it stop.

I
It came wrapped in ribbons
Bright red ribbons and cheap glossy paper wraps
The first time it came
My mom beat me up blue
She said you are only in primary 5
What do you know about love
I still hate that boy till today
His unsolicited attention caused me pain
I remember it was on a valentines day.
II
It came wrapped in spiky ribbons
This time it had a face
And a very beautiful face I must say
It placed itself in my way all day
Till I took notice of it and called it bae
And bae made sure he left my heart a wreck
III
It came wrapped in a brown sheet
With a tie hanging from it’s square neck
And it had a voice of authority
Which affected me like a placebo
It was time, they said
To accept the gift that came
But they didn’t know I had already accepted me.
IV
We are to ourselves, gifts
Others, a bonus
Large bonuses
Negative bonuses
Beautiful bonuses
Life-changing bonuses
But first, you are the gift
And without them, you still exist
But with them, life has a much deeper meaning
IG- escribbler_
Wattapad- Hansatuu

She was in a rush.  She was in an extreme hurry trying to unmangle the mixed up chatter of instructions in her head of what to buy and what to do and who to call and what to say and what to cook and… long what to’s.
She hardly slept the night before and had to leave home early the next day because the curtains are not in the right colour and the carpet which was purchased months ago had the wrong pattern and it could be overlooked but that was the same pattern for the custom-made sofa fabrics so… Oh and the gown for the second dinner was an inch too lose on the top and an inch too tight by the knees, bride could fall while walking. Somehow, brooms and packers for the brides house had been conveniently forgotten and oh!  Match sticks and ingniters, with coals please, you know, for incense.
Her brain was buzzing with a long list of instructions as she manuovered through the market with the expertise of one who went only once in about 4 months. She hadn’t taken her bath, she felt uncomfortably sweaty, she hadn’t even brushed and the long hijab was whooshing all over her. She cut through lanes and somehow always ended up in the vegetable place. She sighed in frustration and turned back through the same place she came from. Her sister was in full bridezilla mode. The ugly kind.
She finally located the place where the nuts and screw people where. She needed screws because some screws for the bag hanger were missing. She opened her wallet and got a wink by emptiness, no cash.
She sighed in frustration and opened her mouth to ask to transfer, but how could they, they barely have a standard wheelbarrow.  She decided to try her luck still.
“Please um!. Please do you accept transfers?”. She asked in a small voice. She felt suddenly so nervous
 and stupid.
The old man with the screws turned to his counterpart,  a young man selling shoe polish and brushes. ‘Ka gane me take nema?”. Old man had no idea what she was proposing.
‘Transfer? As in can I transfer to your bank account?’.
Young man caught the word ‘bank’ and hissed. “
You want me to keep my money in the bank so they can use it to fund Buhari’s election?” He said in Hausa. ” You people think you are wise but you are the ones being fooled”.
She left without the screws, afraid that maybe a screw in her head was loose.
She quickly hurried to the ATM ignoring 30 missed calls from her sister, mother, her Aunt and her sisters friend.
She waited on the line for ages before it was her turn. And then the card decided it was comfortable inside the ATM so it stayed in. Frustrated,  she left the card inside noting to file a complain after her self-promised 24 days of hibernation after the wedding.
She had just exited the bank gates when she caught sight of him. She had just concluded that her day could only get worse when she saw him, she couldn’t have been more wrong. Her sister had always said she’ll meet her ‘the one’ during her wedding. She was right but not in her wedding.
He was standing on the opposite side of the road looking all shades of manly gorgeousness. She knew it then, in the marrow of her bones she knew she had to look no further because if the way he reacted to the sizzle of tension that sparked for those seconds their eyes clashed was any indication, he was also suckered. Then she felt the pull.
It was an unexplainable force of attraction like a hand slowly luring her forward towards the half of her soul. She was oblivious to the world around, to the people passing and life moving- they all were mere blurred edges in her story. The light was his smile as he edged nearer to her too, the moth was she, both to each other.
And then it hit her, from nowhere. The car tried to screech to a halt but it was going too fast and the lady in long hijab was deaf to it’s honks.
She felt nothing but a sense of somethings presence.  Or someone.  She tried to pry her eyes open, she knew he was beside her where he was meant to be but caught only a glimpse of those dark intense and very familiar eyes before the pain took over racking her every sense and she could feel her soul depart.

She got up all bleary eyed and puff faced when she heard the locks turn. He was back.
He stepped and shut the door behind him before looking at her. He almost sighed in welcome frustration. It was going to be the same routine again. A routine he enjoyed because of the sheer rush of power it gave him.
‘Are you okay?’ She asked. She was torn between reaching out to touch him and staying within the invisible boundaries he had put up which only he could cross. Maybe if she didn’t push it, he will start staying with her.
She wrung her gown with unstill hands and waited for him to reply. She wasn’t sure when she became nervous near her husband, he never beats her, he doesn’t even raise his voice not to mention a finger. But that made her more nervous , the calm.  The roaring thunder is always more peaceful than the silent lightening.
‘Come come here. I’m fine. Of course I’m fine’. She moved slowly towards him and he embraced her. She was feeling the tears lodge in her throat, when he was affectionate, which was most times, she always felt the tears. But she never let them fall, he may think her a weak woman who is being too clingy and needy, she didn’t want that. She knew that he married her for a certain appeal in her independent spirit and a thrill in the long chase she made him do. What went wrong -what made her so shrunk in size and spirit, so dull and slow, and so frail in ego was beyond her. Love probably.
‘Have you eaten?’ He asked. She shook her head. She hadn’t eaten since the hour he left home.  Never seemed to be able to eat or sleep when he wasn’t home. He left three days ago.
‘But why? You look starved.  Let’s get you something to eat, have your bath and rest okay?’ She nodded.
I’ve told you, whenever I am not home, it’s because I’m working and the network in the office is bad, I never seem to connect with your line. Don’t worry about me okay?’.  He said as he laid her to sleep after she was full and refreshed.
‘Now let’s give you your shots. Less worry, more healthy. Okay?’ She nodded again her eyes wide in anticipation. She had a disease too complicated for her to comprehend and he took care of her, only he was willing to stay with her and give her her shots of injection. After that, the whole world seems alright again and she honestly never cared about what he did. She was always in a state of unexplainable euphoria and to the outside world,  she was a perfectly happy housewife.
‘There there’ he said and patted her arm where the needle was just pulled out  ‘You’ll be alright. I’ll be right here’
He waited for her to sleep then pulled out a box from the top of the dresser, the shots were about to finish,  he needed a larger dose to keep her high and off his case. He loved his wife, at least he loved knowing he had a wife, it made him more appealing to other girls and the fact that he had tamed such a wild shrew to become his personal powerless pet was a mighty boost to his ego.
Besides, he was sure that was the only way she could ever remained married to him. She wouldn’t have it that he was a man for many women and he had vowed never to be divorced, it was sign of failure.
He packed up some fresh sets of clothes, some wads of cash dropping a bundle of hundred thousand naira beside her and dropped two tablets of rophynol into a bottle of water beside her. Then as a second thought,  added three more.

I live in phases. I phase in and phase out. 5 years ago, I started my blog. It was my not-secret diary. I write stuff that mattered to me. It was liberating… but that was just on one part because on the most rewarding part; people read.

People actually read my scribbled thoughts, my thrown-together muses, my detachable imaginations and they appreciated it. Some even sent DMs to express their appreciation for reading my diary (weird when I say it like that) but I was happy I wrote.

Then I stopped, I had phased out of open diary writing stage and moved on to the next ‘thing of interest’. Looney human.

Anyway my loyal and ever-willing blog hadn’t seen an update for 2 years plus and yet, it never gave up on me. Thank you blog bae, I’ll be more caring now In Sha Allah.

So after reading tnene.com, a blog kept by a fellow lawyer who had contacted me about liking my write ups some 4 years ago my motivation came back and I found myself DMing her about hers. Check out her blog, it’s insightful… very.

I just hope this is a phase I can maintain. I intend on making the posts short and sharp.

So, all my poems, short stories, worries, crazy thoughts, perspectives, humor, satirical writing and anything writing from now on (to the duration of this hopefully forever phase) will be on my blog.

Do keep up with the escribbler and let me know what you think always.

See you (more).