“You are young and firm. That is good. These days, fresh blood brings in more money.”

Papa had asked mama to make my hair in a special way; so instead of six cornrows, she made twelve and added green and blue beads to the ends of each braid.

Taylor quietly opens the unlocked door and follows the music to the living room.

The position of their body on the bed was an art. How they had made life and death so poetic and meaningful.

And he turned and walked deep into the forest, the protector that would never be seen or known, but eternally present.

Four flash fictions on life as a black foreigner in South Africa.

If we can kill ikwerekwere, we can kill any man, including our brother. In fact, we have killed our brother. Who then is safe?

I guess that there were others on this train who have spoken little more than a few words in their lives to people who look like me.

Short Story | Henry Chukwuemeka Onyema | Nigeria

A woman’s reflective letter to herself

Short story by Damilola Olagunju

Fictional verses and short stories centred on everyday life in Lagos, Nigeria.

There was no guilt, no remorse, even more curiously, no sense of loss.

Short fiction by Moses Abukutsa

Zvenyika narrated his story as I wrote down notes in longhand. He had been charged with culpable homicide having run over an ageing priest on Beatrice Road, outside Harare, at night.

I angrily dropped the call the last time I called Uncle Emeka to enquire about my reserved job position and he told me to send him my CV. Again!

A diminutive man with a slight paunch, he was too light to be black but too dark to be white.

They are like giant metallic mosquitoes, close enough to frustrate and just far enough to avoid swatting.

Short story on love, freedom, family, and marriage.