Boloom Road – Muiz Ọpẹ́yẹmí Àjàyí
We stripped on the long walk. As if in a frenzy, we unbuttoned our school uniforms, undid our shorts zippers, and began pulling them off halfway to the Boloom. We…
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African stories
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Have a Lovely Day! – Ìjàpá O
The sun was up but heatless in the sky. The breeze that blew through the windows was laced with the faint remains of rain from the previous night. It was…
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Remedy – Olasubomi Cole
You watch as your mother shoves the new child into the midwife’s arms. You keep your face eerily expressionless, as though it is completely normal, as though it is the…
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Of Home and Other Places We Claim — Adeola Opeyemi
What happens to them if they can’t diagnose me? They look like they are afraid of not just me but something beyond this austere room. They stay a few feet away, a barrier between us, and make promises. But they won’t come closer. How do you hope to inspect the things you can’t touch? I smile and move towards them, my chains jangling and biting into my ankles. They move back hurriedly. I can see it in their eyes; everything unfamiliar is dangerous.
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Stranger Things Than This — Ope Adedeji
Standing under the bright white light that was a stark contrast to the dark clouds outside, Love felt a wave of dizziness that forced her to hold on to a mannequin and shut her eyes. By the time her eyes had stopped rolling, and she could stand without the mannequin’s help, she felt a rush of calm and declared out loud: “My life is going to change today.”
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Factory Baby — Frances Ogamba
The child stops smelling like a child. The perfumed powders and lotions do not deter the sharp burning smell that creeps into my room each time he wails. Then he gives off an intensely musky smell, like the ripe yellow mucus dripping from the nose, or the slime coming off the body of fish.
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