I can remember vividly the first time Nneoma came to me to tell me about Chinedu. I remember because it was about 2 a.m and I was fast asleep in my room when the touch [...]

A form four student ,petrified by the impending ridicule when he fails to bring a new raffia mat to school,is saved by the principal

As promised earlier, we have now have now converted two stories – ‘Cold Feet’, by Berry Feistypen, and ‘The Little Lodge’ by Maid into podcasts. The links to the audio files are below: Cold Feet [...]

The next few weeks were the most uneventful of Athena’s 31 years. Her trip to London was for business, but it proved to be more of a get away. Six weeks went by in a [...]

Anger widened over his black, sweat-dripping face. “How long must we wait before we get our meals, until hell freezes over?!” He asked as calmly as he could. The lady over the counter just stared [...]

ADANNA and JENNY are putting final make-up touches on their faces. Both girls are in their early twenties. Both are dressed-to-kill and pretty too. They both chat happily as they make up. Adanna finishes her making up first. She gets up and goes inside. After a while, she comes out ready to go.

his weekend, I am watching a recorded show today titled UK border force and it is a documentary that shows the activities of the UK border agency staff nabbing illegal immigrants and the continuous tussle between the watchman and the thief. Unfortunately, most of the people on parade on tonight’s show are Nigerians

In those times when one’s feelings become hollow,
In those times when all one receives is the chilly hand.
When that dreaded time approaches…

The heart pounds like the warning drums that sound for war.
The palms sweat like the mourning dew kissing the grassy carpet.
Deep within the pit of emptiness the groaning rises
Now the inevitable occurs…

The sky is turning cobalt
The air becomes denser
Evening’s aura pervades
Home become the minds call

Birds more straighter flies as
Cattle upon the pastures mew
Calling to home the Sheppard’s heart
For there left over milk curdles

The biennial International Radio Playwriting Competition is run by the BBC World Service and the British Council and is now in its twelfth year. It is a competition for anyone resident outside Britain, to write [...]

The cheating bastard. The nerve of the cheating bastard. Dunni fumed as she watched her husband lean over to kiss the woman who was about to hop out of the passenger seat of his black [...]

A cold, misty gust from the sea rattled the half-shut windows and loose floorboards on the porch. Pine trees swayed gently and dried twigs cracked like someone stocking a fire. Swirls of the mist draped [...]

I paced the antiseptic-smelling, squeaky-clean passage like a devil seeking for a soul to devour. Sweat drenched my face; I had run out of handkerchiefs. Though my eyes were wide open I could not, indeed [...]

I walk in to the office that Thursday, some minutes before noon. After filling the visitors’ record book, I walk straight down, open the door leading into the reception area on the ground floor. “Hello, good morning! I’d like to see the ED.” “Please, fill this form,” the young lady politely instructs as she hands me the visitors’ form. I swiftly fill in necessary information and hand over the A5 paper to the eager receptionist who then puts a call through while I take my seat.

We are a country that believes in so much words and little action. We love to couch intentions in big words which turn out to be a ruse at the end of the day. We [...]

At first, I knew who I was
But as the times passed on, I became ashamed of who I am
My mother is Chinese, My father is a Nigerian
Who is a Chinese? Who is a Nigerian? And What am I?
I can sense you feel my predicament by now
I don’t know what to call myself

Whenever the lights were put out
I suffered an insanity bout;
I was thrown in a claustrophobic frenzy
as if giant walls were collapsing all over me,
I shivered like a hen in the rain
as my nerves sent poisons to my brain,
then every draft of air stung like an asp
and could well have been hell’s very gasp.

I loved her before I met her
She was older but it didn’t seem to matter
I yearned for her to love me
But it seems her love had gone on a journey

I loved her when I met her
my eyes opened to view the world of her beauty
At that point I was overwhelmed with feeling
Nothing more perfect, the ignorance of not knowing

My writing and reading (reading and writing) have ‘suffered’.  Everything I have posted here in this young and prestigious literary website for naija youngsters (and oldsters) are select “refreshing archives” got from my storage of [...]

When I was a girl I believed in True love.
I anticipated that feeling of butterflies in your tummy.
I dreamed of my first kiss! how it would feel.
I saw my future through innocent eyes

True love did exist and she was beautiful.
She asked for only one thing from a person: Your heart.
she kept it tucked at her breasts and warmed it with her blood.
she truly was beautiful.

I don’t believe in marriage. Not really. I like my space, so having one special person for the rest of my life is scary and too close for comfort. My sister, Hadiza, got married two [...]

Athena sat in the British Airways VIP lounge while waiting her flight. It was a busy day at Muritala Muhamed Airport, but she could have been there alone. She heard nothing, only the timed sequenced [...]

Every day I go to work on the bus with the other sleepers, workers whose days begin early, whose commutes are long. We sleep when we can. Some people complain about their working conditions. Some swear never to return to their offices again. But the next day we are up together before the sun. Look, there, even the bank executive sleeps in the back of his car while his driver faces down Lagos for him, like our driver who faces Lagos for us. For family. For nation. For love. For love, we are up for work before the sun.

Angered by her 8 month long unemployment,a young lady denies faith,aids and abets a hit and run crime to get to a job interview on time.

EXTERNAL/ morning The shadows thrown by the branches of a garden tree dances a silent waltz on the walls of the house from within which a loud squeal is emanating. The constant fluctuation of rush [...]

It was a dream
It was not a dream
But it was a clear trance
And I shall write it down

From outside, it kept coming
Jarring from a metallic symphony
Of mangled notes, tones
Pace and lyrics into my cell

The wondrous gifts tells a story
A story of beauties unmasked not looked
Many may have heard it in history
But the truth is hidden in parchments

It was like a framework, nothing bought
The laughter of men and beasts
It was as the beauty of the garden caught
But not all see the hands behind

Passion blows like the wind

Are you ready to fly?

It burns like a fire

Are you ready to try?

Love is a lamp that is meant for a seasons

And strong enough to take the eyes and looks

Go wherever it goes because

That’s what it takes to be in love

Smile so hidden between the lines of the forehead,
Fading and musical dimples behind shy shells,
I see pillows in your pupils;
My desires pour as a landslide of emotions
Rushing down into the sacs of my arrowed pulsations;
You are my son’s teacher,
A nun beneath the kindergarten umbrella of a convent;

A villain you are not,

Confused and unsure you are,

A tottering toddler

In these concerns;

You’ve fallen down, gotten up,

And fallen again

ACT 5 V: I One year later SCENE ONE IN MUNA’S MATERNAL HOME (Uju and Nze Amadi) NZE AMADI: Uju, you should have known better; live by experience. Experience is the pathway to a successful [...]

(Measuring Time, a book by Helon Habila) There’s so much controversy on what qualities a classic novel should command. In some quarters it is strongly held that a classic novel should be able to spread [...]