NS Anthology Short Story Writing Competition

NS Anthology Short Story Writing Competition

In continuing the launch of the Naija Stories anthology, we’re running a small writing contest where the winners will win free paperback copies of the book. What do you have to do? Choose a section or a title of one of the stories (there are 4 sections and 30 titles) and write a story of your own in the comment section. Your comment/story should not more than 5 sentences.

Start a submission with: Anthology Contest @admin

Write in any genre you choose, but not more than 5 sentences. Each contestant can only enter once. Duplicate entries will be deleted, copied stories will be deleted too. The contest closes on April 13th and winners announced April 16.

There will be 5 winners, and the paperback copy will be shipped to wherever you are. Get writing and good luck.

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Read on NAIJASTORIES.COM – 200 NSpoints per story

Buy Paperback from the NaijaStories Createspace Store

Buy in Kindle format and Print from Amazon.com

Buy the NOOK version from Barnes&Noble online

Buy the eBook from Smashwords.com

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**To get the eBook in Nigeria, please contact admin@naijastories.com for payment details.

 

I. Tears

A Glimpse in the Mirror – Yejide Kilanko
If Tears Could Speak – Salatu Sule
Too Late – Bidemi Odeshilo
The Catalyst – Meena Adekoya
Illusions of Hope – Ola Awonubi
Wiping Halima’s Tears – Elohor Turtoe
Every Wrinkle is a Story – Pyneapples
Nnamdi – Sonia Osi

II. Kisses

One Sunday Morning in Atlanta – Uko Bendi Udo
Seeing Off Kisses – John Ugoji
It’s Not That Easy – Lawal Opeyemi Isaac
Two Straws in a Bottle – Remi-Roy Oyeyemi
How I Kissed Hadiza – Seyi Osinowo
All I Wanted Was Another Baby – Mercy Ilevbare
Nothing Good – Damilola Ashaolu

III. Heroes

Can I Please Kill You? – Seun Odukoya
Mother of Darkness – Rayo Abe
Showdown at Rowe Park – Babatunde Olaifa
Visiting Admiral John Bull – Adiba Obubo
Kitchen Practicals – Tamo Iruene
A Kind of Bravery – Myne Whitman
The Old Man in Our Neighborhood – Chidozie Chukwubuike
Rachel’s Hero – Henry Onyema

IV. Villains

Blame It on a Yellow Dress – Uche Okonkwo
The Writer’s Cinema – Bankole Banjo
Jesus of Sports Hall – Lulufa Vongtau
What Theophilus Did – Gboyega Otolorin
Best Laid Plans – Kingsley Ezenwaka
Co-operate! – Tola Odejayi
The Devil’s Barter – Raymond Elenwoke



59 thoughts on “NS Anthology Short Story Writing Competition” by Admin (@ogaoga)

  1. Anthology Contest@admin
    IV Villains
    She loved him, he knew his mum loved him, what other explanation did she have for taking extra nursing shifts, working so late into the night to make sure he finished school? He, on the contrary was proving to be a reckless young man, seeking acceptance and solace with the Buccaneers after his father died, and tonight they had given him his first real assignment…
    His fleeting thoughts were interrupted by quick footsteps in the near pitch darkness, definitely one of the young nurses at the hospital where his mother worked; he knew she took that route every night around this time.
    He crouched as the white-clad figure drew closer, then gave the signal as his cult members jumped on her; one, two, then more, throwin a hood over her head and pulling her to the ground, tearing off her clothes and raping her one after the other, stiffling her cries as she bled and desperately clutched at her attackers.
    He was about to take his turn, but paused when he noticed the familiar handbag on the ground beside her, reeling as the cruel reality hit him hard, it was his mum on the ground.

    1. Kudos @literati, for being the first to get involved. And your story is just lovely flash fiction. Love the Mum twist! All these rapists these days.. God have mercy…

    2. Can we critique stuff; @admin?

      Can we critique the stories or make we mind our self…?

      1. No critiques. Admin will select winners at the end of the contest. Thanks.

        1. Which one be no critiques?
          Spoil sports.

  2. IF TEARS COULD SPEAK@admin

    “… I had met James on one of my reckless outings to Abuja and after the trip, one of my friends, who had spent the week with him, was diagnosed with HIV but when I’d asked if you were sure of his status, the look you’d given me told it all- distrust. So, I took up old habits to annul your relationship and in order to justify my motives, I let him get into me so I’d get the virus…” Amaka reads frantically through the note, having returned six months after her second flee from home only to find her younger sister dead but having left her two parting gifts- this note that tells it all and Dayo, who has come back for her on account of Lucy’s pre-death phone call.

    Having been very intimate as kids, it had been disheartening for Amaka when Lucy suddenly changed and began picking on her, blackmailing her severally and with all pleasure, telling anyone who cared to know that Amaka was the unwanted child- the fruit of the inhumane rape their mother, Agnes had suffered in her youth.

    It was no wonder though, why Lucy’s sudden change, as even Agnes had always antagonised Amaka who having, all her life, been used to ill-treatment, was not much moved; at least not until, for Lucy’s sake, she lost Dayo- the only loss (amidst so many others) that shook her so much that she left home long before her NYSC postage.

    Having met another man she felt safe with during her service in Abuja, she brought him home and although she had been provoked, she had not been much surprised later to find Lucy- who had initially claimed repentance- right “in the act” with her to-be husband, the former insisting that someday, Amaka would understand that she had only done her a favour.

    That was six months ago and now, it dawns on Amaka how much she wants to say to Lucy- thank her for being her playmate in those days of innocence, challenging her so much in life that she has grown strong, saving her from her wicked fiancé, James, who only a few days ago, equally died of the same disease and above all, bringing back “her” Dayo, the only man who added to her life, flavour- and how much she wishes that tears could speak… because hers have a lot to say.

    1. Anthology contest@admin

  3. Gunshot sounds early in the morning were not unusual in Dare’s neighborhood, but the duration of the sounds were what alerted him to fact that all was not right. He rolled off his bed and crouched beside his window, left hand reaching under his pillow to pull out a dirty .357 Magnum – automatically flipping open the loading gate to confirm it was loaded and then peeping from the edge of the open window.

    He saw people running back at forth; dust making the dawn mist even thicker and harder to see through but he squinted nonetheless – picking out some dark shapes beyond all the dust and chaos; figures looking menacing and dangerous with what looked like hi-tech automatic rifles slung across their Kevlar-vest padded shoulders. He leaned forward slightly, trying to see round his building corner to find who their targets could be – and then he heard a strange sound; something that reminded him of bangers the neighborhood rats ignited indiscriminately.

    He never knew what killed him.

    1. IV Villians

    2. ah…. these are the sorts of spirits that come back to haunt houses…

  4. Nice concept Admin. I’m loving this y’all. Entertain me.

  5. Anthology contest @Admin.
    Tears.

    Tears escaped from Ebere’s eyes as she watched Olamma, her five year old mentally challenged daughter blow out the fire on the five candles that stood on her birthday cake.

    At age forty-eight, she could not help but live with the pain that reminded her of her past mistake and watching Olamma on her fifth birthday made the wounds more sore. She remembered how she had turned all her suitors down in her glory days just because she needed a man with all the perfect qualities she desired -If only she had known that perfection was for Gods alone-

    Now, married to a sixty-nine year old widower out of desperation to be a wife, with a down syndrome five year old daughter, she knows she’ll never have another child, she knows she’ll never have the perfect man she always desired, and she knows it is the price she has to pay for wanting too much.

    It is her cross and she must bear it.

  6. It was 12pm mid-day on Falomo bridge. I walked up to his car, a golden Toyota Camry. The reflection of the sunlight almost prevented me from seeing his face. But I saw it; he looked well-fed and humane; probably 35 years old cladded in white native. It looked like he was on the phone. That was my cue. I emptied my eva bottle of water and soap on his windscreen before he could turn on his wiper in defence; I earned N100 for that act.
    My name is Matthew. I run your mobile traffic cash-wash!!

  7. Mehn, this is entertaining!

  8. Are we getting a kissing entry or what? Were the good females at?

  9. Anthology contest@admin
    kisses
    I stole a glance at her and we both locked eyes but i was smart to withdraw immediately before any permanent notice and i vowed not to even as much as steal a glance at her hair until the end of the party;little did i know that i was powerless and had completely lost control of myself.I was staring again,this time lustfully at her and i wasn’t aware for more than two minutes and when i finally became aware,i couldn’t just withdraw even if more than anything in the world,i wanted to.I finally managed to pull myself together till the end of the dinner party,walked my date to a taxi and went back after ten minutes to say my goodbyes to the hosts and some of my friends.I got back to the pavilion and was taken aback to see everyone gone,everyone but Tessy,the lady i couldn’t get my eyes off all through the party.she turned back the moment i got in,gave me a dashing smile just enough to light up a barn an began walking towards me,which was when my heart began to thrump and the i heard the sweatest voice ever as she said”i knew you would come back for me”,then she leaned forward and layed on me,a short but passionate kiss on my lips,then she walked away without turning back which was eccentric but what the heck,all i could think of was that i kissed the girl of my dreams.

  10. anthology contest @admin
    iv kisses.

    They had an affair ten years ago; it was a wild and invigorating experience, and if they both suspected it was not to last, it did not stop them from professing eternal love to each other.
    It cooled and they went their separate ways; she, with vivid memories and a tinge of regret, to her husband whom she had always felt did not deserve the sole enjoyment of her beauty, while he, still under the thrall of youth, returned into the freedom to pluck as he chose and as chose him, from that abundant garden of womanhood.
    But today, this very afternoon, for upwards of an hour they sat beside each other in a bus, each failing to recognize the other; that shabbily dressed man whose penchant for disports had now been cooled by poverty, his life not having turned out in any way like he had hoped, and that fat middle- aged woman bearing upon her laps a large sack, and who, if having gained in virtue, had lost much of that beauty which had been the glue that had in those bygone days fastened them to each other.
    The man kept his eyes mostly on the window, picking up and dropping impressions of the city as the bus fled past, and observing now and then with indifference, that fat woman by his side, whose skin was wan and whose face, partially hidden by a mass of thin hair, was jowly and not at all attractive.
    And when the bus came to his stop, he squeezed his way past her and alighted into the crowd.

    1. thumbs up.this is good.

  11. I like this thomasmann…@jaywriter…here’s to your kisses..

  12. I love this @thomasmann. A well written flash. Pity we aren’t voting cos you’d have mine. Hmmm maybe 20 points then

  13. Nice one @drzhivago. Finally some kissing.

  14. Anthology contest @admin Kisses III

    It was when I heard the door of our room click shut behind me in the brooding silence of our new home, that the sizzling reality of what was about to come hit me like a splash of chilled water. Since the preparations for our wedding grew more vigorous, the looming fantasy of what my wedding night would be like, that had stubbornly trailed my mind all these years, had suddenly flown away, and it hadn’t even re-occured to me that very day of my wedding until we drove off from the reception ground, and then, it had returned with the kind of intensity I’ve never felt before for anything in my life.

    On the way, we hadn’t said much to each other; we had only shared smiles that couldn’t even conceal the suffocating tautness in our chests.

    My heart throbbed hard against my chest as I heard his soft, slow footsteps behind me, and then I felt a chill spread over my body as I felt his hands around my bossom and heard the soft whisper of my name from his mouth. I held my breath as I felt my strapless gown slip off my body, and the next thing I felt was being lifted off the ground and placed on the soft, well-laid mattress, every other happening with and around me after then suddenly turning void to me until I felt the wetness of his kisses around my thighs, followed by a strong pain between them, indicating that at last, I’ve realized one of my dreams; losing my virginity to my husband on my wedding night.

    1. Sorry, Kisses II.

  15. Anthology Contest@admin
    III. HEROES

    The maddening traffic in the Nairobi I had just left looked like an adaptation of the Lagos version. However, the strangulating noise which welcomed me into Lagos is one whose competitor had not been conceived. From the Murtala Mohammed Airport to the streets of Lagos, a lot of noise enveloped the air. I still thought Jomo Kenyatta International airport was abnormal because of the sanity I witnessed there; the insanity at most Nigerian airports had become very sane to me.
    As the airport-taxi kept on crawling in the traffic jam which he referred to as go-slow, I threw my left wrist forward and checked my wristwatch; a quarter-past eleven pm and we were still at Onilekere bus-stop area of Ikeja.

  16. Anthology contest @admin
    Can I please kill you?

    I stared in horror at my picture recognizable by anyone who knew me beneath the headlines ‘ROBBER MAKES AWAY WITH 5MILLION NAIRA’. Fingering the empty briefcase I had stolen two nights ago I wondered who had gotten to the loot before me. I had to leave the country fast before the police or Adeniran found me. Then I heard a click and my heart sank even before Adeniran’s raspy voice floated to my ears with these words “Can I please kill you?”

  17. Lol, this is fun. Ever since I heard of this I have been thinking of limericks. But some of you have some really, really long sentences/paragraphs. We should call the Guinness book of word records… :)

  18. Hehehehehehe. Everyone sha wan write within the sentence limit, okies.Let’s see how this goes!

  19. Anthology contest @admin: ‘All I wanted was another baby’.

    ‘I need your guys in my house immediately’, I muttered into the phone, disconnected the call and sat on the bed.
    I looked at her as she slept peacefully, the rough hair that graced her face showed the wild beauty who used to be my sane wife; two still births and two miscarriages had made her a ghost of her once bubbly self.
    Now, she lived in a world unknown, played in an empty nursery, fought the children of others and slept long and deep.
    How had it come to this, more so, had I betrayed her?.
    The men from the Psychiatric hospital came soon after and as they took her away, aware of tears flowing freely, I thought about how all she had ever wanted was a baby.

  20. getto (@technobayo)

    Anthology contest@admin
    TEARS

    Bimpe had wasted no time in showing up less than twenty minutes after the news reached her.

    Bent by his lifeless body, her eyes caught a single tear sitting preserved underneath his shut eyelid.

    Shaking her head, she imagined that the tear spoke of a life ushered in by the joy of parenthood to her grandparents, followed by the innocence of his formative years then somewhere between his teenage years and young adulthood, the spiral downturn that came with his choice of social circles.

    The result: excesses that had become habits now eaten deep with repercussions in his irresponsibilities as a father, disgruntled kids besides her that despised him, a heart disease induced by years of heavy ethanol and cigarettes surely too hard to bear; the same habits once driven by youthful exuberance and later, probable remedies employed to douse the psychological trauma of regret itself the bane of a life now ended.

    She felt the tears drop from her eyes as she wiped his, whispering into his ears, “Adieu Papa”.

  21. anthology contest@admin
    IF TEARS COULD SPEAK
    I had to be there before nine, I just had to be, my presentation was too perfect to be spoiled by lateness or as I preferred to call it :the nonchalant behaviour of Nigerians towards traffic rules. I had to do something, I drove into a nearby street and parked my car ,flung my stilettos into my Armani bag, put on my spare slippers and got out to find a bus. On crossing over to the other side, i could here someone screaming “aunty, aunty” i cursed under my breath, these useless street boys who always beg for money, nonsense , I further cursed the economy for making me hustle for a bus when I had an a.c tight cute piece of a machine to ride to work in.
    In a split second, i was dazed, the scenario it was changed; there was chaos and screaming and people rushing towards a car whom the owner was being screamed at as he ran towards the scene, I ran too, i had to see i don’t know why but my legs betrayed me or should I say curiosity? He was lying on the road with blood gushing out of his hip and a man was trying to lift him up and with excruciating pain he muttered as inaudibly as I had cursed “aunty, see your purse, I see am for ground.

    1. Eya–very touching.

  22. adams (@coshincozor)

    Anthology Contest @admin

    Villains : Just for a Bag of Shit

    Ntinti paced up and down Mama Chinyere’s stall like one of the customers buzzing around, waiting for their turn to buy akara and like a kite would a straying chicken, he intently spied the black nylon bag that Mama Chinyere kept under the kitchen stool she sat on. When he felt nobody looked, Ntinti napped the nylon bag like a cat and zoomed off through the back of the stall through the bush part that led to the main road of eastern avenue.
    “hol’am! Hol’am! Onye-oshi hol’am!”, little Chiamaka that was playing under the akara table screemed and the crowd of hungry customers re-echoed and chased after Ntinti as he tried to turn into the bush by the left but unfortunately a man coming out from there with his trousers on hand, kicked him on the chest to the ground, the nylon fell aside and the crowd pounced on Ntinti with various objects. While he struggled to stand up from the ground, somebody threw a motor tyre on him and another emptied a cup of fuel on his head and yet another threw in embers of firewood and set him ablaze. Danga the road side vulcanizer picked up the nylon and opened it and an awful smell oozed out; behold, it contained a fold of children’s napkin that was white before, drenched in a pool of urine and brownish watery stool.

    1. Omg! How sad…

  23. Genre: Tears
    Title: If Tears Could Speak

    For many weeks and in solitude, the old hunchbacked woman incessantly mourned the death of Sanusi, her only son. She took up a natural fast and went on a shower strike till her body grew very gaunt and malodorous. While all the censuring neighbours wondered why a hypochondriac dotage would endlessly grieve an incinerated thief, I feared to utter the truth I knew. A thief had emerged in Orile to pick loose pockets and he was chased into Coker market by a pyromaniacal mob. But, instead of the thief, Sanusi was brought out vehemently, clubbed down hurriedly and roasted with bottled petrol and a lorry’s tyre.

  24. Anthology Contest @admin
    A Glimpse in the Mirror.

    The rushing water no longer felt cold but grew increasingly warm as the music of familiar voices drew nearer and sinister.
    Something definitely awaited him no the other side but he suddenly was’nt in a hurry to let go and find out.
    Durosinmi tried vainly to drift towards the comforting sound of Baba Ibeji’s baritone even as he felt himself being sucked into the whirlpool from which his father’s voiced issued thick and stern,recalling the bile of past quarrels.
    He found himself wondering how strange it was that his father could evoke such dark emotions even in death.
    Durosinmi felt the teeth of the water bite- dragging him into a narrow tunnel,innundating him with the sound of a thousand images of agony; his last conscious thought was the realization that the colourful crystal lights dancing ahead of him were actually tongues of fire.

  25. Anthology Contest @admin

    WHAT THEOPHILUS DID

    As you walked slowly towards your brother, your only thoughts were of how his success, which owed much to his brilliance and amiable nature, had unwittingly worked against you all these years. You smiled wickedly–almost bizarrely, as you locked your eyes with his frightened ones and removed the battery-powered nail gun from the bag in your hand. On that day, you cruelly pinned your younger brother’s fingers, palms and wrists to the top of the table that faced the chair you tied him to–enjoying the sight of the red picture that formed, as his blood streaked the table’s sparkling white surface and dripped to the floor. On that day, fired by envy and lust for all your only brother had aquired in this world, you drove twenty five two-inch nails into his twenty five year-old head, sending him to his grave in a grisly cacophony of his own screams.

    Today, Theophilus, at 12:30pm exactly, you would go to hell by hanging…for what you did on that thursday night.

    1. wowwwwwwwwwwwwwww

    2. Mr @chemokopi, loving what you did with that title man! Well done!

      1. Thanks @guywriterer ! Glad the inspiration likes the inspired.

  26. Anthology Contest @ admin

    Blame it on a Yellow Dress.
    The lush ripe ears of corn hanging on the branches of the acre- long corn field were too much of a temptation for a pair of famished urchins like Ada and Nneka. Sack in hand, they made their way to the farthest end of the field and began to help themselves to the beguiling corncobs. The sack was half full when suddenly, a stern-faced man materialised behind them shouting a string of imprecations. As the two girls immediately dashed in opposite directions, bent on a swift getaway through the dense, green stalks, the irate farmer immediately sprang after one of them without any hesitation. Nneka was in no doubt as to why the farmer had chosen to come after her, why he did not find it difficult to spot her in the dense green maze, and as she heard him gaining on her, she wished her dress were not a bright yellow in colour.

  27. Anthology Contest @admin

    PLATERO

    Knotted in an amaranth – you and I.
    Drunken songbirds, we’ve drank
    of day, of dark, together – you and I.
    Yesterday, a mystery slapped me so hard
    I became a question mark.
    Now I stare in the face of memory,
    a prisoner, body, soul and spirit,
    in the orchard at La Pina
    beneath the sweltering pine.
    Oh, where are you, Platero…?

  28. Anthology Contest @admin

    Villains:

    One: I have been here before, in the land before Time, when the world was young and evil was a concept known by few; starburst skies, undying death and the hope of neverwhere.
    Two: Cast your hopes into the abyss, all ye who enter this Great Hall of Consequences, and look neither for the light nor the darkness, for here there is nothing but the great Inbetween; Citadel of the gods.
    Three: These runes are as old as Time itself, and they were inscribed by thye greatest of the Ancients; grooves filled with knowledge and magic so archaic and terrifying that they must be locked away until the coming of the Seven.
    Four: Bring your sacrifice before the altar of benevolence and despair; pour your libations with the blood of the innocents, for it has been said that their lives will unlock the gifts which have been foretold; deathsong and the screams of the dying.
    Five: For I will kill you, I will rip out your heart and feed on your essence; I will smile as I feel the warmth of your life run down my hands, and I will swallow you into the nothingness, for I am Darkness, I am Death.

  29. Anthology Contest @admin

    If Tears Could Speak;

    Of the wars we fought and the ones we lost;
    and our lands which we watched, as villains came and snatched.
    Of our men which were felled by the villains’ swords they felt;
    and the wives and kids, that were left behind to grieve.
    Of the nights that we cried over those that died;
    and the songs that we sang, while in mourning for long.
    Of the animals we became from the woes of wars we faced;
    and our hearts stripped bare, from the losses we couldn’t bear.
    Of our lands made wet from the tears we had daily shed;
    If our tears could speak, these tales they would tell with ease.

  30. Anthology Contest @admin

    Best Laid Plans.

    Sasha in her red sequin dress, I in my customized Toms, raced down third mainland bridge in my black brand-new BMW to our hotel room near our school. I never bargained on my BMW stalling for some unknown reason in the middle of the lonely bridge, surrounded by nothing but water and miles from land at 1.30am. Nor did I bargain on the heavily built men who parked two dark, unmarked cars, not too far away. Terror, as we watched the men slit the throats and drain the blood of two scantily clad girls, caused Sasha to accidently press the horn. I hope Sasha will forgive me for running faster than her, it was meant to be a one night stand. And I pray my father will realize that my life is more precious than his brand-new BMW.

    1. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

  31. Anthology Contest @admin

    Villains:

    In my neighborhood, some men with two heads are called big men, so they do not live in the bush where me and other small men with one head live.
    They own very large mouths for saying many smelling things that we cannot say, because our small mouths are fettered in endless boundaries.
    The pots behind each of their flashy agbada is loaded with spoils from the wars we fight everyday, while we drink the sweat from our naked bodies to stupor.
    Folks like me are done with participating merely as spectators, as they perform the funeral of everything that propelled “old soldiers” to do away with the white man.
    We raise a very red flag tonight, until our labour is adorned with a beffiting harvest, even if we embrace the grave before dawn.

  32. Anthology Contest @admin

    If Tears Could Speak

    Our heavy feet motionless on long road, as we take our time shuffling it on the ground, with a hard belief that this walk would be our last. A plain gaze conceals our heart slightly bold, but forcefully an escaping tear falls simultaneously, revealing our pain. Gradually our parched feet lay still like forever, as we scamper with a gaze for a sign in the moonlight, but then a wandering stare breaks with a salty tang from her eyes, as unceasing drops fall, spreading our pain. At that moment, our troubled minds find comfort in nostalgic thoughts shared in the love we both had for one another, through the duration of my national service that’s finally come to an end, in our last night together. And forcefully our arms reach out for final collision, as we embrace, exploring the depths of our paradise passion, and immortalizng today, that both our minds shall ever remember.

  33. Anthology Contest @admin
    I. Tears
    Too Late
    Taiwo and Kehinde were the first twins ever to be born into the Adekoya family; so they were treated like day old chicks and got whatever they wished for and everyone got frantic if they cried or showed signs of discomfiture. However, Taiwo and Kehinde noticed that when they would alarm everyone, their seemingly timid older cousin, Damilola, would not show much concern; so they swore they would rattle her one day. One market day when three of them, Taiwo, Kehinde and Damilola, were the only ones at home, Taiwo smeared himself with a mixture of red paint and tomato sauce and screamed while Kehinde sped off to call Damilola with a tale that there was an accident and Kehinde was badly wounded. Just then, their parents came back and they all ran to Taiwo but on seeing the blood and the gasping of Taiwo for air, Damilola held her chest and shrieked in pain before collapsing; on the way to the hospital, she gave up the ghost, dying of, according to a post mortem, a heart failure triggered by haemophobia. It was too late for Taiwo and Kehinde to reverse the effect of their pranks just as it was for their parents to wish they had known about Damilola’s heart condition and treated her delicately.

  34. Anthology Contest @admin
    If tears could
    I knew henceforth, I had lost someone too precious to go out of mind, who cared, a mother. She had been starved of attention, comfort and love which could have lasted longer than I knew. Mother. I was only trying to get a steady gaze of those beautiful moments; she shared with me, but she had gone. If tears could. I could have listened to it.

  35. Anthology contest @admin
    kisses

    They threw her out as barren after five years. He took her in,his kisses dried her tears. She braced herself for a fresh wave of abuse and humiliation. He doted on her,her joy was his daily mission. A year later she took in, they had a lovely set of twins.

  36. Anthology Contest @admin

    Kissess

    I was waiting for a taxi to take me home to watch the Madrid game on Easter day, when I saw her; a vision in a long flowery purple gown walking towards me.

    I kept staring at her, as her purple flowery gown swayed with the evening breeze making me imagine how wonderful it will feel slow-dancing with her with the moon and stars lighting the sky.

    A taxi pulls to a stop; we get in and I sit in front with an older man who didn’t seem like he would welcome the idea of me turning to tell her how much I loved her gown and the way she looked in it.

    I scribble a note on a piece of paper to tell her how lovely she looked in that gown and drops it on her laps, but she didn’t speak or write back.

    She paid the fare, and while waiting for her change, we telepathy-stared at each other; her pink lips were curved in a smile, and when the driver gives her the change, she kisses me quickly and walked away, leaving an imprint of her Easter gift to me… on my right cheek.

    1. This @jaywriter is just a womanizer. EVerything na so so woman and kiss.

      Pele!

  37. Congratuations to the winners ofvhe anthology contest! Here is wishing youbetter trophies ahead!

    1. thanks sunshine… wish you same oooo

  38. activities like this really helps to awaken the brain- am on the look out for the next one

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