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The Portrait Of A Landscape

This is a portrait without an easel, a painting without a canvas, floating freely in the seat of memory, unfettered by the constraints of reality. It is emblazoned in my mind, a haunting creation of an artist’s craving. It sits in the sea of my consciousness, this portrait of a desolate scene. It

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Maurice

Maurice   I’d always loved toy dogs. Ever since I was a little girl, I always wanted one. But dad would hear nothing of it. Mum hated dogs and that was it. I mean, what harm could they do? They were just tiny creatures needing love and they also kept company.   Take for example the Pomeranian. Its

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The Letter Game

He had always loved these little games. For him; they often provided a vivid sense of comfort and control, and of course the gap-toothed man liked to be in control of certain situations and this was just only one of them. He grinned gravely into the upright mirror which graced the

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Mother’s Unconditional Murder

  His mother was my mother’s best friend. They did everything in common from gossiping and backbiting to calculating when their period cramps would fall through. The calendar dates were always marred with biro stains which I couldn’t fathom what it was until much later in life. Momma was always speaking in whispers around her. Momma told

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Dont Cry

#Fiction And so it begins, guys and gals. The very first entry to Don't Cry. Let's tune in! ====== #1 of 17 ====== B -- Where had things gone so wrong? Where was that fork in the road that he had taken a wrong turn on? How did it all come to this? Segun thought about these questions

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Voices In The Night

I've been in this village for two weeks. Two weeks of waking up to a brown rooster crowing close to my window. Two weeks of watching the hills bury their heads into the clouds every morning as thick, white fog hang a little above the hillocks. Two weeks of piling

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