Tag: Short story
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A lesson well learnt
The first time Mina moved into her hostel, she noticed the cold attitude of her roommates. It was as if she needed to pay them to respond to her greetings based on the number of words in their responses. One was actually sitting on her bed and the reluctance with which she stood up was…
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The comeback
Was she sorry for what she did? A question that constantly roamed Joe’s mind and wouldn’t settle. Where could she be now? He hoped time will teach her a lesson. Time was a fertile ground on which character took root and bore fruits – some a hundred fold, some fifty. He prayed her harvest will…
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Kaiza
A limited market. That’s what this country is. The more people are pumped into the system, the the more the market becomes choked; everyone will eventually go broke. But these idiots don’t realize that. They claimed they’re giving the next generation a chance. Kaiza has always been in his corner, minding his business. He’s the…
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The new place
For a moment I thought she wasn’t going to pick up. Perhaps she’s not around the phone. As I psyched myself to give up on dialing her number, I was picturing where her phone could be. Maybe in the kitchen or bedroom, and she’s probably on the compound, busy with some activity. Oh! And then…
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A journey through a dark school
Those days our village had no electricity. In each home were lanterns we bought kerosene to power. For big events in the village such as political rallies, funerals or mega religious activities organized at nights, generators were used to light the settings. One night, we ran out of kerosene in our house. Usually, it was…
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Sumaru and Jango
At night the two maids retired to their room. Daytime they were donkeys. Nighttime, they were masters of themselves in their own room, where they could fart and sleep naked as they pleased, and eat whatever they could sneak out and buy. Or, if they were broke, confine themselves to whatever their Madam served them.…
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The Outcast (Page 20)
I sat by the window. Drawing the curtains slightly, I caught the final glimpses of our town as the bus snaked around the station before landing on the highway. The STC station was a collection of nim trees with a shed under which tickets were sold, where passengers and visitors could sit. Behind the shed…
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The Outcast ( Page 4 )
Our hair was a little over two months, and even lice that had lived in the bushy hair for so long were growing weary of getting lost every now and then in the thickening thicket they once called home. We went to knock on the door of our parents’ room. Without answering, they knew it…
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Enigma
Her attitude towards me and the gift she gave me. An enigma. I was leaving the country. A rather embarrassing exit. Things hadn’t work out like I hoped. But life goes on. As I stood at the bus station, about leaving in a few minutes, I hugged her, said a few final words and got…
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The Outcast ( Page 2 )
Teaching usually started after 8am, right after morning assembly. And the hours before classes started, they were called “silence hour”. During this period, pupils who were present at school were numbered. The teachers on duty for the week would then storm classroom after classroom in the course of the day, fishing out late comers and…
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