Tag: Writing
-
Ladies on a balcony
They were a bunch of female students, on the balcony of the last floor of our hostel, hooting and jeering at passersby. I hadn’t seen them until I was stabbed with a remark about my clothes. They said my combination was off. It was embarrassing. I took a look at what I wore. They were…
-
Memories of home
It became the norm, sad as the situation was. It amazed her that one part of the world could live in such quiet, peace and harmony whereas another part of the world was in chaos, where hope was torn into pieces by bullets sweeping past the ears of fleeing children and mothers and fathers and…
-
The Outcast (Page 24)
My first day at school. I repeated the words slowly to myself, wondering exactly what it meant while staring at the foolscap sheet on my desk. Could it be the first day I started schooling as a child, or my first day in their school? It could not be the latter. I was trying to…
-
A room with a unique view
There are stages in life that feel so good that we are reluctant to advance. We have come a long way, and need some rest. We rationalize. Soon, the excuses we sow mature into good reasons to extend our stay. We do not realize how we have outgrown our new environment until moving on becomes…
-
The Outcast (Page 22)
There was a digital clock in the bus. It told the time in red fonts. 1:15 Am. I had set off on this journey high on excitement. Now my tank was low. The journey to Accra was becoming longer than a journey to an illusion. “We are at Suhum….No….yes…say, fifteen to thirty minutes time we…
-
Sophie
Her job drives her nuts! She tries to keep calm, tries to act normal, tries to blend in with the others, but the cracks in the pretense are too visible. No wonder those who worked there for over thirty years were tight friends with alcohol. At night, it’s hard to stay awake at work. And…
-
Spanish riddles
Slowly, the argument over triflesDwindles, in its place, gigglesHe nibbles at her nippy nipplesShock waves of pleasure ripplesAs she recites Spanish riddles A break from the toil won’t foilThe climb, neither will it soilThe mind, never does it spoilThe grind, it can be deployedTo fight fatigue like an android
-
The Outcast (Page 18)
Whispers. I awoke. Sitting up, I looked around. The windows were open, cold winds ruffling the curtains. The lights were still on. Can’t remember when we dozed off. I rose to turn off the lights, and in the act caught a glimpse of the clock. 12:15am. The whispering must have been in my dreams. Or…
-
Missing cigarettes
I used to steal from my father’s pack of cigarettes. I hid somewhere to smoke. I remember the sensation as smoke escaped my lips, into the air. It felt great. Especially the effect of the heat on the tongue. This went on for weeks. Little did I know that the old man was aware but…
-
The Outcast (Page 15)
One day, I was in class seated beside the window, reading a book, when suddenly someone appeared behind the window. “Patrick! Patrick !” a voice whispered, slipping a little paper into my hand as I turned. It was a boy. Before I could open the paper to read its contents, he vanished. A love letter.…
Mowabites Worldwide 