promotion

A quick glance at my watch told me I was late. Packing was proving to be more tedious than I had anticipated. It was the middle of summer and it was swelteringly hot. My top was clinging to my body from all the sweat despite having just showered. A loud banging on my door and a shout from the other side interrupted me. “WHAT?!” I shouted back. […]

I blamed him for his own death. I maybe even made a little squeal of joy when the neighbours arrived at the homestead to pay their respects. It was his careless decisions that left mhamha and I in enough debt to make us work as labourers on a farm or prostitutes in the city streets

God punish all the imperfect people!  Welcome to HEAVEN and HELL. For the previous hundreds of nights and days of my life, ghosts and goblins had been pinning me to my already death stinking sick bed. Suffocating my already weak breath until I drain the last bit of my strength to clinch my fists and

I was happy. There was no longing of any kind just – living my life – one day at a time. Yet here I was sitting by his courtyard window blushing as he stood before me relaying how he’d imagined the day he had me alone. Till that moment, my energy had never been romantically

The thick and golden late-afternoon sunlight spilt over the horizon like a pool of honey; Its suffocating copper rays illuminated every speck of dust that hung in the air. Tufts of browned grass shot out of the ground and their shadows broke the plain of gold like black shards of glass scattered over the dirt

It seemed like just last night when I had dragged my body from the bedroom to the lounge, with a broken heart and some broken ribs. His mood swings from the perfect husband to the fiercest beast was what had brought us here. Us. I felt the tingle of a civilised stream of tears down

Another day, another life. That was the motto Henry lived and greeted you by. Born and raised on the streets, he lived a hard life but never complained. He came to our gate one Saturday afternoon and instead of begging, had rough and ready crafts he wanted to sell. Candles inside egg shells and wire

The ever-changing landscape is truly captivating. The terrain littered with rock outposts and hills amalgamate with large trees to form a dark shadowy outline in the late afternoon winter sunshine. A puzzled look flashes across my face as my view is obstructed by another kombi as an attempt at overtaking commences. I am frustrated as

After my mother passed away last July, I could not apply my writing skills to good use, and I had often found myself tapping away on my keyboard, eyes peeled on the screen,writing one senseless article after another and after a while, I just stopped writing altogether. Trying to balance my job as an operations manager and freelance writer, I was beginning to burn out so, since the latter wasn’t giving

Nigel appeared as a squealing, soggy mess. I rescued him from three naughty little boys, who, searching for amusement were practising their aiming skills with their catapults and had dislodged him from his treetop nest. Furious, I leapt to the rescue of this pathetic little bit of half life. To warm him I nestled him inside my blouse. Nigel was a Bushbaby,