“My voice is pleading to be heard by a room crowded with people. It doesn’t care if their faces are frightening or happy. It just wants to engulf the room and be listened to.”
A LETTER TO AUGUST | a CỌ́N-SCÌÒ short story by Jola Praise Ademola
The letter was addressed to her. Written simply on the cover, in a bold script, was: ‘A letter to August’ and on the inside: ‘I know what you did’. She lifted off the lid from the box. Lying there was a bloodied finger wearing a wedding band.
SERENDIPITY | a CỌ́N-SCÌÒ short story by Popoola Ololade Aderemi
You see the barely noticeable smile on her face. Her face. In a split second, you sweep your gaze over it and rest your eyes on the birthmark above her eyebrow. You wonder if this is what love feels like.
THE DOLL | a CỌ́N-SCÌÒ short story by Brigitte Poirson
If this was what was lurking at the back of his mind, what was the point of taking the time to reflect on the situation? If you trust someone, empower this person with your loving care, accompany him/her along toil and dreams, and (s)he still looks askance in a quest for ‘other loves’, why should you stick to that person at all?
NOTHING WAS LEFT EXCEPT THE ASH | a short story by Daniel Echezonachi Maxwell
A mother’s hopeful farewell to her son, who dreams of success abroad, turns tragic as he returns as ashes after succumbing to illness. The story poignantly captures the pain of loss, the harsh reality of unrealized dreams, and the mother’s unending love and sorrow as she holds onto his remains.
IF ONLY HE WAS A GIRL | a short story by Maria Oluwabukola Oni
Sodiq once told him that putting strands from his eyelashes on his father’s footwear could make him forget to flog him. He didn’t believe it, but Sodiq was Alfa Sulaimon’s son and what better time to test the hypothesis than now when he faced imminent agony?
On The Road | a short story by Blossom Umoren
Your foot collides with the brakes and your car screeches to a halt. You lean your head on the steering wheel and begin to sob because, today, you don’t know where you’re going.
Soursop | a short story by James-Ibe Chinaza
Mama will send you to school, and you will return to your room each day and hide because the other boys threaten to stick their hands down your throat and release the poor toad you swallowed. She will say, Touch this world a little bit; it might answer us. You cannot sit beneath your window and cry forever. You will try to obey your mother, but you cannot recognize your hands or this place.
The Things We Leave Behind | a short story by Torkwase Igbana
Mfe, my brother now offers me stories and laughter in a desperate plea that I remember him, that in the upheaval of a new life, I should not uproot him from my mind or forget the memories that bind us.
Metamorphosis | a short story by Ikechukwu Henry
Someday, Cletus will become ‘the Shoulder’ you lean on. He’ll express his affection for you, desiring more than just friendship. Because in your last skin, you have learned what he meant, you’ll accept it. He’ll tell you to meet him at his home. You’ll go and he’ll smile when you arrive, groping you, pulling off your clothes from the door.