This was inspired by the Baby Oku I bought for my boss today at 10am. Let’s hope God forgives me. Continue reading “Local”
I realise a lot of people have been subscribing to this blog. Yes! This same one! And I must say, It’s a very pleasant surprise, I can’t imagine there are actual people out there who want to read my stuff as soon as it’s out. It fucking freaks me out.
Anyway, I thought and thought, twirling ideas in my mind, on how I could reward my followers (both old and new), since, I must confess, I’m very selfish with my post-Farafina stories. Haven’t posted any here. Anyway, I decided to post a longer excerpt of my Zombie story. It’s still untitled, unfinished, and unedited (It’s post-Farafina). I plead with you to overlook any grammatical error you encounter (which you’re sure to), and just enjoy the story. Thank you for subscribing to my blog. I hope I never let you down.
Continue reading “Pleasant Surprise”
So my stories were published on two different websites yesterday, so I decided to paste the link here for you guys to read, Enjoy.
http://brittlepaper.com/2015/10/niyi-ademoroti-african-story/#comments for Nothing, Everything.
http://omenana.com/2015/10/28/i-should-have-loved-you/ for I Should Have Loved You.
The one time I attempted flash fiction and decided it wasn’t my cup of tea. Enjoy.
I did not understand. It wasn’t even the rainy season. It was arid, unfriendly November with its dusty harmattan. I remember using up an entire tube of peach flavoured lip balm that morning applying layer after layer just so my lips wouldn’t cake up. Afternoon had come with the air still dry and even worse this time as the sun was as angry as us all; attempting to roast every last person standing. I remember the whole day clearly. I had donned on my dark grey kaftan as that was the only colour the incessant dust wouldn’t mess up too much. Then night had come with its terrors to set my warehouse on fire. No one knew how it started. Then the rain began. Torrents of it poured and poured until the fire was no more, saving my life savings from burning up. Immediately the fire went out the rain went with it, both disappearing just as fast as they had come. When the firemen came and asked what happened, all I could say was the devil had come visiting but there was God in the rain.
So I decided (backed by boredom, and alcohol, like everything these days) to do Sci-fi. Now I’m not nearly done, but I’ve decided to post a very (very) short excerpt. It’s riddled with spelling errors (blame the alcohol), so you’ll just have to forgive me. Anyway, enjoy.
Continue reading “Untitled”
Throwback. To when I let myself do things.
When will we live?
Unconscious, in the mothers’ womb. Constantly developing under the poor woman’s nurture. Unaware.
When will we live?
Finally out. The lights are too bright, we cry. Still unaware. Free, yet completely inhibited Continue reading “When Will We Live?”
That one time I attempted comedy (and C didn’t like it).
Continue reading “True Story”
And another pre-farafina story. One of the first stories I ever wrote. Enjoy.
Continue reading “Mirror”
And another pre-farafina story…
Things almost never go according to plan; Mr. Stomach’s life is a living proof of this. He had wanted to become a world famous painter, the short boy with a paunchy stomach from Ilawe Ekiti whose works are displayed in the halls of the biggest art galleries in the world. He had been talented enough, once upon a time. Now his paintings can be found only on the walls of his six bedroom penthouse apartment, to the entertainment of classless visitors who barely notice, much less appreciate them. Now he’s a malcontent accountant in a cold corner office working with other malcontent accountants in a three-floored accounting firm with central air conditioning reeking permanently of stale blood and broken dreams. Continue reading “The Circle of Life”