Hi there. Welcome to a brand new year. I pray you achieve all your writing goals. Cheers to a great 2018 ahead!
“I don’t usually do this,” she said as she returned to the bed, slowly letting her back rub against the gentle fabrics of the bed sheets. She had spent a larger part of the day, mulling over how the night’s event would pan out. It had been a tough decision to make.
Dollops of tears trickled down the side of her face.
“Will I enjoy it?” she asked herself in low voice and turned her face to the giant-sized clock on the wall. It was a few minutes past 9:00pm. It was pretty late, but it was not yet time. She had agreed to do it by 9:30pm. She had imagined it would not last for long and she was grateful for that. She could not imagine doing it anytime later than 9:30pm.
Tick Tock Tick Tock…
She waited patiently, hoping she could be done with it already. It was beginning to seem like forever and she could not take the suspense. It was heart-wrenching.
A few minutes later, her stomach growled angrily, signalling her to get done with it already. She threw a glance at the giant-sized clock. The time was now 9:15pm. She could not take it anymore. She had to do it now!
So, she flung herself out of the bed and reached for her handbag. She pulled out a polythene bag which was bound over, from the handbag. As she loosened the polythene bag, the sweet aroma of fufu and afang soup which resided therein, hit her nostrils. She took in a deep breath, savouring the sweet smell of the food which she had bought earlier in the day during her lunch break at work.
Ever since she bought the food and placed same in her handbag, she could not wait to get home and have same for dinner. She usually got home from work around 9:00pm due to the heavy traffic experienced on the Third Mainland Bridge and she had sworn to have dinner tonight not later than 9:30pm.
This would be the first time she would be having fufu and afang for dinner and she could not wait to have the once-in-a-lifetime experience.
In commemoration of today being the International Day of the Girl Child, here is an old flash fiction I wrote. Hope you enjoy it and let me know your thoughts in the comment section.
“Go to daddy,” Mom said, beckoning me to move closer to dad. Mom and Dad were both still in bed, covered in the big, fluffy duvet, with only their faces and necks jutting out. I sat by the edge of the bed, contemplating whether or not to obey Mom.
“You have bed wet again, haven’t you?” Mom said with a frown. “She’s getting too old for this,” she said to Dad.
“Oh baby,” Dad said with a forced smile. “You can come over. It’s okay,” he said to me, before stealing a quick gulp of the drink by his bedside.
I looked at Mom, looked at Dad and then, turned to Mom again.
Mom shook her head, sprang out of bed and dashed into the bathroom.
“She’ll get used to it,” Mom said as she bathed, referring to our current ‘situation’. We had just moved into this one-room apartment. Mom had told me this was only temporary as she and Dad would soon be over their financial problems. What I hated most about our ‘situation’ was that, at eleven, I had to share the same bed with Mom and Dad.
Mom came out of the bathroom, already dressed.
“I have to see Mama Ngozi at the market. She promised to assist me with some money today,” Mom said to Dad. Then she turned to me, “Clean the room before leaving for school. Take this,” she dropped a fifty naira note on the bed. “Get something to eat.” With those words, she kissed Dad and bolted out of the room.
After some time, Dad looked at me with a wry smile.
“Listen,” he said. “If you stop being childish, I’ll treat you like my daughter. Now come to bed to daddy.”
The Girl Child is exposed to a lot and it behoves on the family and the society to protect her. But how well are our girl’s protected? One unfortunate situation which our female children are exposed to is sexual harassment and abuse. I once wrote an article for Bella Naija wherein I bemoaned the manner with which society claims to be protecting the girl child from sexual predators. The society tells the girl “do not dress provocatively”, “do not walk alone at night” , “do not go to a boy’s place” etc etc and I think this is the wrong approach. Whatever happened to educating our boys not to maltreat, dehumanize, sexually abuse or howsoever, demean our girls?! You cannot completely “protect” the girl child from peculiar situations such as sexual harassment/abuse without teaching our boys not to sexually harass our girls. A sexually depraved boy will grow up to be a paedophile, sexual harasser and abuser, wife beater etc. Parents, teach your sons to refrain from behaving as beasts at an early stage. Instil this moral in them. You may be saving one girl child from being abused in the future.
I believe anyone who is not living under the rocks, should by now, be aware that one of Nigeria’s best young talented writers, Ms. Tomi Adesina will be launching her book, “George’s Pieces of Me” on Sunday August 20, 2017. The venue is the Centre for Contemporary Art, located at No. 9, McEwen Street, Off Queen Street, Yaba, Lagos. The time is 3:00pm, but there will be a photo session with the author from 2:30pm.
The launch date is a Sunday and if you are like me, I usually like to spend my weekends (particularly Sundays) indoors. Apart from going to church, I usually do not have the will-power to attend any functions, events or even social gatherings on Sundays. It takes something or someone very special to get me out of the comfort of my apartment on a Sunday. Tomi Adesina is one of those special people and her book launch is one of those special events.
So, here I am, coming to you as a human being, trying to convince you to join me at Tomi Adesina’s book launch this Sunday.
Reason 1: Free Plots of Land at Banana Island for every Attendee?
Guys, this is no joke. Rumours have it that Tomi wanted to give everyone a p…roper “Thank You For Coming” package. Top on the list was choice properties at Banana Island. But since she could not easily access dollars to pay for the hectares of land due to scarcity of the currency in the parallel market, she decided to give attendees something I consider even better.
Wait for it.
Yes. Every attendee will be served with Small Chops. Free Small Chops. You won’t pay a dime for the Small Chops. Guys, who says no to free Small Chops? WHO?! Personally, I think Small Chops is a better option than Banana Island property because, the cost of processing the papers as a land owner in Banana Island is quite daunting. I am talking about the financial cost. Do you know how much you will pay for Governor’s Consent? Stamp Duties? Registration of your Deed of Assignment?
My very good friend and award-wining author, Ms. Tomi Adesina will be launching her book, George’s Pieces of Me on August 20, 2017 at the Centre for Contemporary Art. The address is No. 9 McEwen Street, Off Queen Street, Yaba, Lagos. You are cordially invited to the said launch. The time is 3:00pm.
Here is a brief introduction of the book.
Title: George’s Pieces of Me
Author: Tomi Adesina
Edited by: Reaccentuated Ltd
Cover Design: Rewrite Agency
Layout and Design: Lucid Creative
Release Date: 20th August, 2017
Media Type: Paperback and e-copy
About the Book
George’s Pieces of Me is a collection of poems and short stories exploring the complexities of human existence, an unending search for homes in people and journey towards redemption.
“In George’s Pieces of Me, Tomi Adesina styles poetry and prose with imagination, mischief and charm. Her vignettes are more than just stories: they are wistful commentaries on existentialism, triggered by social expectations. Adesina prompts the reader towards self-assured social rebellion, and then pulls us back to stoic acceptance of the vicissitudes of life. The thoughts in this book will stay with you long after the pages are closed.”
Ayo Sogunro, Author of Everything in Nigeria is Going to Kill You
“The stories explore loving, loss, internalizing the pain of loss and finding home. Tomi’s voice is clear in this piece of work, without drowning the voices of her characters who we meet briefly but whose stories will linger with us for a long time.”
Tunde Leye, Author of Guardians of the Seal
“Adesina’s work is a reflection of hope, love and the burden of fate. She twists the tale of old age to reveal an eternal spring of life’s realities. Here is a writer with compulsive and engaging stories to tell.”
Hannah Ojo of The Nation
About the Author
Tomi Adesina was born in Lagos, Nigeria. She is a fiction blogger and screenwriter. In 2013 she won the Nigerian Blog Awards for her blog fiction series and in 2015 her screenplay on cyberbullying (Feisty John) won the Homevida Prize. She also won the Nigerian Writers Award for Best Young Writer in 2015 and her short stories have been featured in magazines across Africa. She lives in Lagos where she is working on a new novel.
Distribution: George’s Pieces of Me is available on Amazon, Amazon Kindle, Buboox, Patabah Books. (More channels to be available soon)
Media Enquiries: email@example.com, firstname.lastname@example.org
And here is our author
If you would love to have a photo-session with the author, you can do that from about 2:30pm on the date of the launch. It would mean so much to me if you can make it to the event.
Let me tell you a story.
Our story starts with Slay Queen getting a new notification from Facebook. Ekubo McBrian had just hit her up for the twelfth time today. She had only just accepted his friendship request since he sent it six months ago, but he was fast becoming a pain in the bum. She heaved a deep sigh and placed her phone back in her denim pocket.
“Madam, we don reach the place,” the cabman said.
She looked out of the window. The giant “Eko Hotel and Suites” sign at the top of the towering building welcomed her preying eyes.
“Okay,” she said as she paid the cabman and alighted from his overly comfy Metro taxi. She approached the entrance of the hotel and found her way to the private hall where she spotted her would-be company relaxing in a few seats away. He stood up and pulled the chair for her.
We are in the second quarter of the year and you’ve probably not learnt any new skill, as you had resolved to do at the beginning of the year. Nigeria’s economy is in recession and you are wondering what to do. Perhaps, you already figured out what to do and that is to take advantage of the world wide web by blogging, but you do not know how to blog. Not to worry, BlogCampNG is here to the rescue.
Are you an artist, caterer, interior decorator, photographer, event planner, musician, author/writer, fashion designer, beautician, entrepreneur, sales person etc and you don’t have a blog, but would like to? Have you ever attended any previous Blogging Workshop but all you learnt were motivational quotes and phrases? Do you want to be able to actually set up a blog, design it, beautify it, brand it, generate traffic to it, monetize it etc?
If your answer to the above questions is yes, then you have to attend BlogCampNG’s workshop themed “Blogging MasterClass for Beginners”. We all know that blogging can be so tasking to someone who is just starting out and we know that there are so many questions related to setting up, building, managing and monetising a blog. The BlogCampNG workshop is aimed at teaching BEGINNERS/AMATEURS all the inner workings of creating a blog and to educate you to build, manage and grow your blog whether it’s just a pastime or part of your small business.
It will be extremely practical from the scratch! At the BlogCampNG workshop, beginner/amateur bloggers will be introduced to tools they need to run a better, more successful and creative blog. The course will cover tips for setting up a blog, creatively improving the design of your site, using social media to market your blog, etc.
The PRACTICAL course will cover topics like:
How to create/set up a beautiful WordPress blog from scratch
How to tag and categorize posts
How to share and promote posts
How to generate traffic to your blog
How to brand your blog
How to integrate your social networks (Twitter, Facebook Profile, Facebook Page and Facebook Groups, Google +, LindkedIn account etc) with your blog
How to choose the perfect theme
How to design a header image as an amateur
How to publish posts using your phone
How to manage comments
How to customise widgets
How to use your blog sidebars for advertising
How to upload pdfs on your blog
How to create contents
How to engage your audience
How to get your custom domain (www.yourname.com)
How to boost your blog posts to thousands on Facebook Etc Etc
PLEASE NOTE THAT this will be a very practical session, therefore, it is going to be a BYOD (Bring-Your-Own-Device) workshop. This is not going to be one of those Motivational events that you may have attended, it is a PRACTICAL WORKSHOP. It is also not a GET RICH QUICK SCHEME/WORKSHOP. The things you will learn at the Practical Workshop have been listed above.
May 29, 2017 [Democracy Day which is a public holiday]
LitCaf, 1st Floor, E-Center, Commercial Avenue, Sabo Yaba, Lagos
The Workshop Fee is N20, 000.
However, between now and May 05, 2017, we are offering a 50% discount. So, if you pay between now and May 05, 2017, you only pay N10,000.
Why should I pay before May 05, 2017?
First, we have very limited spaces. Once we attain that number, we shall not be accepting payments anymore. Any payment made after we exceed our number shall be refunded.
Second, anyone who pays before May 05, 2017, shall be given our comprehensive Guide Book titled “The Blog Book”. The Blog Book contains every information amateur/beginner blogger needs to know on Blogging. The book is worth N4,000.00, but will be given for free to people who pay before May 05, 2017.
Why should I attend the workshop?
The workshop is a practical class. You will be taught and shown from scratch all you need to know on blogging, as highlighted above. You will also set up your first blog at the end of the workshop. Every participant will also be given a goodie bag containing writing materials.
What should I come with?
A Naira Debit Card (Note, this is optional. If you do not intend purchasing a custom domain (e.g www.yourname.com), then, you don’t need a debit card)
Which account do I pay into?
For account details, please send a mail to haroldwrites.official@gmail. Com
What do I do after paying?
Kindly send your name to haroldwrites.official@gmail. com .
For any information regarding the above, please kindly send me a mail at email@example.com . I respond to emails within the quickest possible time.
The night was filled with shouts and cries from McGriffin Hostel. The jock boys were at it again, they were always the ones disturbing the peace of the hostel. Craig opened the door of Room 42 to see other boys rush by in a hurry; they were going to see the jock boys pound one another to a pulp as they provided entertainment for the boys of McGriffin Hostel with their occasional night fights and squabbles. ‘What’s going on this time with those jerks?’ asked Max, Craig’s roommate. The noise generated from the fight happening in one of the rooms below had disrupted their video game. Seated next to Max was Lance who seemed in a hurry to get back to thrashing Max in the game. Laying on one of the beds in the room was the fourth and last roommate, Ryan. He was reading a book and he seemed unperturbed by the noise. He was used to them, the jerks who always felt as though they owned the school. They disturbed the hostel with their loud and deranged music, quarrelled every now and then but were hardly confronted by anyone. The hall wardens never bothered to check in on them as one of them had ended up in the hospital with a broken nose three weeks earlier. He had earned that while trying to separate a fight that had ensued between two jock boys. In addition to the broken nose, he also got two fractured ribs and a battered face. The two miscreants were of course expelled from the school but no one wanted to be a martyr. Everyone just seemed to mind his business whenever the jock boys were around.
Just the other day, some second year students were found beaten and bloody as a result of crossing paths with some jock boys. Earlier that day, some jock boys were beaten by the second year students but later that night, the jock boys retaliated and exacted sweet revenge back on the poor fellows. The beaten boys refused to disclose the people responsible for their predicament but everyone knew the jock boys had their imprints written all over it but still remained mute.
The shouts and cries at the hostel intensified as many onlookers and spectators gathered to see the rascals batter their faces. The occupants of Room 42 however remained in their room. Max and Lance resumed their video game but their minds weren’t in the game anymore; they wanted to go and see the fight down below. It looked like people were gathering but no one was ready to separate them. ‘Who could blame them anyway?’ thought Lance to himself. Craig suddenly stood from his bed saying, ‘I have to go and see this fight, this noise is deafening. Having said that, he walked to the door, opened it and walked out. It wasn’t long before Max and Lance followed suit, dropping their game pads on the floor. They all left the room except for Ryan who seemed rather pre-occupied with his novel in hand.
The crowd surrounding the fighters egged them on, cheering them on as the two jock boys involved in the fight kept battering and ramming into each other. The taller of the two boys held his opponent in a tight neck grip and pummelled the living hell out of his face. The second jock suddenly found the first jock’s foot and twisted it. A sharp cry of pain tore through the night as the first jock went down in a heap. He hurriedly let go of the second jock who instantly landed a swift kick on to the face of the first. Blood erupted out of the face of the first jock as the second jock added two more kicks to his temple. The crowd was now chanting for the defeated jock to get up and continue the fight as his opponent kept delivering blows, punches and kicks. The jock on the floor suddenly rushed and grabbed the second jock by the torso, lifted him up in the air and with a loud cry, threw him on the floor. Loud cheers and whoops emanated from the crowd. Lance and Max were screaming themselves hoarse, congratulating the first jock. Craig stood at a corner watching the whole fight. He wondered what people enjoyed in it though, the fighters could get themselves killed but yet people found pleasure in it. He soon felt that he had seen enough and made his way back to his room. Max and Lance would return when they‘ve had their fill. He got to his room, opened the door and was greeted with a cold dark silence. The lights in the room were off. They had all left Ryan in the room with the lights on. Maybe, Ryan had decided to go to bed and had switched off the lights. He had better turn them on. He groped along the wall, looking for the light switch. ‘Ryan, Ryan’, he called out but he met with no response. Alas, he found the light switch and turned it on. What he saw, he wasn’t prepared for. Ryan laid on his bed, his throat slashed and his face stabbed multiple times. The book he was reading lay on top his chest soaked in his blood. A part of his cheek had been cut off and his nose bashed in. Blood dripped from the bed and pooled all over the floor.
“Pandemonium” was written by Onadeko Akinwande, an aspiring writer, biochemist, lover of reading, music and fun. He is also a graduate of Bowen University.
Do you want to get paid for your writing? Read our call for submissions by clicking here .
It is the day after Valentine. You are still feeling very excited from your experience from the previous day. Le Beau had given you the most amazing Valentine experience ever. You were mind-blown at Le Beau’s gifts, surprises and overall thoughtfulness. Le Beau literally gave you the Valentine of your dreams.
Today at work, a client who had come to engage the services of your company spotted Le Beau’s picture as your laptop’s wallpaper. The client asks if you know the person whose picture you are using as your wallpaper. You wonder why the client is asking. So, you ask if the client knows Le Beau. The client flashes an engagement ring at you and says the person on your wallpaper is her/his fiancé/fiancée.
In not more than 700 words, write a developing subplot of what happens after the revelation from your client. Leave your subplot in the comment section below.
The rich man on my street boasts in the splendour of his vineyards, fields of grain and herds of cattle. I poke my head out of the raffia frames of my rickety window to catch a whiff of the cool morning breeze, and there he is – standing on the roof top of his mansion, wincing menacingly whilst sipping from a jar made of gold. He does this every morning. Is he mad at the morning? Doesn’t he sleep well at night?
The men at the village square say he is not happy because his mansion is surrounded by unbefitting structures. By unbefitting structures, he was referring to us. To me.
My house (well, if you can call it that), is the only structure beside his mansion. The others have been levelled by machines the rich man brought. It is a matter of time before he levels mine.
I should be bothered. I should be worried.
But I am not.
I pull my head back into the room and my roving eyes catch a little piece of plywood hanging on my wall. I smile as I unhook the plywood. Inscribed on the plywood are five letters:
S A L L Y.
You are the reason for my calm. The reason I am not afraid of the raging storm from the rich man. He can wipe away my raffia hut for all I care, but since I have you, I have everything.
I remember the first time fate crossed our paths at the T.W.T.R market square. I had gone with the boys to fetch some firewood. On our way back, we heard a voice singing by a stall. The boys had wanted to hurry back home as the evening sun was almost blotted out of the sky, but I urged them to stay back awhile and listen to what you had to sing. Did they listen to me? No. They left. But I defied their warnings and stayed back. And good gods of our fathers, did you have the most beautiful voice?!
I was enthralled by the things you said in your songs. You caught my heart with your words and I willingly became your prisoner. Before we parted ways that day, you used a piece of charcoal to inscribe your name on a plywood and handed same over to me. Till this day, I have that plywood on my wall.
You are a (S)weet gentle soul, an (A)lpha female of some sort, a (L)oving and (L)ovable human, and one who is blessed with the genes of exuberant (Y)outhfulness.
Your youthfulness! Ah! Your biggest asset alongside your mind. Tomorrow will mark another moment when the moon goes full circle around you. The day the angels lent one of their kind to mere mortals like us. If you told anyone how long you have spent here on earth, they would say you were lying. You do not look it. I guess an angel will always stay true to traits that only an angel possesses. We would have called a feast to celebrate you in the village square tomorrow, but to what end will it serve to subject an angel to activities of mortals? You deserve much more than a circus of activities. So to this end, I shall keep you in my heart and render psalms in your honour.
You are more. Thank you for being you.
Without uttering a word or lifting a finger, you motivate me to be a better warrior, to not settle for a lamb when I can go after a lion, to murder sleep in pursuit of greatness…Pfft. What is sleep when there is greatness to achieve? You taught me this.
You say to me that I will make a good King one day. I scoff at the thought. Me? A low-life living in a tattered hut? Pfft. How can this be? From where would I become a King? I do not have a military to take over the kingdom. Listen to me talking about a military. I flatter myself. I do not have a single male servant to command, talk more of a military.
But you still insist I will make a good King.
Well, I may not become the King you think I can be, but rest assured, irrespective of who ascends the throne of your heart, I will be serving your best interest from the rear. I will do this because you deserve all the happiness you can get.
Pardon me if these words I speak are without form or direction. I have been quiet for so long and the words have built a hill around the walls of my throat. Thanks to the Creator of the Universe for making tomorrow your day. I seize this opportunity to let the words out. For if I do not let them free, I might implode.
Photo Credit: Yahoo/Black Angel