Part 1Dear Mr. Emmet Cartwright,My name is Trevor Miller and I’m writing to you from a mental health institution in St. Augustine. The story I’m about to tell you is the very story that landed me in here, so my expectation is that you will not believe me. It was because of this expectation that I initially decided to leave you to suffer the coming ordeal without warning. On the off chance that you do believe me, I feel it...

It was the turn of the century before bubble gum filled lollipops had become the obsession of every Zambian child. Cola flavoured lollipops were all the rage back then. I would never quite go as far as saying I would have done anything for one, but I did do something quite shameful once.It was a hot summer morning in the city of Ndola. My mother had just sent me to the neighbour’s house to give her something. What that so...

I believe in nightmares that consume by day, leaving one bitterI am wide awake, yet it’s only my regrets I see clearerI walk alone in a tunnel I was promised would be littered with glitterI see no light exude, of course that excludes, my hope’s last glimmer.I was told the future belongs to the youthfulI now suspect it might not have been truthful"I should have faith and that my future is bright" they sayI even hear it ech...