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...

Nsansa was right when he said I would be blamed for Uliya’s death. The young blossoming and fertile second wife of my husband had succumbed to a mysterious fatality, and I was the only witness.  A hundred villagers surrounded us as we sat on the ground. Uliya’s mother wept violently on my far right, and four elders sat in front of us.  As I expected, my husband passionately vouched for me. His sister-in-law Tashani spoke...

I hated how beautiful she was.I hated her sleek, slender figure, her caramel skin, her and her long dark hair. Traditionally men couldn’t stand the idea of a slender wife. However, for a farmer like my husband, a slender wife was ideal.            I was a tiny little twig when I got married. When I married Nsansa, I ate as farmers’ wives did. There was always something to sink my teeth into, cassava, groundnuts, oranges,...

I knew he loved me. He treated me better than most young men did their wives in our village. But I couldn't help but envy the admiration he had for Amaka. Sometimes I felt like he adored Amaka more than he did me. Amaka was the most loved soldier in our village, and it didn't take a prophet to see it. As I heard screaming and clapping, I knew why my husband had left the room we often laid in together. The little children...

As I live and breathe, so do these animals and trees. Now I perform a palm read, on the veins of these leaves. And it will tell me, the wrongs of my breed.I can hear her soul, she cries for me to aid her. But our kind is convinced, we are the single child of Mother Nature.A child greedier than no other, we decorate our homes, But pillage that of our mother, and act like gods before our brothers.Confining them in jars, lab...

If he knew it was going to be his last movie, Oshiro Akiyama would have watched something more uplifting than a horror. Oblivious to the dangers that awaited him in his own home, he walked casually into his one bedroom apartment and locked the door behind him. He turned off the lights, took off everything except his boxer shorts and climbed into bed. Mere seconds after shutting his eyes, a dripping sound caught his attent...

Dedicated to Anthony Chansa, challenge accepted!“Please don’t rattle any feathers with this one Maria,” I begged. Maria Sposcic was generally thought of as the best detective in the department. Unfortunately for the large majority of bureaucrats on the force, she had a very provocative personality. She was a moderately attractive woman in her late thirties. She'd probably look more attractive if she took care of her hair...

I lay in bed, breathing deeply, hoping it would distract me from my excruciating headache. Pieces of the only food I had an actual craving for floated in a bucket of vomit by my bedside. “God, why me?” I whimpered. A strong wind forced the curtains away from my window and over my body. It traveled from my feet to my ears. It whispered dominantly, “Why only acknowledge me when you think I've wronged you?” It could have bee...

His presence was as discomforting as foretold. His cold and emotionless eyes pierced right through her. She had been warned of his dead stare but the forewarning gave her no upper hand. She was in absolute discomfort and he was enjoying the control. His name was Cook De’Kane, ‘The Invisible Flame’. A ruthless but often mute assassin with a reputation for making his hits look like accidents. He was infamous for never being...

The Coward Across the Street I’m a crime drama junkie. That means I've spent the last decade of my life watching movies and TV shows about guys who lack in terms of reasoning but have a lot of balls. Just like romantic movie junkies, a little part of us assumes we’d have the ability to fit into the craziness of these fantasy worlds. Unlike crime drama junkies, however, romantic movie junkies are often forced to face reali...

"It’s okay,” she says, “It’s okay,” she says, With a broken heart, like a broken record, Rather than rejected, my apologies are ignored,She claims my mistakes are derived from her flaws.“It’s okay,” she says, “It’s okay,” she says,With her feet in the fire, so nonchalant,She doesn't condemn the fire, the fire I lit,She turns advocate and praises my sins,Complementing my insults to her, justifying my injustices,Defending m...

Reader discretion is advised.  The first few lines of this work contain language or other material that some readers may find offensive. By choosing to view the piece in its entirety, you agree that you are 18 or older and do not object to vulgar or profane language, or to mature content. * * * Take it from a henchman. Few crimes are quite as inauspicious as kidnapping. Every time I tried to kidnap someone, it turned out...

I was selfish in life but will be selfless in death A narrow minded boy, confining a soul of great breadth In lieu of flowers, make me seem philanthropic Make me out to be kindest, on sympathetic topic You've always known me best, my coin of a face How I growled in isolation, but smiled on velvet walkways In lieu of flowers, hide my dual ways Allow me only with the brightest smile, be portrayedI lived life in fine cloth,...