Romantic and Crime thriller : "Nemesis" by Akinyode Peace

                                                NEMESIS

I crossed the present to the future and by the time I got back to Micheal’s house, the sun was already giving way to the moon and its cohort – darkness. I opened the half opened  door to find him reclined in a sofa faraway into dreamland, with his innocently studly face almost stripping me of my mission there. I moved closer to him shutting my eyes, as I plunged the knife into his stomach repeatedly, until I could hear him gasp no more. I slowly released my eyelids to jolt back in fright as his battered flesh gushed blood from his lifeless body. Cold shivers sent tickles through my spines as I turned to dash out, dropping the dripping knife…
          *                                                         *                                                *                        
Michael was the Superman every lady fantasised. Aside his political prowess on campus, he was tall, a bit fair, aesthetically built and remarkably handsome with his lush smile and husky voice being the cake’s icing. His physical qualities and acclaimed intellectuality floored his average academic performance. “Joy, bequeath to my Eagle, wings, that we might tour the world together, forever”, were the last words that night that released the long melted wax in me. I was always going to accept his vastly craved proposal, but I had to make him hunt deep for the priced jewel I was. I had outrightly turned down proposals from other  guys but Michael mysteriously got under my sleeves, I fell in love with him from our first contact.

Poetry: On Your Own by Bona Solomon

                It’s a rainy day,

               Nobody’s feeling gay.

              The hoary heads keep calm,

              Creating friction between their palms.

              From life’s first cry,

             All we do is try.

             We keep the tears away

             Mercurial it becomes indeed.

            Till life's final breath,

            To carry on is the pledge,

            Executively the best way forward.

Short Story Series: Ofada Kitchen IV by Oyelude Yetunde

The evening was calm, breathing solace through the breeze.  Demilade was in the company of his friends when Adesewa crossed his mind again. Two weeks have plodded by, taking along three extra days, yet no sign of Adesewa. Demi closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The darkness of the temporal blindness could not overshadow his memories of Adesewa’s beautiful face.

        

 "Guy, how far na? Are you not eating too?" One of Demi's friends asked, oblivious of his friend's subconsciousness.

            
  "Demi!," the other yelled when Demi remained mute, obviously still lost in thought.

            "Huh!" Demi said all of a sudden, like he just jerked awake from a bad dream.  "Are you guys talking to me?" His friends stared at him in amazement and it wasn't until he looked around, that he realized they were still seated under the bamboo shed outside ofada kitchen and had been deliberating on what to eat before he sunk in his pool of thoughts. "Oh! food, ehn let's go in na" Demi could now guess what his friends had been asking him about.

            

 Demi's friends shook their heads, laughing out loud at him as they all sauntered in. Demi was not bothered by their jest of him. He couldn't blame them. They were yet to have their thoughts consumed just by one person. Demi now gave his gaze to the sightless floor as he stepped into the canteen. Anytime he stepped into Ofada kitchen now, something always struck his heart. He raised his head to glance over the counter as usual to behold the recently reoccurring feat of finding it void of Sewa. But on glancing at the counter, his heart missed a beat. The antidote to his unsettled  thoughts was right there.

        

 Sewa, engrossed in attending to the lined up customers, had no idea she was being watched by a dazed Demi who couldn't quantify the plethora of bliss and affection that coursed through him as he stood watching her. Sewa was casually taking in her surroundings when she thought she saw Demi. She narrowed her head this time, towards the canteen's entrance just to be sure she wasn’t giving in to imaginations, only for her eyes and Demi's to  interlock. It was surely her Demi.

        

Communicators League: Call for Submissions

Poised to hoist the flag of creativity for societal uplift, Communicators League (CL) calls for submissions of works aligning with the following categories/columns:

Written Literature

·            Prose

·            Short stories

·            Flash fictions

·            Poetry

·            Essays

·            Memoirs

Visual Arts Column 

·            Art works: paintings, drawings and graphic designs.

·            Photography: Still life & Wildlife

 Reviews section: Concise reviews on

·            Books

·            Movies

Oratory Section

·            Spoken Word (audio and video formats)

·            Poetry recitations (audio format)

·            Songs (audio format)

·            Freestyles (audio and video formats)

NOTE:

Ø  Entries can be on any theme.

Ø  All entries must be intellectual properties of all entrants.

Ø  Entrants will be notified via email or phone number when their works are accepted for publication on www.communicatorsleague.com.

Ø  Submissions are welcomed always. Forward your submissions (including your biography and photograph) via email: communicatorsleague@gmail.com

Makinde Damilola Peter 

COO, Communicators League                                               

Saturday Special - FUNNY, STRANGE AND FACTUAL.

                                  

Welcome to another edition of FUNNY, STRANGE & FACTUAL

Lol! Thank God he got away with his camera.

Wonderful! Despise no little beginning

Poetry- ''Arike'' by Makinde Damilola Peter

                                                 

 Arike,

      sit, that I might squat to tell you of my love.

    Relax, that you might feel the weight of

 every word I utter.
Only in comfort will you appreciate

 the tales of your beauty I am set to tell.

    Arike,

   my heart dances only to your will's beat.

     Like a wind at night that fearlessly parts wide

    the curtains on busy lovers, you like a sabre'
cut through my seeming invincible aura
to behold my fragility in its nudity.

   Arike,

     your dimples carve a pathway to your craved

 utterances, and serve as the gateway to the
heaven of your alluring smile.

 Tonight seems too much of a hare,

  but in the morrow's night, I'll take the pace of

 a tortoise in gracing your cheeks' succulence.

Poetry- ''Abamo'' by Faizat Asifat Oladunni

Dust, mint; sweat, they breath.         

Relishing the respite the cold breeze served.                                                            

Bodies moving, loosened hair swaying, to the drums.                  

The trees dancing to the whistle of the wind

while the sky sniggers.               

The children laughing as the sky leaked,

depicting its imminent labour.                                                 

Men and women tittering at jokes and riddles.                                                         

The aroma of ole overwhelming all.                                                         

The raconteurs enjoin the children to welcome

the Full moon's presence.                                

Chattering; gossiping, envelope the atmosphere.                                                           

Suddenly, the sky robes itself in red,                                  

With traces of green peering through.

Horses' cacophonous whines puncturing the inflated excitement.                       

"Ogun de,Ogun de"* was the frightful chant that engulfed

the choking air and at the repulsive music of the guns,

"gboh,gboh"** people drop dead.

Pandemonium!

FARAFINA TRUST CREATIVE WRITING WORKSHOP 2016

Farafina is here again!!

Farafina Trust will be holding a creative writing workshop in Lagos, organized by award-winning writer and creative director of Farafina Trust, Chimamanda Adichie, from June 21 to July 1, 2016. The workshop is sponsored by Nigerian Breweries Plc. The Caine Prize-winning Kenyan writer, Binyavanga Wainaina, Aslak Sira Myhre and others will co-teach the workshop alongside Adichie.

The workshop will take the form of a class. Participants will be assigned a wide range of reading exercises, as well as daily writing exercises. The aim of the workshop is to improve the craft of writers and to encourage published and unpublished writers by bringing different perspective to the art of storytelling.

Saturday Special: FUNNY, STRANGE & FACTUAL

Welcome to the maiden edition of FUNNY, STRANGE & FACTUAL

                                           

I couldn't beleive it either. lol

 

Awwwwnnnnnnnn

Essay Competition: SIGMA TERTIARY ESSAY COMPETITION

SIGMA CLUB UI Presents Sigma Tertiary Essay Competition

                                                     

                                                      

     Topic: ‘‘Education and the Nigerian Youths;Why is the street taking over?’’ 

PRIZES:

1^st Prize: N100,000

2^nd Prize: N50,000

3^rd Prize: N30,000

Guidelines:

• The essay must be original, practical and meet the standards for publication in local and international journals.

•  All entries should be typed in double line spacing and must not exceed 2,500 words.

•  Font type must be Times New Roman with 12 points font size.

•  Sources must be properly cited; footnotes should be used and a table of reference must appear at the end of the essay.

Poetry: The Dirt Road by Mustapha Modupe

You had this alluring carriage about you

that stopped me dead on my track,

the very day I set my eyes on you.

I believe I was blinded by some

superfluous emotions which your

ovally excited fangs lusciously fed on,

from my delectable jugular.

It's awfully easy to creep under my skin,

unapologetically rob me of every stowed

away supply that has been neatly contained.

UPDATE: NIGERIAN STUDENTS POETRY PRIZE 2016

Following a Call for Submission of poems/entries for the Nigerian Students Poetry Prize 2016, poems totaling 400 were received upon closure on 15th March, 2016. Find more details below:

• As a result of non-inclusion of bio-data by some entrants, a total of 320 valid entries were processed for assessment.

• Due to unforeseen delays experienced during the collation period, a long list will now be made available on 30th of May, 2016.

• Top 3 entrants who will also double as prize winners of (₦100,000, ₦50,000 and ₦30,000) respectively will be announced on 15th June, 2016.

• Details of an awards ceremony will be announced 30th June, 2016.

Short Story Series: Ofada Kitchen III by Oyelude Yetunde

''We will be examining a corpse tomorrow so you guys had better not be late. If not!.." Prof. Adeleye threatened the lecture room full of exhausted and famished medical students. They had been immersed in an ocean of lectures since the inception of classes in the morning, with an ephemeral break serving as the only breathing space. The sun was already weary after a long day of beaming its smile and was already slumbering into the west in recess for the day. While students heaved sighs of relief as they trotted out of class in retirement for the day.

    

 Demi was not really hungry but he was completely exhausted. What had kept him going was the undying yearn to see the girl who now apparently controlled his 'pons'. As everyone trotted out noisily, Demi hurriedly cleared his table of his books, with only Ofada kitchen topping his priority that moment. Even waiting to greet his friends seemed too much a delay. But just as he was about to step out of the lecture room, a swith sensual voice stopped him. He shut his eyes tight and sighed, muttering ‘’Annabel’’.           

     

    "Demilade!" Annabel called from behind as she hastily packed her materials from the table, clutching them all to her chest just to catch up with him. Demi hissed under his breath, turning to face her sassy smiling face which instantly got him disgusted.

         "What do you want?" Demi asked, coldly.

          "Take it easy, champ. Do you hate me that much?"

          "I do not have time to waste. Say whatever you want to say now. I'm in a hurry" Demi replied with a grim face.

          Annabel's smile turned sarcastic. "You must really be in a hurry, huh? Fine. When can we meet then?"

         

         "I have no reason to meet with you. So say whatever you want to say now."

            Annabel reached for his hands but before she could touch them, Demi jerked backwards saying "I can see you have nothing to say. Goodbye."

Demi turned to leave but was stopped by Annabel's heart felt utterance. "Can't you just look at me for once? Am I really that elusive to you?" Her smile had drowned in the sea of grief, mirroring her hurt emotions.

Poetry: Arewa by Kolade Olanrewaju Freedom

Photo Credit: Subomi Cole
Makeup: BeautySplashAfrica

Arewa,

your beauty is a blade cutting deep into

the fleshiness of my muse, to draw blood

plastering crispy papers with fine layers of

words refined in the industry of infatuation.

Photo Credit: Subomi Cole
Makeup: BeautySplashAfrica

Arewa,

your beauty is that of the departing sun

radiating its elegance through waters

basking in the calmness of the young night

unworried by alarming approach of darkness.

Photo Credit: S.Cole/Qudrah
Makeup: BeautySplashAfrica

Arewa,

your beauty is a poet versifying moments spent

under the shade of a tree, under endless canopies

of skies deserted by stars because you were

the star for the night – the supreme beauty.

Apata to Dugbe: Of Misfortune and Fortune by Bamidele Seth

I boarded a bus from Apata to Dugbe, dropping my box in its boot. While doing that, a similar box which insignificantly differed in size from mine caught my attention. I had premonitions, but I discarded them, taking the tattered seat in front like royalty.

   

Along the way, a fellow passenger alerted the driver he would alight at the next bus stop, making it known he had luggage in the boot. On alighting, the bus conductor hastily opened the boot and ignorantly gave my box to the man who innocently took it. He immediately flagged down a taxi cruising towards Ojoo/UI.  My instincts drove cold through my spines propelling me to look back to confirm from the conductor if my box was still 'rightly safe' in the boot. He replied assertively in Yoruba. With the intonation of the Ibadan man which his long bold tribal marks also depicted him to be, he said, "Busi yin wa nbe, emi ni mo sa gbee be" meaning the box was safe. Unknown to him, he had made a costly mistake. I turned to sit well, trying to trust the credibility of the conductor while anxiety kept smiling at me mockingly. On getting to my destination, I hopped off the bus, took a stride towards the back of the bus to get my box which the bus conductor already offloaded before I could reach the rear. Dropping the hat, before I could grab it to ascertain its ownership, the bus had zoomed off.