• Fiction

    Whispers of Ancestry

    We learn valuable life lessons the hard way. In 2018, as I proudly stepped out of my final year of high school, little did I know that the journey ahead would teach me valuable life lessons. My post-school life began with an unexpected jab that forever altered my perspective on managing personal finances and also a surprising consideration – environmental sustainability. Who knew?

  • Fiction

    Don’t Stop Me

    (Photo courtesy of Aziz Acharki via Unsplash)

    Don’t stop me, Man, for I want to fly… Let me be myself, for I want sky My aim is beyond your comprehension, so let me go I am restless while you sleep, for I must do what I have to do I am hungry but I am aiming, my target too far My perseverance is holier than the dew atop that mountain

  • Fiction

    Voices From The Valley Are Rising

    (Image courtesy of Francesco Ungaro via Unsplash)

    "It's time to go to school, Lucy," a loud voice shouted. It was her mother, Mrs. Odhiambo, who realized that her daughter would be late for school. "The sun has risen and you're still snoring. You want to be a lazy girl?" she chided.

  • Fiction

    Shifting Fortunes, Shifting Fates

    (Photo courtesy of Yutacar via Unsplash)

    I still remember the night my father died. The years before were a blur of lavish parties with older men shrunken with age and tall bottles of wine and beer. They visited often, these rich men with their families.

  • Fiction

    Counterfeit World 3.0

    (Image courtesy of Dan Gold via StockSnap)

    Roscoe has defiled Doyle's living room, again. So, Doyle was siphoning resources—not much, about a tenth of one percent—from RAMPART's projection of a post-Great Lakes Midwest to figure out what to do about the dog. Head down, avoiding the gaze of tenured professors and project managers, he played with parameters: what if I'd had Roscoe since he was a puppy? What if I was his first and only owner? What if I was still with May and wasn't trying to take care of him all alone?

  • Fiction

    Ye Olde Plastic Knight

    (Photo courtesy of YesManPro via Stocksnap)

    I awoke at the crack of noon. My first order of business was to determine my whereabouts. I appeared to be home, although one can never be certain. I searched for my chalice to soothe my parched throat, but it was empty. I resolutely made the journey from reclining to standing.

  • Fiction

    The Lone Walk

    (Photo courtesy of Genevieve Dallaire via Unsplash)

    The sand beneath my feet whirls away, sweeping me off in a sway. On the floor, I lay, as my grief is in bits, gradually fraying. I stifle a chill as the breezes go hay, the sun grows cold and gray, on a thick cloudy day in May with no hope and no sun rays.

  • Fiction

    No Room For Veal

    I was only six months in, working as an apprentice chef at Rocco’s, a family-run catering outfit based in the suburbs of Greater London; Esher Common to be exact. The Esher site was a multi-story production and storage outpost and the place where most of the culinary magic happened. Mid-July; daytime. The sun was high, and the winds were still over the stony shoreline of Brighton Beach. I smelled the air and listened to the crashing waves in front of me. Peaceful, I thought, took one last drag, and stubbed out my cigarette in the overflowing ashtray. Our staff had gathered at the client’s site, The Lock, a boxy event…

  • Fiction

    Heaven Simple

    (Photo courtesy of Cody Schroeder via Unsplash)

    the wind did not howl but the door frame is loose vibrated and swayed like the unhinged rusting tin roof and her anxious heart