Fiction

The Currency of Hope 

Peter sat by the road side. His skin, black like ‘condemned’ engine oil and his eyes, a reflection of a soul that was nothing but an ash tray of burnt dreams. Not only were his eyeballs hanging conspicuously from its sockets, they were as red…

Fiction

Broken Ships II 

Vivy recalled how she stood there shivering as her wet black dress dripped water while her boyfriend, blinded by his insecurities went on blabbing. “What insensitivity!” She thought as she removed her shower cap and freed her massive braids and began to peel the wet…

Fiction

Broken Ships 

The first time Vivy met him, she had just left the library and was cycling to her hostel that evening. She was wearing a pair of blue shorts, a cream T-shirt and a  face cap to match. With her tablet in a backpack strapped to…