“When we read human stories we come alive in bodies which are not our own,”

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, 2011 Commonwealth Lecture

It is with prodigious delight, that we draw the curtains for entries into the UNIBEN prize for poetry and short stories!

I must say, that the university community completely blew us off our feet with the calibre of response we got, even with little or no publicity for the competition.

An amazing total of a hundred and seventy three outstanding entries were received from both categories.

I therefore congratulate the entire contestants that found out time, even with the hectic semester, to submit something worth a third read for the competition.

I wish you all the best, as the team of experienced readers in alliance with the FictionLimbo writer’s foundation dissever the entries for the final long list that would be published in a few days.

Keep your fingers crossed and keep returning to www.fictionlimbo.net for more updates.

Moses Kelvin.


FictionLimbo Writer’s Foundation.


Yet another Bus Ride!

Posted: July 9, 2015 in short stories



#The Change Factor


It has been ages since I made my traditional posts! I certainly have lost track of the activities my friends have been caught up in, particularly the chain fiction challenge organized by my good friend trablogger! I can remember my involvement in “when in love” and I miss all the wonderful people that got knotted in the story, especially my friends from India and, of course, the beautiful Miss Ruth.

For some time, I have been tangled in academic work and the pursuit of a better future, currently, everything is in focus and working accordingly.

(Phew! enough with talking about boring personal issues and straight to my story. )

It was 5pm, and like every other week day, I was on my way home, from work, (PS: I’ve finally joined the folks earning Nigeria’s Oil money), I really wasn’t in the mood to board a bus crowded with people I knew nothing about (Who knows, I might just be sitting next to a Serial Killer, or worse, a smelling old market woman, yuck.) I wanted a taxi, something just for three people, so that the probability will be lower (Please don’t quote me, I really don’t know mathematics!) but it looked as though fate wanted me in a bus, as no Taxi was at the bus-stop. (Bus-stop? Why is there nothing like a Taxi-Stop??? #just saying.)

So, I took a bus, or rather, THE BUS.

Read the rest of this entry »

wpid-writersguildawards.jpgOfficial Announcement of Winning Poem and Short story!

It is with great pleasure that we announce to you, the winning Poem and Short Story!

Having delebrated and pondered for months after months due to the caliber of entries that made the shortlist, the team of Judges and experienced readers have finally found common ground!

Two poems, (METAMORPHOSIS and RIGHTEOUS FURY), battled till the end, with RIGHTEOUS FURY coming up on top for its display of culture, passion, and uniqueness!

RIGHTEOUS FURY was written and submitted by Aforkeya Ese, a 100 level student of Nursing in Ugbowo Campus.

The first runner up poem, METAMORPHOSIS, was written and submitted by Wayne A. Samuel from Ekehuan Campus.

The Short Story category was not a tad easy, yet again, the council of Judges were faced with a task even greater!

Two Stories locked horns in the pursuit of greatness, alas, One story had to emerge winner inspite of the motion held by some of the judges to grant the tittle to both contenders!

Okafor Anthony chidera’s  WOLVES OF DESERT battled with Chicotovwe Christopher’s DREAMS OF THE UNDEAD with Christopher’s short story emerging as the winner!

CHICOTOVWE CHRISTOPHER is an Engineering Student in 300 level, whilst OKAFOR ANTHONY CHIDERA is a 400 level student of Foreign Languages.

An official interview with the winners would be conducted as soon as the Foundation has made concrete contact with the Winners!




Meet the writers!

Posted: May 14, 2015 in short stories

dark_shadow_2-t2#our very First Legacies!

Having waited patiently for the shortlisted writers to send in their bio, the foundation is ready to unveil the amazing writers of the stories that spanned even the deepest of genres.

it is with great pleasure that we introduce these outstanding minds to the world of possibilities!

having met, in oneness and agreement, the fiction limbo foundation has awarded each of these shortlisted writers, a lifetime access to the fiction limbo website!

They have been granted the privilege to post their articles and creative writings anywhere and anytime on this site.

more information on this inception would be communicated via mail to the shortlisted writers.

without further ado, we introduce our stars:

NAME: Otuagomah Josephine
TICKET NO. : 103
TITLE: Who answers prayers? (poetry)

josephine is a Final year student of the Faculty of Agriculture, University of Benin, and is an aspiring writer and poet.
She holds the believe that through writing; the most physical, mental and emotional battles could be won.
She also has an impressive list of unpublished works.

NAME: Wayne A. Samuel
TICKET NO.  : 302 and 304
TITLE: metamorphosis (poetry)
TITLE: Of bishops and bodyguards (short story)

Wayne A. Samuel is an up and coming writer from the stables of Ekehuan campus UNIBEN. Mostly known for his spoken words, Wayne is also a novelist and potential scriptwriter. He is proving to be as multifaceted as a diamond, and just as precious to the literary scene. Without a doubt, far much more is to be expected from the young bard.

NAME: Adolphina Zazi Idodo
TICKET NO. : 209
TITLE: I salute You (poetry)

Adolphina Zazi Idodo is a 400 level student of international studies and Diplomacy  and hails from the oil rich delta state.
Zazi performs poetry on stage whilst she is not writing.
She currently lives in Benin with her family.

NAME: Okafor Anthony chidera
TICKET NO. : 203 and 204
TITLE: wolves of the desert (short story)
TITLE: we don’t live here anymore (poetry)

Anthony is a 400 level student of the department of foreign languages, University of Benin. he is a lover of words, nature, poetry/music, German shepherds, bicycles, books, sleep, introversion and a despiser of lectures. Anthony hate cats and cashews, and hails from Amakohia town in Ihitte-uboma local government area of Imo state.
Okafor Anthony write with the pseudonym, J.K. Anowe.

NAME:  Chux-Anthony Osakwe
TICKET NO. : 202
TITLE: Before the vow (short story)


Chux-Anthony Osakwe is an article and short story author, currently working on a novella. He is a little drawn to the dark side, coated and masked in the most charming smile. When he’s not cooking up some sad tale, he’s most likely out having some sugar with Nicole (his camera).

NAME: Fatima Abokaso
TICKET NO. : 208
TITLE: Lion cloth (short story)

Fatima Abokaso is a writer: poet and a story teller. She was born in January, 1995, and has lived in Benin city, Edo state ever since. She was a finalist for the 2012 Sentinel Shortstory Price. She also publishes frequently at Naija stories where she has fortunes with nominations. As a part time guitarist, she has no problem mimicing her favourite songs. Currently, she is working on her novel, Dreamland.

NAME: Okafor Emmanuel Tochukwu
TICKET NO. : 205, 206 and 207
TITLE: My sisters madness (short story)
TITLE: The ghost in the dark (short story)
TITLE: The Arangement (short story)

Okafor Emmanuel Tochukwu was born in Lagos, Nigeria. His short fiction and essays have appeared in The Kalahari Review, African Writer, Naija Stories, StoryMondo, Uniben Talking Drum, and 8th Annual Ships & Ports Communiqué. His works are also forthcoming in Bakwa magazine and Black Boy Review. He is an editor and writer at Uniben Talking Drum and the Uniben Blog. A participant in the UNIBEN ENL Creative Writing Workshop, he divides his time between Lagos where he resides, and Benin-city where he studies Electrical/ Electronic engineering at the University of Benin. An MTN scholar and an Etisalat scholar, he won the Comptroller Charles Edike Prize for Outstanding Essays (2014). Later this year, at the SWAG-V International Conference, he will be awarded a World Student Essay Writer. When he is not writing, he is happily making many square children. Tochukwu is currently working on a full-length debut novel.

NAME: Aforkeya Ese
TICKET NO. : 198 and 111
TITLE: War of the elder demons (short story)
TITLE: Righteous Fury (poetry) 

Aforkeya Ese is a 100 level student of Nursing, in the University of Benin.

Ese is both a poet and a writer of fiction and is drawn mostly, to dark stories.

He is the author of the soon to be published “IN THE Shadows.”

NAME: Chicotovwe Christopher
TICKET NO. : 177 and 182
TITLE: Dreams of the Undead (short story)
TITLE: sally of No.  3 dream Avenue (or the unexpected dreams of an unknown girl) (short story)


Christopher is a 300 level student in the University of Benin, and is in the Faculty of Engineering. His short stories have been nominated for divers awards amongst which includes, The Broodmare Price for short stories. Christopher is a lover of fantasies and it reflects deeply on his writings.

 whilst Christopher is not writing short stories, he is busy with his debut novel “Mikorume: Island of fear”

click here to read excerpts from the shortlisted entries!

The 2015 Uniben Prize for Poetry and Short Stories attracted nearly 200 entries this year, which was indeed a great delight!

After an initial sift by a team of experienced readers, the Foundation panel have chosen the shortlist.

Ten short stories and five poems from students of the university have been selected.

They reflect the breadth and quality of writing in the Campus today.

The shortlisted stories and poems have been sent to the panel of international Judges and they will select the final winners in the coming weeks.

The Fiction Limbo Foundation will announce the final winners of both categories just after the end of the first semester’s examination.

In the meantime, you can read a passage from each of the 10 shortlisted stories and 5 poems below.

Short stories

  1. The Ghost in the dark: 207

Every morning, when the sun seemed reluctant to rise, my father would sit by the well. He would tune his radio to a news station, widen his lap in an accustomed ritual to accommodate the size of the newspaper, and pore through every page of The Nation. Neck craned forward, head bent over- his cracked lips would momentarily whisper a few lines from the paper. On days when he could not afford to buy The Nation, he would pick from the pile of old issues that were neatly propped up at a corner in the bedroom. He wore a pained look as he read them.

Whenever my father finished a copy of The Nation, he would throw frightening jabs into the air, talk in thick croaked tones, and curse General Babangida’s government. The other Sunday that was Esomchi’s birthday; I made a colourful card and showed it to my father. He took the card, turned it up- and-down, and tore it into shreds. He was not frowning. He was sneering. Sneers and more sneers even after I left him. And what was once a gift to my younger brother became tufts of colourful pieces that were trampled under the feet of a man I called my father.

  1. Sally of No. 3 dream avenue (or the unexpected dreams of an unknown girl) : 182

She lifted her head and directed the smile at him. His heart did a back flip and skipped a bit, but as he opened his mouth to speak—‘James.’ He heard his name inside his head. It seemed to have affected the world around him. The building began to quake vigorously, the picture frames on the wall started to fall off their hooks, shattering glass everywhere. He docked to avoid the massive light bulbs that came crashing down from the ceiling. ‘James.’ The Voice within called out again. His vision began to blur, but he could still see the pretty girl sitting on the sofa, smiling. The momentum of the chaos increased. The roof was completely blown off and water from the rain started to pour in at liberty. The walls of the house were breaking in full swing into bits. Everything was slithering out of focus but the girl on the sofa remained static. He felt someone holding on to him firmly, and as he turned to see who it was, he broke out of the dream

  1. Of bishops and bodyguards: 304

It happened in a moment. The car veered off the road and its tire ravaged the shrubbery on the sidewalk.  What happened next could pass as a scene from a blockbuster. James kicked the door open, performed a cartwheel and let off four bullets in the direction of the lorry that knocked him off the road. The hawkers who had been watching keenly took off then. Some let their wares fall to the ground, the more devout held on tightly as they darted off. The lorry pulled to a stop across the road, Read the rest of this entry »

Versatile Blogger Award!!!

Posted: January 26, 2015 in short stories


Even while MIA?

So, i have been missing in action for a while now, and i know some of you would be wondering where the nigga had gone to….. and nope, i didn’t loose interest! gosh! i cant believe i even said that! it would be a huge crime for me to loose interest in something i love the most, writing.

well, to cut the long story short, katho28 from https://intotheforgotten.wordpress.com read my blog and nominated me for the versatile blogger award! 

katho28, i am truly grateful that an amazing blogger and writer like you thought about my work during your nominations and believed in me! Thank you very much!

The rules for accepting this award is simple, and it follows below:

  • Show the award on your blog.
  • Thank the person who nominated you.
  • Share 7 facts about yourself.
  • Nominate 15 blogs.
  • Link your nominees’ blogs, and let them know.

Now these are 7 facts about me:

1. My full name is Moses Oghenegare Kelvin

2. I love to sing alot!

3. this is my second award in two months…

4. I am very cute….

5. I am a student of the Federal University of Benin, Nigeria.

6. I’ve got a twin brother, his name is Elvis (Nah…he doesn’t blog.)

7. I love making lots n lots of friends!


and my nominees are…(drum roll please…):

1. I- read

2. ola

3. Olise

4. nikkif181

5. Sona

6. Soul n Spirit

7. amcmulin914

8. sweety

9. rosered

10. sheldonk2014

11. Julia manuel

12. manvishah

13. jasminebythebay

14. Saya

15. thegirlacrossthebridge


There you go…. thank you once more, katho28 for bringing this award to me!


The Uniben Prize for Poetry and Short Stories is a trimestral writing competition that is organized by The FictionLimbo Foundation.

The prize is awarded three times yearly (January-March, May-July and September-November) and is administered and funded by The FictionLimbo Foundation.

Eligibility and Entry Rules for the January-March Competition

Please read these eligibility and entry rules before starting the entry process.

Submission of an entry is taken as acceptance of the entry rules.

For any entry or eligibility queries not covered below, please email unibenprize@gmail.com  or call 08161735235 for clarification before submitting an entry.

Entry Fee

A fee of N450 Naira is required for every entry.

Opening date

Sales of entry tickets and submission of entries starts 3rd February, 2015.

Closing date

Entries must be submitted at the Nescafe Lounge or by email using unibenprize@gmail.com on or before 15th of March, 2015.

About the Prize

  1. A long list of the top five short stories and the top ten poems would be published on the FictionLimbo website on 2oth March 2015.
  2. The final selection of the winning short story and poem from the long lists as compiled by the FictionLimbo Foundation will be judged by an international Judging Panel and would be announced on 25th March 2015
  3. The winning short story gets:

70,000 Naira

One month breakfast cup of coffee from the Nestcafe lounge

Publishing deal for a Novella that would be featured in The FictionLimbo Anthology.

  1. The winning poem gets:

30,000 Naira

One month breakfast cup of coffee from the Nestcafe Lounge

Publishing deal for a collection of poems that would be featured in the FictionLimbo Anthology.

  1. The top five short story entries and top ten poem entries would be featured in the FictionLimbo online and Book print Anthology. With each entry owner receiving a free copy of the Book print Anthology.



This competition is open to only students of the University of Benin (Ugbowo campus, Ekewan campus and UBTH)

A verification check would be requested during the later stage of the exercise for proof of student membership of the University of Benin.


  1. Entries must be the writer’s or poet’s own work.
  2. Entrants may submit up to three different entries as long as each entry has its unique ticket.
  3. The deadline for the receipt of entries is 15th March 2015 (12 noon GMT)
  4. The author’s details should be included in the entry form attached to the tickets. The name and personal details of Entrants must not be found anywhere on their entry.
  5. The entries should contain, on its first page, the title of the story or poem and the unique three digit pin that is printed on the tickets. Entries are judged anonymously, any detail of Entrants found on submitted entries would imply instant disqualification!
  6. In the case of short story entries, each story should not exceed 5,000 words.
  7. in case of manual submissions to the Nescafe Lounge, entries should be clearly typed, printed and enveloped in a sealed folder before submission to the Nescafe lounge in Ugbowo campus.
  8. In case of online submissions, entries may be sent in .doc or .pdf formats and should be saved with the title of the entrants story or poem (e.g. “The dead man.doc” , “I Live to Love.pdf”, etc.)
  9. Entrants may be involved in promotion of his/her entry on the FictionLimbo Facebook Page, the entry with the most comment, likes, and share would receive a special monetary prize. (Participation in this activity is optional but vital!)
  10. There is no restriction for genre, theme or plot; Entrants are allowed to craft their entry as deep as their imagination can go.

Keep visiting http://www.fictionlimbo.net for more updates on the competition.

The village Christmas: Day 3

Posted: January 5, 2015 in short stories


#Meat Hunt? Or love Hunt?

When mum announced to my twin and I, that we were going hunting with a cousin of ours we just met a day ago, I laughed at the idea, but then, I discovered nobody was joining me in the laughter and realized, once again, that she wasn’t bluffing!

“Mum you can’t—“

“Oh yes I can,” She cut me off, “The both of you will go with Oke, and together the three of you will join the remainder of the group.”

Read the rest of this entry »

The Village Christmas: Day 2

Posted: January 4, 2015 in short stories


#The Christmas Church Service

“Some people are sleeping; some people are sleeping while I am preaching!” Shouted the Pastor from the pulpit.

I gave my twin a slight elbow to shake him off his slumber, he opened his eyes.

We were in a Baptist Church, the First Baptist Church in my village, and the pastor had been talking non-stop for the past hour. (I must confess, he was boring me to Death!)

Read the rest of this entry »

The Shadows on the wall

Posted: January 3, 2015 in short stories


The photo above which was shot by my very good friend, Jithin of PhoTraBlogger is the inspiration for the fourth flash fiction chain titled: The shadows on the wall.

The following work of flash fiction is a collaboration of Jithin and other bloggers around the globe. This wouldn’t be possible without them.

CLICK HERE to pay his site a visit for more inspiring photographs and posts.

I have written the 4th part of this flash fiction chain and below are the links to the stories for you to read before enjoying my part.

Previous Parts

Part 1: by Sweety

Part 2: by Travelling Hat

Part 3: by Saya

You could also get updates on this flash fiction chain by clicking here to bookmark the original post page!

Character Cast

  1. Margaret or Maggy – a 19 year old girl, out to search for some truths.
  2.  Steve – The caretaker of the mansion, a man in his fifty’s
  3.  Robert – The house cook
  4.  Grandpa – Maggy’s grandfather


The shadows on the wall

Part 4

  Read the rest of this entry »


So, it’s been twenty-six days since I started blogging, and I must say, my experience on wordpress has been—wow! I have interacted with people from all over the globe, read interesting stuffs and even made a handful of friends!

So far, in my little own world, Fiction Limbo has been a great success, and I thank God, and you, my dear followers for bringing joy to my heart.

Read the rest of this entry »

villagers#A first experience

My twin and I weren’t exactly sure, on the morning of Christmas Eve, what our mother meant when she said, “Boys, we are going to the village for Christmas!” I looked at my twin, giving him the ‘Is she serious?’ eyebrow. He snorted and continued pressing his blackberry phone, not a tad perturbed because like me, he had the conviction that it was impossible.


Well, five hours later, I was seated beside my twin at the back of mum’s Toyota corolla, headed for the village! Mum had successfully convinced dad that we had to go with her to the village to visit her mother! (Dad’s decision was concrete; no amount of complaining and whining could have changed it.)

Read the rest of this entry »

This work of Fiction was written by my very beautiful friend, JuliBravo and is completely covered by the International Copyright Law.   2014 ©Ako Julie.


Dirty Colours

Kumbi enjoyed the fresh sea breeze that was blowing as she laid back in the beach chair and allowed herself replay the last three weeks of her life. Dark shades on, Music playing softly from her ipad. She was in her element. She pondered, was she putting herself in all of these situations? Were they even real? What if she only conceived it in her heart that night that she had received a new friend request to add Victor on BBM and she had accepted the request, sticking her mind to it that it could pan out to be fun. Afterall he had been glad to receive her and she had playfully imagined a picture of a smiling young man. There was no avatar on his handle or was it the face of a miniature cartoon character she saw that night? She could barely remember.

Read the rest of this entry »

The Enchanting Light–Part Six

Posted: December 27, 2014 in short stories


 The photo above by my blogger friend, Jithin of PhoTraBlogger is the inspiration for the third flash fiction chain titled Enchanting Light.

The following work of flash fiction is a collaboration of Jithin and other bloggers around the globe. This wouldn’t be possible without them.

CLICK HERE to pay his site a visit for more inspiring photographs and posts.

I have written the 6th part of this flash fiction chain and below are the links to the stories for you to read before enjoying my part.

Part 1: Soul N Spirit

Part 2: Ruth

Part 3: Saya

Part 4: Sweety

Part 6: James


Character Cast

Rebecca: Protagonist (the main character)

Samantha: Rebecca’s mother

David Lyngdoh: Samantha’s husband and Rebecca’s father

Joe: Samantha’s childhood friend

Eda: Joe’s daughter and Rebecca’s friend

Kavin: An elderly widower who works as supervisor in the monastery

Liam A. Veratre: Rebecca’s husband

Luna: Liam’s evil lover

Dalai Lama: The spiritual ruler and highest priest of the Tibetan Buddhists


Enchanting Light

Part VI

Rebecca turned around to the direction of the voice that called her, and there he stood, in the semblance of a demi-god, his holiness, Dalai Lama. “Come my child, come.”  His mouth wasn’t moving, but she could hear his voice in her head. She gestured towards his outstretched hand, moving in a nearly wild rush, but he disappeared just as she was about to touch him.  “Meet me in your chambers, and make sure no one is following you.” His voice echoed inside her head. She scanned the area to see if he was somewhere around, and then she saw them, Joe and Eda, their eyes glowed in a scarlet definition of death as they approached her. She knew what they were coming for, the other half of Liam’s Locket, (And of course her life!) She took to her heels, diving straight into the first chamber of the monastery; they were right behind her, picking up their momentum too. She took a sharp bend to the left, headed towards Kavin’s inventory room, she planned to hide there until the danger was clear, then; she would go to her chamber to meet with Dalai Lama.

Read the rest of this entry »


#Battle of the last valley

“Isaac, Isaac are you sure about this?” Marcus asked, griping his shield and sword even firmer as he looked on into the clouds.

Isaac was silent, kneeling before a sword that dug dip into the earth and saying his rosary, eyes completely shut.

“Isaac,” Marcus called again in a near whisper, turning around to watch behind himself, skimming the mountains that encircled them for the slimmest sign of jeopardy.

You would notice, even if you didn’t pay close devotion, that Marcus was scared, scared? No, Marcus was terrified, because in the bat of an eyelid, the army of darkness would surround them, there was no dodging it; it was a fact.

Read the rest of this entry »

MERRY CHRISTMAS…sweethearts!

Posted: December 25, 2014 in Uncategorized


So a lot has happened in the past two days and it has made me go MIA… but, I will be fully back to blogging in three days (trust me I will gist you everything! its a complete mixture of danger…n a spangle of fun.)

Well, Today, Jesus is celebrating his birthday and I’m heading straight to the venue…. (#i have got three free seats in my car, just in case you need a lift to the heavenly b’day bash!) 🙂 

Have a nice day!


#The Unbelievable Truth!

The following took place within six minutes and fifteen seconds in the Federal Capital Territory, Abuja, Nigeria.  


Saint James Catholic Church,

Wuse Zone II,



He had been sitting in his car for a while, murmuring and counting his prayer beads, reciting all he had been taught, quoting all that Mohamed had said concerning the activity he was about to carry out. It had to be perfect, he had to do it when the church was full; and now, it was time: it was time to receive the promise, his prize; his seventy two virgins.

He had arrived when the parking lot was scantly occupied, now, there was hardly a place for any more cars. He thought about making his move, and then decided to wait for yet another vehicle.

Read the rest of this entry »

A Sunday prayer for my followers!

Posted: December 21, 2014 in Uncategorized


Dear lord,

I thank you for this new week!
I thank you for the lives of my followers…
And I ask that you grant them the most successful week ever!


P.s: please remind Santa that I now stay at No. 8 Oghara Agbarho, Nigeria….just in case he drops by my old house.

Thanks lord.
And…happy birthday in advance!

Photo Credit: https://trablogger.files.wordpress.com/2014/12/img_2654-fileminimizer.jpg


So my good friend, Jithin of  Pho Trabloggerstarted this challenge early this week and it has successfully played out into a very beautiful story! bloggers from all over the world have contributed to this story and the challenge will soon come to an end with just the last slot open! 🙂  if you want to be a part of this classic chain challenge  (That may give you new readers!) please CLICK HERE to go to Jithin’s blog, read the rules and drop a notice of interest in the comment thread! . You could always come back to this post for updates on the fast growing fiction challenge!


By Moses Oghenegare Kelvin


by RoseRed


by Sweety Kannoth

Read the rest of this entry »


 Cain and Abel


“Take care dear, that gun is loaded,” He said, sitting down on the hotel room bed.

She draws closer to him, placed his head on her laps and asks, “Is this for your twin brother?”

“Nah… Too obvious, they would link it to dad’s will! I’m hiring a trained assassin for the job.”

“What about me?”

“You?” He laughs, “Who would be dumb enough to hire a blonde as a hit man?”

She smiles, cracks the gun and says,

“Your Twin.”


Read the rest of this entry »

When in love…

Posted: December 18, 2014 in flashfiction



The following work of flash fiction is in collaboration with my fellow blogger Jithin of  Pho Trablogger . The picture that you see above ,is his creative photography which inspired this piece of fiction writing . Please click HERE and provide your valuable feedback on this picture.  Also you can check out his blog for more wonderful pictures and travel related posts….I am sure you will enjoy them … (This flash is meant to be continued by another blogger, so i have written it in a way that would ease its continuation… 🙂 )


For sometime, James and Tracy had been riding smoothly home on James’ inherited motor bike. It was the only thing grandpa Thomas left behind and James was treating it like a diamond gem! He was Taking care of every part of the machine even more than the way he took care of  it when grandpa was alive.

“O my!” Tracy screamed, calling James’ attention, “look at that!” She pointed.

James slowed down, turning his head to the direction of her pointed finger, and  then he saw it, the ‘Lucky courage flower!’ The same flower that Tracy gave him in the Range Park Garden the night he asked her to marry him.

That day was tensed and full of doubts for James, “Would she say yes,” He mused, biting his fingers as he collected the ring from the retailer. He had only made up his mind to marry her two days ago and was scared shitless if she should say the dreaded NO, I CANT MARRY YOU JAMES.

“Are you sure you thought this out?” Mark asked, breaking him out of his thoughts limbo, “You know you could always change you mind,”

“I’m not changing my mind buddy, i’ve thought this out, I want her to be my wife!”

“Well, good-luck with that, and thanks for making me you your best-man, i appreciate man, i really do. Got to roll pal, i’d see you tomorrow.”

Mark watched as his best friend mounted the blue bike that was parked beside his grandpa’s motorcycle and zoomed into the horizon. He returned his eyes to the ring in his hand, and gave a quick smile. ‘she would love it.’ he said to himself, ‘I know she would.’

Read the rest of this entry »


#Black Santa


“So, I am shouting, and he is screaming and everybody is laughing and it’s the flawless definition of—Pandemonium!”


This was the height of it! I had always heard dad talk about how corrupt our country had become, and how people could steal anything, (even your imaginations!) He would rant bitterly every evening by the fireplace, sniffing his tobacco powder and drinking from his pepper red mug that was always half filled with dry gin.

I usually sat by his side most of those evenings, trying to comprehend, with my seven years old reasoning faculty, the cliché of a speech dad was always making.

But today, the puzzle had singlehandedly solved itself!

Standing right in front of me was Santa, a fake Santa! A black mo’fucker dressed in Santa’s spotless red and white attire!

Santa had never visited me before but I knew this was a shameless thief because Santa wasn’t Nigerian! (Sweet Jesus, The Nigger even mugged Santa’s shoes too!!!)

Read the rest of this entry »

Poetry? lol… lets see!

Posted: December 16, 2014 in poems


To Natasha…with love.


Had we but World enough,

and Time,

This distance, my love, would be no crime!

We would sit down,

and think which way to walk,

and where to enjoy our long Loves Day.

I would Love you ten years before the end of time,

and you should, if you please,

continue to kiss me Till the Conversion of the Jews.

Read the rest of this entry »

First of many Awards to come????

Posted: December 16, 2014 in book news


Very Inspiring Blogger Award!!!

Big thanks to nikkif181  for nominating me for this Award!

Read the rest of this entry »

journey to Europe


Journey to Europe

November 2003,

The Great Sahara Desert,

Northern Africa,

Day 17


“Two more hours my love, two more hours and then, it would be over.”

The voice I heard belonged to the fat man; the man who dragged his wife into this death race.  I had watched him for a few days, carrying his wife along with words of encouragements, showing her he loved her and that he was sorry for the dilemma, allowing her lean on him whist they trekked through the cursed desert and stopping every now and then to pick her to her feet.


The fat man was in love, but this wasn’t the place for love, they were slowing us down, the both of them and sooner or later, they would give up like the others.  Our transporters had left us eight days ago, the Arabians, they had led us to the place our money could not pay for, the point of no return, and then, they had turned their trucks around, leaving us in the hands of our fate and with just enough water that would last less than three days. We were exactly fifteen when they left us, now, we were four.

Read the rest of this entry »


Posted: December 13, 2014 in short stories
Tags: , ,


“I am Fatima, I am fifteen, and I am innocent.” –Fatima Abdul



It is Friday night, and for a long time I have been sitting with the others under the shade of the trees that spread throughout the entire forest. My head is banging, bursting and swelling with a million pictures of the things they would do to us tonight.

I see him approach, a Boko Haram leader, their third in command, the one that took me last Friday, he winks at me, and walks past. I hate him, he is worse than the other men, the others get tired after a short while, but this one; this one raped me all through the night. He didn’t care I was bleeding, he didn’t care I was crying, he didn’t care he was tearing me apart with his giant sized manhood.

Read the rest of this entry »


So Much Ado about Spilled Acid!


Okay, I never believed I would write about this until now. Writing (boring-fiction) non-fiction has never appealed to me. (I would rather live in a world where my neighbour could actually walk through my three inches wide cement wall and borrow my magic mirror, so that she could contact her late grandmother in the underworld, just to ask for support on cooking the Nigerian Urhobo Oghwo Soup.) I am not saying writing non-fiction is (stale, mind-numbing, a total waste of time,) bad, trust me, I have read a lot of non-fiction that had either made me frown, laugh, or feel a little bit depressed.

Anyway, I had to write this at the cost of a burnt shoe!

Read the rest of this entry »




Somewhere in my territory,



6:00 pm.



It is 6 o’ clock; I know it is 6 o’ clock because I heard her say, “Pascal, it is already 6 o’ clock, come and start packing-in before your oga comes…” She is still talking, I wish she can stop; her mouth has been moving non-stop for the past ten minutes! I have been observing, and it is making me giddy. I turn away, facing the other shops in my territory; they are all placing their merchandises into cartons. I am happy, they will leave soon, and then, my visitor will come.

I see a white spot on my new shirt,

“Shit,” I said to myself, “I did not decorate this part!”

I stick my hand into the mud I have been standing in for quite some time; it is so cold. I rub some on my face, I love it, and I could do this forever. I spare a little for my new shirt and kneaded the mud on it in a circular style. Perfect, I am ready for my visitor; I hope she loves me like this.

She is shouting again, the woman renting my bedroom as her shop, I think she must be mad, definitely she is! The boy she is shouting at hurries towards me, he eyes me in motion and says:

“You there, go away! Go! Don’t ever come back here or I will break your head!”

Read the rest of this entry »

Days of innocence

Posted: December 11, 2014 in Uncategorized

Days of innocence by Olaolwa Olotu… My dear friend.

A peep into the world of an Aquarian


      So, I miss my innocence. My pure cravings for little things which would make me giggle. I miss days when my mother’s beautiful smile was the solution to my every problem. When going out with the kids that reside in the other rooms of our rented face-to-face apartment at no.5c banire Street was a good way to unburden; unburden? There was actually no burden- Just a way of fixing boredom- Yeah; that best describes it. Days when grandma would visit with beans and maize, my siblings and I would munch away happily. So, papa was not really around initially, he left for reasons I still do not understand and which I so hate to ask Momma. But then every morning, I’d hear my Mum pray about one particular thing- ‘Make him come back O lord’ ‘Boder’ Olu, ‘Boder’ Seyi, Sista Tosin and I would say ‘Amin’ whenever…

View original post 2,101 more words

What a short story is…

Posted: December 11, 2014 in Writing Advice

What is a Short Story?

A tale of no great length, with the potential for eminent depth and insight. Yes, I made that up, but I believe it to be true. I used to be of the opinion that short stories were inferior to novels, so much so that they didn’t warrant reading. As with so many opinions, this was formed through hearsay and ignorance. It’s like people who don’t stay in Uniben campus and saying food-court  is rubbish – it’s so untrue it deserves punishment. Thankfully, I had the presence of mind to become informed and change my mind.

what is a short story

Although I still prefer longer tales, by reading and writing lots of short stories, I’ve found a new respect for the format. There is so much that can be achieved using a few thousand words. And the standards of short story writing seem to be constantly improving.

If you’re interested, you can find out more about the history and origins of short stories and the definition of a short story on Wikipedia.

Parrésia Publishers announces the release of Kayode Oguntebi’s début novel, Viral Load, under its Origami imprint.


Kayode Oguntebi’s Viral Load is a poignant narrative of various discourses, of the simple and predominant things that make up the trajectory of the African post-colonial experience. Tunde Lewu, a young Nigerian from a rather challenging middle class reaches a breach in his expectations when he realises that he has HIV from forgotten jolly escapades. But this is not a story only about Tunde Lewu, it is a story that intercepts the realities of military incursion into politics, the involvement of the western powers in contributing to the paragraphs of aid and the establishment of social organisation.

Lewu is only a character that navigates and engages the many characters in the global sphere that are looking for answers to personal, social and economic preponderances. The health of the person in Viral Load is subtly linked in the health of Africa. The health of a family shattered into specks of darkest brilliance props up unpalatable dissatisfaction that transcends the present and morphs into the novel’s future. This makes the author attempt a new proposition of a plot of this nature while retaining a flow from flashbacks and imaginations.

Kayode Oguntebi’s debut novel is full of promise. His futuristic narrative of what Africa would be when Africa leaders turn their paradigms towards improving the lives of the people. What you will find in Kayode Oguntebi’s novel is the cosmopolitan Africa capable of engaging the rest of the world as it presents its own cultural solutions packaged in a more acceptable, and verifiable quality.

Kayode Oguntebi is a colourful persona who works at a Multinational FMCG company where he has spent the last three years transforming business systems and processes across the African continent. Viral Load is his first novel, published 12 years after its first cut. He is married to Kudi Oguntebi.


How to get a Short Story Published —Chris Fielden.

Being a new writer and facing rejection can sometimes leave inspiration cremated like a forgotten sausage on a barbecue. But then the observation of any event can inspire a story, creating an escape from negativity. If you’re like me, when inspiration launches itself into a skydive, you’ll find yourself staring at a computer screen at 3am, trying to work out how a demon and a legless soldier might interact convincingly, wrestling to unravel your mental parachute in time to enjoy the view and deliver a graceful landing.

Writers hands at laptop computer, Chris Fielden

OK, I tend to be drawn towards the fantastic; characters and subject matters which remove you from reality. But whatever genre you find yourself writing, I suspect you can relate.

Books are notoriously difficult to sell if you’re an unknown writer. Agents are hard to come by and gaining the attention of reputable publishers is even more of a challenge. So, how can one become a successful writer?

In one of my more despondent moments, after another failed attempt at writing a 300 word synopsis that was turning out to be harder to finish than an 80,000 word novel, I found myself wondering what I could offer the world of creative writing that might be a little different. I’m not famous. I haven’t achieved anything particularly newsworthy. How might I stand out amongst the swarm? Then, a devious plan crawled forth from the darker recesses of my mind like a sneaky brain ninja.

I realised, like newspaper articles, short stories are a lot easier to complete. Once finished, unlike novels, there are many opportunities for publishing short stories and you don’t have to write a synopsis. Bonus. There are many respected short story competitions out there, which can gain a winning writer kudos and credibility. Roald Dahl, Terry Pratchett, Stephen King, Philip K Dick and many other successful authors started out writing short stories, so why can’t I?

So, I started writing a lot of short stories. Due to being blessed with skin as thick as Godzilla, I’ve overcome rejection, developed a style that seems to work, and I’m fortunate enough to have been published. It took a while, but I achieved my first competition win early in 2011. But how could I utilise this achievement to further my writing career?

Currently, the internet seems to be a good way of gaining exposure and readers. The tricky bit is standing out and offering something unique. There are so many good writing resources already out there, and gazillions of excellent self-published authors to compete with, that being noticed is very difficult. I work in internet marketing and, over the last few years, have learnt a lot about making websites work well. Offering useful, interesting content seems (to me) to be the best way of engaging with communities, gaining credibility and giving yourself the opportunity of being noticed.

And that’s what I decided to attempt to do. Rather than having a website that simply showcases my work, I thought I’d use my published stories as case studies to provide other writers with useful information, advice and tips on how to get their own work published. All the short stories on the site (see the short stories section) have been published or been shortlisted or won prizes in short story competitions. By sharing my experiences, I hope I can help more writers achieve publishing success.

I’ll also provide information on the pros and cons of the various writing competitions I’ve entered. OK, this is one man’s opinion, but it is based on experience. I hope you find it useful. And, where I’ve been given permission to use their words, you’ll find comments from editors and short story competition judges, explaining why the stories were chosen and published.

So, what’s in for me? There’s a link on all the pages on this site which will take you to Lulu.com where, if you’d like to, you can buy a copy of my first book, Wicked Game. Other than that, it gives me somewhere to publish my work in the hope it might be read, and (fingers, toes and dangly bits crossed) enjoyed.



Fiction Limbo is proud to present Adewale Maja-Pearce’s new memoir, The House My Father Built, published under the Farafina Kamsi imprint of Kachifo limited.

Having inherited a house in Surelere from his late father, and having waited ten years for the terms of the inheritance to be fulfilled, Adewale Maja-Pearce is eager to take possession of his house. He offers his tenants a one-year rent-free break, after which they are to vacate his house. They accept this, and it looks like smooth sailing. Little does Maja-Pearce know that, when the time comes to leave, his tenants will put him through one of the fiercest struggles of his life in their attempts to stay put. Psychological warfare, endless court cases, intimidation by the police and a possible attempt on his life make up Maja-Pearce’s experience in trying to lay claim to his inheritance.

Simple yet profound, The House My Father Built will delight you with its earnest, humorous delivery and keen insights into the psyche of a nation and its people. This brilliant book captures the essence of Nigeria in the last decade of the 20th century.

Enjoy a short excerpt from the book.

At this point in the book, Prince, perpetual hustler and Maja-Pearce’s fixer-turned-friend (later to turn foe) has moved into one of the flats in the house rent-free, on the author’s invitation and for a period. Prince, averse to doing any actual work while he waits for God to lead him out of the ‘wilderness’, has taken to begging Maja-Pearce for money, besides whatever he manages to skim off the monies he is given to see to certain needs relating to the house. Prince’s latest claim is that he has been forced to borrow some money from a friend to take care of his only child by his third wife, who is in hospital. Maja-Pearce, by now, knows the score with Prince. He plays along anyway, and reflects on this choice.

So why did I fall for his lies? Partly because I’m gullible and tend to believe unquestioningly what people tell me; partly because I’m a sucker for a good story and wanted to see how this one would play itself out; and partly because I want to please people so that they will like me. Prince knew this instinctively, knew that I was especially anxious to please Nigerians precisely because my own sense of being a Nigerian was tenuous, if not suspect; the knowledge that I could always ‘pass’, that I did indeed pass, and could give up on the country in disgust and go back to the Europe that my compatriots were dying in the desert to reach. I was once told by a plain-speaking Lebanese that I was lucky to have taken after my mother. He meant that my hair was straight, my complexion light and my nose not flattened; in short, that I didn’t look ‘negroid’. Prince, discerning all of this, never missed an opportunity to say that I was a ‘proper African man’ whenever a third party tried to suggest that my condition might be a little more attenuated than he was allowing for. The unctuous tone with which he admitted me into a pantheon that even I was by now becoming wary of – and of which he was such a shining example – only underscored the contempt behind his outrageous lies. But to have faced that would have meant turning against him. I wasn’t ready just then. The time would come soon enough.

To read more from The House My Father Built and its author, please visit Adewale Maja-Pearce’s blog.

The House My Father Built will be available soon in bookstores near you.


view the Shuga cast in another dimension…

From MTV’s award-winning series, Shuga, comes the new Shuga comic book based on the gripping story of Nii and Malaika from season 3! Read the comic in full or CLICK HERE to download it for FREE.

One of the most riveting and evocative storylines in Shuga Naija, the tale of Nii and Malaika’s turbulent relationship is powerful and, for many, disturbing, raising questions on gender-based violence and the ties that bind. This new comic book delves deeper into the lives of Nii and Malaika, and offers an alternative ending to their story.

The comic also provides useful tips on where to go for advice and support. It contains contact details of various organisations that assist victims of gender-based violence in Nigeria, as well as important emergency numbers in the country.

Fully produced in Nigeria by Kachifo, the Shuga comic boasts artwork from some of Naija’s top artists.

See more at Shuga.tv.


            Chapter One

THE SIREN OF THE POLICE CAR HAD BEEN BUZZING non-stop for the past ten minutes; the chase was ripe enough to call for back up but Jack Williams was dead sure he could burst these culprits alone. The four sport cars had zoomed past him a while ago, exceeding the speed limit of the region by a large gap of 50km/h. “Drunk Bastards!” He yelled out loud as he stepped on the gas.

The whole day had started slowly for him, even his partner, the good old Joe had for the first time in a long while skipped duty, and so he sat alone, listening to rock n roll music flow through the speakers of his car stereo—Bored, until the cars flew past, dusting every tang of fun and life into his lacklustre day.

He had caught a glimpse of one of the drivers; she looked 18 or 19, and was screaming at the top of her voice as she sped past. It looked a whole hell lot like a car racing as each of the four vehicles tried to overtake each other in precarious unanimity. He joined the reckless insanity with nothing but righteous antipathy, charging his BMW towards the blue car right at the tail of the convoy. His mind flashed to good old Joe as his adrenaline soared up. ‘Scumbag; He would have radioed for backup long ago.’ He changed gears in quick succession as they took the sharp bend; one of the vehicles made a dangerous twist and almost got out of grip but then sprung back on track without losing acceleration. “Pulling off GTA VI stunts on my tracks, right?” He called out loud as he increased velocity. In no time he was right at the back of one of the cars, he hit the rear firmly in a bid to shove it out of the road and stop its progression. It pushed the car sideways but didn’t do any more than that; he levelled up his car adjacent to his target to complete the offensive but was caught completely on the hop as the blue car jammed him off the road. “Shit.” He raised his head right in time to meet the FUCK YOU middle finger of the freckled faced teenager as the lad zoomed off laughing with the co-occupant of his car; the girl in the fore passenger seat was also blonde like the driver of the first car and probably the driver’s girlfriend. He could feel the sharp pang of pain that cut across the wound on his head. The sudden hit had made him bang his head against the steering wheel; he was a tad lucky it didn’t cause any serious damage. He touched the sore with his hands and rubbed the blood stain between his fingers. “This is world war III,” He announced as he motioned to steer his vehicle back on the road. “It isn’t over yet fags!” He ignited the car engine with a key twist, stepped on the acceleration and continued the trail of the criminals.

  Read the rest of this entry »



Diocese of Dallas
North Texas
July 3rd

FOR SOME TIME, THE CHURCH remained without the faintest sound, the pews, all arranged in straight lines of order, as the smell of incense paraded its ranks. The dim light provided by the light bulbs, added a touch of piety to the scene as doves flew around the building. Perfect. Then—someone coughed. Like a pebble thrown into a pond of still water the waves echoed round the empty building. From the end of the church, He coughed again, but remained in his state of position. It wasn’t raining but you could feel the razor-sharp edge of the wind cut through your spine. The silence regained power until the clang of the clock took over. Nine solid clanks signalled 9 ‘o clock, and then he walked over, majestically towards the rostrum, and knelt down to pray.
“The Lord is my shepherd; I have everything I need. He lets me rest in
fields of green grass and leads me to quiet pools of fresh water. He gives me new strength. He guides me in the right paths, as he has promised. Even if I go through the deepest darkness, I will not be afraid, Lord, for you are with me. Your shepherd’s rod and staff protect me. You prepare a banquet for me, where all my enemies can see me; you welcome me as an honoured guest and fill my cup to the brim—
“Father we must leave now.”
The voice that interrupted wasn’t God’s .
He crooked towards the mortal that spoke to him .
“Evil will be upon us any moment.” She paused.
He turned back, still on his knees, facing the crucifix— I know that your goodness and love will be with me all my life; and your house will be my home as long as I live. He completed His prayer.
“If we can get to Temple, we’ll be safe .” He spoke to her, getting to his feet.
“How possible is that?”
“We have on our side a stronghold there.” He replied, coughing repetitively.
“Father, haven’t you been taking your pills?” She asked with displeasure.
“This is not the time to think about my medication.” He replied as he walked towards the image of Mary.
“What good is it if our prayers are not answered?”
“Father, You do not show faith, why are you acting this way?”
“All we have to do is drive to temple, they have seers in their midst, most of them in the order of Issachar. They will be waiting to help us get in safely.” He dodged her question.
“We must move now.” She whispered and then picked up a bible.
“Take Gabriel to the car and let me get my armamento.” He ended, and made for the door. Read the rest of this entry »