Fiction about a crime, how the criminal gets caught, and the repercussions of the crime
by Paul Hook
He was unconventional – old school – in his methods. I apprenticed by working in a barbershop, honing my skills with a straight razor. He taught me how to slit people’s throats while I gave men a close shave. I never once nicked a customer, but after six months, I knew the pressure required to sever an artery or jugular.
I decided to make a stand, but the whole thing needed to be perfect and it so happened that he had booked a visit to my city. The details were all posted online: when, where, who. Everything. Like manna from heaven.
by Anne Bidemi Akinnagbe
“Accept, we ask O Lord, the prayers of your people with the sacrificial offerings, that what has begun in the paschal mysteries may, by the working of your power, bring us to the healing of eternity, through Christ our Lord…”
by Paul Hook
It seemed that the whole town had arrived. Jimmy stood in the shadow of the scaffold, noticing the undertaker and the whores placing bets on the outcome – broken neck or asphyxiation. Wishing he had money, he spit into the dust.
by Allen Ovanstone
His eyes were fixed on Annabelle’s pictures hanging loosely on the side wall of his rented apartment. He ran through the whole detail again and was sure he didn’t miss a thing. He had marked her out. He could have easily singled her out from the crowd, but what held him back? A premonition?
by Sima Essien
The man who had murdered Sima was now in the parlour, his voice, deep and steely, calling out her father. Ada ran inside her father’s bedroom, reached under the bed and found the box. Blood simmered beneath her eyes. Her heart pounded a frantic rhythm: fear, fear, fear.
by Ngozi Janet Akalonu
They called him Bloodclot – because he literarily stopped your heart from beating. He was the only African-American assassin in the TRUCE to have ever attained the level of X7, the 4th highest rank in the covert criminal organisation. But it’s been six months now he had wanted out; yet, for some reason, they wouldn’t let him.
By Peace Nkanta
