by Dexter F. I. Joseph The dead baby is back in the mirror. Wrapped in blood, it has an alluring smirk on its face. Its arm, an incomplete limb, rests on the reflective mirror hung…

Daemoñ Of Kaamari City (1-3)

Its face was hollowed, eyes large and sunken, red as the colour of blood. The skin pallid and dry, clawed and large hands and the muscles around its scrawny frame were thick and ripped on all sides.

Mr. Frank

by David Solomon

Standing up, I fell down again. My ankle was fully rotten. The icy bony fingers were of a dead woman, with smoke oozing from her black dress, sprawled on the floor. I quailed. Still unable to shout, I tried to drag myself away.

Greetings from the other side

by Vivian Dindu Esimoleze

As I am reading it, my heart races and my hands start shaking. The weather was hot but the room becomes chilly immediately. I look around with a wave of fear.

12 years without a head

by Oluwatoyin Adeniji

She paid more attention and yes, it moved!! She stood up watching the scariest sight she’d seen but for so much fear couldn’t run. She saw it jerked out of the canvass with its bag of heads in one hand and a sickle in the other. Just when she thought to run, it was too late.

The Ominous Road

by Ngozi Janet Akalonu

It almost had me in its clutches, but I managed to get away. When I got back to the safety of my house, I looked at myself in the mirror and there was a long, jagged rip in the back of my shirt, as if a sharp claw had tried to grab me and just missed me by an inch. That scared me, real bad, and afterwards I hated going down that lonely road more than ever.

The One called Jennifer

by Ngozi Janet Akalonu

There was a man standing over a young girl. Her hands were tied behind her back and she was lying on a tree stump. The man was holding an axe in his hands. It looked like he was about to kill her.

The Room

by Dexter Joseph

With jittery hands and a petrified heart thumping as would a panting deer’s, you reach over and pick the knife which lies just next to you, bloodied wine-red even to its handle. You stare at it, your sight doesn’t catch glimpse of its smooth but now wet edges because your hands can’t stay still.

The No End House

by Ngozi Janet Akalonu

At that moment, a vague and foreboding feeling of impending doom gripped my heart and my courage deserted me. Reaching behind me, I tried to open the door I had just come through. Imagine my surprise when I realized it was locked. I didn’t have the option of retreating. The only thing I could do was walk across the room to the other door and press on, further into the house.


by Dexter Joseph

You are a lover, a peter, the best thing your partner or any other which comes your way in the future, should fate be a bitch with the first, would ever come close to owning. Given, and with true facts, perfection is a long mile away from you, but deep within the cores of your red pumping engine of a large yet frail heart you know yourself, the length you’d willingly go to be the best for yourself and those around you.

A call from the grave

by Ngozi Janet Akalonu

As she was writing the names from her old book, she noticed her best friend’s name – Linda. Linda unfortunately had died several months ago. She felt silly transferring the name to the new book, but she felt a little strange to just ignore it. She knew she was being a bit morbid, but something was telling her to dial that number. Maybe to know and hear that it didn’t belong to her friend anymore might bring some closure to her.

City of Bones

by Dexter Joseph

We all walked noiselessly along the long dark hallway, only for a second, until Michael stepped on something which made a crushing sound. It was a bone. Everything was made of bone: the walls, the markings on them, and the broken statues standing around the entire building. We had walked through the building for more than an hour, fearful, tired, but alert, our eyes heavy but sleep keeping a distance away from all fifteen of us. We had come to this new world excitedly, but right now, no sense of ebullience or thrill filled my nostrils or those of my colleagues. Just sweat, dirt, fear and more fear.


by Dexter Joseph

To consciousness a boy awoke, a groan muttered off his lips. He rose wearily to his feet, muscles laced with nothing more than excruciating pain. He stared around, and in the largeness of the landmass on which he stood were burnt houses, dead cattle, and animals, large and small alike. All around him also, regardless of where his eyes moved and fell on, lay dead bodies of men, women and children. Nothing lived

Unborn, But Guilty

By Nancy Adaeze

“He’s dead”, the doctor said. “We tried all we could to help. We lost him, I’m sorry”.
If the doctor’s shoulders did not slouch immediately, like a sac, half-filled with sweet potatoes; if the doctor’s eyes did not avert immediately from the face of the bleeding woman; if the doctor’s grip on the newborn did not loosen continuously with every passing second; I’d have sworn it was some sort of a joke, one too painful to be funny, and too heavy to provoke hilarity.

Evil girls have the prettiest faces (1)

by Ngozi Janet Akalonu

She reminded him of a mother wolf, looking for a prey to feed to her cubs. She must live in the residential area close to barracks, the area where those women and girls who sold khunu came from. He knew most of them had husbands in the army too. He knew most of them were widows. He knew most of them were unmarried.

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