Dexter’s Storyboard
Thrillers and Fantasies from Dexter F. I. Joseph
Category: Realistic fiction
Story that is true to life
In Your Name
by Dexter F. I. Joseph Merije walked into the house scuffling, desperately searching for the couch to fall into. The softness of the seat further made his back ache and his muscles tensed. He was…
Thin Lines: A Game of Choices
By Grace Ashele
My bed was cold, but I was boiling up inside. My body was immobile from pains as I drummed my fingers on my thighs and waited my turn. This was a game and I had no say in when it would stop or when it would be my turn to duel. Or make a move. Literally.
60 Sides of Pain
by Dexter Joseph
“My name is Jonathan N’ike, or better yet, Jonathan Ndubuisi,”he spoke through gritted teeth, eyes on Maazi Ibe. Once he sensed the confusion from those before him, his gaze and finger turned to Ikemefula. “I’m his son.”
A mother’s love is a must
by Jennifer Nwanede
It was obvious that he was not just a good hustler but he was also trying to make sure he made sales. My friend and I were moved to buy the vegetables even though they didn’t look so fresh.
And A Hush Fell…
by Mayowa Oluwashanu
She slammed the knife on the counter and rubbed her temple with her forefinger and thumb. He was stressing her again and he knew it. Rather than have them iron out the issue, she would lock up again. He wasn’t expecting her to, but she spoke up.
In Search of the Father
by Uche Nzube Divine
The man paused, turned around, and spoke in a big, gruffly voice. “Contained in that box are the ashes of your late father. Resurrect him and you will know what you are.”
For Us
By Tolulope Obasuyi
That broke Cara. Bringing Tommy up was like poking an open wound with a needle. She stood up and went to the bathroom, silently staring at her face in the mirror. After some minutes, Cara heard the sound of footsteps and the door closing. So she went back into the room, hugged her pillow and thought of the first man she had loved.
War Survivors
by Omobolaji Ibadi’aran Omotade
At the height of the “First Gulf War” or “Holy Defence”, a young boy of twelve years who had been recruited to carry a bomb to be detonated at the Jahan square, ran away. The horror he felt he would see at the beautiful busy square, full of innocent people going about their day’s work to provide for their daily needs burnt to ashes, motivated his action.
Ìyàwó Tuntun (The New Bride)
by Mayowa Oluwashanu
Without warning, she pulled her hands free from my grip and pushed me so hard that I landed on my backside. I saw Eri stood up, and neglecting my pain and hurt, I struggled to my feet and rushed to his side. He’d only cause more trouble for me.
Kiss on an Empty Street
by Adeola Juwon
He has released her now; he’s holding her on her shoulder, looking into her face while his mouth says words I can’t hear. I wish the air can carry his words to me – the words that make Ola’s face flush red, her shoulders vibrating as she giggles.
The Cravings We Lost
by Kathryn Olushola
Usually, when people are caught like that, the urge to continue usually dies but instead, it fuelled yours. On your way out of the stadium, you told him about a quiet lane that your friend, Ifeanyi, had named. Ifeanyi called it ‘Lover’s Lane’.
Uncle
by Mayowa Oluwashanu
When she waltzed into our lives, we knew she was going to waltz Uncle out. She tried to be a dutiful aunt, but we gave her no space. She was stealing our Uncle.
Pregnant Silence
by Benn Ahwayevu
She knew the baby was not Mr. Ike’s, but she couldn’t tell him. He would be broken if she told him, and his joy and excitement of becoming a father would turn to dust. Now she was his wife, living with him in the same compound where Emeka lived, the same Emeka who had somehow knew the baby was his own.
This Sunday
by Damilola Faith
So this Sunday I just clapped my hands lazily and very reluctantly. Not like hands clapping were needed though; the instruments were enough, and all you had to do was dance, dance like David did, dance away your sorrows, dance to your miracles, dance to your blessings, dance to your breakthrough, dance out of sadness. Sadly for me that was impossible. I was totally wrecked, and I felt so empty and useless. Who was I to nurse dreams and wishes on prospects I was not even sure was mine?