The Incarnate

by Vivian Dindu Esimoleze

He brought out his phone. Opened his gallery and showed me the picture of the girl. I laughed it off. Bade him farewell and continued my journey. But I was restless throughout the day. The truth is I also died three years ago. But this isn’t my body. The night I died, my soul entered the girl’s body.

Occupied

by Vivian Dindu Esimoleze

He stopped, turned his back towards me. “You don’t get it. This was my room before I died” he said.

Depraved

by Vivian Dindu Esimoleze

I remember vividly the vigorous moans mother made each night she washes my small penis while bathing me. I was five then, very aware of the situation. I didn’t know the meaning of that action and I didn’t ask her.

Together. Forever.

by Vivian Dindu Esimoleze

I backed into the wall. The tiny voice came, spoke with a shaky tune. The voice sounded familiar. But I couldn’t fathom where I had heard it from or who the owner of the voice was. “I told you I will always be here. Have you forgotten?”

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