Issue #190
January 07, 2016

Longsleeves

Never before had she run with such speed or such fear, caroming off trees, tearing through brush, ripping loose the roots that hooked her feet, until she caught up to Hundeil. Both were wheezing with exhaustion when they reached the gnarled behemoth of a tree that proved to be Olderra's dwelling. Its bark parted like curtains to admit them.

The Mama Mmiri

It had been a fortnight since Ugo's burial, and the vacuum I felt within me grew ever larger. I jumped out of bed most nights with screams that made mama down two cupfuls of Mazi Ike's supposedly heart-mellowing concoction every day, and I couldn't continue huddling under the avocado tree beside Ugo's grave every other night weeping.

Audio Fiction Podcast:
The Mama Mmiri
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I longed for someone with whom I could engage in our papaya-pipe-gun battles in the surrounding forests.
From the Archives:
A Marble for the Drowning River
I was afraid to say anything, but my mouth said, “please don’t kill her” without making any sound.