Hell Is a Traffic-Jam on the 405 to the Afterlife – Osamudiamen Joseph

Hell Is a Traffic-Jam on the 405 to the AfterlifeOsamudiamen Joseph                                                               ‘Hell is a place where nothing connects with nothing.’ – T.S Eliot ‘Hell is not a place. It’s a people.’ – A concerned Lagosian Paranorma...

Wishbones & Other Poems – Jerrice J. Baptiste

Wishbones & Other Poems Jerrice J. Baptiste Wishbones He hid his face among blackletters, the man I called papa readFrench newspapers, his hair pointedin all directions like anoctopus trying to grab everything. I imagine his mind was kind of likethat too.  He’d...

The Penitent Father – PT Russell

The Penitent FatherPT Russell The yellowing hue of a dimming light bulb blinks from above a hospital bed. Laboured gurgles trapped in an oxygen mask sombers the sterile space. Bleeping medical apparatus serenade the withered patient as it invokes a united chorus of...

And the Dead Were Lonely – Kabelo S. Motsoeneng

And the Dead Were LonelyKabelo S. Motsoeneng There were riots outside the Immigration and Customs Enforcement office at 450 Main Street on the hot summer day Hopewell’s body was found. He lived on the third floor of an apartment building made of bricks the colour of...

Coup de Grâce – Derek Lubangakene

Coup de Grâce Derek Lubangakene On most nights, weaving through late-night traffic doesn’t feel this audacious; tonight though, the Bajaj boda-boda wobbles and bucks so hard it feels like I’m bull riding. My thighs are cramped and nausea beckons. By the time we get to...