a metaphor on social death

a metaphor for my life lately

When the dish tried to run away with the spoon.

When fiction tells reality's story of woe much better.

It was foretold by the Oracle that the dark days would come, when we—the Abassa sentinels—would have to lay down our glorious wings in...

Dimelda stood over the now tepid Aga cooker, staring blindly as the ladle rose effortlessly. It was forgotten, floating in a frothing...

The dimly lit interior beckoned approvingly. Soft music, soft light. At the bar, Berto was efficient as ever, gliding gracefully to every...

It was cleaning day at the Fossil’s mansion and this was never a simple or easy affair. Everything, and I mean absolutely everything, got...

The sand was almost warm, as it furled around Abena-Izaura’s toes – while its slightly abrasive essence buffed her tender soles. The...

Lucinda's face was nothing to write home about. In fact if you were to hear it said--by the townsfolk--she had a visage that would not...

Make the jump, these words did not so much flash across Rita’s mind, as course through her trembling body teetering on the cold stone...

I walked from Swedru to some far place in the Diaspora once, out of sheer determination and a head full of thoughts. The second time it...

No puedo describir como era aquella mañana cuando me desperté con rapidez porque pensaba que mi vida no andaba como yo quería. Pero en mi...