Browsing tag: short story

COAL’S OPEN MIC

HEY THERE! Amidst the tension and turbulence of a troubled nation as Nigeria, it is necessary youths come together to talk, have deliberations on the way forward. And where else is best for this if not at COAL's Open mic where we talk, learn, inform, educate and enjoy thrilling performances  from each other. So, it is that time again where we all sit, enjoy and give constructive criticism of beautiful performances from just about anyone who has something beautiful to share before an audience. Come witness the very best of

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Different Caps For Different Heads: Chibueze Darlington

And when the shimmering face of the renewed doctor met mine along the hallway, I knew for certain that my life would soon experience a turnaround, that my age long fascination for face caps would take a step below the ladder of priority, wane or even disintegrate into a mass of nothingness. I envisaged an enfolding green gloom forming around its frigid face as it dispassionately watched my joys of fatherhood detonate like an oil-bean seed, scattering across the red earth, grey sky and blue sea, refusing the lure of a backward

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DARKEST HOUR:Chinyere Akwuneche

I woke up to the dull thuds of rain drops hitting the thatched roof. The air was thick with smoke, making it difficult to breath. I tried to move my arms, but they were too heavy. My eyes burned with tears as I drew clogged air into my weak lungs. I willed myself not to choke, but it was too late; the cough shook me fully out of unconsciousness. My head felt as though it didn't belong on my shoulders. I sensed a movement, right before I felt soft fingers on my forehead. "She's awake," I heard Mama say. "Are you sure?" a

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A Walk Down Nostalgia’s Lane: Zainab Haruna

The door of House No 2 opened slowly and Old Man Adah shuffled out. He turned to make sure that the door shut securely behind him. The neighborhood used to be notorious for break-ins so he always took extra care. He turned towards the street and smiled at his wife, standing at the bottom of the stairs. Ashene moved her head in an abrupt movement making his smile widen. He knew what that movement meant. She was getting impatient. “Hurry up na,” she said and he chuckled. He knew her so well. They had been married for 35 years and

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Miss Pink Flowers: Farida Adamu

You will forever relish the memory of that dress. The blue one with the pink flowers. The one that had the same same color with the sky that stood above you the first day she appeared at your door. You recognized her, the girl who sold food at the village restaurant. "Good afternoon sir, please are you the new corper here?" She asked in faintly Hausa-accented English. You answered affirmatively. "My aunt asked me to bring this to you" she said and gave you a food flask. "Ah! All this one for me? Please thank your aunty

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JOS, 2083

JOS, 2083   The underground prison is about to release its oldest inmate and the news causes a little stir among the public. Almost every media house agreed that Abdulmumuni Rahaman is the oldest prisoner in the whole of the West African State. Today is the D-day of his departure from the underground facility, not as much as one journalist is on site to interview him. Should he have expected an extended family reception at the exit of the facility, he would be a dead man by now. There is a young man in brown suit, from

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We are COAL

We are COAL

COAL’s mission is to support and provide opportunities for budding writers in Africa to develop their creative independent voices and to explore careers in professional writing. To help creative writers and spoken word artists realise their literary dreams by providing platforms for their self expression. .........

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