Open_Conkers and divides_Yahoo Yahoo_Cold Hands of Fate
Catalog Guide:
Open
TW: Death of Spouse, Vehicular Manslaughter She opened the bakery as she did every morning, hours before the sun would show itself. Some days she loved it, and some days she regretted ever buying Loaves. For two years, she jockeyed between pure pride and the truest of buyers remorse. Today, she felt as if she were moving through sand. Waist-deep sand. She could not be bothered. Some days this routine was comforting, she doubted that today was one of those days. She turned on the lights and dramatically sighed to an audience of one. She brewed her special morning blend and turned on the ovens...
Conkers and divides
“Cleanliness is the emblem of the purity of mind.” Dad used to say, although I guess he picked the quote from a leaflet handed out by a spiritual business. Yet, it must be an omen - definitively a good one - in this memory emerging right now, when I start my journey as a pioneer of a brighter future. Here it began, in www.onedoor.ccthis robust building where dad used to do cleaning. His yellow uniform was one shade different from the white coats of the other employees and his trolley seemed less scary than the lab trays pushed along the well-lit corridors. The illusion of belonging infected both of us. It...
Yahoo Yahoo
It's been fifteen years since I joined the Yahoo Yahoo school. In exchange for a laptop and a place to sleep, we learned how to be online scammers, the most lucrative trade in Western Africa. The Oga, our boss, kept 75% of anything we earned. Crowded into the small rooms were endless rows of young men, some Igbo, some Yoruba, some Hausa, but all of us were Nigerians looking for a way to eat and send money to our families.As a young boy in Ekulu, my mother and I stepped aside on thedirt streets to allow the shiny Mercedes and Range Rovers room to pass. If their windows were slightly rolled down...
Cold Hands of Fate
“I’ve never been ice skating.” Saaya fiddles with her fingers. She looks like an angel when her head tilts back and long strands of her hair appear golden under the sun’s gaze. Her hazel eyes are like pools of warm honey, and her skin is a soft shade of brown. “But I’m afraid of getting hurt. It’s this fear of pain that always stops me from doing things.”My fingers clasp around the grey mug, so tightly because this feels like an illusion. The whole apartment feels as if it is from a magazine with its white walls and colourful cushions. Two magazines sit on the glass coffee table in front of me...