Tag: Pam

Shayo and His New Giraffe Friend: Thriller, Free Short...

Once upon a time in the land of folk tales, Mbe The Tortoise decided it was time to marry, he had become a farmer and the only way he could get his crops sold in the market was if he had a wife, as that was the rule of the land. Women without husbands could not own farmlands and men without wives could not own market stalls. Even though tortoise needed a wife to gain permission to sell his good at the market, he did not want a wife from his village, because all the women in his village knew him to be poor, lazy, cunning, sneaky, smart, vindictive, uncultured, and wise, and so they did not want to marry him.

Agadi Nwanyi na asi asiri (the gossiping old woman)...

Linda pushed open the door, her hands shaking from fear, she tried to remember how she got to this room, but all she remembered was a night of heavy drinking and partying. She was at her best friend's birthday batch, she had played a few wild

Femi rolled off his bed, the voice in his head had gone quiet the second Alero showed up and had stayed that way. He looked behind him to see her sleeping soundly. She had wooped his ass until she passed out, then he took her to sleep.

She grabbed his glass of schnapps and drowned it. Then resumed next to him on the couch. Drunk, and ready to woop his ass.

It was non of her business, this was not a story she should be involved with. But the two men had mad it thing, arguing about their size and sexual prowess in class, but since they were comparing sizes, she had to know the winner.

So he went about and collected all the wisdom from his head, from his backyard, from his family, from his house, then he went to everybody he had ever given wisdom to and collected his wisdom from them and kept all his wisdom in a pot.

The Jackal snapped back to his present and clumped his jaw close to The Peacock’s neck but could not bring himself to clench his teeth.

The second they were out of view, he pushed her against the wall and ravished her lips, his right hand pushed her top down and dug into her bra, cupping the breast, rubbing the tip with his thumb.

While the sons had built houses for themselves, the wild son refused to live in a house and when the youngest daughter crossed over, he smelled her and attacked her, and she cried for help.

“How about we bring African folktales here, let’s create a world where the stories from old, by your people can come back to life.”