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Weekly Contest #373
The second time our mother told us that humans might not know where they came from, my sister laughed. We were sitting on her bed on a rainy Sunday afternoon, the three of us squeezed under the same blanket even though we were far too old for it. My sister was lying across the foot of the bed, scrolling through her phone and I was sitting beside Mother, listening. Mother had always been a storyteller. Not the kind who read from books. She preferred stories that had no endings, the kind that left you arguing about them long after she had fini...
Weekly Contest #293
I was standing by the roadside, watching the sun struggle to break through the early morning haze—sluggish, half-hearted, and full of regret, just like me after ignoring my alarm five times. It was 8 AM, rush hour, the time when the city turns into a chaotic ballet of honking, shouting, and people sprinting after public transport like their lives depend on it—because, let’s be honest, they do. I was about to board a matatu, the legendary East African public transport system that operates under the philosophy of faster, louder, and slightly i...
Weekly Contest #292
I was born from the black soil of my ancestors, the Maasai people, where the wind whispered of rain long before the first drop ever kissed the earth. My childhood was woven with barefoot chases through sunburnt fields, where laughter cracked through the air. Nights belonged to whispered stories shared in the glow of a fading fire, and the sky stretched endless above us, heavy with stars that looked close enough to touch.In our manyatta, there was no mirror large enough to show me the fullness of my existence. The only reflection I ever knew ...
Weekly Contest #291
I met Ethan on a cold, rainy evening in a dimly lit bar-a tall, brooding man whose eyes hinted at untold stories. His presence was magnetic-an irresistible gravity that pulled me in before I could second-guess my instincts. I had only intended to explore my new neighborhood, maybe nurse a glass of wine before heading home, but the moment our eyes met, something shifted. It was as though fate had tethered us together, bound by an invisible thread of inevitability. We talked for hours. His voice was rich, his laughter rare but intoxicating. He...
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