A boy sat on the cold cement pavement and gazed at the stars. The dark night looked back at him like the eyes of the girl he fancies in his class. The boy made sure that none of his parents found out what he was doing or his neighbors because a beating he would most definitely receive. One star called him, bright red and stood in between two of her sisters. ‘Hey,’ the star greeted. ‘Hi,’ the boy responded looking up. ‘How have you been doing? I haven’t seen you in a while.’ ‘Ah,’ the boy looks down shyly, ‘I have been doing my homework, and mom said I should always sleep early to get my eight hours of sleep.’ ‘I missed you.’ ‘I missed you too.’ ‘I can see that you are not alright,’ the star said. The boys grips his head in between his knees, he rubbed his hands in discomfort and held in his tears. ‘What is it. You know that you can always talk to me.’ The boy let it out, the dam walls under his eyes cracked, opened and let out all the water in it. ‘It’s my parents...

  There was once a red rose that stood not so far away from a big and mighty oak tree. ‘You mighty oak you call yourself. Look at how fast I am growing. I was planted 4 moons ago yet look at you, you are growing so slow. You have been the same height for hundred and hundred thousand moons ago,’ the red rose said audaciously. The mighty oak fell deeply insulted. The flower laughs, ‘Yes, haha, in a matter of a few moons I’ll be bigger, more beautiful, more delightful than you will ever be.’ As soon as the red rose finished a mighty thunderstorm poured down and smashed the ground with heavy rain. It beat the ground and watered the rivers sevenfold. More water for the oak to enjoy. The thunderstorm faded away, and the glory of the sun returned. The flower was no more. The mighty oak tree sighed and went to sleep. YouTube :  @Rosaya. Copyright©, Richard Junior Ocaya, 2024. All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be copied, distributed, or published in any form wi...

‘Zahmani where are you going?’ ‘Ma, I already told you… I am going to see my friends!’ ‘Which one?’ ‘The zulu boy!’ ‘Mhm, ok.’ Zahmani heads for the back door. ‘When are you coming back,’ Zahmani’s mother shouts from the dining room. ‘Around 4 or 3 there.’ ‘Did you pray?’ ‘Yes. Ai ma, let me go hle.’ She sniffs. There is something Zahmani learnt about his mother, when she sniffs, she immediately goes onto be locked in on her phone. Interrogation is over. Zahmani exits the back door and heads for the gate. He exits through the gate and locked it. I can’t let mama know that I am smoking weed. She will first kill me… no, she will first tell the pastor that I am smoking weed, wait for the pastor’s approval of the punishment of my sins and then kill me. Zahmani goes to his favourite corner where has the less frequency of people passing by. The place was far, quiet and windy, perfect to get the smell of weed off when he goes back home.   He pulls out his scissor...

‘Yo bro did I tell you of the night where I slept with my windows open?’ I asked my brother. ‘No. And why the fuck would you do that?’ he asked. ‘Because it was hot as hell, even you felt that heat. Trust me you want to hear this story, but promise me that you won’t tell mama; it will drive her nuts.’ ‘Hmm,’ he muttered. Whenever he did that it was either he was scared or really interested in what I was about to tell him. 3 years older than me but I was much more mature and braver than he was. Our relationship made me realize age really is a number. ‘I know you won’t believe me but I’ll say it anyway. Last Monday night was the night I slept with my windows open. Well only the top one was open. I obviously didn’t sleep with any blankets and I wore only shorts. Even after doing that I could hardly sleep. I was fidgeting and half awake. When I finally managed to be comfortable enough to sleep, I am not sure what the time was because as you know I don’t have a phone to check. Anywa...

A Moment In A God’s Life   This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.   1 The hall where this event takes place is in a school’s hall. The hall is packed with unhappy lovers, but no one seems unhappy. They are here to see ‘Thuso the love doctor’, because they are looking for solutions to solve, if I can say problems, in their relationships. Everyone is dressed decently and everyone is polite with one another. ‘Baby, did you bring the lighter?’ He passes the woman the lighter. ‘We’ll catch a smoke after Thuso finishes.’ Her man nods, he didn’t look happy. I’m sitting next to a couple; I couldn’t help but notice when the woman asked for the lighter. She speaks loudly and harshly. I bet she calls the shots in their relationship. Sad. ‘Hey,’ the woman whispers to me. Why is she looking ...