MrsExplorer:


Me too

You should check mine also, maybe after reading you could modify this Post. https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=478


DISTANCE IS A BETRAYAL

We had spent two years together.

Two years full of beautiful moments, beautiful feelings of love and sometimes moment of contrary opinions which would pave way for a slight brawl: All these I could call TRUE LOVE.

True love that didn’t appear as one initially, at least it wasn’t intended. It just happened with her.

With her, the word “Infidelity” was lost in my Vocabulary. I could not even find a synonym for that.

That, I could call EFFECTIVE LOVE. Sometimes I’d ask her if she feel the same and she would respond by saying that’s her line and that she should be the one asking that. We were much in love with each other that we would call every morning to ask about the dream we had overnight, silently hoping it’s one about our growing love.

Emotionally, physically and materially, she would stand by me at all times. As a check on being on the same page with her, I’d ask myself if I feel the exact way and the only imaginary response I’d get is catching a grenade for her. By this, I could qualify her as a “RIDE OR DIE PARTNER”.

Time after time, distance sets in. I started getting less of her and she equally had less of me. Those beautiful feelings of love and beautiful moments we had became a thing of memory, one I could not reproduce.
My memory tends to be my best friend as what I had left of her was “Memory”.

Lying on bed in solitude, the night became darker and colder while my depression became deepen and hopeless.

Indeed, DISTANCE IS A BETRAYAL.


Not perfect but needs your support to grow.

Visit https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=478

After Opening the page for voting, Vote by clicking on the "BLUE BACKGROUND LINK WITH FIGURE OF VOTES RECEIVED AND THUMB ICON" beside or below the text "Nigeria". You would need to be signed in on Facebook for the vote to count.
You can confirm your vote by seeing the increase in the number of likes/votes on the page for voting.
if not increased, please kindly click again.

Many Thanks.

I didnt just want to tell a story, I wanted to address an issue in the country,an issue that anytime it Is on the news,I get vexacious. and I came up with this.

HUNTED

If only he knew, he would have stayed back in Lagos
"wake up,it's time" he shook her gently. Imaobong turned,rubbing her eyes.she clenched her teeth in pain as he helped her to her feet.flies buzzed around her, a deep cut on her fore-arm.The room was dimly lit by a kerosene lamp which caste long moving shadows on the walls as Ekong and Imaobong tip-toed to the back-door carefully avoiding contact with the four other sleeping bodies on the cold cemented floor.
The door slowly creaked open as Ekong picked the lock. He gave her a short stare, a dry smile on his face, his blood-shot eyes full of hope.He just turned fourteen. His eyes were badly swollen, prophet Eket incessant tortures took their toll on his body.He has been in captivity with other children for practicing witchcraft,including his love,thirteen-year-old Imaobong. They were to be executed at dawn. The cry of nine-year-old Uduak as he was beheaded still tormented him.
"what are you people doing?" came a faint voice from behind.They turned sharply to see who it was. Edidong managed to stand to his feet
"where are you two going" he asked with a confused look. Ekong and Imaobong exchanged furtive glances.
The moon shone brightly in the cloudless sky as the trio made their way stealthily to the low three-row bamboo fence,the only separation from the huge forest staring malevolently at them. Ekong helped Imaobong climb over,Edidong following suit. In no time, they were over the fence. With Ekong urging them to stay together always,they broke into a run- a run for their lives,a hunted life. But they were never going to die like the others.

If you feel for this Kids that are killed almost everyday, pls vote 4 me. Click on d link below,wen it opens, click on blue like button, under d country icon.u'l b required to proceed wif ur Facebook details befor ur vote is authenticated.God bless you
visit http://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=2569

I didnt just want to tell a story, I wanted to address an issue in the country,an issue that anytime it Is on the news,I get vexacious. and I came up with this.

HUNTED

If only he knew, he would have stayed back in Lagos
"wake up,it's time" he shook her gently. Imaobong turned,rubbing her eyes.she clenched her teeth in pain as he helped her to her feet.flies buzzed around her, a deep cut on her fore-arm.The room was dimly lit by a kerosene lamp which caste long moving shadows on the walls as Ekong and Imaobong tip-toed to the back-door carefully avoiding contact with the four other sleeping bodies on the cold cemented floor.
The door slowly creaked open as Ekong picked the lock. He gave her a short stare, a dry smile on his face, his blood-shot eyes full of hope.He just turned fourteen. His eyes were badly swollen, prophet Eket incessant tortures took their toll on his body.He has been in captivity with other children for practicing witchcraft,including his love,thirteen-year-old Imaobong. They were to be executed at dawn. The cry of nine-year-old Uduak as he was beheaded still tormented him.
"what are you people doing?" came a faint voice from behind.They turned sharply to see who it was. Edidong managed to stand to his feet
"where are you two going" he asked with a confused look. Ekong and Imaobong exchanged furtive glances.
The moon shone brightly in the cloudless sky as the trio made their way stealthily to the low three-row bamboo fence,the only separation from the huge forest staring malevolently at them. Ekong helped Imaobong climb over,Edidong following suit. In no time, they were over the fence. With Ekong urging them to stay together always,they broke into a run- a run for their lives,a hunted life. But they were never going to die like the others.

If you feel for this Kids that are killed almost everyday, pls vote 4 me. Click on d link below,wen it opens, click on blue like button, under d country icon.u'l b required to proceed wif ur Facebook details befor ur vote is authenticated.God bless you
http://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=2569

I see people posting the story itself, so let me do so:
Do read through and vote if you liked it
http://prize.etisalat.com.ng//flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=1446


HER

I hate her.
I hate her so much. The kind of hate that leeches all semblance of contentment in life. Just from looking at her.
My hand tightens on the mug I am holding. I’d come downstairs for a cup of tea, and returning the empty mug had me passing by an open door.
She’s standing there. Watching me. Glaring at me.
How dare she.
I loathe everything about her. Her eyes see too much yet not enough. Her mouth spouts lies and hurt and nonsense. Her hands break all they touch and her feet crush all they step upon. She is stupid but acts all-knowing. She is incompetent in all things, but demands she does everything. Nothing about her is endearing. She spins lies around herself like a dress of cobwebs, pulling others into believing the too-perfect picture she paints.
I know otherwise. I see beyond her mask to her true colours.
And she is still glaring at me. I shift my position, wanting to do something but not knowing what. From beyond the door, she echoes my movements, readying for a battle that may or may not come. Her face sets in an angry scowl.
She hates me too.
Something in me breaks. She’s not allowed to hate me.
With a scream, I throw my mug at her.
The last thing I see is my reflection flinging the mug my way.
The mirror shatters.

.

[https:///uc3ft49W2D] Hello people, My name is Ngozi John Isong. My flash fiction, SOMETHING NEW is up for votes in the etisalat flash fiction award! Please open the link and click on the like icon to vote for me! Thank you!


SOMETHING NEW

After Lanre died, Tola started laughing again. She was not used to hearing herself laugh. Jide made her happy, too happy. She knew how to be sad, not happy. So she let out her laugh in trickles when he said something funny. She sucked in her breath when he took her hand in his; the only hand-holding she knew was when Lanre held her wrist too tightly.
She did not like how her legs spread widely when Jide put his hand between her thighs or the soft moans which escaped her throat when he thrust into her. He would whisper, "ashawo" into her ears and smile. Jide smiled too much. Ade would say, "You smile as if this world is a joke to you."
Tola was not used to the careless way Jide walked-his heels brushing the floor as his legs flew far apart-or the way he mumbled something when she asked if he wanted garri or semo. Lanre never mumbled. He had a food roster.
So a year after Lanre died when Jide asked her to marry him, she shook her head, "it is too simple."

Competition is really tough... Please check mine out and i promise you its worthwhile reading if not voting...
"Project sparkles "


https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=2797

This is d story...

I couldn't believe my ears, the elders picked me amongst countless other six year olds to go with the dhamaturi band to the city of lights and am in charge of making the sparkles or fireworks as old people call it. Every year, the band goes for plays nationwide, spreading the hausa culture and of course coming back with money. Although last year none returned, but my guess is they are living large in the cities. 
This was the only way i could leave maidugiri since my parents were killed by the iron birds which the elders says are different from planes. 
Morning came and i rushed to Alhaji Keifa's house as that is where we will all meet. They gave me lots of food and more zobo than have ever drank in my life. He wrapped some funny looking cases around me that were cylindrical in shape according to my textbook. 
He said they were the ingredients for the sparkles, they don't smell nice and i wonder why they are wrapped around me. I dislike it because it makes me look fat. 
When we were leaving, the entire kids in the village surrounded us. I waved at them and some waved back, others made faces. Jealousy. 
The elders gave me a sorry look but smiled when they noticed i was looking, either way i don't care am going to the city of light to make sparkles. 
I and mallam sheu, the band leader arrived alone at a huge building with lots of people, he said we were the opening act, he gave me some simple instructions and handed a device with a button telling me not to push it till i get to a particular statue in the middle.
As i made my way to the statue i just couldn't stop thinking about how mum and aba would be proud of seeing me now. I hope these people love it, i know they would. Besides, who doesn't love sparkles? Click.

[https:///uc3ft49W2D] Hello people, My name is Ngozi John Isong. My flash fiction, SOMETHING NEW is up for votes in the etisalat flash fiction award! Please open the link and click on the like icon to vote for me! Thank you!


SOMETHING NEW

After Lanre died, Tola started laughing again. She was not used to hearing herself laugh. Jide made her happy, too happy. She knew how to be sad, not happy. So she let out her laugh in trickles when he said something funny. She sucked in her breath when he took her hand in his; the only hand-holding she knew was when Lanre held her wrist too tightly.
She did not like how her legs spread widely when Jide put his hand between her thighs or the soft moans which escaped her throat when he thrust into her. He would whisper, "ashawo" into her ears and smile. Jide smiled too much. Ade would say, "You smile as if this world is a joke to you."
Tola w

engeejeanie:
[https:///uc3ft49W2D] Hello people, My name is Ngozi John Isong. My flash fiction, SOMETHING NEW is up for votes in the etisalat flash fiction award! Please open the link and click on the like icon to vote for me! Thank you!
SOMETHING NEW
After Lanre died, Tola started laughing again. She was not used to hearing herself laugh. Jide made her happy, too happy. She knew how to be sad, not happy. So she let out her laugh in trickles when he said something funny. She sucked in her breath when he took her hand in his; the only hand-holding she knew was when Lanre held her wrist too tightly.
She did not like how her legs spread widely when Jide put his hand between her thighs or the soft moans which escaped her throat when he thrust into her. He would whisper, "ashawo" into her ears and smile. Jide smiled too much. Ade would say, "You smile as if this world is a joke to you."
Tola was not used to the careless way Jide walked-his heels brushing the floor as his legs flew far apart-or the way he mumbled something when she asked if he wanted garri or semo. Lanre never mumbled. He had a food roster.
So a year after Lanre died when Jide asked her to marry him, she shook her head, "it is too simple."

as not used to the careless way Jide walked-his heels brushing the floor as his legs flew far apart-or the way he mumbled something when she asked if he wanted garri or semo. Lanre never mumbled. He had a food roster.
So a year after Lanre died when Jide asked her to marry him, she shook her head, "it is too simple."

Pls vote for mine 'the other woman' Thank you.

https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=2454

The Other Woman

"Has he had dinner? Is he spending the night? Do i still make him happy? Did he miss me? Does he still love me? He's been distant lately. Has he been with her?" She wondered silently, looking upon his handsome face as he walked into her apartment.

His phone rang, he left the room to answer the call. She followed him with her eyes thinking "He doesn't want me to listen to his conversation? Who is he speaking with? Why is he using hushed tones? Why is he laughing? What's so funny? Is she making him laugh?

He returned to the living room and sits down to watch television. A message notification arrived. He quickly started typing. He smiled at the screen and continued typing furiously. She stole a glance at him thinking "Who is making him smile? Who is he talking to? Who's in the picture he's looking at? Is he chatting with her?"

As if on cue, he dropped his phone, to use the bathroom. She reached out, picked the phone up and inputs the password. It's the wrong password, he has changed it again. She returned to her seat exasperated thinking "Does she know his passwords?"

After an hour of small talk, and a kiss on the cheek, he left the apartment. She sat crying at the foot of the door as she said "He is the love of my life but I can't continue to live like this. I must leave him. All of this is driving me crazy. I can't eat. I can't sleep." She wiped a tear "He's still in love with the other woman. She is his Wife."

Ashtonmcqueen:
Competition is really tough... Please check mine out and i promise you its worthwhile reading if not voting...
"Project sparkles "


https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=2797

Would you like to exchange votes?

cutebebe:
https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=2141

check this out and kindly vote for me. Thank you.


I looked up and saw Fola peering through his apartment window. His face was frigid like the weather that heralded imminent showers. That look meant one thing…
“Honey!” I said as I entered. He moved back snappily, like the touch-me-not, ‘Mimosa pudica’ plant.
“I thought I’d made it clear that you stop messing around,” he fumed.
“Fola...” I started. He moved closer and in one clean sweep, I found myself in a nosedive. Like a rehearsed choreography, he gracefully grabbed my hair and ungracefully came at me with fist and feet. I felt excruciating pain, like the woman in labor. But unlike her, I had no bundle of joy to look forward to.
I should have turned down Bayo’s friendly gesture of a lift. There’s always friction in love without trust… trust me, this saying isn’t fiction.
Earth-soiled feet, drenched clothes and clattering teeth were far warmer solace than this form of welcome. Was this even a welcome?
For the next few minutes, silence saturated the atmosphere, but was short-lived; sounds of rainfall slowly washed away the stillness, paving way for Fola to speak.
“Any plausible excuses?” Fola sneered.
I curled up on the ground like a millipede, defenseless verbally and otherwise. I tried to get on my feet, only to realize I had sustained a fractured limb. Fola saw this, he realized he had gone overboard. Face-pale, he approached with all subtlety. With every cell in his body vibrating, he knelt before me and plead my forgiveness. In his eyes was unmistakable repentance. I touched his face, he rested it in my palms.
I had but one option however…..
He had beaten all the affections out of me, save for one thing – common sense.
I struggled to my feet and limped away… never to come back!

https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=2141

Would you like to exchange votes?

reyaknight:
I see people posting the story itself, so let me do so:
Do read through and vote if you liked it
http://prize.etisalat.com.ng//flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=1446


HER

I hate her.
I hate her so much. The kind of hate that leeches all semblance of contentment in life. Just from looking at her.
My hand tightens on the mug I am holding. I’d come downstairs for a cup of tea, and returning the empty mug had me passing by an open door.
She’s standing there. Watching me. Glaring at me.
How dare she.
I loathe everything about her. Her eyes see too much yet not enough. Her mouth spouts lies and hurt and nonsense. Her hands break all they touch and her feet crush all they step upon. She is stupid but acts all-knowing. She is incompetent in all things, but demands she does everything. Nothing about her is endearing. She spins lies around herself like a dress of cobwebs, pulling others into believing the too-perfect picture she paints.
I know otherwise. I see beyond her mask to her true colours.
And she is still glaring at me. I shift my position, wanting to do something but not knowing what. From beyond the door, she echoes my movements, readying for a battle that may or may not come. Her face sets in an angry scowl.
She hates me too.
Something in me breaks. She’s not allowed to hate me.
With a scream, I throw my mug at her.
The last thing I see is my reflection flinging the mug my way.
The mirror shatters.

Would you like to exchange votes?

puresaint12:
I didnt just want to tell a story, I wanted to address an issue in the country,an issue that anytime it Is on the news,I get vexacious. and I came up with this.

HUNTED

If only he knew, he would have stayed back in Lagos
"wake up,it's time" he shook her gently. Imaobong turned,rubbing her eyes.she clenched her teeth in pain as he helped her to her feet.flies buzzed around her, a deep cut on her fore-arm.The room was dimly lit by a kerosene lamp which caste long moving shadows on the walls as Ekong and Imaobong tip-toed to the back-door carefully avoiding contact with the four other sleeping bodies on the cold cemented floor.
The door slowly creaked open as Ekong picked the lock. He gave her a short stare, a dry smile on his face, his blood-shot eyes full of hope.He just turned fourteen. His eyes were badly swollen, prophet Eket incessant tortures took their toll on his body.He has been in captivity with other children for practicing witchcraft,including his love,thirteen-year-old Imaobong. They were to be executed at dawn. The cry of nine-year-old Uduak as he was beheaded still tormented him.
"what are you people doing?" came a faint voice from behind.They turned sharply to see who it was. Edidong managed to stand to his feet
"where are you two going" he asked with a confused look. Ekong and Imaobong exchanged furtive glances.
The moon shone brightly in the cloudless sky as the trio made their way stealthily to the low three-row bamboo fence,the only separation from the huge forest staring malevolently at them. Ekong helped Imaobong climb over,Edidong following suit. In no time, they were over the fence. With Ekong urging them to stay together always,they broke into a run- a run for their lives,a hunted life. But they were never going to die like the others.

If you feel for this Kids that are killed almost everyday, pls vote 4 me. Click on d link below,wen it opens, click on blue like button, under d country icon.u'l b required to proceed wif ur Facebook details befor ur vote is authenticated.God bless you
http://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=2569

Would you like to exchange votes?

Lakesite22:


You should check mine also, maybe after reading you could modify this Post. https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=478


DISTANCE IS A BETRAYAL

We had spent two years together.

Two years full of beautiful moments, beautiful feelings of love and sometimes moment of contrary opinions which would pave way for a slight brawl: All these I could call TRUE LOVE.

True love that didn’t appear as one initially, at least it wasn’t intended. It just happened with her.

With her, the word “Infidelity” was lost in my Vocabulary. I could not even find a synonym for that.

That, I could call EFFECTIVE LOVE. Sometimes I’d ask her if she feel the same and she would respond by saying that’s her line and that she should be the one asking that. We were much in love with each other that we would call every morning to ask about the dream we had overnight, silently hoping it’s one about our growing love.

Emotionally, physically and materially, she would stand by me at all times. As a check on being on the same page with her, I’d ask myself if I feel the exact way and the only imaginary response I’d get is catching a grenade for her. By this, I could qualify her as a “RIDE OR DIE PARTNER”.

Time after time, distance sets in. I started getting less of her and she equally had less of me. Those beautiful feelings of love and beautiful moments we had became a thing of memory, one I could not reproduce.
My memory tends to be my best friend as what I had left of her was “Memory”.

Lying on bed in solitude, the night became darker and colder while my depression became deepen and hopeless.

Indeed, DISTANCE IS A BETRAYAL.


Not perfect but needs your support to grow.

Visit https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=478

After Opening the page for voting, Vote by clicking on the "BLUE BACKGROUND LINK WITH FIGURE OF VOTES RECEIVED AND THUMB ICON" beside or below the text "Nigeria". You would need to be signed in on Facebook for the vote to count.
You can confirm your vote by seeing the increase in the number of likes/votes on the page for voting.
if not increased, please kindly click again.

Many Thanks.

Would you like to exchange votes?

Would you like to exchange votes?[/quote]
unquote me pls. Thank u

nicerichard05:
Oga and you didnt add mine abi?


kindly vote for this story titled 'The Burden of Proof ' for the ETISALAT Prize for Flash Fiction( 2016)

Click the link below and like the story. thanks

https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=2663

The Burden of Proof by IMOKHAI


The gavel of the Judge hit the table with a bang and almost immediately Law Enforcement agents surrounded Kunle forming a protective ring around him. His mother like some others in the court room was crying. The case of the Drug Pusher who volunteered to expose the Drug Barons had been very tasking for the Drug Law Agency to crack. The Judge had sentenced the three drug barons to life imprisonment. The prosecution relied so much on Kunle’s testimony to build their case. Relief was an understatement for them.

The voice of Mrs. Belema Gregson, the Attorney-General of the Federation still echoed in Kunle’s head. “Kunle, I will make you an offer. You are a bright young man and the fact that the Malaysian Government agreed to release you to us as a test case is a divine call for you to help us end this problem once and for all.” Kunle nodded. “Help me prove that you are innocent”. Who could have thought that Malaysia would agree to release Kunle to the Nigerian Government? He could still picture the face of the Immigration official at Kuala Lumpur Airport when the colour of the body scanner turned red. “Step aside Sir” That was the beginning of the torture.

The Newspaper headlines were practically screaming ‘Nigerian First Class Graduate caught with drugs at Malaysia Airport’. Mrs. Belema Gregson knew that this was one Nigerian Citizen that should not be allowed to be executed in Malaysia. What would make a First Class graduate carry drugs to Malaysia? Her motherly instincts propelled her more that her being a lawyer and with her power as the Attorney –General of the Federation, she was going to save this young Man, Kunle Ola from the hangman in Malaysia. And she did.

Would you like to exchange votes?

Hello everyone
Please read and vote my story DIRGE by Afolabi Mariam for the etisalat flash fiction contest by copying this link to your chrome or Firefox browser.
https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=1991
Click this like icon on the link, log in and continue in facebook, click the like icon on the blue panel again till the number increases by one. Thanks.

Here's the story
Osas grabbed his throat in agony as the throes of death gnawed at him. He gaped at the plates in front of him as pain engulfed all of him. He felt the urge to disgorge his abdominal contents. Yet pain had not even started. Osas could be saved, but he knew, those with him knew he would not, must not survive it. The tradition stays. No one eats what Osas ate from the king's plate except that he dies.
The palace was quiet save for the eulogizer's voice which chanted words of sorrow. The oba, the esama who was visiting and the eulogizer looked on as Osas groaned and moaned in pain. The palace maids stuck out their heads from behind curtains, battling amongst themselves to get a better view of the scene for their mouths were itching to tell tales. Tales of how Osas the second son of late Osarumwense succumbed to the grasp of death. Everyone in the room watched and waited for when the young man's body would encounter peace once again. Oba shifted uncomfortably, his kind heart full of despair. Another one, a third king's taster about to bite the dust.
Osas could taste death as much as the treacherous food he just ate. His father and older brother had reunited with his ancestors in this same vein and his own dirge would soon be heard. Few minutes later Osas was frothing at the mouth. His struggle was over. He embraced death.
Three men had died in a fortnight after eating from the king's plates. Two maids had been beheaded and a third person was about to be. Whoever prepares poison pays with his head. Someone had yet again tried to kill the king. Only that this time, the food was made by a queen.

Nice story. Would you like to trade votes with me? My link is https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=2454

Let me know. Tanks

Beema01:
TITLE: Thunder without Clouds

Gombe, 14th February 2015

Thunder rumbled in the distance as I started my morning jog but there were no clouds in sight. I noticed more people passing the narrow road beside the field than there usually were at such an hour. Soon after, cars sped past too and the thunder got louder but there were still no clouds in sight. On the opposite end of the field, there was smoke in the sky from afar off. Soon enough some trucks were visibly approaching with what appeared to be armed men marching alongside. I was agitated, panic struck and perplexed. Many overfilled cars were now moving past the field with some people running on foot and I resolved to join them. Somebody clutched my wrist; it was my friend, James. Amidst the tumult, the invaders seemed to be just a few metres away so we hid in an uncompleted building. The invaders passed by. Hours passed and when all seemed to be back to normal we came out of hiding. We passed some people along a gully but an approaching figure stood out. It was a young man, dirty looking and no older than I was, crossing the gully with a rifle in hand. That familiar feeling of trepidation crept over me. Some say their charms wear off after crossing a water body. He was trying to reload his rifle but it seemed to be faulty. The people noticed this and pounced on him. He was down in seconds, his rifle seized as blows and stones and sticks descended on him. His agonizing fate was meted out to him in as gruesome a manner as can be. Slowly his screams subsided as the mob took the roles of Judge and executioner over his life. The deed was done.

https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=620exception

Hi Afolabi, would you like to exchange votes with me? I vote for you and you reciprocate? My link is https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=2454

Thank you.

omeira:
Hello everyone
Please read and vote my story DIRGE by Afolabi Mariam for the etisalat flash fiction contest by copying this link to your chrome or Firefox browser.
https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=1991
Click this like icon on the link, log in and continue in facebook, click the like icon on the blue panel again till the number increases by one. Thanks.

Here's the story
Osas grabbed his throat in agony as the throes of death gnawed at him. He gaped at the plates in front of him as pain engulfed all of him. He felt the urge to disgorge his abdominal contents. Yet pain had not even started. Osas could be saved, but he knew, those with him knew he would not, must not survive it. The tradition stays. No one eats what Osas ate from the king's plate except that he dies.
The palace was quiet save for the eulogizer's voice which chanted words of sorrow. The oba, the esama who was visiting and the eulogizer looked on as Osas groaned and moaned in pain. The palace maids stuck out their heads from behind curtains, battling amongst themselves to get a better view of the scene for their mouths were itching to tell tales. Tales of how Osas the second son of late Osarumwense succumbed to the grasp of death. Everyone in the room watched and waited for when the young man's body would encounter peace once again. Oba shifted uncomfortably, his kind heart full of despair. Another one, a third king's taster about to bite the dust.
Osas could taste death as much as the treacherous food he just ate. His father and older brother had reunited with his ancestors in this same vein and his own dirge would soon be heard. Few minutes later Osas was frothing at the mouth. His struggle was over. He embraced death.
Three men had died in a fortnight after eating from the king's plates. Two maids had been beheaded and a third person was about to be. Whoever prepares poison pays with his head. Someone had yet again tried to kill the king. Only that this time, the food was made by a queen.

None of you have seen or read "ILLUSION", By Temidayo Samuel. its a Bomb!!!
Here's the link. http://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=51

Would you like to exchange votes with me? My link is
https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=2454
Let me know. Thank you

reyaknight:
I see people posting the story itself, so let me do so:
Do read through and vote if you liked it
http://prize.etisalat.com.ng//flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=1446


HER

I hate her.
I hate her so much. The kind of hate that leeches all semblance of contentment in life. Just from looking at her.
My hand tightens on the mug I am holding. I’d come downstairs for a cup of tea, and returning the empty mug had me passing by an open door.
She’s standing there. Watching me. Glaring at me.
How dare she.
I loathe everything about her. Her eyes see too much yet not enough. Her mouth spouts lies and hurt and nonsense. Her hands break all they touch and her feet crush all they step upon. She is stupid but acts all-knowing. She is incompetent in all things, but demands she does everything. Nothing about her is endearing. She spins lies around herself like a dress of cobwebs, pulling others into believing the too-perfect picture she paints.
I know otherwise. I see beyond her mask to her true colours.
And she is still glaring at me. I shift my position, wanting to do something but not knowing what. From beyond the door, she echoes my movements, readying for a battle that may or may not come. Her face sets in an angry scowl.
She hates me too.
Something in me breaks. She’s not allowed to hate me.
With a scream, I throw my mug at her.
The last thing I see is my reflection flinging the mug my way.
The mirror shatters.

Hi BethelWealthy, would you like to trade votes with me? My link is https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=2454

Tanks

Bethelwealthy:
None of you have seen or read "ILLUSION", By Temidayo Samuel. its a Bomb!!!

Here's the link. http://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=51

HelenaG:
Hi BethelWealthy, would you like to trade votes with me? My link is https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=2454

Tanks

I'll vote for you, kindly do same for me.

hey guys. I have an entry in the flash fiction contest titled The Journalist. l managed to compress thrilling action and suspense in less than 300 words... wanna know what you guys think about it. please like and share... here's the link... https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=2894

Iv voted. No 37. Kindly reciprocate. Thank you

Bethelwealthy:

I'll vote for you, kindly do same for me.

Let's trade votes and support each other. Il vote you, you vote me. My link is
https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=2454

Let me know if interested. Thank you

Koenig:
hey guys. I have an entry in the flash fiction contest titled The Journalist. l managed to compress thrilling action and suspense in less than 300 words... wanna know what you guys think about it. please like and share... here's the link... https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=2894

HelenaG:
Iv voted. No 37. Kindly reciprocate. Thank you

i did helen, saw u got 93 now

Please ep me with small like https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=829

Thank you and all the best

Bethelwealthy:

i did helen, saw u got 93 now

Let's trade votes of you'd like to. My link is https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=2454

Let me know if interested. Thank you

DuBLINGreenb:
Please ep me with small like https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=829

HelenaG:
Let's trade votes of you'd like to. My link is https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=2454

Let me know if interested. Thank you

You traded with every contestant here so... make space for me on your bandwagon.