CHIAMAKA’S DILEMMA by spacefreak

The "udu" sounded loud and sweet in the air, the music and cheering continued. Mazi Okonkwo's gaze now rested on his daughter with happy thoughts of becoming a grandfather this new year. Chiamaka was still semi conscious of the villagers cheers and her father in front of her with a huge smile. "what am I going to do?", "do I tell him?" She thought. She had already accepted the "mpi" filled with palm wine from her father. "what will he say?" What do I do?" Her thoughts raved on. She gripped the "mpi" with both hands while trying to dance to the music. Her task remained finding her husband-to-be from the crowd. She knew exactly where Okechukwu seated in his white and blue "agbada" but she was still unsure of her step. She had caught Okechukwu's gaze severally with her eyes shying away. Her steps remained shaky. She dragged her feet while feigning a dance. The cheers and music was getting louder. Her heart pounded and she was already crying silently. "please the gods should help me" Chiamaka said silently to herself as she caught Okechukwu's gaze once more. She was getting closer to the love of her life. Few inches now separated she(her) and her husband-to-be. He was wearing the biggest grin ever and was flapping his legs without care."oh, I am so sorry!" she thought. She was overwhelmed, her body fidgeted. The "mpi" fell. Shouts echoed. The music stopped. She ran.

Words: 243

Narrative/descriptive consistencies:
Well done. No mixing of the tenses. Description is gripping; the reader wants to know what happened next.

Syntax, lexis and structure:
Her body fidgeted.
Read instead:
She fidgeted.
The hyphenation of native words like ‘mpi’ and ‘agbada’ shows attention to detail and professionalism on the part of the writer.

oh, I am so sorry!" she thought – the quoted statement is more of an action phrase than a thought phrase. It would read better as
“oh, I am so sorry!" she said
Or
I’m so sorry, she thought.
Without the quotes to indicate it is not a spoken sentence but rather a thought process.

Plot, context/concept correctness:
This is more of a flash story on a nervous bride on her traditional wedding day than the new year(although the word ‘new year’ is mentioned in passing).

Grammatical, punctuational errors and typos:
Not many. In all, a job well done except that the story does not portray the theme of the competition.
Score: 60%

Grief of a Zulu Muse (398 words) by OMA4U

It was twilight, when the sun was travelling along the firmament to pass the baton of day to the moon,. Mbali squatted behind the rows of grassy strips of basket materials. She packed the artistic baskets she had made and sat down to weave another set of designs. Her keen eyes focused as they were chanting creativity and breath into the baskets. Her fingers were busy weaving baskets of various decorative bands, intricate triangles, diamonds, and zigzags motifs. Under her thatch, she watched the group of spectacular maidens who were rehearsing Bull dance; they were clad in short grassy skirts embellished with beads, while their full grown hair stood proudly on their scalp. Mbali, too, was smartly dressed in a thick cowhide skirt. Her bosoms were covered with attractive beads and on her head was (a) hat made of grass and cotton that is sewn into hair. She had meticulously taken care of her calves - the fleshy part at the back of her leg below the knee; it was the cynosure of attraction for Zulu men. She loved the ambience, the gentle wind as it caressed her, the ways trees surrounded her hut like sentinels. She had woven enough baskets that would fetch her much money. She couldn't wait to see her husband; her visage brightened as she anticipated another wonderful new year. She smiled and picked another crosswise strips and conjugated them with lengthwise ones.

Earlier years in Zululand, weaving of artistic baskets was accustomed to men until the British stormed the land, they took the men to work in the mines, then women began to find it necessary to learn to weave the traditional African Zulu baskets. In the city where they worked as diamond miners, the men often hired prostitutes, and they incidentally(accidentally) contracted HIV. Their working conditions were often dangerous and prone to short life spans, and however, their meagre pays did not compensate for it; so the man rarely had any money left after paying their rent, upkeeps, and prostitutes. Mbali's husband soon became a victim of HIV. The fatal disease had mutilated his immune and his breath was hanging in a place between life and death. It was apparent he would succumb to the underworld. Mbali had always prayed to the gods to protect him, but her prayers seemed to return unanswered. When her husband was brought home, her anticipations turned sour.

Words : 398

Narrative/descriptive consistencies:
Well done. No mixing of tenses. Fair description.

Syntax, Lexis, Structure:
Definitely present from the first line, however the structure of the story appears disjointed. I had to read it over and over to try to get the point of the whole thing. Where is Mbali, why is she there, what is she waiting for, etc.

Plot, context/concept correctness:
As above. Once again, “new year” is mentioned in passing. Is Mbali aware of her husband’s dire situation? Where is the husband returning from? If the mines, is that where his conditioned worsened? if the hospital, why is she not there with him? The emotions are too disjointed in this short story and the abrupt tragedy leaves a sour taste in the mouth.
There is a good story here, but it is yet to be told.

Grammatical, punctuational errors and typos:
a number of them are present.

Score: 50%

(Claps,claps) that's great,pls critique all of 'em like this. we'll all learn from such detailed analysis. goodnyt,my eyes r heavy.

PICTURE IN THE FRAME by mrfils

It was riotous to say the least, a free for all feast with singing and dancing or better described shouts and gyration. I had barely arrived in the village when Tunji my closest pal or "padi" as we fondly called ourselves dragged me off to the village carnival. It was an event that we often looked forward to but this year; I lost interest due to my bitter break up with Asake in the city.

The festival was characterized with songs and dances of different kinds. We young men were particularly elated when it came time for the famous AGIDIGIDI dancers. Every hair on our skins was usually on edge and our senses alert as we all looked forward to seeing it firsthand. Its common lore in the village that Yekini the palm wine tapper actually jumped down from a palm tree, broke his legs and disc(?) but still dragged himself on hands and knees just to catch a glimpse.

I held on to my cup of fresh palm wine as though it was a medal of honor, gazing from side to side as I observed the events of the night with less abandon. In an instant everything went from commotion to the trademark slow motion famous in the matrix trilogy movies as I made(made out? watched?) a shape so perfect and a face so fair make its way towards me. A broad smile was plastered on her face as though professionally drawn. She stopped a foot from me, leaned in and whispered in my ears(ear) "Can I have a dance?" and at that moment it happened; my crazy tongue stuck to my palette, she guessed I meant NO and so circled on her heels to leave. I could swear I grabbed and pulled her back but on a second look, my free hand was glued to my sides like a soldier at attention.

It’s another new year's eve and I can't get the thought out of my head. Standing on the same spot even after ten years still gives me the same chills from what I lost but one thing I will forever cherish is this picture in the frame; HER FACE THE PICTURE, MY HEART THE FRAME!

...MrFils!

Words: 365

Narrative/descriptive consistencies:
Well done. No mixing of the tenses.

Syntax, lexis and structure:
Good description. A little too much maybe. The theme of the new year is very strong here.

Plot, context/concept correctness:
Strong theme representation here. Disjoint in the plot though not much. Corny ending. More could have been said/done.

Grammatical, punctuation errors and typos:
A few.
Score: 60%

Yepala’s Price by eillo

“By the New Year, you could be playing in Europe. Leftie, you have to win this thing!” Coach prodded once again. “We can’t take chances.” The year 2015 would be the year I break into the international sports scene – if I won the national championship. I’d dreamed of this all my life.
I sighed.
We went immediately.“The deity usually takes something personal”, Coach explained. “Only things that you can live without, though.Yepala isn’t greedy. When I couldn’t father children, someone introduced me to Baba and Yepala solved my problem.”
“What did the deity take from you?” I asked
“Just one of my testes.”
“Sweet baby Jesus! Please stop this car. I’m not interested.”
“Yepala only took an earlobe from Abass.” I remembered Coach’s friend,Abass indeed was missing an earlobe. “Sometimes, it’s just a toe, a tooth or fingernails.”
He caught me looking at his crotch. “With my one testis, I fathered six sons. Leftie, don’t try me with your girlfriend o, I’m a Bulldozer!” He winked.
Yepala’s shrine was miles from civilization.She was a clay statuette painted black, red and white, sitting in a corner, wearing a crooked, sly smile.
Baba explained that first he would put me to sleep and then consult Yepala before proceeding to take from me what she wanted. “Your issue is a very small one;she may require just your pubic hair.” He asked Coach to wait outside as he brought a large clay pot to my face, smoke billowing from its insides.“Baba, ba-ba-ba, wait, wai…” I passed out.
I woke up slowly. It wasYepala’s sick smile that reminded me of where I was.I became aware of exquisite pain shooting through my arm.A cloth was wrapped round where my hand should be. I unwrapped it quickly. The hand was there.
But the thumb was gone.
Baba appeared through the door, Coach in tow. “Congratulations! All Yepala wanted was a thumb. I took the left one. The right one will be more useful for you.”
I screamed! “Nooooooo!”
“What’s the problem?” Baba asked.
“He plays table tennis with his left hand, that’s why we call him Leftie.” Coach said.
Yepala’s smile seemed a little broader, a little sly, like she was mocking me. I dealt a kick to her head, beheading her swiftly. Her head smashed into smithereens as Baba screamed, “Abomination!”

Words:385

Narrative/descriptive consistencies:
Well done. No mixing of the tenses

Syntax, lexis and structure:
Simple and coincise. This writer is a ‘safe’ writer. Structure of the composition is simple and well laid out.

Plot, context/concept correctness:
A perfect example of tragi-comedy! Once again however, the theme of the competition is not reflected in the story. New year is mentioned in passing. The story itself on the other hand is quite gripping. Very interesting.

Grammatical, punctuational errors and typos:
None.
Score: 70%

BIODUN by Awesomeb1783

DEAD!? He can't be. I frightfully shuddered at the thought. All I remember was being woken by a loud shriek followed by sounds of struggle. I raced out to behold a yard in total disorder, wares scattered all over and a trail of fresh blood was ominously visible. Scary thoughts raced through my mind. Ah! The village ritual I thought. Fear gripped me as chills flowed down my spine. I was numb and confused.

It was customary for youths to gather in the village square every 31st day of December or crossover as we now fondly called it. On one such day years ago, we had been so involved in the usual festivities that the night offered; the dance competitions, song renditions, feasting, jesting and the unavoidable flirting. We were in the thick of the action when we heard screams. We rushed to the source and saw a girl visibly shaken with fright pointing in the direction of the bushes. It was hard seeing in the dark but from what we could make out, we think we saw men in white carrying what seemed to be a body wrapped in white walking into the bushes in a straight file. That marked the end of that night's activities as we all headed home as fast as our legs could carry us. The next day, I had naively asked my grandfather for an explanation but his answer didn't go down well in my head as he told me a long tale that ended with the village ritual.

In an instant, my grandfather's tale flooded my head. Could it be true? Could he have been taken? Where was Biodun?! My mind was clouded in terror but I just couldn't shake off the thought that he could be gone, as in DEAD! What was I going tell my parents as they had left me in charge of my siblings. I fearfully followed the blood trail toward our gates that was brightly lit by the full moon and in terror I screamed as my gaze met the sight: there he stood with jean torn and elbow bruised, frantically panting with a headless chicken clutched tightly in his right fist. There and then I recalled it was his turn and first time killing the NEW YEAR chicken... the feeble Biodun at last was reborn a man!

Word Count: 390

Narrative/descriptive consistencies:
Accurate use of tenses. Well written.

Syntax, Lexis, Structure:
Well written. Simple narrative style. strong structure.

Plot, context/concept correctness:
The plot is not clear at first but it quickly gets better. another imminent tragedy averted although one wonders what a child would be doing slaughtering a chicken in the middle of the night.

Grammatical, punctuational errors and typos:
minimal
Score: 55%

THE HOTTEST DAWN by Ruffhandu

It’s been twelve years since we last saw daylight. Scientists called it pathomiscue-eclipse of the sun, which they described as resulting from an orbital shift of the sun. There was incontrovertibly widespread panic initially, but calm had returned after many weeks in darkness. Thereafter, we did everything in the night. There was no more divide between night and day; no check by time. Every energy we used came from electricity and the moon.
In my village, the New year is heralded by genital circumcision of males eight years old. It is a big ceremony held on the first market day of the year, never later than the fourth day of January. The ceremony is presided over by the village head, with lots of guests, friends and well-wishers from far and near in attendance. Usually, there is plenty to eat and drink, only that the Initiates scarcely participated(participate) in the fanfare, as they endured(endure) excruciating pains.
It usually starts with the circumcision, followed by jubilations if no death occurs, while the circumcised are taken home to endure pains. But this year, just as the circumcision was about to start, daylight crept in like a thief, quickly, with an attendant burning sunshine. The change threw people into confusion. What used to be part of nature became abnormal. The worst hit were children who only heard of daylight in stories, it was totally strange to them.
At the village square, Men, women and children were seen scampering for safety in all directions. The lenses of some people’s eyes went out of shape in the process of quick accommodation, causing blindness. People screamed like vampires vulnerable to sunlight. Even the Village Head ran with only staff in hand; his crown and sceptre nowhere with him. People did not wait to get home, but took shelter in the nearest shade of darkness.
Okoso, the madman, smiled as he walked majestically towards the heaps of food and fruits at one corner of the square. He took a bite out of a fruit and that made him feel good within. He settled to feast on some eba and egusi soup, which he had served himself, after luridly gesticulating to an imaginary waiter. He had not had a good meal in a while. ” Foolish people, I thought you said the ceremony is a tradition that cannot be broken.” He muttered as he savoured his meal.

Word count : 398

Narrative/descriptive consistencies:
I love this! Out of the box thinking, my kind of stuff! Good, gripping narrative, consistent tenses. The ending however watered down the story a bit, I guess the writer would have had more to tell if given more words.

Syntax, Lexis, Structure:
Well placed, the flow was very good and the switch in descriptive tenses after the first paragraph shows the skill of the writer although not too meticulous as evidenced by the mistakes in red.

Plot, context/concept correctness:
Everyone loves a good cliffhanger and I would love to read more of this story. The plot was well formed and the concept very original. There is argument as to how plant life would have survived without sunlight/photosynthesis for twelve years but all in all a great read with the promise of new things in a new year filled with light.

Grammatical, punctuational errors and typos:
Minimal. See correction of tenses used.
Score: 75%

The Wedding Test by drachel.

Usman Danjuma felt weak, his strength almost zapping out just by(at) the
sight of town (torn) flesh and blood, every stroke of the large bamboo cane
on the backs of his rivals made his throat sore. Their cries, pains
and tears gave out the feeling of death, one could easily be deceived
Into thinking it was a burial ritual or cleansing or even a thief been (being)
punished but the sight of a beautiful damsel seated in a colourful
canopy with maids around her disclosed that it was a marriage
ceremony.

The men being flogged were not thieves but suitors to the damsel
seated with maids, it was a common ritual that a suitor most (must) prove his
worth to marry her by receiving twelve strokes of (the) cane without
standing up.

Hence the reason Usman and six other able-bodied handsome young men
were there, Amina was the village (village’s) most beautiful damsel and any man
could gladly give his life for hers. She stood tall among her peers,
light skin (skinned), about six feet tall, pointed noise, small lips and long
hair which many girls envied.

Usman needed a wife because he was planning to move out from his
father's house in the New Year, he had prepared fully for what ever
cause, he promised himself to win Amina's hand in marriage.

"Usman Danjuma" His name was called out, he walked out unsteadily,
Amina smiled at him which gave him reassurance. Five men had all
failed, every one waited to see if he would succeed.

Legend has it that the bamboo cane was soaked in poisonous venom to
enable a cruel sting on its victim. When the first stroke landed on
his bare back, he whimpered, biting the pain in. The second hurt more,
driving him to insane Heights, he thought about getting up to run,
then the gentle sobs of Amina flirted(?) into his ears, she could not
bear the thought of him losing.

He diverted his thoughts to the future, he and Amina bearing kids
together and taking care of their cows, drinking cow milk, he would
gladly lay down his life to protect her.

Not until people began screaming in joy did he realise that he just
won a wife, he had collected twelve strokes of the cane without
fleeing. Tears welled up in his eyes when he realised his dreams had
come to pass.

He finally had a wife

Word count: 398

Narrative/descriptive consistencies:
Interesting narrative, very descriptive.

Syntax, Lexis, Structure:
Fair, need to improve a lot here.

Plot, context/concept correctness:
Good plot. Good concept.

Grammatical, punctuational errors and typos:
A lot of grammatical errors, typos. This dampened the story a lot.

Score: 45%

pls my laptop battery went off so I couldnt finish up. will resume as soon as am able. Thanks.

Mr. Royver, I went to read my entry again, making sure I did not modify it. I saw that nairaland has changes the phrase 'naked man' to ' Unclad man. In case you've not really worked on my own, which I doubt, please notice that.
But if you can't correct it, I will accpt the correction in good faith.

Hello Royver,
I want to thank you and Whitemosquito, in fact, everyone participating in this, for all your efforts.
I appreciate your inputs and am greatly encouraged, even at this.
Lol @ " There is argument as to how plant life would have survived without sunlight/photosynthesis for twelve years...". But, this is fiction and the clarification lies in "Every energy we used came from electricity and the moon." Funny.

But I really want to know why you highlighted the 'sun' in "...which they described as resulting from an orbital shift of the sun."

Your criticism is very healthy for me and I appreciate that. Taking only that away from here, for me, is perfect. God bless you.

Good day Royver, I must say you really know your stuff. However, you mentioned I got the theme wrong. Could you please explain further? It would be highly appreciated. Thanks.

Ruff' is sure leading so far. there are still like 20more to come. Nice job organisers,but be ready to face 'endless questions,begging for urgent answers...guard ur loins.

AN ENCOUNTER WITH THE MASQUERADES BY martin92

In Abeokuta, there lived a teenager,Eze who has(had) never been to his village before. The masquerades he was accustomed to at Abeokuta exhibit(exhibited) only their dancing skills and were not interested in chasing people about. He has (had) been hearing stories of how the masquerades (the most feared in Nigeria) popularly known as ‘Mmanwu’ at his village in Awo-idemili,Imo state chases (chased) people up and down, he even heard a myth that the masquerades came from underground and retire(retired) back to there(?) and his joy knew no bounds when his parents told him that he was going to the village with them for the Christmas and New year celebrations.
It was on the 27th of December, sons and daughters of Awo-idemili (even outsiders where (were) not left out) gathered from home and in diaspora to witness the masquerades perform at the village square. Eze watched in fear from the females’ stand as the masquerades chased people about, as soon as he left there, a masquerade gave him the hottest chase of his life. As he kept on running he saw a meanly looking masquarede ahead - it was now a case of being between the devil and the deep blue sea, but luckily for him he saw a house by the side of the road and used his last ounce of strength to enter the stranger’s compound, Narrow escape!.
As the activities went on, he watched in astonishment as the otiaba(tall masquerade) hit his head twenty times on the ground. Then came the female masquerade(mmanwunwaanyi), she was hardly seen as she was being surrounded by other male masquerades, Eze was determined to at least catch a glimpse of her so in his quest to achieve that, he climbed a tree from afar but could only get an obscure view of her. When it was time for the masquerades to retire, Eze decided to stalk one and confirm if it was really going to go underground, little did he know that there was another masquarede following him at the back, Eze’s ‘third eye’(?) was activated instantly and as soon as he looked back he was already on top gear for fear of the unknown.
It was now time to leave for Abeokuta, Eze was so happy of his adventure at the village that he reproved(?) his parents for denying him this opportunity for so long.

Word count: 391

Narrative/descriptive consistencies:
Simple narrative, too simple, reads like an assignment for students coming back from the holidays.

Syntax, Lexis, Structure:
Poor. Too many errors. Simple structure. Why give information in brackets if you are not going to use them later?

Plot, context/concept correctness:
Good plot, good concept.

Grammatical, punctuational errors and typos:
Too many. The bane of this write-up.
45%

WHEN WE THINK WE ARE RIGHT by Lionize

Nduka stretched himself on the floor, in the loop made of yam tubers in his room; with only roka leaves to feed on for the next five days. That was part of the initiation rites into the arovu cult. In Lokpa, only the members of the Amaeze clan are bestowed with the privilege of joining the cult. Nduka, though educated, did not alienate himself from his heritage.
The arovu cult bequeaths a member the powers to transmute into any form of animal whenever he wishes. Men get initiated into the cult as soon as they come of age. A man may decline being part of the cult when first offered the opportunity, opting out for a later year- which was Nduka’s case. The initiation rite was a way of welcoming the New Year.
At the end of the fifth day, Nduka, still in the circle of yams, which was big enough to accommodate his bodily displacements while asleep, made some incantations which the chief priest had taught them. He chewed some roka leaves and, as he washed it down with a cup of water while sitting down, saw himself falling asleep.
Next, Nduka saw things in his room being bigger than they originally were. He saw his face very close to the ground. He did not burden himself with what had happened to him for he knew he had changed into a Grass-cutter, which was what he thought of before he drank the water after chewing the roka leaves. That would be his first foray into the animal kingdom.
Nduka traced his paths through the woods till he found himself in the mbara, where other man-animals had gathered. The group consisted of herbivours and rodents. They could all communicate as they used to, as humans. One of them was briefing them on an assignment- going to cause havoc on his enemy’s farm.
Suddenly, he heard the roaring of a lion, everyone heard it. Every animal was alert, the Hares stood on hind legs with ears raised. When the direction of the intruder was established, all but Nduka scattered in all directions. Nduka quietly crept into the safety of some big saprophytic roots of an obolobo tree and squatted. He did not want to risk being chased around by a lion; it was too dangerous for him on his first day as an animal. Daylight eventually caught up with him.

word count; 399

Narrative/descriptive consistencies:
Good narrative, good description. But how does the title rhyme with the story?

Syntax, Lexis, Structure:
Good. carefully done.

Plot, context/concept correctness:
Good plot, good concept. Cliffhanger, what happened to the grass-cutter? Was the lion a real lion or a man turned into a lion? this is an interesting story but incomplete and does not focus on the theme of the competition.

Grammatical, punctuational errors and typos:
Minimal. The paragraphs are not well placed and can confuse the reader.
Score: 65%

Therock5555

The Masquerade

"Damnmit, why won't this(these) guys take this useless carnival celebrations to a safe place like the National stadium instead of allowing cars pile up behind their slow charade" Tunde complained as they moved slowly behind various colourful(colourfully) dressed dancers on new year’s day.

The trio of them were returning back from an all night party and were eager to get home quickly only to encounter a major traffic hold up, caused by the dancers and some Masquerades claded (clad) in white flowing robes and terrifying face mask(masks) which depicted various ugly faces. The Masquerades were the major cause of the slow traffic, they gyrated around the road and chased frequent passers-by and spectators, no car dared to overtake them because the consequences might be dire.

"There is nothing we could (can) do about it, let's just be patient" John the driver advised.

"Patience? Impossible, that word is not in my dictionary. I have to tell (give) those road blocking touts a piece of my mind" Tunde countered back.

"I would drop five thousand Naira to watch you try" David yawned out jokingly at the back seat.

"That's the spirit dude, let me prove to you guys that am not scared of youths like us dressed in dirty costumes, I know its part of traditional celebrations but it's becoming stale. Watch me guys, just watch me" He replied and went out.

His friends watched expectantly, their hearts pounding and fists clenched in fear and maybe careless admiration for their ignorant colleague.

Tunde walked majestically towards the Masquerades, some people tried stopping him but he was adamant, he tapped the closest Masquerade who turned to see the fool who had the gust(guts) to tap him.

"please can you and your friends leave the road, it's causing a cruel traffic" He shouted above the noise.

"You say?" The bewildered Masquerade said, corking(?) his ears with his fingers.

"I say make una comot from road... Arhhh" He screamed as the Masquerade cane landed harshly on his cleanly shaven head.

Like on cue, the others turned on him, raining him lashes upon lashes, he ran like his life depended on it, almost passing their vehicle in the process. His friends were bent double in laughter at the sight of his new designed body.

"Happy new year" The Masquerades chorused as they left him to chase more targets.

The End.

Word count 389

Narrative/descriptive consistencies:
Good narrative. Good description.

Syntax, lexis and structure:
Not so good structure. Needs some work.

Plot, context/concept correctness:
Good storyline, this writer is obviously a storyteller, however the story does not really display the theme of the competiton. But a very entertaining story none-the-less.

Grammatical, punctuational errors and typos:
Plenty.
Score: 65%

A touch of hope by bhenehdikt

It was on a cold harmattan morning, mama was the first to wake up. 'This was unusual of mama', I said to myself after waking up - due to the several times she sniffed her nose like one who had taken a finger-dose of snuff (tobacco). She was still seated on the old bamboo bed with her hands supporting her jaw like wood used to wedge pawpaw tree from falling.
I cleaned my eyes several times to be sure it was mama I saw; I had never seen her cry before (papa in(on) many occasion(occasions) had boast (boasted) about her bravery amongst his friends). Even when Nneka was sick to the point of no return, mama was very strong like the Iroko tree.
I was drowned in my own thoughts trying to figure out what it might have been that relegated her to this melancholic state. Embittered as I was and curious as well, I decided to ask mama to know what the problem was.
Mama had barely opened her mouth to speak when suddenly she burst in tears and could only mutter some words. I could barely hear a word as she was sounding more like the old radio papa sometimes hangs its antenna (whose antennae papa sometimes hung) on the roof to get clear signals.
Like raw fufu inside hot boiling water, mama gathered herself together. In her own words she said, ''how do we cope in this New Year?'' Whom shall we lose this time around to the "cold arms of death"?
This didn't come as a shocker to us(me) as past new years had either met us mourning over one family relative or another. Firstly it was papa who died barely two days after crossing-over into the new year;then follow (followed) shortly by mazi Okonta who fell from a tree while tapping wine. Tufiakwa! "Mama, no one will die this time around", Ebere cut-in, looking like one who was been (being) chased by a masquerade. "Our 'Chi' will see us through these turbulent times and this year will bring good tidings", she continued. Somehow, these words seemed to have magically brought mama back from the ennui of sadness into the reality of the day.
After about four Eke market days, the family gathered around their local shrine with cocks, thanking their gods for seeing them through what was usually a time of mourning in the family.

Narrative/descriptive consistencies:
Fair narrative. Fair description.

Syntax, lexis and structure
Poor. No flow of syntax and structure is very shaky.

Plot, context/concept correctness:
Good plot. Good concept. This story actually mirrors the theme of the competition but the lexis, structure and grammatical and punctuation errors took all the beauty away from it.

Grammatical, punctuational errors and typos:
Too many.

Score: 50%

OMA4U is a good writer, to begin with. The only fly in the ointment seems to be his unbridled sense of imagery -- obviously induced by his love of poetry.

THE CHECKLIST by sammoe


He had been thinking of what would have happened if he had not sent the report before the midnight deadline. It was amazing how much he accomplished in seven and a half hours of frenetic activity – drafting, writing, re-writing, typing and clicking the send button. He had just checked off the last item on his work to-do list. Jerry stroke (stroked) his bare chin at the realisation that the year’s work was officially over as he yelled, “I’m the boss!”. No one could have heard him. He was alone. He looked at his watch as he packed his bag. It was 10:57 pm. He had no business at the office till the New Year. With only five days to go, he was sure it had not been a bad year. He felt his right palm itch and he smiled. 2015 was going to be better.
Meanwhile he had to hurry home. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, tie loosened and stomach empty. He needed a few days outside Lagos. That could wait though. There was an important date tomorrow. He had to be on point. He could already see Jay sitting in front of him. He smiled. She was the last item on his 2014 checklist. New job. Check. New apartment. Check. Girlfriend. Almost checked. This girl was positively different, a breath of fresh air. He knew the attraction was mutual. With no other guy in the picture, he had to be quick about it. She had to know how much he loved her. Tomorrow was going to be great. (*****)With such blissful thoughts in his head, he narrowly missed hitting a strange figure.
Jerry shuddered as it turned. It was like a scene out of those nollywood movies. This feminine figure was covered in white from head to toe. She expertly balanced a calabash bedecked with cowry-like stuff and walked slowly as her lips moved in rhythm. He swerved into his street and slowed down as he approached his residence. He could not believe what he had just seen. He checked the rear view mirror.
With relief he shut the front door. His two hands were still shaking. As he emptied the contents of his pockets, he noticed an unread BBM message. Jerry unlocked his phone with a swipe. For the second time that evening, his right palm itched. This time he was not sure what it meant.

Word count 398

Narrative/descriptive consistencies:
Good narrative skill.

Syntax, lexis and structure:
Good command of English.

Plot, context/concept correctness
Poor plot. Poorly developed storyline. Even for a flash fiction this story is incomplete. There are no conclusions to be made here. And the writer seems to assume every one knows what a scratch on the palm means. There is a disconnect between the time at the office and when the ?protagonist enters the car.

Grammatical, punctuational errors and typos
Very few.
Score: 45%

NEW YEAR GIFTS FOR THE POOR (By Simonhabby)

The Baale of Alapoti village collapsed on New Year day. That wasn’t the news. The news was that Madam Kofoworola Alade, the wife of the State Governor was at Alapoti on New Year day. She wasn’t there to celebrate, she was there to fight.

The poor have many things to look forward to in this New Year. Governor Alade had promised to focus on them.

“Next year will be all about the poor.” he had promised. “There will be unemployment allowance, homeless people’s home……”

So everybody that considered himself poor had reasons to look forward to the promises of the New Year with excitement.

Firstly, Alade would donate gifts to the poor on New Year day.

The gifts were purchased with funds from the state’s treasury to be donated to the people of Bodija village. Nobody asked why Bodija. Everybody knew why. Bodija was the homeland of Kofo, the first lady.

Kofo was Alade’s representative, and when it involved women, it involved glamour. The Bodija Chief was informed. The town crier went out. Kofo and her entourage arrived in customized ankara, with journalists, cameramen, paparazzi….

Bodija women put on aso-oke, the girls wore adire. The hunters were to have a gun dance. Everybody was excited.

As usual, something would always happen to delay events - African time. But what happened here was terrible - the gifts hadn’t arrived.

Prince Ademola, the Director of Operations, who was leading the team bringing the gifts got lost at Alapoti village. The GPS in his car had stopped working; it had never worked anyway.

“Please, where’s Bodija?” he asked a woman.

“Next village,” she replied, putting away her crying baby.

The boy was crying because he was hungry.

“Bring food for this boy,” Demola ordered.

He wasn’t the only hungry boy. Several eyes stared at them. They carried the same expression - hunger.

Demola satisfied them all. More came.

“Must we go to Bodija?” Demola asked. “These things are for the poor and the poor are plenty here.”

Nobody argued. They started distributing the gifts.

Bodija villagers were still dancing when they heard that their gifts had been distributed in Alapoti. Kofo got there furious. Confusion started. She slapped the chief and he collapsed. But Demola insisted he was right. The gifts were meant for the poor and he had given them to the poor. End of story.

Word count : 394

Narrative/descriptive consistencies:
Good narrative. Good description.

Syntax, lexis and structure:
Well done. strong structure.

Plot, context/concept correctness:
Good plot. Well told. Reflects the theme of the competition, a tale of hope, mixed with culture and tradition and a lot of drama.

Grammatical, punctuation errors and typos:
I daresay, none.
Score: 75%

Sir ROYVER...They changed the last one again

I wanted to write n.aked man

@royver,tanx bro...na to correct mistakes remain..
All guyz really tried also..#respect!

@royver,tanx bro...na to correct mistakes remain..Other guyz really tried also..#respect!

mmm... @ royver well done. u deserve lots of kudos for painstakingly doing a critique of each piece. so far, I don't think I disagree on ur verdicts.

you say I'm a 'safe' writer. how do u mean exactly ?

Waiting For The Morning: The ORbiters


The sounds of laughter from children and women, the pleasantries among the young men and the hushed tones of the elderly, all alike, found a place in the atmosphere. The whole town was bustling with life and the once quiet village square had became a hub of activities.

It is (was) the last day of the year, and it was only necessary for all to converge at the square. One corner, the children played, running and screaming with abandon. To another corner, the youth gathered, like colonies, some talked while some just looked. To another corner, the women gathered, cooking and at the same time talking, and to another corner, the old men sat and drank.

Looking around, oh, how (we wished) this view could last for an eternity. But why were we here, I can not say,(why we were her, I could not say) and why we were gathered, I must find.

As I cut through the crowd, encountering the greetings of friends and family alike, my heart saw its desire.

He sat alone on his bamboo chair, gently sipping his palm wine as he rocked his hips in a rhythmic manner to an unheard tone. His hairs were fully white and his face was like a squeezed cloth.

I sat beside him and searched his face for attention. Finally, he looked at me. So I started.

"Sir, to what reason do we owe this gathering?"

Nodding, he said,
"It is long believed that our ancestors discovered the secret of prosperity and peace. This secret helped them live peacefully, had(grow) good crops produce and live longer. This secret has been passed down from generations to generations and has now form (formed) a pillar on which this village is built on".

"But sir, what is this secret?"

"Unity my child, unity. It is believed, those who eat from the same pot are bounded by a bond that can not (cannot) be broken. This is what makes you and I live freely.

Now I understand (understood) clearly, the women cooking and the men drinking and no matter what the New Year bring (brought), our bond, would overcome all.

The drums rolled and the young women rose to dance. The children jumped for joy, the youth moved while the elderly clapped. This night, we reaffirm our beliefs as we await the morning of the new year, but for now, I must join the dance too.

Narrative/descriptive consistencies:
Good narrative
Syntax, lexis and structure:
Poor flowing of tenses.

Plot, context/concept correctness:
Good plot. The theme of the competition is reflected here.

Grammatical, punctuational errors and typos:
Many.
Score: 70%

@ALL, pls am very busy here so i am posting as I have chance. may not be able to answer any questions today maybe some other folks can help. i plan to post it all tonight but it is quite much. apologies.
@divepen i collected the original copy long ago, dont worry.

THE CROSS OVER DANCE by swifayo

It's 29th of December and everone especially the youth of Ajokurin are all prepared for the most spectacular dance competition of thier lifes (lives) which qualifies a boy to be a man by being among the first 20 best dancers who will get married that same day . This is an annual practice in which all the villagers in Ajokurin gather at the kings (king’s) palace on the last day of every year.
Akomi Ojuilu, a village youth that has being participating in the competition for 7 years but has always fell (fallen) short cause (because) he is a bad dancer, decided that the new year is(would be) his year of getting married, this made him to start practicing new dance steps even from the day one of this particular year.
Adeshewa is another village youth but a special one because he (she) is (was) the kings (king’s)daughter which makes (made) her a princess but has being unable to get married because she is (was)a very bad dancer. This gave the king much concern that he paid (a) huge sum of money for her to be trained( in) the art of dancing but yet still she is(was) always at the bottom of (the)position table.
Oh! I less i forget, the new couples will (would) be blessed by the king and elders of the land in prayers and materials, they will(would) then be given (a)house which has(had) being built by past youth thet(that) where unable to make it.
Finally, its 31 of December and by 10pm the kings palace has being filled to the brim.(tense incongruity) Without wasting time the event started with rites and sacrifices, then the main event started. The dance was so hot everywhere was filled druming(drumming) and dancing and the judges smiling and with time everything was over after which the winners where(were) called and Akomi emerge 19 position(emerged nineteenth position) and got married to a pretty lady but unfortunately adeshewa came 21 position(twenty-first position) which means she will have to wait another year. The new couples where blessed and the first day was filled with celebration for new couples which signals a new beginning.(which signalled a new beginning.

Narrative/descriptive consistencies;
Not so good narrative. Poor description.

Syntax, lexis and structure
Poor

Plot, context/concept correctness:
A story of a New Year dance and the reward of marriage. A lot of improvement needed here.

Grammatical, punctuational errors and typos:
Many.
Score: 45%

Chai! Roy, thanks a lot. You just eased me of whatever stress that was budding in me. Nice one and best of wishes to all writers.

NEW YEAR'S EVE IN UMUOKA by EverestdeBliu

Heads held aloft, peering curiously from bulged eyes. Children sat with their christmas wears, as sheer curiosity propelled the aged to swell the anthill of spectators that were already ringed under the huge udara tree rooted in the village square.
"A chick," he enunciated "in search of grain, wandered out of its cage."
Pa Ubaga paused, glared at the staring faces, heaved an infectious smile and the whispers that once filled the air ceased, as eyes were now fixed on him, with bated breath.
"In-lieu of grain, to busy its beak, a hawk had it plundered" he continued " Spontaneously, the hawk was intercepted by a watching eagle. Still aloft, the prey-birds vied for their prey, losing some of their feathers in the process. The fight was intensified when the chick escaped from their talons and dropped to the ground; torn, wounded and tired.
A ducky-duck took it, nurtured and cared for it."
Pa Ubaga swallowed, gave a quick glance at his wristwatch.
"Eleven-thirty-nine" he muttered inaudibly, then continued.
"Standing on its talons, the chick took cognizance of the wild plumages. Yes, patterned under the duck's incubating eggs were the wild-birds feathers.
'I'll need these feathers when I incubate.' The chick soliloquized. 'hmm...but if I demand them, this duck will bluntly decline.'
"The chick was on it as the duck trudged through the wicket gate... Alas, as it pulled the feathers from underneath the eggs; woe to the chick as three eggs cracked and spilled open."
"Though the wild birds lost their feathers because of you" the anguished duck spluttered "if I'd left you to die, I'd still have these feathers that brought this bane. Hmm... alright take the feathers, but I must my ducklings have or I'll see to your death".
"Ewoo!" Came a feminine voice from the crowd.
"Now, how can a chick, lay, incubate and hatch even a duckling?" He asked,
"Or can a piglet be in-foal, when its still suckling?... Ponder on this, and learn from the chick's follies"
checking his watch, he yelled;
"Its already a New Year!"
Just then, a joyful noise rent the air, as laughter ignited the night. And some had their heads bent in thought.
Its Chikere's first visit to Umuoka, her maternal home. "What a way to mark a new year?" She muttered.

Narrative/descriptive consistencies:
Fair narrative. More like prose or poetry.

Syntax, lexis and structure
Good flow. strong structure.

Plot, context/concept correctness
Underdeveloped plot for a narrative piece. we have a shakespearean in our midst. Pa udara would arguably have issues communicating, especially if his audience are indeed little children. A very intelligent piece. The theme of the competition is hidden in the background.

Grammatical, punctuational errors and typos
none

Score: 60%

TALES OF SULE ( by: phate4rmercury)

The earth is brown and breathing again this morning. Each trail of our imprints as usual were gone with the unforgiving wind. I take a deep breath, I surely can't afford another today. This is the only way to know I am still alive.
I watch now as the turbid haze ride on skyward and vanish into nothing. A shivering tremor raced(races) through my frail frame nearly crystallizing my lungs, and I felt like I wasfeel like I am being torn apart into equal longitudinal halves.
I am not used to being without my potuture, an ankle length overall made from goatskin. Mom made it specially for me as a gift for my first trip which signified my coming of age as a normad (nomad).
Father gave me a bull which I named Koukou. Somehow, he went rogue and was always beaten and tied. One afternoon, I overheard Father and his friends talking about their next stop, westward. He'd decided to sell Koukou too. I woke at midnight to comfort Koukou as I always do but he wasn't there.
I realised I had to do something. When I returned in the morning, everyone was gone. They'd left me behind....
The first ray of the sun slashed my face, evoking burning rivulets from my eyes. I must have been standing there, gazing up for a really long time. The fog ahead had cleared and someone was pointing at me.
I woke up on a bed. My neck was stiff and numb. A swarthy man hovered above me, smiling.
"Welcome back..." He says.
A young girl hands me a steaming mug.
They said Koukou had died from his wounds. I wish I was there at that last defining moment.
I am lucky to be alive, the one who found me thinks so. He says the harsh cold wind is caused by harmattan.
He says they're from the west. They are different from us normads. They clapped and danced and sang every morning. This morning, they killed four hens. They say it is because of the New Year, strange. They speak my mother's language.
I try my best to not think of the past. The girl and I are now friends and she never stops calling me Sule. I don't know why, but I plan to adapt.

Narrative/descriptive consistencies:
Good narrative. The writer is a storyteller.

Syntax, lexis and structure:
Disconnected. incongruity of tenses.

Plot, context/concept correctness:
Poor plot but a very Interesting concept.

Grammatical, punctuational errors and typos
Few.
Score:50%

Title: Afulu by anakadrian


Rough, rugged and ungainly; the tuber of yam lay seperate from the rest of the ingredients Naomi's mother had collected together on the floor within the smoke-filled kitchen with the low doorway and the dusty stools.

"Today, we are all going to eat Afulu" Naomi's mother had said

"Arh... fur... What?" Naomi had asked, genuinely interested.

It was the end of the year. Naomi had returned to Nigeria on holiday; on break from where she schooled in France. Sent off there to live with her aunt since she was five, every occasion that Naomi got to come back home was a treat.

This was especially so during Christmas, where she would get to see the village whenever they would, as her mother put it, "...travel to the East..."

Her cousins, Naomi missed badly. Come the first week of the new year, they would show her around the happening places, making her participate fully in every Uta that held.

"Afulu" Mother had said

Naomi's anticipation waned when sometime later she saw the spread on the kitchen floor; her enthusiasm reduced with each unsuccessful attempt to get the stove to light.

"I can't get this to work" Naomi said finally "That aside mum, I thought you said we were going to eat... erm... Ahfurlur"

"Yes, I did"

"But all I see here are ingredients for that soup you showed me the other day with some bitter leaves"

"Yes, Onugbu soup"

"Exactly mum, that's no Ahfuhlur"

"Afulu" her mother corrected

"Ah foo loo" Naomi said. Her mother smiled

"Yes, my dear, it's the same. While we eat Afulu, the whole family will come together to celebrate the coming year. We thank the Lord for blessing us, and we'll enjoy the Onugbu with some of this delicious yam"

"Are we gonna have to pound it?" Naomi said, her voice betraying a hint of unwillingness.

"No my dear, we don't have to... And we don't mix it in any sauce like when we did Ede Aro; the one with the cocoyam leaves, remember? We'll simply boil the yam and slice it up"

Naomi's face brightened. That sounded good. She pictured, as they ate, her and her cousins playfully ribbing each other; she giving back as much as she got, they ruthlessly teasing her with "yeah?"s and "innit?"s, all this amid the silent pleasure of mother's faint chuckles and grandma's toothless smiles.

Narrative/descriptive consistencies;
Very good narration and easy to read. i'm impressed.

Syntax, lexis and structure;
Good, well synchronised.

Plot, context/concept correctness:
Good plot. A breath of fresh air. The story does not reflect the theme of the competition and leaves the reader hanging, but a good read nonetheless.

Grammatical, punctuational errors and typos:
none.
Score: 70%

Blinded by Clarity by adjain

The cruel humor of life is barely scratched by the conjectures of mankind, and in Oshodi market on the 31st of December, life cracked another joke, to the resounding smattering of applause from the onlooking cosmos.
Everybody who knew him called him ‘Mopol’ because whenever he stepped into the market, people scampered. He had a leisurely ‘Americana’ gait, sashaying this way and that, his dirt-caked wrapper dragging in the hardened dirt like a parodied toga. His unwashed, crinkled face cracked into a smile – directed at no one in particular – and he picked at the day-old discarded tomatoes and fish before he turned, without ceremony, returning to his ‘base’ behind the general refuse dump.
Today however was different. Mopol had staggered into the market as he was wont to do, and people had fled – as they were wont to do, but today the market was jam-packed, as buxom mothers clutched their children about them and an equal number of New Year shopping bags. I was shopping with my mother that day, and there she stood, back turned to Mopol as she priced the pepper, tatashe and tomatoes.
He crept up to her and said (in English so perfect I was momentarily dazed) “excuse me, please, but do you know where I come from?”
My mother’s reaction: she dug her hand into the bag of powdered pepper, spun smartly around, and flung it his eyes.
I still remember his shrieks, a day later, as I watched my father say the New Year prayers. I remember how he stumbled away, crying loudly, breaking into stalls (where he was promptly kicked out). I wondered if the pepper had blinded him permanently.
I remember what he had asked. Excuse me, please, but do you know where I come from?
Was it possible that a man who had been insane for the better part of his life had suddenly come to his senses on New Year’s Eve, and had asked the first person he could find to point him home?
His new year’s resolution was to return home, my mind whispered to me.
“Chidi,” my mum called sternly. “Finish your soup.”
But it was already cold.

Narrative/descriptive consistencies:
Good narrative. Very powerful description. Wonderful tale.

Syntax, lexis and structure:
Good flow of syntax and lexis. Solid structure.

Plot, context/concept correctness:
Great plot. The focus of the story is more on ‘mopol’ than on the new year, but a very good tale.

Grammatical, punctuational errors and typos:
None!
Score: 70%