I will be posting flash fictions here for your enjoyment. Romance, horror, action. Name it. If you like them, like and drop comments. Puhleeze!!!

PAYBACK ON HIGH WATERS
By Olagunju J.A

1.
We set out at cockcrow, while the welkin still laid spread-eagled over the sun to deny Aurora her charge. It was I who prepared the boat for sail while Itejiofor took it upon himself to ready the nets and put the other fishing accoutrements shipshape. Our wives knew it was our fishing day out and beseeched the elements on our behalf for a bounteous harvest.
As usual, libations were paid to the various water spirits to obtain clemency on the high waters. Itejiofor had almost drenched his throat with the remaining “ ogogoro”, our local gin, when I snatched it off his hands for a good swig myself. I then bade Adogo goodbye and slapped my eldest son on the buttocks for snoring too loudly. At this rate, he would end up rousing the entire village .
“Hurry Iteire, we should be off”.
2.
Itejiofor and I took turns paddling till we got to a point we had particularly noted for its fish abundance on our previous expeditions, we cast our nets and drew them in effortlessly--EMPTY. As at noon, we had caught only two tiny fishes: Our day seemed accursed.
Then it came.
The squall advanced from the West and the clouds darkened to a sickly shade. We were in danger of being wrecked. The boat tilted and I fell out.Then calm.I stretched my hand to Itejiofor and shrieked: “ pull me in”.
Then I saw it before I understood. He howled-coyote-like--- and I tasted the years of cold, muted grudge. Was it my fault that Adogo chose me over him? Was it my fault that I was a better loved man ? It didn’t matter. He laughed again and steered the boat away. I wept. My sins were paid for.

#Sparrowhawk

The Hermit Of Lusaka
I watched, fascinated, as she, a drooping figure, ambled along the bleak road alone. As always. I had once overheard the village tattletales, Martha and Mara, whisper aggressively about how she had not only murdered her husband in a fit of anger but also slaughtered her only Son, Kamau, using her witchcraft.The moon had cast a reddish glow on that day and the children had been fiercely warned to give the woman and her hut a wide berth. I, being the most venturesome of the band, only had my appetite whetted by the vehemence of our parents, and my Comrades too only needed a little prodding to set their ships in Sail.

I looked up at the sky and saw the reddish glow cast by the moon. Again. A shudder coursed through me like a lightening streak, but I shrugged it off. Her Hut was dark-pitch dark. I had warned my friends on the importance of stealth and we were all on tiptoes . We were still fumbling around when I caught a glimpse of light. Alas, a door, left slightly ajar, was the source. We moved towards it and I , being the boldest, took the first peep.The only peep. What I saw was the stuff of nightmares. There was the old woman, quite alright, with the rotting bodies of Kamau and her husband lying down on a raffia mat beside her. She was holding a soapy sponge with which she started washing the bodies, weeping and gnashing her cracked teeth in a great display of anguish. I heard myself gasp before I could stifle it. The old woman hurried towards the door and caught our disappearing backsides. She cried out in Pain and we ran. She cursed. Her curses rang through the quiet night and my alarmed ears caught a few:"Evil villagers, would I never lived amongst you! May your roads all be bloody as you have made mine! May you lose rest on every side!"

# Sparrowhawk