Post by Gospel Ernest (@bigfish)
MIDNIGHT STORIES: It was past midnight when the first cry cut through the sleepy compound. Not a baby, not quite a grown man—something in between, like a wounded trumpet. Lights clicked on, prayers stumbled out, neighbours peeped through curtains. Again, the cry rose, closer this time.
Mama Sade hissed. “Relax. That’s just Night remembering those we owe.”
But Sade knew that voice. It sounded exactly like the brother she lost last Harmattan.
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Comfort Yako Asala: Hmmm.
Was it actually the voice of Sade's lost brother or her emotions taking the better part of her 🤔
Come onboard @talesbymoonlight for more interesting African stories 💥💯
Was it actually the voice of Sade's lost brother or her emotions taking the better part of her 🤔
Come onboard @talesbymoonlight for more interesting African stories 💥💯