MyAfricandiaspora.com Short Story Contest WinnersIn our ongoing effort to promote positive images that reflect people of African descent, the website that connects the African Diaspora, is pleased to announce the winners of our first annual Short Story contest. The entries came from all across the African diaspora: Canada, England, Jamaica, Kenya, Nigeria, Niger, Trinidad & Tobago, Uganda and the USA. We will be publishing a collection of these stories, entitled, Bloodlines, Tales from the African Diaspora, soon. In addition to the five winners below, nine other stories will be included. Stay tuned for the publication date and purchase information. Author bio's available here. We also like to give special thanks to our guest judge, Charles Saunders, Fantasy Author of the Imaro and Dossouye Series. And the winners are ... |
Eddie Mark - The Other Wife of Cranston Livingston
When Darlene Livingston discovered that her husband, Cranston, had fallen in love with a younger woman, she was so grieved that she could do nothing but approach the girl and insist she move in. There was no choice really because she desired peace in her home and an end to the abuse, for each time she accused the man he spat at her with awful disdain, and each time she complained of the affair he slapped blood from her lips and knocked her to the floor.
It was so bad now that if she even mentioned the name Alethea, he out right threatened to leave. And this chastened her, for she was not prepared, after thirty nine years of marriage, to start learning how to live alone. So she reasoned that the only way out was to give refuge to infidelity and wait for Cranston to grow tired of his mistress the way he must have grown tired of her...
Sarah Bass - To Rest
On that previous Sunday, Mrs. Lewis had a dream that a black cloud came and rested over the house. It made her uneasy. She didn’t know what the dream meant, but she didn’t like it. She told Mr. Lewis.
Mr. Lewis listened thoughtfully. “Is just as I expected,” he replied when she finished. “It is stress on your mind. How many times I telling you that you doing too much? The dream is a sign. You is the house, stress is the cloud. Is your mind telling you that you need to rest.”
But Mrs. Lewis was feeling restless. The dream had already settled on her mind. She was worried. She didn’t like the look of that cloud...
Soumana Boureima Igodiame - Near But Far
Debbo woke up in the heart of the night to go to the washroom. When she came back, she noticed that her four-month old baby boy was not in bed. Amazed, she awakened her husband who was snoring. “Hey, man! Wake up! I cannot find the baby anywhere.” At first, Modibbo did not understand.
“What baby? Are you dreaming?”
“I can’t find Tawey anywhere. Can’t you hear?”
She stood there with the oil lamp in her hand as the father jumped out of bed. His legs were so weak, and his heart was beating so fast he thought he was going to faint. “How does he come to get out of bed like this?” he said. “He’s just a baby.” He bent to see whether the baby was under the bed. They were both upset. They did not know what they were doing. They looked for him even where he could not possibly have been. They searched water pots, empty sacks and cupboards. Then they went into the courtyard. The baby was nowhere. He really had disappeared. Debbo put her hands on her head and began to wail. Neighbors ran into Modibbo’s house...
Barbara Jenkins - That Old Black Magic
Songs for Swinging Lovers was the soundtrack to their tentative reconciliation. They dueted, segueing into Sinatra’s smooth …That Old Black Magic… suspenseful …has me… phrasing …in its spell…; fox-trotting, melded torsos, cleaved thighs, to Nelson Riddle, …that old black magic… swirling, gliding among the clutter of his living space, Fred and Ginger once more; …that you… forty years on …weave so well. Quick-stepping, endorphin-pumping flashbacks illuminated their nights, fuelled by his light times...
Ronald Jones - The Skyboat Strangers
Everyone knows when the white men arrived. No one in all the empire that was Benin had ever seen the likes of one. Light of skin, almost pink. Hair resembling grass sprouting from their scalps. They wore shiny armor and carried strange looking sticks called muskets that made thunderous noises and spat out little projectiles in blooms of smoke and fire. Time quickly eroded the whites’ novelty. Pale skinned as they were, the whites were still recognized as men.
Then rumors floated to the Oba’s palace one hot afternoon of the arrival of more strangers. Whites? The Oba wanted to know. The messenger who brought word said that these strangers were neither white nor human...