The 'S' Hub

Edisemi Thompson A day that’d started bitter, grown frightening and progressed awkward is about to end in compassion. I have Temi in my car and he’s explaining the reason for acting weird in the office. I’d always thought him scary, but not to the extent of banging my desk, grabbing me by the chin and mouthing some strange heroic bullshit. That was the height of it. If Butch and I weren’t having any misunderstanding, I would’ve screamed the attention of everyone in the building. Those words, I’m not going to see you get hurt again resonated with me. It sent a chill running down my spine. As I stared into the strangeness of his eyes in fright, I’d thought: Was he watching me? How much does he know about me, Butch, Julie, Captain and our small cheating circle? There was silence after he’d apologised and gone back to his seat. It felt thicker than smoke, choking us both. I'd decided within me that I was going for a break when Temi asked if I was going for lunch. It w

Captain Attah Nameless girl isn’t in the sitting room watching Telemundo, neither is she in the bedroom or any of the other rooms. I search the kitchen and all the closets and still don’t find her. I go out back in search of her and more than think of screaming her name, but there’s just no name to scream. I sigh and get back into the house. I check the wardrobe where all of her clothes had been neatly folded. They’re gone. I glance at the bedside stool where she’d left her handbag. That too is gone. “Now what the heck is this?” You don’t get to change girls like baby diapers and expect not to encounter an evil spirit. “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Well, every day, they say, is for the thief and one day for the owner of the house? “Who is the thief and who’s the owner of this house, huh?” It makes no sense speaking to oneself so I shut up, moreover, all the questions feel like fucking rhetoric. I don’t even need the small voice in my head, which has been restless as of late, to

Buchi Agwu Julie had asked to spend the night at my place as we’d left Njideka’s very late and her house was in a mess. As always, I said Yes. I usually can’t say no to a lady’s request, except one for sex, that is. But last night, Julie hadn’t asked for sex. She’d asked for the opposite, in fact. When we got to the house, my parents were already asleep, but mom, inquisitive as ever, had still shuffled into the sitting room dopey-eyed to check who it was breaking into the house. I’ve warned her several times to be stealthy about these checks and to always take along with her an object for protection. There’s the heavy store padlock, now useless like the store itself, lying idle on the old fridge in the kitchen, the pestle behind the kitchen door, knives on their rack, and even the mopping stick, if she doesn’t want to hurt someone’s son. She seems to have grown certain that no intruder will break into her house. She smiled at seeing Julie and even hugged her, but that was