Prince Akatika

“The Man from Ward 18” by Prince Akatika

  Doctor: What is your name?  Patient: My name is Boniface, sir.  Doctor: Okay. Mister Boniface, how are you?  Boniface: I am very good and fine, sir.  Doctor: Any problems I should know about?  Boniface: No oh! No problem at all. Why do you ask?  Doctor: I mean, you came in here and sat on my chair, something must be wrong with you.  Boniface: It is you that something will be wrong with. What kind of hospital i...

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“The Squatter” by Prince Akatika

Submitted to Contest #104

I had no friends, and even if I did, they would all call me Owl. It was one in the morning when the top of my phone screen slid down to notify me of an unsolicited caller. I blinked at the nameless digits, sneezed, wiped my nose, and rejected the call.Lowering my head back on the chair’s arm, I resumed watching my Blumhouse movie. The stranger called once again, disquieting my solitude, and I swiped at my screen so hard my finger left a scratch.“What?” I bellowed. I should have probably asked who it was.A raspy voice ...

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“The Inquest” by Prince Akatika

He meandered up to my car, sullied in mud and unclean water. I assumed he was mad until I saw the variegated incisions on his cheeks. He grinned through the window, tapped on the glass with grimy muscles, and spat on the floor. “Open for me,” Baba Amina said. “I have something I want to tell you.” The elderly man and I were neighbors. He was one of my father’s tenants and lived in a single-room apartment with his wife and two daughters. Both girls schooled at the federal government college, and his wife was a perso...

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“Tears of a basket ” by Prince Akatika

Submitted to Contest #102

When I was a small boy, I used to control my parents as if they were robots. It had been an easy feat at the time, owing to my condition. They would come running whenever I orchestrated my signature dogged wail, and mother would pack me up in her arms and sing to me, promising me snacks and goodies.  My cry would become inexorable until they had fulfilled these agreements, and as I gobbled my loot, they would eyeball me with mistrust from the gloomy corners, wondering if in truth I had been in need. Hence, I w...

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“The Spotted Boy” by Prince Akatika

Submitted to Contest #101

Staring at the mirror, I stood with a golden key around my neck, crying. I am a motherless orphan whom the other children called cow boy, because of the patches on my skin. The patches were white on dark–and worse, for had I been totally dark, it would have made no difference.My mother was long dead. Her money could not save her. She was a baker before she passed, and wealthy too, and it would be sincere to say she made most of her dough from dough making.The monastery boys were not in the habit of going to sleep in their ha...

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“The Goat Thief” by Prince Akatika

Submitted to Contest #96

The sight of the old woman’s hanging breasts irritated Chijoke. Still, he continued to aim his bow at her, taunting her to move. She pointed at the black goat in front of the hut, which was attached by a rope to a short wooden post. There was a charm necklace around the animal’s neck.  “That is mine,” he said to the woman, averting his eyes from her chest. “Return it now!” A sharp wailing sound assaulte...

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