Magic Realism

The oldest god was MAAA. Though he didn’t think with words like ‘god’ yet. Or spirits, or entities, or monsters, or angels or demons. MAAA was primal, elemental. MAAA was…

In those early days of Lily Dale, long before it was even known as Lily Dale or, before that, City of Light, our freethinking earthly compatriots were fond of organizing…

Part 2 of The Strange Voyage of Annabel Lee(a spoondrift, a flickering filmstrip, even a dream) A recap of part one: Edgar is searching for Annabel and, after stumbling into…

Lost The only thing the man knows is the speed, the aneurysm in his brain exploding his mind away in a growing star of light. The speed pushes him down,…

There’s something familiar about this place. This was a strange thought, considering the sky was made of sapphire blue cellophane paper and the stars of gleaming aluminum foil. A casual…

There is a train terminal beneath the vast halls and escalator-riddled chambers of the grand hotel. He runs down one last flight of marble steps and hurries onto a train. The car is crowded. The seats are in pairs, facing forward, with a narrow aisle running down the middle.

I know we Africans have our witchy stories, tales to frighten the children or bolster the courage of our elders in hard times, which alas have been many. But I am a modern African. I have a bachelor’s degree from a recognised university and I know that God does not reside at the summit of Mount Kenya. I work on my country’s biggest newspaper and what I am about to tell you is true.

I am in an airport somewhere Northerly . . .