My Time Machine


I am constructing a time machine. It’s not a complicated thing. And you may be disappointed to know I don’t have grand plans in store for it. In fact my reason for building it is quite simple. I want to see a certain home at a certain time. 

I will park my time machine midway down the block and clamber out. Everything I see will be exactly as I knew it. Old homes will seem modern. Trees will be younger, shorter, thinner. Shrubs newly planted. Cars will be large, boat-like things you see in films from those days, but not gritty like in those films. They will be shiny and new. Or newish, anyway. Anyway, they won’t look like they do in films.

I will walk up the concrete driveway into the garage. There will be unpacked moving boxes on the right, a baby blue Monte Carlo on the…

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No Remorse In A Wife Beater Eyes.

Stories from Nigeria

No Shame in a wife beater Eyes.

I live in a house with four flats. On the flat above us lives a man with his wife and three children.

He is the nicest neighbour, the one who greets you first and smiles at everybody.

He helps you to change the meter for your light and never hassle the guard.

He comes back home on time and plays with his children.

I was always praising him and saying he was a good neighbour. Imagine my surprise when on a Monday was watching TV when the sounds of‘’

‘’Help my daddy is killing my mumming ‘’ filled the was mixed with a cacophony of cries, the nine-year old, six-year-old and the baby were all shouting.

I rushed out of the house with no sleepers. The sand was hot and their was an I-pad and a phone on the floor. I entered…

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