Daily Stories

© Opeyemi Akintunde As Inspired by the Creative Word As I climbed the stairs, my heart climbed faster than my legs. Every step felt like a question. What if Sikemi refused to see me? What if Martins returned suddenly? What if Mum somehow discovered I had left school? What if Mark had already reported me…

© Opeyemi Akintunde As Inspired by the Creative Word From the moment we entered class after assembly, my eyes refused to behave. I tried to face the board. I tried to copy notes. I tried to pretend that I was a normal student sitting in a normal class on a normal school day, but every…

© Opeyemi Akintunde As Inspired by the Creative Word We had just entered the school compound when I saw Tunde standing near one of the flower beds with two other boys, laughing about something that was none of my business. Assembly had not started yet. Students were still walking in through the gate in twos…

© Opeyemi Akintunde As Inspired by the Creative Word For a few seconds, nobody spoke. Mum stood in front of us, breathing heavily, her eyes wet with anger, fear, and pain. Mark sat beside me, still looking at me as if he was trying to decide whether to pity me or shake sense into my…

© Opeyemi Akintunde As Inspired by the Creative Word I woke up very early the next morning, hoping I would find a way to go to the Alabis’ house under the guise of helping Mum. That was the plan. I would tell her I wanted to help her clean again, then I would use that…

© Opeyemi Akintunde As Inspired by the Creative Word I did not realize how far I had walked until I looked up and noticed I was almost halfway to school. My legs had been moving, but my mind had remained in Martins’ room, seated in front of that dangerous financial presentation. I had left the…

© Opeyemi Akintunde As Inspired by the Creative Word “How much is real money?” I asked. Martins smiled. It was not the kind of smile someone gave when they wanted to answer a simple question. It was the kind of smile someone gave when they knew they had found the door into your mind. He…

© Opeyemi Akintunde As Inspired by the Creative Word “It is not really about shoes.” The room became quiet. “What do you mean?” I asked, though somewhere inside me, a part of me already knew. “The shoes are just the cover,” Martins said. I stared at him. “The package is not the shoe. The real…

© Opeyemi Akintunde As Inspired by the Creative Word I went home that day carrying a secret that was heavier than my school bag. Outwardly, I was calm. Very calm. Too calm, even for myself. I greeted Mum normally. I greeted Dad normally. I dropped my bag in the room normally. I even ate dinner…

© Opeyemi Akintunde As Inspired by the Creative Word Martins called the so-called supplier of shoes right there in the car. He placed the phone on speaker and said, “Guy, I have someone for you.” There was a short pause on the other end before the person asked, “Who?” Martins looked at me with a…