Hello, I took a little break from the flash fiction, but I’m back now.

Here goes one titled  Incomplete


Etornam quickly turns off the tv and they scamper up the stairs like mice into their holes. The dreary horn of the grey 1997 Volkswagen comes first, then the old car drives slowly through the iron gate Adamu goes to open.

‘Yessah!’  , he says, giving an ambitious salute that speaks of one who has been denied recruitment into the army. He has the dancing eye syndrome. That is not a sign of a good marksman.

Dzifa stands tiptoe,  peering over her brother’s shoulders as they look through the slightly parted curtains at their father.  He is  talking to his gateman about something and he has cocked his head to the left- as he always does when he’s not very pleased.  He is a grave man. Too severe to raise by himself an eight-year old girl and her 10-year old brother. But that is what he is doing.

The last time, the people from the village came to broach the subject of taking back his wife, they left without their slippers- better that than their bodies without breath.

The children run to their beds when he finishes speaking with the gate keeper. Etornam snatches Sceince for Basic Schools, P5  and turns to read something about magnetism. Dzifa sleeps with her eyes shut, but her ears count her father’s footsteps and she imagines him walk to the kitchen, turn the tap and wash his hands, then remember he has not used soap and so washes again. She imagines him open the fridge and scan it with eyes like a falcon on a hunt, and select a bottle of water. She sees him walk to the hall and reach for the tv. He touches it as if he were checking the temperature of a sick child, and he frowns. She envisions him climbing up to their room and she thinks, ‘We’re dead’.


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