Jaachi Writes

THE TRIPOD EFFECT The Smiths were unable to conceive children and decided to use a surrogate father to start their family. On the day the surrogate father was to arrive, Mr. Smith kissed his wife and said, "I'm off. The man should be here soon" Half an hour later, just by chance a door- to-door baby photographer rang the doorbell, hoping to make a sale.  "Good morning, madam. I've come to...." "Oh, no need to explain. I've been expecting you," Mrs. Smith cut in. "Really?" the photographer asked. "Well, good. I've made a speciality of babies"  "That's what my husband and I had hoped. Please come in and have a seat"  After a moment, she asked, blushing, "Well, where do we start?"  "Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bathtub, one on the couch and perhaps a couple on the bed. Sometimes the living room floor is fun too; you can really spread out!" "Bathtub, living room floo...

They're here. God! They've found you! To run or hide? Your limbs needs no deliberation. You sprint off. Light's speed. Breathless! Their vision is based on movement. You're spotted. They give chase. Hot chase. Relentless! 'Run!' You hear your mother's voice echoing from wherever. You are startled. You halt. Turn around. No human in sight. 'Keep running, son!'  You shiver. Your hair is erect like an excited phallus. They're fast, too fast. they're catching up. You could feel their hands ripping your flesh apart. Turn and fight or hide? A rush of adrenaline. You turn. Their yellow eyes pierce your biceps. Your courage deflates. You turn. You sprint. 'Hide' The voice is still.  You stop on your tracks. Your heart drumming like hard rock beats. You don't trust this new voice. You can't deduce the owner. Your memory hurries to search past voices registered in it's index. You feel fragmented. No face to match the voice. 'H. ...

I started writing at a very young age. I wrote poems and gave it to people, I believed poems could make the world a better place and humans can be more happier. I still do.  Victoria B. Willie interviews  Agwam Kessington, author of  The Sons Of Hades , a crime thriller published by  Poemify Publishers Victoria:  So can you tell us a little about Mr Kessington... Kessington:  Well, my full name is Agwam Kessington Tega, I'm a seasoned writer and photographer from Asaba, Delta State. I'm nineteen years old but I feel a hundred years older. I'm a student of Delta State University, Abraka. Studying Computer Science Education as a discipline. I'm a dreamy person, I see things differently and I think of a deeper vibration than the average person. I'm socially awkward and also a lover of many pleasures. Victoria:  19 years old and already a published author? That's quite intriguing. I almost thought you were 31. I must admit, I felt you were really olde...

A retired detective is faced with a deadly threat after coming out of retirement to find the link connecting the series of homicides occurring in the city of Lagos. He's face with two decisions; to solve the case or lose his family. The Author: Agwam Kessington was born on the 24th of March 1999. He is a native of Ebu in Asaba Local Government Area of Delta State, Nigeria. A dreamy poet and novelist, Kessington started creative writing at a tender age; a habit he expressed with keen enthusiasm. He attended St. Mary's Dedication School and Word of Faith Group Of Schools for his primary and secondary education respectively and is currently pursuing a BS.c (ED) degree in Computer Science Education at the prestigious Delta State University, Abraka. Sons of Hades is his first publication drawn from his struggle as a socially awkward teenager, his love for dark fantasies, tragedy, unraveled mysteries, and crime drama. Kessington journeys through this life anticipating the future and ...

Safe in her bed with her hymen broken, her heart could be next but the thought never crossed her mind, rather she busied herself in recollecting moments of the sex. She'd hoped her first time would be one of pleasures but never expected to get 'raptured'. Cuddling her pillow she listened to Logic's Broken People, drifted into sleep muffled up in her duvet and dreamt of Orange Nights.  About Author:  Priye Bokumo is a budding Nigerian writer who writes mostly to his playlists. He is a graduate of Mathematics who thinks he is a Playboy and calls himself ‘The Girls Dem Daddy’ but in reality he’s trying really hard to get laid. Orange Moon is his first published work.  His works such as: How To Get Laid (a collection of short stories) and The Land Of The Setting Sun (a Biafran war tale) are currently in the pipeline. When bored he imagines himself in a jacuzzi watching porn or trolls Messi fans. You can reach out to him on: Facebook: Priye Bokumo IG/Twitter: @Priyewrite...

Broken Bottles "'Bestie', 'bestie', 'bestie'. That's how pant will shift and you will not know ". Uluoma said to her sister, Nina.  The latter smiled, fiddling with her phone. It was apparent the smile wasn't for Uluoma but for the 'bestie' in question.  "Am I not talking to you, Nina?" Another smile. The chat was really intriguing. Anger got the better part of Uluoma and she made to snatch Nina's cellphone.  "Aahan, sister 'Luoma!" Nina grumbled.  "Shut up! What's 'Aahan'? You're snubbing me". Another grumble, this time unintelligible.  "You're still chatting with that boy? Tell me, is he your boyfriend?" "Sis 'Luoma, he's not. How many times will I tell you? He's just my friend. It just happens that our friendship is the best of its kind." "Best of its kind? Okay. Keep up the friendship o. See the way he makes you smile." "Sister...

THE EXPORT I actually didn't know what Old Prof wanted from me. He helped me, fine. I know, but I hadn’t asked him to bundle me into his sentiments. On several attempts, he couldn’t allow me say a single word while we had conversation in front of a glowing fire, that stroke of the night. Like a cantankerous woman, he dominated the conversation as though I knew nothing— as he told his own version of the Biafra War: how the Nigerian soldiers mangled and subjugated the East to perpetual annihilation. While in the midst of our conversation, I’d thought he was talkative, because of the load of experiences he had garnered over the years. I knew, knowledge makes one loud or mad— or, there is this explosiveness in the head of knowledgeable people, just like an energy trying to escape from an enclosed container, that’s how they’d always want to say all they have in the head. However, if too much knowledge wasn’t the reason Old Prof had been loud and talkative, then, old age should probably ...

Today marks the official release of  David Lein Victor's book, "The Apple In Our Bloodstream" and I feel it's okay to share with you. From the author: This is a book that was birthed out after having series of heartbreak on seeing many people take religious laws and activities to heart. Instead of us to focus on the development of our dear world, we forget ourselves in most of the doctrines of religion made by man and begin to tread wrongly. It's just so sad. "The Apple In Our Bloodstream" shades more light on the mysterious secrets you can hold at your palm if you have a loving and altruistic heart, it helps you understand the mysteries behind God, the devil and humanity. Most pastors won't tell us these things. Still craving to know more about the book? Get a copy! To Order for the ebook: Pay #1000 to the account below 0697183275 David Oluwasegun Matthew Access Bank Then send your email address, WhatsApp number to 08092342260 and your copy will...

Iwu Jeff- FILES OF THE HEART (a novel) Book Description Shackled by fear, Chinwe Obinna's second to none, reminiscences the tales of her life, filed away in her heart. Her life is woven and shaped by her brother's scratch of love, living objectively in a society where moral decadence, terrorism, conflict, killings and kidnapping threaten the nation. She finds fulfillment in the midst of sacrifice and pains, neglecting the social requirement that makes her a complete woman. But, can she survive in the absence of her love attachment? About the Author IWU JEFF (Iwuchukwu Jephta) is a poet, playwright and fiction writer. He is a teacher of English and literature with Nigerian Certificate in Education (NCE) in English (double major), and a B.A(ed) in English. His works have appeared in literary magazines and anthologies, few have garnered awards. How to Buy the Book AMAZON PAPERBACK LINKS US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/9789641893/ UK:   https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/9789641893/ GERMA...

'Not again, please. Must you do this everyday?' Adam protested. ' I'll make it snappy, my lord. I hear rumours of new creatures' His stomach rumbles. He gives in. She stoops beside him, her breasts brushing his ribs. One... two… ten... eleven… thirteen...eighteen... She counted until she got the last rib. ' Aha! Complete' She affirmed. Satisfied. Adam exhaled, shook his head and requested for his meal. ' Under the mango tree, my love... fruit salad today. I bet you'll love it'. Famished and weary of her now increasingly annoying jealousy, he sprawled on the grass, ready to shove ‘em fruits down his throat. ' How long will this continue? Ehn?' He grumbles and picks a slice of cucumber. Takes a bite and munches care freely. Fragments sprinting off his mouth as he grumbles on... ' Must she count my ribs every day?' He wondered why Eve’s this jealous? There ain't no other female human for godsake. He could bet Eve counts his ...