A Collection of Short Stories
Tales-from-the-Other-Side-2015 Tales-from-the-Other-Side-2015
He turns around. It’s been calling him for a while now, but he’s tried to ignore it. The party is in full swing right now and by God, he’s going to try and fit in. Parties are not his thing, but he’s going to try. All of his friends are here, and he knows the celebrant. Well, not like they’ve hung out or anything, but he must have said hello to her once or twice; they go to the same school and roll in the same circles after all. That’s got to count for something, at least. But he can’t resist the pull, the call that only he can hear. So he stops dancing for a moment and listens. He walks backward slowly, slowly, four steps, five, six, seven. He stops. He closes his eyes, shuts away the world. He listens. The music, the laughter, everything falls away into nothingness, and the voice is clearer now. His nostrils flare as he breathes in the evening air; it is warm and full of promises. And the voice is louder now. It beckons. It pulls. He turns. A few feet in front of him is a gorge so deep the bottom is not visible. There is the sound of running water, but the darkness down there is absolute. There is a bridge. It is a narrow, stone bridge with two weather-beaten, oak pillars that stretch so far above, they are lost in the clouds. They stand sentinel, two guardians as old as Time. Their tales are etched within them in deep lines that swirl and glow in the dying light. The other side of the bridge is lost in mist, and from within it a voice, haunting in its beauty and filled with untold promises, whispers one word. Come.
He walks forward, and suddenly it is as though the earth falls away. He is on the bridge with no idea as to how he got there, but it does not matter. No. Nothing matters but the other side of the mist, and all that it holds… And we’re off! Hello, and welcome to the maiden edition of Tales From The Other Side. This is what happens when you have too much talent with no harness. What happens is that this talent says “You know what, Forget this! Time to fly!” And then it promptly jumps off the cliff. What happens next, well, that depends on the view of those who see. ‘It’s a Bird! No, it’s a Plane. No, it’s…’ You get the drift. Tales from the other side is as eclectic a collection as you will find. It is filled with stories that are not afraid to break the mould, to take risks. Stories that have been hiding in the Other Side for too long and are now ready to burst forth. And the most awesome part of all this is that each and every story you are about to read, is true. At least to the writers. After all, who are we but Messengers and Tale-bearers? So come on in, and at the end of it all, I will take you to meet the gang. Raymond Elenwoke 13th August, 2015. Port Harcourt, Nigeria.
- Page 1 and 2: A Collection of Short Stories
- Page 3 and 4: First Published as an e-book in 201
- Page 6 and 7: To the one who made it against the
- Page 11 and 12: Angels of Redemption Hymar David An
- Page 13 and 14: Angels of Redemption Hymar David an
- Page 15 and 16: Angels of Redemption Hymar David Sa
- Page 17: Angels of Redemption Hymar David To
- Page 20 and 21: Eketi Ette Behind The Scene Be care
- Page 22 and 23: Eketi Ette Behind The Scene not bee
- Page 24 and 25: Eketi Ette Behind The Scene In this
- Page 27 and 28: Birthright Miracle Adebayo
- Page 29 and 30: Birthright Miracle Adebayo *** The
- Page 31 and 32: Birthright Miracle Adebayo was burs
- Page 33 and 34: Birthright Miracle Adebayo “I won
- Page 36 and 37: Cracks Sibbyl Whyte
- Page 38 and 39: Sibbyl Whyte Cracks customary famil
- Page 40: Sibbyl Whyte Cracks baby-snake and
- Page 43 and 44: Double Promotion Shittu Fowora Spre
- Page 45 and 46: Double Promotion Shittu Fowora She
- Page 47 and 48: Double Promotion Shittu Fowora week
- Page 49 and 50: Double Promotion Shittu Fowora For
- Page 52 and 53: Fourteen Years Bankole Banjo
- Page 54 and 55: Bankole Banjo Fourteen Years speak
- Page 56 and 57: Bankole Banjo Fourteen Years But he
He turns around. It’s been calling him for a while now, but he’s tried to ignore it. The party is in<br />
full swing right now and by God, he’s going to try and fit in. Parties are not his thing, but he’s<br />
going to try. All <strong>of</strong> his friends are here, and he knows the celebrant. Well, not like they’ve hung<br />
out or anything, but he must have said hello to her once or twice; they go to the same school<br />
and roll in the same circles after all. That’s got to count for something, at least.<br />
But he can’t resist the pull, the call that only he can hear. So he stops dancing for a moment<br />
and listens. He walks backward slowly, slowly, four steps, five, six, seven. He stops. He closes<br />
his eyes, shuts away the world. He listens. The music, the laughter, everything falls away<br />
into nothingness, and the voice is clearer now. His nostrils flare as he breathes in the evening<br />
air; it is warm and full <strong>of</strong> promises.<br />
And the voice is louder now. It beckons. It pulls.<br />
He turns.<br />
A few feet in front <strong>of</strong> him is a gorge so deep the bottom is not visible. There is the sound <strong>of</strong><br />
running water, but the darkness down there is absolute.<br />
There is a bridge.<br />
It is a narrow, stone bridge with two weather-beaten, oak pillars that stretch so far above,<br />
they are lost in the clouds. They stand sentinel, two guardians as old as Time. Their tales are<br />
etched within them in deep lines that swirl and glow in the dying light. The other side <strong>of</strong> the<br />
bridge is lost in mist, and from within it a voice, haunting in its beauty and filled with untold<br />
promises, whispers one word.<br />
Come.
Change language