Not Quite Stories


1.	My name is Sampson. Chester Sampson. People call me Sampson.
	“But how did you know about me and Danvers?” the conniving little blond called back to me, as they were taking her away.
	“It wasn’t difficult, sweetheart,” I told her. “Considering.”

2.	Daisy hadn’t given him a second thought, yet there he was, on her doorstep, carrying a potted plant.
	“Remember me?” he asked.

3.	“Things was hard back then,” the old man told the visiting nurse. 
	The nurse, who hadn’t asked a question, didn’t bother to wonder when “back then” was.

4.	The brothers hadn’t seen each other in over 20 years. Identical twins, they’d had a falling out, and they lived far from each other, on opposite coasts. This particular day, Tom had gone to shop for khakis at the Banana Republic in the mall near his home. When he entered the store, all eyes turned to him. He wondered why. 
	Tim came out of the dressing room to look at himself in the full-length mirror, in his new khakis. As he looked into the mirror, Tim noticed Tom behind him, in the distance. 
	Tim wondered how the reunion would go, but to his relief, still staring into the mirror, he saw Tom turn around and leave the store. 

5.	My son-in-law found me in the kitchen, after my husband was gone. I asked him if he wanted a cup of coffee. He sat. 
	We sat together at the table, drinking coffee. Not another word passed between us.

6.	“It was after the war,” she told him.
	“So, all of a sudden everything changed?”
	“No,” she replied, “not all and not so sudden.”

7.	After weeks of indecision, Cora finally decided to call that number. She pulled the piece of paper out of her purse and made the call. When it connected at the other end, she was surprised to be greeted by one of those pre-recorded menus. The choices were very confusing. She relied upon her instincts to tell her which path to choose. Unfortunately, it was the wrong one.

8.	“Mr. Thorndike will see you now,” the secretary told the man sitting on the blue-upholstered bentwood chair in the anteroom. The man’s palms had been sweating, and he’d been rubbing them along his slacks above the knees.
	The man got up and knocked on Thorndike’s door.
	“Come in,” Thorndike yelled, in a neutral tone of voice.
	The man went in.
	He never came out.

9.	He was driving. On the freeway. He looked up at the sign, above and ahead. Belford 20 miles, Grainger next exit. He got off at the next exit. 
	She’d just have to wait.

10.

THE MESSAGE OF ART
By
Aisha MLabo

I want to be an artist, i love to paint the world 
I want to be an author, i like to write pages 
I want to be a poetess, i love to compose poems 
I want to be a naturalist, i love to study vegetation 
I want to be a musician, i love to compose music,
I want to be a pianist,i love to play piano  
I want to be an actress,i love to act play
I want to be a fashionista,i love to design couture 
I want to be an orator,i love to address the public 
I want to be a bibliophile,i love to read books
I want to be an animator,i love animation movies 
I want to be a photographer,i love to capture moments
I want to be a critic,i love to analyze artistic work
Art is my source of happiness.

Aisha MLabo writes from Katsina state, she is currently studying at Umaru Musa Yar'adua University, Katsina state of Nigeria. 

Human Nature

There are things that I don't want to do,
then why still I continue to do so?

There are things that I do want to do,
then why still I fail to make time to do so?

There are daily routines that I wish to follow,
then why still every single day I pass is different, without control?

There are pledges that I make to myself,
then why still I make the same pledges again and again?

There is work that I love to do willingly,
then why still I have to do those work that I don't even like, most of the time?

There are words that I want to say,
then why still I can't express them?

There are dreams that I see every now and then,
then why still they seem way far away?

There is sorrow and suffering that I have to face regularly,
then how still I forget about them so easily, as time passes?

There are good habits that I know very well about,
then why still such habits are so hard to gain?

There are bad habits that I know I have,
then why still it is so hard to give them up?

There is this known fact that every action has a reaction,
then why still do we do actions without even thinking about the reactions?

There is this act of lying that we know is very bad,
then why still I lie every now and then, every day?

There are simple morals of life that I am taught in my childhood,
then how still do I simply ignore them after being highly educated?

There is only I who actually know myself,
then why still is it so that I represent myself as someone else in front of others?

Is this human nature?
Or do I force myself into believing this, as human nature?

Assistant Professor,

Dept. of Computer Science and Engineering,

University of Rajshahi, Rajshahi-6205,

Rajshahi, Bangladesh

The Dancing Raindrops
Md. Mesfakus Salahin


The dancing rain drops on your cheek 
 Reflecting a romantic view which is not sick
The unruly semi-wet hairs of your head
Playing a role of a storyteller's shade
The hidden smile on your lips
Like a stream of light of ship
The sneaky look in your eyes
In the fairyland it flies and flies.

Stories come out from your shyness
That dance around  your happiness 
Every rain drop is pregnant with fragrance 
Every story congratulates your sense
Nature steals your beauty
No one can give security. 

If You Come In Nature

Dreamy eyes are the nest of dream
Heart is mirror that reflects memories' cream
Lap is full of love
Nature holds all the dove
Rivers overflow fellow feelings
Waves carry successful wings
Fountain spreads  odor of the third eye' case
Stars take bath with light of love and shyness
Whispering of the leaves recalls rainfall Fragrance awakens my breath all
All these things become  history 
If you come in nature avoiding mystery.

the floor still wet
with mourning…
oh Abiku —
with pain & suffering
death returns her again




weeding
holy the field
ardor in every breath
delivers
deliverance




sunlight —
her eyes piercing 
through …
underwater 
swim




winter's
a true relief
from heat
while birds overwinter
in the tropics




yawning —
idle on the bed's edge
to and fro of army ant
contemplating 
what to do


Christina Chin / Uchechukwu Onyedikam

This Beauty
   My Heart
      Could see the No
              Hope 
With fears thrown on
      the fire to keep
           us warm
             tonight

I'm fearing absentia
     missed and
         Lost on pure 
            fruit-filled Faith 
                     A Basket 
                  always empty 
                Before Love
              Can Stand 
            Knowing

          our Love 
      not ours alone 

And my Palm 
is Visible to me 
  Raised to Care 
       in the Empty 
                  Light 
filled on Broth 
          & stirred 
          emotions 

 to soothe
   the already 
          Soothing 
            turn a Day
 from light to dusk 
     & Rest Knowing

by John Edward Culp


The Dreams
        that never Die 
         & will never be the
               Same again
 
for Now has no plural 
                           form
And Time is A Name in 
                   Passing 
  the Half Full Cup
    that's alway finding
       the new 
        Completion 
        to Reach for 
without bending, just
               Standing Here 

    Sleep finds me,
 Baggage at the Door,
      fallen to pillow
        where confusion
         loosens its weave
 Drawn to the fragrance 
                 of things to be

 Yes, I say yes, in my Dreams!

        The Dreams that 
      never Die & will never
              be the same again.



  Written the morning of 
Monday, October 10, 2022
   by John Edward Culp