- 1.Confessions by Jason Osisiogu
- 2.Libyan Glass by Dike Dyke Williams
- 3.Stolen by Zinny Ogbonna
- 4.Daughters of Eve by Ololade Ajekigbe
- 5.It Happened Last Night – Adejoke Folayan
- 6.It Happened Last Night by Ugbana-Awaji Finomo
- 7.The Awakening by Hajaarh Muhammad Bashar
- 8.Halelujah! by Chizoma Emeka Joshua
- 9.It Happened Last Night by Chijindu Terrence James-Ibe
- 10.The Beginning of the End by Adebimpe Olubola Oso
- 11.Fireflies by Darlington Chibuzor
- 12.FICTION: Top 10 Entries for the JB Afenfia Flash Fiction Contest 2018
It happened last night, or did it? I’m not certain. You see, we do not have a sense of time here. I remember lying on my bed. The room was dark except for the flashlight in my hand. My parents had a fight that night – they fought every night. When I was little, I usually cried long and loud. I joined sometimes – tugging at their clothes, biting their hands or just kicking and screaming. They never paid attention to me.
I adapted to that aspect of my life as I got older. Most times I watched them without a word. Other times I locked myself in my room with my thoughts. I bragged in school about the extent of privacy my parents afforded me but I knew first-hand that no child could ever be happy about being ignored by his parents.
But things could have been worse. These were my thoughts that night, last night, when I felt it, a heavy stabbing pain in my back. It knocked the wind out of my lungs and brought me to nothingness.
I didn’t feel anymore. I could not tell for sure if I was stuck in darkness or blinding white light. There was no way to verify my existence. I understood later that we had no existence. “We.” Yes, it wasn’t just me. We were formless, voices and emotions trapped in nothingness.
We had all been human once and had died. I was dead too or so I thought at the time. Here, there was anger but no violence; sadness but no tears. There was also happiness and peace. Communication fed our emotions. We didn’t term ourselves dead. It was a transition, an evolution into a higher form of being.
They said few choose – to remain an unconsciousness or get their human life back. I had a choice. I saw my human form in a hospital bed, my parents sitting by the sides. They would probably start a row over the bill once I recovered. I listened as my heartbeat slowed to a stop. This world is way better than mine.
Picture Credit: Desktop Background
This story emerged in 9th position in the 2017 edition of the JB Afenfia Flash Fiction Contest.