Short Story


Written by Editor

When I saw the smoke, I was struck at once, my throat tightened and hurt. I couldn’t even swallow my own spit. I gripped the door with my shaky hands while my heart raced at 360°. All my thought was my child locked up in one of the rooms, and his cry that broke out as I arrived. I battled the door repeatedly for some time, and when it refused to open, I jumped around the house, slide the louvers, removed the net while the fire razed and the smoke became huge. I wasn’t afraid to die, but his muffling between the withering of the fire made my mind travelled fast.
I ran out for help; my phone was also locked up in the smoke in my baby’s room and the estate was silent as a grave. I moved like wind, banging gates upon gates.

“Fire, fire, “I screamed with all my might, ” Egbami, egbami, omo min tin jono”, (help, help, my child is burning), I shouted repeatedly and my weakened legs transported me to the estate gate where the two security men rushed at me and held my arms while I tried to tell them that my child mustn’t die in the fire.

“My child must not die,” I kept saying, but it seemed not enough. My eyes kept flowing hurt and I began to choke with my heavy heart in my hands. My brain limped and my body numbed. I lost my senses that the blaring of the fire service tank and the running of the fire service men were like a drama playing before me intermittently. My mind was far away and the last I remembered was my baby in my arms in a white room on a creaky bed.

About the author


Bada Yusuf Amoo holds B.A in Literature in English from Obafemi Awolowo University, he is the publisher of He started the website in 2015, he has published both his works and other budding writers and poets on the website. He is a public commentators and his articles are on different websites.