Matchstick Fire. Love. Gustochronicles

Love – When a good girl gon bad

He sat on the matatu earphones plugged in. He could hear love. The song playing over and over. 🎵🎵When a good girl gone bad… 🎵🎵 Sauti Sol. No song played on his phone though. The music was in his head. Voices. Confusion. Fear. Depression. All together in unison tormenting his once peaceful mind. He could not fathom how the world could be so cruel. How people could be so heartless. The more he wanted the thoughts away, the more they… Read More »Love – When a good girl gon bad

The Interview

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I remember you. From Campus. Though blurred, at least I’ve met your face somewhere.  In one of those corridors of knowledge maybe. Halls of wisdom. From that night. Yes. Those locks. How could I forget them. You kept fiddling and rolling them all through. I said I liked them. Short as they were. I loved them. I told you I did. Genuinely. You shrugged, laughed away the joke. Sarcastically. Then you looked away. You didn’t even respond. As if you… Read More »The Interview

Forester Gustochronicles


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The voice that wakes you up in the morning. That feeling that makes you jump out of bed however much sleep is sweet. That excitement you have about waking up the next morning before you even go to bed. The energy that jolts your whack ass up for work lest you and your son have marbles for supper, yawns for lunch and at least water for breakfast. Lest you start living on trees because your landlord couldn’t let you stay… Read More »KINDLED DREAMS

The Pregnancy Resolve ; Christian Judges

(Based on a true story (Extended). I started this story off as a poem. the words could not stop coming so I changed it to a story. Enjoy. I hope we learn) Life She stands among the congregation. She Watches, praying, counting. Counting days before it leaps out. Leaps into the beautiful world. Her bundle of joy. Within, she can hear him. He kicks. She can feel his games inside. The way he kicks, he probably will be a drummer.… Read More »The Pregnancy Resolve ; Christian Judges

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Matatu Musings; Seeing Through His Eyes

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Thika Town.  6.00am. God. I alight from the boda guy that ferried me from my place to here. Manchester travellers Sacco matatu stage. There are passengers all over the place.  There is a rusty matatu with a board scribbled Nairobi on it.  Either the many passengers around cant see it ama there’s just something wrong with it. I join the many who don’t board the rusty Matatu. It is old and written off. It has a tired look save for the tattered seats in… Read More »Matatu Musings; Seeing Through His Eyes