It is the 3rd of October, 2017 AD. We are in Nairobi at a place we once called Langata. It is almost midnight and there is a woman lying in her bed; she is crying. It is an ugly kind of crying, loud and pained without restraint or decorum. It is the cry of … Read more
The gurney was the vehicle that brought in the dead. Limp, silent and unresisting; the dead laid covered in blue rumpled sheets. Sometimes their flesh quivered in the careless abandon of death. The men that wheeled the gurneys to the room where the bodies were kept had little to say. In their blue, numbered work … Read more
It was hard to believe that where there now stood only one grey tree stump, a large forest reserve had once flourished. The myriad of cracks only showed evidence of the ground’s unquenched thirst, which lasted for generations. The only thing that did not seem to mind the harsh conditions was the dust, which happily … Read more
It’s about that time of the year where we here at Will This Be A Problem present our annual anthology. This year, we tried something a little different from the usual. For the 2016 anthology, we opted to incorporate an open call for submissions. The theme was Speculative Fiction and we received stories from across … Read more
This time, we’re doing something a little different for the Will This Be A Problem Anthology. A public call out. The theme this year is Speculative Fiction set in African countries and we will be accepting short stories from any African citizen. Here are the submission guidelines. Your story can be Horror, Fantasy, Science Fiction, … Read more
I The night was as loud as it could get. It was like the final blast to the end of the world. Shouts, shrieks, thrills and cries of passion accentuated the music, which was so fucking loud you could feel your gut vibrating as if the speakers were inside you. It was a big party. … Read more
We sat and we talked about it. words – flung in the air like daffodil seeds, like the infamous elephant, filled up the room remember when you killed the sunshine, and presented me with doom? when you walked out and came back different. when you gripped my hand; fists tight, heart bent, love falling and … Read more
I There was a place in Karen where the Devil sometimes came through to Nairobi. It was an open field of about a quarter of an acre with a few tall trees, sporadic thickets, and patches of stunted grass. The trees and the thickets had yellow, sickly leaves and the grass was mostly burnt. But … Read more