Uchechi Princewill


By Uchechi Princewill

Dear Antonia,

I hate you. It is very important you know that.

It’s taken me a few days of careful contemplation to remember exactly where and how we met. I still don’t remember when, but Kenneth has told me to look at my bank account statements to see when your savings-depleting reign of terror actually began. I’m not done with that so I’m just going to focus on where and how the evil that is you entered my life.

Yes, Antonia, I remember Bukka 7. I remember seeing you behind the counter taking orders and thinking you were the most beautiful thing since fried plantain. I nearly forgot I was there to eat. Imagine my joy when I realized I would have to meet you, talk to you, tell you what I would like to eat—or at least some of it—and that you would have to serve me. I nearly died right there.

3 months ago No Comments Views


By Uchechi Princewill

It isn’t often that a homicide detective comes across a cut-and-dried case. I should know; I’ve been one for eighteen years. And in those eighteen years, I’ve seen what, four? …Five or so? Because a case that’s straightforward is almost always planned. Because in the world of murder, anything that makes too much sense and falls all too well

7 months ago No Comments Views



By Uchechi Princewill

They tried; they hated, but my God is bigger than them. My publisher has gone through the manuscript. She smiles. I smile, too.

“Good story, Joe, but I can’t publish this.”

B-But why?” I look around for signs of my village people.

“Your main character’s a Mary Sue.”

50 words story

1 year ago No Comments Views


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