The Musings of an African Writer
Mrs. Fatuma’s magical sweet shop appeared on the quaint cobbled setting of 14th street Lickity Lane once every year. All the children of Wooloon heard the distinct ringing of the confectionery shop’s bell as Mrs. Fatuma opened her doors for all the children in town. Then when all the candy was gone, the bell would ring …
Denyeko froze where she stood watching the shadow move beyond the threshold. The locked door had hardly fazed her before now. Like the manor, Lord Lanka’s study stood resting in pious vintage glory at the end of the corridor; the forbidden room. In spite of her rank and title, Lady Lanka was the only one …
Mrs. Makaka boasted of being the cleanest head cook House Lanka had ever seen. Deep down in the dressed stone walls and spotless floors of the kitchen, she brooded over the greasy pots. Pascal, the second footman, was off nursing a terrible case of athlete’s foot and Miss Ng’ang’a was a no show as always. …
The scullery maid placed a tray on the table with a glass of milk and a plate of éclairs. They looked absolutely delicious; large as a rolled-up fist and almost spilling over with cream. “Go on, help yourself. You must be hungry. My blood sweat and tears went into those éclairs and besides, the time …
The twin ruby doors swung open as a heavy prism of rainbow colors flooded Patientia’s countenance. She had waited for this day all her life, but never anticipated it happening like this. The Hall of the Celestial gleamed in the manifold aura of the eightfold. There were familiar hues of red and orange, yellow and …