The courtroom was wrapped in a silence so deep it felt alive. The air itself seemed heavy, pressing against the walls and sinking into every breath. Even the faint shuffle of paper echoed like a storm, as though the room itself was holding its breath. All eyes had turned toward the witness box, where a fragile figure stood—just a boy of seven. His small hands clutched the wooden railing as though it were the only thing keeping him steady. His face was pale, drained of color, and his wide, fearful eyes darted nervously around the room, searching for a safe…
Author: town gist
Nia and Malik had once lived in a love so pure it seemed carved out of a dream. In their small village, where dusty paths curled between clay huts and children’s laughter drifted with the warm evening breeze, they were inseparable. Malik never missed a chance to make her smile. Sometimes it was a wildflower slipped gently behind her ear, sometimes a tiny wooden charm he had carved with his own hands, each gift carrying a piece of his heart. Nia, in turn, gave him her whole soul. To her, Malik was more than a lover; he was her world.…
In the town of Wagadoo, a brand-new factory had sprung up like a giant among buildings. It was the largest and most striking company anyone had ever seen. The buildings rose tall and proud, their wide glass walls glittering under the sun. Inside, the place buzzed with life. Expensive machines rumbled and hissed, while workers moved quickly from one corner to another, filling the factory with energy and purpose. Yet, for all its beauty and importance, there was one great mystery nobody knew who owned it.Whispers spread through the town. Some said it belonged to a foreign investor, others believed…
The morning sun slowly stretched its light across the land of Burkina Faso, painting the sky with soft shades of gold. The air was cool and refreshing, carrying the gentle sound of birds filling the trees with their cheerful songs. It was the kind of morning that promised peace, yet something important was unfolding on the open road. Down the smooth, freshly tarred highway, a long line of black cars moved swiftly in perfect formation. Their engines hummed with quiet authority, and at the center of the convoy was the president’s vehicle — polished, strong, and closely surrounded by guards.…
For 20 years, the Whitmore estate had been filled with wealth, glittering chandeliers, and the kind of silence that pressed down like a weight. Eleanor Whitmore, once the fiery matriarch of the family, had been confined to a wheelchair after a sudden and brutal illness robbed her of movement in her legs. It had struck without warning. One evening, she was dancing at a gala in a golden gown, and by morning, her body betrayed her. Doctors came and went—experts from New York, London, even Geneva—each with polished shoes and practiced smiles. But their verdict never changed: She would never…
The year was 1979, and Richard Miller’s life had narrowed to silence. His wife, Anne, had been gone for two years, and the house they once dreamed of filling with children was still and hollow. At 34, Richard spent most evenings at his kitchen table, staring at the same cracked wallpaper, listening to a clock that seemed to mock him with every tick. People in town said he should remarry, move on, start over. But Richard didn’t want to start over. He wanted to keep a promise Anne once whispered as she lay in a hospital bed, frail and fading:…
We started dating three years ago. At the time, he didn’t have a job, but I accepted him just as he was. He used to work with a rural bank but had been laid off. Still, I believed in his potential and had hope that he would eventually find something, so when he proposed, I said yes. I’m a teacher—not someone with a huge income—but I have a strong drive, and I never let my salary be my only source of money. I found other ways to earn on the side, and that extra money helped me support him during…
I dated Asare for three years before he started falling seriously ill. Before any of that, we were making plans to get married. I remember clearly the day he sat with my father to ask how to go about the knocking rite. My dad gave him all the steps and even explained what he needed to bring and do on the day. Their bond was beautiful—my father had become like a real dad to him, especially since Asare lost his own father when he was just a boy. Whenever he was troubled or needed guidance, it was my father he…
Every time I leave the house, my husband goes missing. Because of this, I’ve stopped going to social events altogether. When someone invites me to a wedding, I politely decline. When a loved one loses someone close, I offer my condolences over the phone or through a message, but I don’t show up. If there’s any gathering or event in my hometown, I don’t even try to attend. Just this past Saturday, I had to go to a funeral in Accra. My relationship with the grieving family made it hard for me to stay away. So I made a decision…
I’ve met a lot of men on my search for love—some charming, some sweet-talking, but most of them left me worse than they found me. They always came into my life saying all the right things, making big promises, but in the end, they just left me broken, like a car after a crash. My heart has taken hit after hit, and there were times I thought maybe love just wasn’t meant for me. I even considered giving up completely, joking to myself that I’d just become a cat lady and stop trying. Then Amos showed up. He was different.…