They called her The Ember Killer.
Named after the notorious ‘ember months’, coined by superstitious Nigerians obsessed with the spate of fatal accidents and misfortune that seemed to thrive in the last four months of the year. Those were the months in which she began her murderous spree.
Mid-September had seen the discovery of what Amauche Benson claimed was the third victim, a French lecturer in the University Continue reading
Chisom staggers out of her house, almost falls and then grips the railing on her verandah.
Her head is swirling, thoughts jostling each other in her head, full of red stains and broken flesh and the vivid images throw a hook down into her stomach and try to pull up bile. She retches and clamps a hand over her mouth, careful not to look back at the door she has left open behind her, frantic to find something to anchor her to the moment. Continue reading
1990
Gbagada, Lagos
6.p.m
There is nothing overtly unusual about the scenes in and around Emeka Okorie’s one room apartment that evening. Continue reading
On The Dark Notes, every day is dark. In 2016, we have served you with heads on plates, guts in buckets, blood bathes, even dead gods. But we have decided to make Christmas stand out in the darkness. This December, the darkness will climax as we prepare to unleash uncensored horror on you. Continue reading
What we weren’t told when we both sat through hours of counselling in the white, cheerful office with Asian pottery on Montgomery Road was that “till death do us part” was a boomerang and we were u…
Source: A Story of Us
“Nigeria is a poultry. The masses are the hens, the government is the farmer. And we are all waiting for christmas.”
– Adeosun Adams Mercy
It was the eve of the presidential election, the night the General was declared winner. We were at Aso Rock, eating meat and dancing reggae. It was a buffet. Continue reading
“When the roll is called up yonder…” he hummed along to Bimpe’s favorite hymn as they all got ready to leave the house. He buttoned up his jacket and watched Juli help TimTim with his shoelaces. As she tied the laces into an ‘eight’ shape, he froze. It was happening again.
He could taste it at the back of his tongue; the sourness of something sinister coming. Continue reading
It so happened that I slept by 10 p.m on Thursday, 27th of March 2002 and as it seems, woke up six months later, on the 4th of September.
I woke precisely by 1 a.m because my phone rang. Dede called to wish me a happy birthday and ended up laughing me to scorn for not remembering the day was my birthday. The call ended and I woke up again by 4p.m. to another happy birthday call. This was from grandmother. It was getting creepy. I checked the calendar on my Nokia 3310. It said 4th of September. Yes, the 4th was my birthday but how did this day arrive from yesterday? Hurriedly, I checked all the calendars in th
e house. They all were on the September page. The world had conspired to play a fast one on me. Continue reading
Going through all the stories on thedarknotes.com, these ten short horror stories still stand out, giving as much chills as when I first read them last year. I have attached worthy snippets from each story and corresponding links to the full stories.
Enjoy them and by all means, don’t forget to read N0. 8 which is my personal favorite.
“…And then, the newborn’s eyes snapped open, stabbing at Sharon with a gaze that was startling sharp and crystal clear, and his rosebud lips appeared to move over the hissed words, “I know. And I’m here.”
https://thedarknotes.com/2015/04/15/the-birthing/
“… I do not ask for your mercy. I ask that you give us a fighting chance, a chance to survive, just as that Achuba gave you when he threw you into the well.” You say, stuttering on in fear.”
https://thedarknotes.com/2015/03/11/the-achuba-collector/
“…So we continue. Neck; slender. Hand; long and graceful, with pianist fingers. Skin; desert sand color and silky smooth. Boobs, with some flushed hesitation. I swallow. Full, I say. Generous. She laughs a trill. Waist, slim. Bum; she has an hourglass figure. Legs; Naomi Campbell…
…Here we are, two strangers being friendly in the shadows…”
https://thedarknotes.com/2015/12/28/in-the-shadow-of-darkness-by-igbokwe-the-yakadude-ebuka/
I enjoy my smoke best while taking a walk around campus in the night breeze. My route takes me from the hostel to the old reservoir. Cold air plus vigorous walk plus nicotine hit makes your nerves really crackle.
.
The base transceiver station between the Chapel of Redemption and the old reservoir is floodlit so I edge as far away from it as I could. The light kills my buzz somewhat. I hum a tune between drags.
.
One cigarette down. As I try to light another, I hear a sob from behind me, in the darkness behind the tower that stood beside the reservoir. A girl’s sob. It sounds totally forlorn.
. Continue reading
I got married the day after I turned 30.
My husband, Hannu was 18 at the time.
It’s not that much of a big deal, the age difference. I thought it would be, but it wasn’t. He loved me and I adored him. To us, that was all that mattered.
My parents had money and when they passed on, I inherited everything.
Hannu was very comfortable. I made sure of that. He had a fleetof cars- 3 vintage BMWs, a couple of Ferraris and a Porsche. We owned a private jet, I got him a Yatch too, but he never really cared about all that stuff.
When I’d complain that he spent too Continue reading
Roger was tired. He’d answered many names and lived in many times. When at first he was spelled to live forever, he’d been joyful but he hadn’t thought forever could be so long.
From city to city he rode, his purpose clear as day but not even the deadliest of soldiers could give him what he desperately wanted.
On and on, he sojourned until he came by an old city where the legend of Lilith held sway. It was of this Lilith mothers said to their sons: “For she hath cast down many wounded: yea, many strong men have been slain by her. Her house is the way to hell, going down to the chambers of death.”
At the forbidden end of the town where words were Continue reading
My name is Adesina Omolade Collins and I have the sight.
The first time it happened, I was about nine years old. My parents were vegans so I hadn’t yet tried meat or even fish.I remember that day clearly. I was nervous, so I closed my eyes as I took that first bit into nama.
When I opened my eyes, I wasn’t myself. I was in a different pla Continue reading
The first thing Sharon Nwosu noticed about the mad woman, apart from her immediately apparent scraggly appearance, was her eyes. Narrow, beady and squeezed into their sockets underneath heavy lids and sparse lashes, they bore at once an intensity that gave her gaunt face a crazed mien, and an eerie intelligence that unnerved Sharon.
Another thing that unnerved Sharon was the grip the mad woman had Continue reading
We all watched.
Waiting….
Hoping…
Anticipating…
And then we saw him emerge from the deep darkness. My eyes widened with surprise. I could hear the sound of his name echo thunderously all around. I went down on my knees and so did every other person watching.
He was closer to us now but the brightness he radiated still contrasted strongly with the very deep darkness. I joined the others in saying his name. Continue reading
the dark notes 