They say charity begins at home and that’s a little funny to me because…. “Hi, my name is Charity and […]
kortverhaal | short story
68 posts
Die skielike raps op die deur laat Ursula haastig opkyk na die beeld van haarself in die spieël, voor sy […]
Gaynore loop haastig af in St George’s Wandellaan, in die Kaapse middestad, want sy wil nie laat wees vir haar […]
Lorna en Eugene van Eyck pak die laaste goedjies vir hul reis met ‘n ligte gemoed voor hulle afskeid neem […]
Ciara sit op haar bed en tuur uit haar kamervenster, terwyl ‘n hartseer trek om haar mond speel. Vandag is […]
They’re exercising their duty to hunt down immigrants like game and heartlessly send them back to their broken homes. Just like what apartheid did to the privileged white children – it programmed them to abhor and dissociate from black people, and this seeped into their blood and sins of their fathers are still tattooed on their hearts though are willing and trying to efface them.
Hoe maklik neem ‘n kind die skuld op homself vir dit wat met sy vriende gebeur … ? Ek kyk, […]
Kroeskop. Pittekop. Plek-plek bewolk. Staalwol hare. Jou hare kan nie pom-pom nie. As jy in die jare 80’s en 90’s […]
As ‘passenger seat driver’, het ek die beste uitsig van almal wanneer ons die pad vat. Deur my klein sy-venster […]
Watching television. It’s the only thing helping them to carry on now. Early morning, the man washes, and wears his […]
Yoliswa’s lifeless body lay sprawled on the kitchen floor. With his bloody hands on his head, Thembani paced back and […]
Jan strek hom uit terwyl hy sy hande voor sy oë hou om die son te blokkeer. Ek smaak nie […]
A Ma’am Mzimba Case Chapter One “The Interruption” She strutted into the church, quite a sight to behold. She wore […]
Jaylin knip-knip haar oë om van die wasigheid ontslae te raak. Die spierwit lig verblind haar.
The brother and sister were trapped in the burning vehicle. Tracy was sitting on top of her brother, trying to stop the flames from burning him. Her doll, held up to her tiny 7 year old face, as an attempt to shield herself.
She should probably go back to the house. It was clear that there was no anniversary lunch or dinner happening.
“My ma gie dié.” Nana se kin staan by my voodee met ’n koevertjie, my naam is in fancy kursief daaop geskryf.
Taboe, was dit eers om van ’n persoon se fisiese voorkoms ghai te maak. Veral as dit jou en jou nageslag raak.
Willem Kemp a young man, an aspiring prose writer who found himself living in
an upmarket suburb on the coast of Cape Town, a place called Camps Bay.