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The Land of Sirens
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African Writer | Storyteller I write stories that feel real-filled with emotion, mystery, unforgettable characters, and the beauty of African life. 📚 Drama • Mystery • Thriller • Romance ✨ New stories, ongoing series, and completed novels. If you enjoy stories that keep y...
Sample · Chapter 1: Tunde
Chapter 1: TundeIbadan, Nigeria — June 2024The heat came off the concrete like a slap. Tunde stood in his graduation gown, the polyester clinging to his back, sweat pooling at the collar of his white shirt. Around him, the noise was unbearable—shouting, laughing, someone's baby wailing, a woman screaming for her son who was already twenty feet away. The photographer was waving his arms, trying to organize a group of graduates who kept drifting apart.Tunde's mother found him because she practically collided with him. Her head tie was bright yellow, slightly askew, and her face was wet. She grabbed his arm, not his face, her grip tight enough to leave marks."My son!" she shouted, because she had to shout over the noise. "My graduate!""Mummy—""Your father—God rest his soul—he would—""Excuse me, ma, please move!" The photographer was pushing past them. "We're trying to take a picture!"His mother ignored him completely. She was crying, but also looking around for someone else, waving at a neighbor she'd spotted in the crowd. Tunde stood there, half-hugged, half-dragged, while his mother tried to hug him and wave at the same time.The twins appeared. Tobi and Kunle. They were grinning, but not at him. They were looking at a girl in a yellow dress across the lawn."Did you see her?" Kunle whispered to Tobi."See who? Tunde just graduated.""I can see both things at the same time.""You're useless.""Shut up, both of you," Funke said, shoving between them. She was out of breath. "Tunde, the photographer said if we don't come now, we have to pay extra. Mummy, please stop crying and come.""I'm not crying, I'm—""You're crying.""Of course I'm crying. My son graduated."Tunde let himself be pulled toward the photographer. His gown felt like a blanket, heavy and suffocating. He tried to smile. The photographer told him to stand straighter. His mother straightened his collar. The twins kept whispering to each other. Funke rolled her eyes."Everyone, look here. Yes, smile."Tunde smiled. The camera clicked.---Uncle Femi found him afterward, near the edge of the crowd. His suit was old but pressed, his tie knotted with military precision. He extended his hand, and they shook."Tunde Adebayo," Uncle Femi said."Thank you, Uncle.""I was just telling your mother—" He paused, looked around, lowered his voice. "The system is broken. Half the lecturers were on strike for months. But you persevered. You should be proud.""I am proud.""What's next?"Tunde opened his mouth. "I have an interview next week. At a newspaper—""The industry is dead, my boy.""—The Compass. It's small, but—""You think I don't know The Compass? That woman, Bimbo, she's been running it for years. She's a good journalist. But the industry is dead. People read phones now. And even that is controlled. They arrest jour...
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