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In January 2024, Pazqal Eriq came to us with an offer we couldn’t refuse: produce a debut anthology. We agreed and so for the first quarter we worked on this wonderful body of work and now, here it is for you. This collection is empathetically written bursting with stories of our every day romantic. It is a breeze through the shoes of a person trying to love, what connects us all more than...

Mother called by Desire O.


today my mother calls me, even though we spoke the night before. i am not ready for any of it, so i still, until i can, until i am alone, and am charged enough to hear it  whatever it is.  in her first syllables, i hear that she is worried about me, and perplexed, i ask her why,  wondering if this is about the fact that i poke needles through my flesh to relieve pressure but she...

High on life by Nana Osei Agyeman


The music wells, caresses my ears and tickles my brain. I look up to the sky, blue with hope, optimism… Adorned elegantly in clouds, white, pure, ever changing.   The foliage whisks by, luscious, green, making an otherwise bland landscape vivid and interesting.   Faces, they move past me, different and unique, each wearing different emotions. Sad, happy, concerned, surprised...

Does love still exist by oluwasikemi ibitoye


Dearest gentle reader, For this message, I must assume the persona of “Lady Whistledown,” addressing the whole nation of England. Today we shall discuss a very delicate subject: love. As it is today amongst members of the ton (the youth), it almost seems as though it doesn’t exist as it did in our parents’ time. The notion of love now seems like a false one that was sold...

Eyes made of love by Adigun Peter


Your eyes remind me of love.  Not the fairytale love story,  but one where two beings, though separate, are still together.  They can live without each other,  but will never feel complete  until they are together.    Your eyes remind me  of the love I wished for after  reading my first romance novel.  The “HAPPILY EVER AFTER” story.  I don’t...

You remind me of by Riian


You remind me of the colour, Orange. Like the sun On a good Eve.   Of the colour, Brown. Like warm hugs and soft kisses Like coffee on a cold morn’   Of the colour, Blue. Calm, beautiful, and true.   • You remind me of the colour, Orange. Faint, soft The hue your skin has taken on.   Of the colour, Brown. Somber, sad The mood your eyes now mirror   Of the colour...

The encounter by Austin Obi


It was the long holiday break and Buchi came back home from school because he didn’t have any allowance to stay in his lodge during the holidays. He was mostly helping at Mama’s shop and also doing his final year project. On a cold Friday morning after doing his choreshe decided to log into the yellow app. the app where queer men who wanted to hook up with other queer men went to when...

If you ask tolani by Joy Humphrey


Tolani was starving. At least, that was what it felt like being deprived of Tunde’s love. For as long as she could remember, he was all she knew. He was her friend, her lover, her husband- he was her everything. She was so intertwined and dependent on him that she knew nothing else, she refused to know anything else. She couldn’t imagine living without him but now, she has no choice for all her...

Do you see me? by Oluwatumininu


Do you see me? Do you think I am human, a child worthy of love? Do you not see that I want to go outside and play with children my age? Why then do you tell me to shut up and stay indoors? Do you not see that I can not be kept in a box? Do you see my worth? Am I nothing but a kitchen maid, waiting to be bought?  Do you not see that I want to run away, as far as I can?  Do you know I...

Death by juju by Kandie Scribbles


This disease is hereditary, I remember the doctor telling us about it. He told my mom he wanted to speak to her children. We went over to my mum’s place against my father’s wish, he didn’t openly stop us but we could see it on his face. The slight frown around his lips, the croaking sound from his throat when we say are going over to her place “it’s okay but come...


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Pencilmarks and Scribbles Magazine was founded in 2017 by Clara Jack to be a home for African writers, asking them to come as they are and giving them room for growth. The publication aims to give back to the Nigerian Literary scene for the things it has given us.