Letstoriesunfold ™

Hii Nairobi kuna watu tofauti, for example, there are those that work hard, those who don't, those who wake up to chase the bag, and those who wake up to chase the bag that you have been chasing.  In the heart of Nairobi, under the shadow of the bustling city, my friend Alan, a tech-savvy software developer with a penchant for pranks and a sharp wit resided. One lazy afternoon, as the sun dipped below the skyline, painting the city in hues of gold and crimson, Alan's phone buzzed to life with an unexpected call. "Hello,  tunakupigia kutoka Safaricom Customer care,"  the voice on the other end responded with a confident, almost rehearsed tone. Alan, intrigued yet cautious, decided to play along but with his own twist. "This call is now being recorded,"  Alan announced, his voice steady, betraying none of his amusement. There was a brief pause, the kind that hangs in the air like a question mark, before the scammer continued, his voice now laced with a hint of...

Nataka niseme hii story initoke.  Yesterday, I was coming from a candle lighting occasion held at one of the estates along Mombasa road. The candle lighting was for one of my Gs who had rested on Saturday late at night. The news had hit me hard on Sunday morning, like a sledgehammer impact on a surface when I got to know. I am in the company of three people. One friend called Mulla, who writes spectacular articles touching on creatives, and two acquaintances. We had just arrived in town, and it looked like it had rained before. As we are all heading in the same direction, we decide to go board the same matatu, Super metro, at archives.  The matatu fills up pretty quickly, considering it's almost one am at night, and it's so damn cold. Funny thing, the conductor I can't see him. Where is he disappearing off to when the matatu is full? I can sense the growing frustration among other passengers who are also wondering, where has he gone off to?  As we all wait for the conduct...

             The lights of the city flickered like the glow of a restless soul, neon colors bouncing off wet pavement. The night was alive, pulsing like the heartbeat of a hustler who knew the streets too well. Up in this urban jungle, things moved fast, you either kept up or got swallowed whole. I pulled up to the spot I had told my boys earlier. I was always the plug, the one with the moves, the finesse, and the game. The air outside the club buzzed with anticipation. The bouncers recognized me right away. I was the kind of guy who owned every step he took.  I watched some newbie being stopped at the entrance by the bouncers, his confidence crumbling with each passing second because of all the stares he was getting from the people who passed him.   Nikistep into the club, mi ndio stero, We ukistep in the club wakufreeze  tho you see everyone else going in,  lazma ufeel. It's like the lyrics were describing that exact moment. The m...

                  I was in this virtual space with creatives, creative writers to be specific, you know what they say about birds of a feather, don't you? We were in this virtual space discussing different issues here and there when someone happened to pose this to the rest of us Can we play a little?   I'm tired of typing, my nails are becoming red. H ow many of you have asked yourself this?  “Am I actually doing the right thing?” “Is this story worth telling?” I must confess the more I make my story sound emotional, the more it's sounding like a comedy pi ece.   I related to it so much. I had been crafting a story to submit to a certain writing competition. I had been sitting on it for a while. It didn't have anything to do with creativity or writer's block, far from it. It could be the imposter syndrome creeping in, the vulnerability expressed by what I was penning, or how I was second-guessing everything I wrote.  One...

Denno felt his blood pressure spike. He didn’t even bother responding. He jumped up, grabbed his jacket, and bolted out the door.  When he got to the club, his heart was racing, not from the sprint, but from the anger simmering within. He spotted them immediately—Stacy, looking too comfortable, laughing at something this guy had said. Denno could feel his fists clenching.  He took a deep breath, trying to calm down, then marched straight up to them. “Stacy!”  he called, his voice louder than intended. She looked up, eyes wide with shock.  “Denno!  What are you doing here?” “I should be the one asking you that.  Busy at work,  sio?”  he spat, glaring at the guy beside her, now looking more amused than concerned. “Relax, bro,”  the guy said, raising his hands.  “We’re just having a good time.” “A good time?  Dude! This is my girlfriend!”  Denno fumed. “Denno, calm down,”  Stacy said, standing up.  “This is just a collea...

Denno was having one of those days where everything just seemed to flow.   He had hit the “Send” button on his final proposal a few days back and leaned back in his chair, stretching and yawning. He had just received an email confirmation that his proposal had been accepted.  He couldn't believe it, he had just landed a big online gig that promised good money and a steady workflow for the next three months.  As a freelancer, this was the equivalent of hitting a jackpot in his world.  “Babe!  Guess what!”   he shouted towards the kitchen, where Stacy, his girlfriend, was busy preparing breakfast. “What's up?”   Stacy replied, glancing at him with a smile that could melt an ice cap. She was dressed in her corporate attire—a crisp white shirt and a pencil skirt—ready to head to her office job. “I just secured that big contract I was telling you about!  We’re eating good,  for the next three months!”  Denno grinned, showing his exciteme...

          A lone figure, cloaked in darkness,  stalks through  a foggy and deserted part of the Nairobi Central Business District.  A chilling wind howls, and the only sound is the lone figure footsteps puncturing the eerie silence. A dilapidated building looms in the distance, its windows boarded up and its door ajar. Inside, the air is thick with the scent of decay, dust, and the faint sound of two heartbeats.  On arriving at the dilapidated building, the figure pauses briefly at the entrance, it's breath misting in the cold air. A sense of unease washed over them as they peered into the darkness towards the entrance of the abandoned building from where they are hiding.  The wind howled louder, carrying with it a chilling whisper that sent shivers down their spine. Their blood ran cold as they realized that they were not alone in this desolate place, but with a deep breath, they muffled any sounds they might have made, trying as hard a...

The previous few weeks had been draining. I don't want to get into details, but bad things, one after another, kept on happening, and all you could say is Yarabi, shake that tree, let the bastard fall, and fall hard!  Anyway, bad things happening back to back might make your blood boil in anger, or you sink in a deep hole of anguish and despair. I decided to go chill with someone's daughter for a while.  You know, the good old Netflix & chill. There I was, arriving at someone's daughter's residence, having scrutinized all exit points in case shit hits the fan or as the layman says, (incase kanuke), and I got the chance to bounce real quick. Having done the necessary, and layed out a plan in my head in case things go south, I knocked on her door.  I had informed her prior to coming, and she had given me the go ahead to come, but it never hurts to be prepared, you never know. She opens the door, and I can't help but laugh. She is in a minions themed onesie, lookin...

  “How can you teargas,  a  Baddie?” Most protests or as the citizens aka criminals like to call it, maandamano features a big percentage men, plus if there were any ladies at all, most had a huge resemblance to the men themselves.  It all started with the public learning about the mischief that the members of Parliament were cooking up, thinking no one was looking, thinking that no one would give a hoot.  They thought business was as usual, that Kenyans were focused on other things like fornicating like a certain cabinet minister caught red handed with someone's wife abroad, or night life or as the force that has been terrifying politicians, the Gen Z call it, sherehe, and other trivial matters.  As soon as the public learnt of this mischief by the members of Parliament, a rallying call for each member of the public to call and tell their representative to stop with their madness and do away with the mischief that they were cooking up. Did the elected repr...

From the creator of 👻Booo👻 , Wanjiru the Storyteller, & Letstoriesunfold bring you the continuation. Normally, how I walk to my place after work is the same as how someone pressed to use the washroom moves. That evening, I kid you not, I walked all the way to my place with a bounce in my step, and giddy like a six-year-old girl. The way I waited, even after drying off, freshening up, in pajamas munching on something to quiet the hunger pangs. There was no text, not even a missed call in the morning even after dozing off on the bed with the phone in my hand waiting. The crazy part about adulting is that you do not have time to brood over such things.  Preparing and going to work while thoughts were turning in my head on what I had done, or not done, to scare him away. The day dragged itself slowly, time slowly ticking towards the end of my shift. I had accepted what I saw as reality, that it was, what it was. Coming to terms with it, as they say.  Let me tell you, no wors...