Magazine

Creative Fingers Network takes us Beyond The Horizon

The maiden exhibition of the artist of the creative Fingers art Network, was themed “beyond the horizon” Creative fingers Art Network is a network of budding and established artists that seeks to make a difference in the visual art world, by creating and presenting opportunities where members and art generally would thrive. In this exhibition they came together to create in this age, what I would term an impact-filled art, as all the art works to all intents, constructions and purpose takes one beyond the horizon. The exhibition which opened at the National gallery of Arts Enugu and ran for two days 9-10 of November, featured about seven artists working across different media and orientation:art works from pencil/pen on paper to oil on canvas, to charcoal on paper and various m...

Cafe by the sea littered with memories of summertime

Pirates find home away from sea. Tourists find home beside the sea. In this version of Kimberley’s acrylic painting of cafe by the sea. The experience of the eye catching 11×14 painting implies everydayness. However, it is a moment caught still as the longest break (July and August vacation) of the year winds down. Needless to say, it is a blast in the heat of summer. Tourists decline drastically as the perennial customers of coast dwellers spend quality time in the cafe discussing about town. Much of the talk derives from the sea, it is never exhausted. Little wonder it is a likely pass for pirates, pirates of the cafe heritage. Sea workers turn pirates in the cafe by the sea. The path is well shaved with eager feet always on track. The cafe is part of an old architecture and forms ...

Kimberly’s darling Angel picks roses for bazaar

Kimberly’s Angel sits on a 16×20 dimensional frame. In the background, the Angel is doned on white sleeveless lace and is seated on an evergreen turf with legs crossed in the garden. Her wings are flocked with feathers that flap and exhume heavenly sweetness. The turf appears in shades of lighter green and thick green. Her face is busily buried picking roses that forms an unbroken train of a garland. Her face drops some worry when it draws much of attention with the wan look that suggests a deprivation of affection. Plenty of affection she ought to spread over her rose garland for the bazaar. She meticulously scurries each petal and makes sure the white Kimberly brushes each petal is not soiled, otherwise we would be seeing the undeserved petal kissing the turf beside her foot. Howev...

And I fell in love

What happens when the dawn breaks. I stirred. I awoke. The sun rays were already peeping through my shutters and the birds where chirping sweet melodies from atop tree branches. It was a bright morning. I stepped out. I looked from the balcony and saw the heavens that stretched above me adorned with patches of dazzling blue and white. The orange sun was casting a warm smile upon earth filling her every side with resplendent lights . The grass of the fields looked fresh and green. The sands on the beach were glistening. I looked at my skin and it, too, was glistening. Then came a serene wind administering refreshing surges and awakening all it touched. It blew upon the flowers and littered the air with pleasant sweetness. It blew upon the raging waves and tides and the waters were made calm...

The TED views and the series of phenomenal

  Were I to be speech dump, awed not to miss a look by blinking when someone stumps out to show how, detail by detail, crazy hard sandwiches melt once in the mouth. Having eaten sandwiches no less than ten years. Sandwiches, that for their nature take to hardness, unless one was making a butter in place of sandwich. There after, my disposition would take to reservation, until I see the procedures happening, confirming my fears, and I would be awed. The event turning the nerves in my head excited, exactly like the way you would be left after TED had shown you an idea. Historical and for ahistorical purposes events are created, and with what swiftness we follow in their wake. It’s the first call to action tweets urge us to do, as though it were the only good we are to them. Notwit...

Basis of writing: the four principles of Forster in half of a yellow sun

The 20th century classic of E. M. Forster titled Aspects of the Novel tells a four principled analysis to writing, and for the purpose of writing this elaboration, reading too. Aspects of the Novel borders on story, characters, plot, fantasy, prophecy, pattern, and rhythm. Using the excerpts from the Aspects of the Novel, illustrated by Lee Benson in distinguishing between historical and chronology, which bears shrewd resemblance to story and plot: “And then… And then…” “What the story does is to narrate the life in time.” Beginning with primitive man, storytellers have held their audiences by making them want to know what happens next. Something happens. “And then?” Something else happens. “And then?” So it goes until they end th...

The year 2017 in review

Inauguration comes with its expectations- little or grandiose as the case might turn out owing to possible variants. However, on our part, we’re stupefied with what 2017 turned us into, becoming a regularly frequented budding literary mag with its range of pieces. As the year winds down for another, there would be lots of flexibilities and creativities to front. Meanwhile, as we review particularly some seven pieces that made the year totally awesome, and in the process accumulated most views, we jointly look up the writers for their immense dedication and contributions. Once more and specially, we introduce the newest face of storeadtime; Jerusha Sammy. The list begins with when love comes around. Say, our little poetry anthology of the year. It equally boasts as a single post with ...

How to kill a baby

“Doctor, the patient is ready” the nurse informed. Roused from my reverie I hurriedly grabbed my stethoscope, hung it on my shoulders and hastened to the operation room. The pungent smell of antiseptic immediately filled my nostrils as I entered the theater, making me feel nauseous instantly. My eyes took some time to adjust to the dim-lightedness of the room though after few seconds, I eventually could now make out the shape of the young girl who was lying prone on the operating table. She was deeply fast asleep due to the sleep injections she had been given earlier, her two legs were wide open, suspended in the air by stirrups. Picking up her file which lay beside table, I quickly scanned through it; she was a 21 year old college student, a Christian from Igbo descent. My eyes were drawn...

The ghosts that live amongst us

      It was 10.35 pm on Friday, August 13th 1996. I was already feeling drowsy and about dozing off when i received a text message from my girlfriend Nma. The text was very short, containing only five words. It read ‘It’s cold out here Peter’ It was the scariest moment of my life. Nma had died two years ago. At first I thought that maybe one of her friends was playing a silly prank on me, but then i personally broke her SIM card……. So how is her name still showing in the text? Then it got scarier, Nma started liking my pictures on Facebook and also tagged herself in all my posts. For days i couldn’t sleep for i felt her presence everywhere especially at night. My room started smelling of her favorite body perfume, sometimes i felt a warm ...

International Literacy Day, September 8

We light up our world through literacy! I guess not. How it would be so ridiculous to think otherwise. At least, why not write a correct word, phrase or sentence and gift someone today.     It might be so little, but it is a gesture that says much, it is worth it, go on…         Happy International Literacy Day!

Gone too

Gone too      Without words, she was gone. What I reminisce and know that farewell was never made, much more, being properly bade. She had followed this track behind our home, I was reluctantly pointing. It was the track that flowed from our garden that I walked with Ayo several miles to hurl sticks on one elegantly built canopy of an apple tree. It would seize most of my sticks, in return for green leaves that would rain in their numbers. It took many flings that my arm ached before a terribly wounded plum would come crashing to the ground. Until I picked it, I would know it wasn’t well ripe in the first place that it had proved stubborn all the while. She had left me with memories. Memories of her wavy hair collection; white eyes that dazzled as if to pulp from their sockets that I saw e...

Investigative

   He arraigned him in court before the magistrate when everyone least expected. A fine reportage from Kone was all it took and it brought his brother Kwado to this place, empty of his supposed admirers. If there’s anything Kone has learned being investigative; it was to let the law run its course. And today many of their neighbours hadn’t come in the way they always did to show concern, something went amiss. It was never thought a brother would sell a brother, and so close, a friend. Perhaps, it would be an agree to their objection of the incarceration that was building and so they stayed back to curse some lengthy cajole of what Kone had done. He stood tall to all criticism the more.        Kone had barely finished narrating this superbly told story, wi...

  • 1
  • 2
Dalvin Cook Authentic Jersey