Folk Tales Africa Novels & Stories

My voice came out softer than I wanted. “You can.” His hand moved. His fingers brushed over my wrist as he turned the page. It was not an accident. I felt the rough pad of his thumb slide slowly across the inside of my wrist. He left it there for a second longer than he needed to. “But you have to stop being scared of the heat. This story has real heat in it, Lila. Don’t sand it down. Don’t make it polite. Write the dirty truth.”

"In 1956, the union of the West Xevia and East Xevia regions resulted in the people of Xevia having ethnic diversity. The two regions which have opposite characters are now known as the Xelovia country which means peace!" "Don't any of the stories start with the forest? Like the three little pigs and the wolf?" "Huh? So you're saying you want to be heard a fairy tale?" "Yup," "Damn! Why are you such a brat, Drex?" "Can you tell a story or not?" "A bedtime story, how if you fall asleep here?" "I'll sleep on the couch, I promise I won't come in your room!" he insisted. "Okay, do you like wolf stories? I'll give you the story of Little Red Riding Hood,"

"Maia, are you really this stupid, or are you just acting? Someone could sell you out, and you'd still be there thanking the person who did it." His tone had shifted. It wasn't playful anymore. A cold chill began to creep up my spine. This wasn't some kinky game. He wasn't joking. "W-What do you want? Why did you tie me up?" "What does it look like? I caught myself a prime piece of meat, and I'm going to get a good price for it." A prime piece of meat. A good price. Suddenly, every horror story I'd ever read about women vanishing in remote areas flashed through my mind.

He said he was going to kill me after fucking me. My mind grew lighter, my thoughts became hazier, and I almost didn’t notice the way his body shifted. Moving away from mine.He removed his hand and backed away.It took me a few seconds to realize that he wasn’t standing on top of me anymore. And then I felt his touch on the insides of my legs.“Tell me, puppy, why do you sleep naked?” His voice was gentle, and so was his touch.“Because it makes your sleep better.”A spank landed on my thigh.“And is good for your skin,” I continued.Spank hit the other one as well.“Now, puppy, tell me again.” He took a break. “But this time without lying.”I grinned. If he wasn’t a fucking killer, we would’ve gott

“Would you stop tearing such ungodly traditions to our daughter. She is just newly recuperating. Be thankful God has given her second chances to life. “ Mother Elaine interjected as silence interferes again made Ericka fell asleep holding her fan after drying her wet long hair. Suddenly, she heard the sound of a horse's feet stamping and the smell of a horse coming from across her closed bedrooms ‘window down the hallway. It makes Ericka even more afraid of the rumors her father used to spread when they were little children. Her father told them an enchanted tales of giants, fairies, and half-human, half-horse creatures from the underworld that could perform magic, turn invincible when they

Grandma announced with a scope of renewed energy. "Drum roll! Du! Du! Du! Dum!" The child in me yelled excitedly with glint in my eyes making the opening theater sound of a fontonfrom. A huge African drum which gave off heavy bass sounds. Once upon a Time! far away in the vast vegetations of the volta A****n rainforest. There lived a strong, beautiful white witch, modest in all her dealings and delicate in all the senses with a heart of gold. Her name was 'NEHENDA!'

He returned with positive vibes which means that things may have been successful. His friends briefed him of the werewolves that they recognized and Stan listened like he had not heard of the news of the existence of the werewolves in their country before. Though there were no such things in Africa as animals and humans lived as one over there. It was a norm to see animals amid humans so whether or not there were werewolves was not important as Africa was an accommodating place for all.

Votigern had doubted the truism of their stories but he knew the tales did not spin out of nothing. Tales of dragons had been in existence for many long years, most people believed in its existence, while other sceptical ones didn’t. There were books, however, Votigern knew the books didn’t lie, they said their town was Islandia. The sources of these books were rogue dragons that had escaped from Islandia.

In 1890, my great-grandmother Takoda was only a child when her ancestors told her stories while they huddled around the campfire with handmade blankets from buffalo hide. Later, she told my mother the same stories about humans who could walk on all fours and pale skins and drink your blood. Nowadays, no one talks about the past, which leads us to believe they are just scary stories the tribe elders tell for fun or to put fear into the youngsters so we won’t enter the woods outside our borders. However, I believe nothing they say. But my grandmother does and never lets my family forget it. I usually get grounded for laughing at her, thinking she’s a crazy old woman.

Leah also gave a look of disapproval. "Callie, I agree with them. I just wasted my time." I got up when I remembered that I was on my way to the garden. "What? Those stories are pretty lame, to begin with." "Not when nana tells them." The kids retorted. Nana arrived soon to tell a different version of the first werewolf that happened in Egypt where people considered shapeshifting a gift and not a curse. I grew up listening to nana's stories, about demon kings and dragon queens and all things fantasy. My all-time favorite was the story of my mother, except for the part where she dies.