Historical
The smiling cost the Gambia . Content Warning. AI-Generated.
The Gambia, often referred to as "The Smiling Coast of Africa," is renowned for its vibrant culture, stunning beaches, and hospitable people. As the smallest country on mainland Africa, The Gambia stretches like a narrow finger along the Gambia River and is bordered by Senegal on three sides. Its reputation as a peaceful and friendly nation has made it an attractive destination for tourists seeking sun, sand, and a taste of West African culture. However, while tourism brings significant economic benefits, it also presents various challenges that the country must navigate to ensure sustainable development.
By Momodou Y.A Jallow2 years ago in Fiction
The Decree
Breathe. Breathe my son and know you are my son and my greatest success. Even after my death, you shall be the torchbearer, the match paper our crooked world needs. The sunrays through the darkness. My father's words echo through my head, when the pressure gets too much. The pressure to make change, to be change. For everyone. Verbal contempt. That's what anyone would call what the team had for me. Verbal contempt and actual cerebral hatred. There was no escape from the truth. Though the team would have been drowned under the pressure of banal prowess, but for my presence... my presence fuelled group repugnance towards me. Reasonable rancour may have been argued by some as reason for the words and thoughts. For the hardest of taskmasters, they came to know me. That has always been a problem, for people of my status. When you set yourself up as the leader of a worthy cause, you place a target for hauteur. When your followers cannot fully comprehend all that's necessary, the arrogance, the haughty ego of those who have the greater purpose of change.My mother always told me my future would be full of greatness, full of excellent endeavours and good for our people, our race. My father's shadow has followed me, led me, taught me throughout my years as a young boy, teenager and the adult that stands on the edge as the spearhead for the change our people want... no need. By self-assurance younger me was beaten. For not only was the future of our people on my shoulders, but so was the legacy of my ancestors. Change would always come, but as sure as the blood pumped through my body, change would come by my hands. However, the well deep scorn and barely masked obloquy they held onto, was beyond reasonable. They just had no respect for my role at the heart of the success of all we had done thus far. Rather than show any acknowledgement or thanks, they were more than happy, comfortably content even, a refusal to accept any part as leader. When asked for thoughts on each conquest that ended successfully, they would generally cower and utter rehearsed words of severance.A cop-out would be to say they feared me. Why would they fear me? They were the same as me and from the same background. They were not the target of my abhorrence. As long as they obeyed orders, worked for the cause and showed no mercy towards for our opposers, the lesser, they would see another day. Cruelty was never levelled at one of our own. Unless, of course, they erred. Complete support was necessary. Our new order could, would not be marred or polluted by our enemy. For the goodness and pureness of our race, we had to conquer all who stood as opposers to the new world. We had to clean the muck of our ancestors who danced among those of a lower class and stand. Too often when complacency has been allowed to take root, even on the cusp of greatness, a revolt could damn our endeavours to hell, the hell where our opposers, the mar, the smear, the dye to the naturalness, wholesomeness of our blood, our land. That, the clearest of goals, was why my team of expert commanders and veterans were treated as such. Though they were above the rats and the scum that had populated our land for too long, they were under my rule. The bold new world mapped out from my plans was of my own construct. As the sun sets on the new world of tolerance, tomorrow's sun shall blanket over the return of the old world. The one we lost. On the eve of war and the recommencement of what we had, my men look to me, not as a comrade, but as the one who, no matter what stands as an opposer to our cause, shall lead us from the darkness of complacency and so-called freedom of speech and thought. "The Decree" - as penned by our leader.
By Paul Stewart2 years ago in Fiction
219 Mushrooms Can Be Dangerous
Kaoru had so much to do. She wanted supper for her future mother-in-law to be perfect. She had decided on matsutake, a species of mushroom (Tricholoma matsutake) known for its spicy taste and aromatic bouquet. She couldn't afford fresh ones, so she would have to resort to dried ones.
By Gerard DiLeo2 years ago in Fiction
The Main Character Goes Overboard at the End
The main character of this story was a killer. Actually, a would-be killer. No, no one had died just yet. But just because no one had yet been killed didn't make for less of a killer. This killer had a killer's mind, programmed to kill. Something in the killer's mind had him hard-wired to do that. In abundance. Without remorse.
By Gerard DiLeo2 years ago in Fiction
The bloom of a rare Blue rose . Top Story - August 2024.
A rare untruth By lucky or unlucky chance, or by sheer happenstance, there came to me the knowledge of an untruth most hurtful to my gentle heart. The learned truth of your falsehood as concerns the rare blue rose. For the gorgeous and lovely flower that you gave to me comes not by the naturalness of nature, but by means of doctored alchemy.
By Novel Allen2 years ago in Fiction
Echoes of the Night: The Haunting Melody of Forest. AI-Generated.
The first time it happened, Lucy thought it was just a bizarre, isolated nightmare. She had been studying late, the textbooks and notes sprawled across her bed like a chaotic quilt of knowledge. Exhausted, she finally fell asleep, only to find herself standing in the middle of a dense, fog-laden forest.
By Rubel Matubbar2 years ago in Fiction
