The Black Death
Winda Achebe is awake in her zeal. The automatic song of numerous birds were intact inside her room of slumber for as early as an hour before her time to open her eyes. It’s not the artificial tone from her alarm that brought her to rise up, but the smell of her mother’s toast that sharpened to arouse her from the dream. She also added a few pieces of sliced meat and scrambled eggs for another enthusiastic reaction from her daughter, in spite of the amount whose small enough to bring her spirits up only a level from her usual morning. “Hey, how could you determine my mama’s beautiful meal? Oops, I forgot Dalila’s words. Do not let the speaks have the control of your mind.....huuh...... haaah.....” “Who’s speaking with you up there, sugar? Come here, mama’s made sandwiches for today!”
- Writer
