Skip to main content

Flashes of Vice

Search This Blog

Contact

Posted by Numero Uno

Get link
Facebook
Twitter
Pinterest
Email
Other Apps

I am grateful for your comments, inquiries, critiques, and engagements. Let's get in touch here

Your Name :

Your Email: (required)

Your Message: (required)

Get link
Facebook
Twitter
Pinterest
Email
Other Apps

Comments

Post a Comment

Did you like the story? Leave me your thoughts, please. Thank you!!!

Popular Posts

Late Night Shootout at Embakasi

www.krazyinsidekenya.wordpress.com While on the battlefield, most soldiers fantasise about palm-fringed beaches, sex, and alcohol when, and if, they get back home; not necessarily in that order. They watch poor quality porn on their phones to remind them what they are missing and what the female body looks like. That’s most soldiers, but I am not most soldiers. All I think of is murdering my fiancée. I have not slept. Most nights, I don’t. I am thinking of tomorrow when I leave Somalia. AMISOM 13 is over. I am in the last batch of my unit to leave. Others went back piecemeal since the 8 th Battalion the Kenya Rifles arrived. I stare at the wide panoply of stars and luminous darkness that rules the night from my sentry post. A loud shrill of the muezzin’s call for fajr pierces the pre-dawn silence. It is the dreaded hour. Al-Shabaab come at this time. Reports received yesterday indicated that the dastard bastards were planning to attack a KDF camp in Sector Cen

VIP Escort

(First published on elovepoetry as Diary of a Rich Men's Girl. ) 15th June; I look at the girl staring back at me in the mirror and I love her. On top of my hospitality profession I've cosmetology and hairdressing skills from beauty pageants I've entered since I joined the University of Nairobi. I even at some point entertained the idea of going modeling but it was a bad, misinformed, career move after series of débâcles on the runway and virulent censures by the judges. But I ended up with a good hand with brush, eyeliner and mascara. I hear the soles of this week's client's shoes on the slate floor of the Nyali Beach Hotel suite. He had gone to the beach to banquet his lusty eyes on other women's busts, butts and thighs. I had refused to accompany him even if he had paid me to escort him wherever he went for the whole weekend. Jeez, does he think I am Secret Service or something? His being away was the only chance I had to get his credit and debi

Unbroken Happiness

I woke up with a start. The smell of burning flesh congested the air. I did not know it was my skin singeing until I screamed in pain. I’m dying. Oh God, please no. I can’t breathe. My body gave to unknown force, and fell into a dark abysmal hole, head first. “You left me,” I heard a voice say. Love killed me! *** Marline sat across from Eddah on the bed, the bench, where they judged their friends, sentenced obstinate boyfriends to death, gossiped about whose of their baby-mama girlfriends’ boyfriends was deadbeat, and who was trying to snatch so-and-so’s sugar daddy. tumblr.com Eddah reached for the glass of tonic water on the bedside stand and gave it to Marline. Marline wiped her eyes with Eddah’s handkerchief. “He did not even care,” Marline said. “I needed him, and he told me to leave.” Eddah watched Marline’s hand’s delicate movement as she dabbed at her eyes. “I will talk to him?” Eddah offered. “The worst part of it is that I couldn’t walk, the pa

The 73rd Virgin

Photo | grumpyelder.com The media call me a jihad bride, ever since I joined ISIS. Well, I am a jihad houri, whore!? Whenever the brave mujahedeen go out to massacre kafirs , they come back to our haven and find me waiting for them. In this life, I don’t get tired of being screwed by the terrorists because most of them have erectile dysfunction, most of them ejaculate on my thighs even before they can feel the puckering of my yoni. I have the time of my life because when they go to jannah I will be just a by-the way, I know. Can you imagine waiting in the heaven’s longest queue for 72 hours, 72 days, 72 weeks, 72 months, or 72 years to have your turn with the terrorist? That’s ludicrous. Before they go to jannah and have their 72 houri for eternity and ignore me, I am their houri on earth. Those stupid, naïve virgins up there who think that they would be the first to have sex with the brave mujahedeen are mistaken. I have 72 terrorists who give it to me daily. I have mor

Confessions of a Sexprenuer

When other brains discovered nuclear energy and launched revolutionary mobile money transfer systems in Kenya, I was thinking about sex. “Welcome home, dear. You are tense and look tired,” Lilibeth observes. “Would you like a massage?” “Not now, Lily,” I say as I lean in for a kiss. “Of course, sir,” she replies, and her status light turns from bright green to amber. She goes to the kitchen and leaves me to my machines, the screen in front of me showing the images of the son I never showed how to be a man and a daughter I never protected from the world. The emptiness in my heart is like a tornado, the numbness pounds my brain, and tears cloud my eyes. The sheer nothingness takes hold of my soul and threatens to engulf me entirely. One day I might grieve for my wife, but first, I would have to be convinced that I meant anything to her. But for now, I hold every memory of her back. Instead, I grief for my heart and the pain she caused me, a hurt that snowballs as me

Kutupwa na System

Major Stanley Ekuton sat ramrod straight on the senior passenger’s seat in the Armoured Personnel Carrier (APC) manoeuvring along the winding motorable track eight kilometres beyond the Kenya-Somalia border, his throat dry with agitation. His Commanding Officer’s last words were still fresh on his mind: OC, do not cross that border! (Source: intelligencebriefs.com) Ahead, through the dust, the enemy was escaping. “We should not be sitting ducks in the camp when al-Shabaab come to attack us,” he had replied. “We, too, should take the battle to them.” And with that, Officer Commanding Bravo Company, 80 Airborne Battalion of the Kenya Defence Forces, imposed radio silence on his battalion tactical command headquarters. “We are pursuing the enemy to the depths of hell if we have to,” he had told his platoon commander. “Order the platoon to cross the border—” “But, Afande, we are not supposed to cross the border. The rules of engagement—” “Officer, adui ni yule unamwangalia akito

Powered by Blogger

Copyright ©Flashes of Vice. All rights reserved. Flashes of Vice flash stories are fictional; historical events, personalities, real locales, organisations and institutions are used fictitiously.