Quantum Prim


“So how do I get to stabilise information in the quantum realm?” I asked Prim.

“First, what’s your name? I don’t even know you.”

“You can call me Vance.”

“Hmm. Okay, Vance,” she paused, “If you want to get things to be stable here, then you have to feel.”

“How?” I asked.

“You need to understand that your emotions are also information. What you feel affects the world around you.”

“I hear that every time in the real world…”

“What do you mean by real world?” Prim asked, interrupting me. “Do you mean to say that my world is any less real than yours.”

“That’s not what I mean, Prim. I just wanted to say that in the world of big things, emotions don’t really matter.”

Prim’s face grew dour.

“That’s sad,” she said. “Can you do this in your world?”

Before I could reply, Prim disappeared.

“What the? Prim, where are you?” I panicked.

I suddenly felt a nudge on my back. I turned back abruptly. I saw nothing.

“Prim, is that you? How are you even doing this?”

Next, I heard her voice all over the quantum space around me. It echoed. I turned round and round and still didn’t see her.

“Emotions,” she echoed.

“Okay, okay, I got you. Could you come back now?”

I felt another nudge on my back.

“Could you just stop doing that?”

I turned and there she was, grinning from ear to ear.

“Your turn,” she said.

“My turn, what? Do you expect me to do what you just did?”

“Just remember, Vance, nothing is impossible.”

“I hear that in my world all the time,” I replied.

“Just remember to be calm. You have to relax your frequency.”

“What does that even mean, my frequency?”

“Grandma explains it better, she taught me everything.”

“You have a grandma in this place? Wow!” I exclaimed, in apparent shock.

I was just in awe of everything. How is it even possible that a family can live here in the quantum world where everything is a billion times smaller? I was filled with anticipation, I just wanted to know as much I could about this world I’ve shrinked myself in.

“So how do we get to her? Do you guys have like cars or something?”

“Hold me,” Prim said.

I held her with questions on my mind.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Ready for what?”

“Aaaaah!” I screamed above my quantum lungs.

It was as if my body was leaving ghosts behind, like I was fading somehow. And we were whisking through this narrow-like tube. It was the scariest thing I had ever experienced.

“What was that?” I asked, panting.

“That, my friend, is quantum tunnelling. It’s how we travel here,” she grinned mischievously.

“And what was that thing happening to me? I felt like I was a ghost or something.”

“It’s called phasing. My goodness, how do you guys travel in your world?”


To be continued. Thanks for reading, guys. Quantum Prim is a story that metamorphosed from a previous story, Operation Get My Post Back. I’m as ecstatic as you are about where this is going. Thanks again for reading.


The Rice Man 2


When Dave sighted the bags of rice heaved atop each other, four per column, he laughed like a witch flying on her broom across the moonlight. To say he was ecstatic was an understatement. He downright loved big bags of things. Oh, the things he would do to those swell bags.

The last time there was a bag as big was when Dave’s mum was to bake for an event. She bought a full bag of flour and put it in the basement.

Dave would spend hours in the basement, kicking, jumping and punching the bag of flour. He loved the white dust that came out each time he hit the bag.

One time, he jumped on the bag of flour only for the thing to pop. An avalanche poured out from the cut. Dave ran up and pretended nothing happened.

When Dave’s mum found out about the torn bag, Dave suggested it must have been a rat as there are always rats hiding in all the basements in the world.

As Dave was relishing his first kick at the rice bags, his sister, Agatha, barged into the basement.

“What are you doing here?” She quizzed.

“None of your business,” Dave retorted.

“Whatever,” she said, shooting him a suspicious look.

“Phew! Now she’s out. Let the games begin!” he gloated to himself.

Dave kicked the topmost bag closest to him.

“Ouch!” He groaned.

Little did he know that rice bags are actually stiffer than flour bags.

“Not fair,” Dave uttered, “I’ll have to teach you a lesson another way.”

He walked some paces back and ran full throttle at the heap of bags. He slammed into them and the topmost bag rolled over and hit the floor with a bang. He cried out in victory, beating his chest, King Kong style.

“Dave!” He heard his name, faintly.

Mum was calling, it was time for lunch.

Dave squinted at the heap.

“I’ll be back for you,” he said, before jetting out.

“Where have you been, Dave? Your mum has been calling you,” dad asked.

“I was in the…,” he fell silent, “the room, yes, the room,” he continued.

“You lie!” Agatha uttered.

“Shut up,” Dave responded.

“That’s enough,” said dad, “Dave, you will learn to talk to your sister with respect, she’s older than you. Now, apologise to her.”

“I’m sorry,” Dave said reluctantly.

“Dad, he crossed his fingers,” Agatha replied.

“Enough!” Dad uttered, “I will have no more of your squabbling.”

On cue, Mum came in with about a hundred things in her hands.

“Dinner time, boys,” she said as she arranged the dishes on the dining table.

“And lady?” Muttered Agatha.

“Of course, sweetheart, and lady.”

Mum cooked rice with curry sauce, and for some reason, it bemused Dave.

“Care to share with us, Dave?”

Dave tried so hard to swallow his chuckle, like a video suddenly playing backwards.

“Dad, he’s happy because of the bag–“

Dave poked Agatha just has she was about completing her statement.

“Hmm,” dad hummed, and lunch continued.

After lunch, Dave went back into the basement. He resumed kicking the rice bags and jumping on them. It was so much fun for him, to hit the things that couldn’t hit back.


I rush home yet again and this time I take a seat. I cry for hours. Dad comes to the room and knocks at the trapdoor leading to the basement. He asks if I’m okay. I fake a yes. But I’m not okay, I am frustrated. I vetted them all. The bomber and a woman were at the table behind ours. But he didn’t appear to me as a terrorist, I mean, he had a clean haircut and the woman he was with was quite curvy. If indeed Professor Chidi was right, if indeed I’m playing time’s sick game, then what am I meant to do? Give up? Just let Lara float away as mere memory? No. Dad couldn’t save mum from cancer. I’m not going to have the same story. I’m not going to live a life full of regrets. I must try again. I must save Lara.

I power up the time machine.

Continue reading “SAVING LARA 3”


“Dan,” she whispers.

“Yes,” I reply.

“The project, we have to finish the last part today,” she says.

“Yes, we will.”

She looks at me as if puzzled by my reply. I guess what she was expecting was, “Argh, I hate how you’re able to keep a cool head when the rest of the world is spinning out of control. It’s unfair.”

“Something is different about you,” she says.

“Everything is okay, Lara, I’m just so happy to see you.”

She smiles. We get up and I pay for the food. As we make for the door, I remember Lara was searching her bag the last time like she forgot something, so I glance back at the table. Her phone is on table. I guess we were caught up in the moment enough for her to leave her phone behind.

Continue reading “SAVING LARA 2”


We are in the restaurant, Omolara and I, sitting at a circular table. She is saying something, but I’m not listening. I am gazing into her eyes, and then her lips, and then her nose. She is so beautiful and radiant, I can’t get my eyes off her. It’s our first date, and I already love her. You see, I don’t love easily, because everything’s fleeting in time; people get old and die, houses spring up and collapse…

I met Lara on the first day of class. We both attend the University of Nigeria, Nsukka. The way she walked into the lecture hall that day, it was as though she floated on air. For a girl in the Physics and Astronomy department, she was so full of life, so irresistible. What made me fall more in love with this angel was her intelligence. I was the best in class but Lara was better than me (figure that out). We worked closely with each other on assignments and projects, but we promised not to date until our final year.

Continue reading “SAVING LARA 1”