500-Word Flash Fiction. Theme- Love is Transient
Bisiga Kayode is a creative writer, poet and storyteller from Nigeira. He has a Masters in Education.
Love is Transient
Written by Bisiga Kayode, Lagos Nigeria.
The whistle blew, and the puffing train pulled into the station amidst scurrying people struggling to board. Still, serene, Modupe clasped her notebook tightly to her body. Her fingers trailed down a page displaying her last poem to him.
It was their place, their locus, for months out of the sprawl of boisterous city life. That was where she met Kayode for the first time in the middle of the busy city; the warm smile struck her from the sea of faces. He was reading The Great Gatsby, and Modupe, being a romance enthusiast, started a conversation with him about dreams. That day, their connection started.
Kayode was adventurous, full of dreams of faraway places, new experiences. He would speak about exploring the world with excited eyes. Modupe loved stability; she had big plans for one day running her bookstore. Of course, their love shone so bright, but deep down they knew it just could not last.
"I cannot stay," Kayode had told her a week ago, his voice dripping with sadness. "But that does not mean what we have is not real."
Modupe had nodded, knowing this even as her heart had bled. She knew he was right: beautiful as it might be, love could not always stand the test of life.
She stood and waited now for the train that would take him away, her chest aching. And then Kayode materialized on the platform with his suitcase-a brilliant, confident smile on his face now soft and unsure.
"You came," he exclaimed with astonishment.
"Of course I did," Modupe said, with a small smile. "I could not allow you to leave without bidding you goodbye.
They were standing so close, the din of the station falling away around them. He reached out and gently tucked a stray lock of hair back behind her ear.
"I’ll miss you," he whispered.
"I will miss you too," Modupe said, her voice rasping the words out of her breaking heart.
The last call of the train boomed out. Kayode went backward, his gaze fixed on her in some silent attempt at remembering every detail, before he turned and boarded.
A Flash Fiction By Busari Shukura Oyeronke
​
"I think I’ve lost him again," Dora’s fingers danced across the screen. Boldly displayed was bestie, with two love emojis. She tapped the send icon, and the message delivered instantly. She flung her phone onto the couch next to her bed, watching it bounce. Then, she cast her gaze away, fixing it on her 5-year-old daughter, peacefully sleeping. She studied her skin, full hair, and cute face. She had taken everything from him. The melancholic notes of Alexandra Kay's Ever leave mixed with the heavy rain, filled her room.
As the song reached, "You've got no idea I'm drowning, mind is racing, heart is pounding," Dora burst into loud wails. Her chest tightened, and she rushed into the washroom, clutching the edge of the sink as though it was her only support. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, then quickly turned away, dipping her face into a bowl of water. Memories of when they first met flooded her mind.
Dora met Jason on a cold evening. She had gone to visit her mother in town, needing to return before nightfall. She waited for hours at the garage but didn’t see a cab. Then Jason signalled and parked right in front of her. His voice was soft but steady, like the hum of a distant song, drawing her in effortlessly. "Good evening, sister. I need your help to find my way to Babalola Street," he said, his gaze warm, as if he already knew her heart.
"Good evening, bros. It's a bit far from here o. I'm heading in that direction, but I can’t find a cab," she replied.
"I can give you a ride, if you don’t mind. I just need to find my way there," Jason responded.
Without thinking twice, Dora hopped into his car. But as the car started, doubts crept in. What if he was a kidnapper? Or worse, a ritualist? She silently hummed The Lord’s Prayer and hoped he wasn’t a bad person.
That was how they met and before they knew it, they became inseparable, two halves of a whole. His presence was home (comma) and the love felt real.
When she told him she was carrying his child, his smile vanished. “It’s not mine,” he said, slamming the door at Dora, he shut her out of his life for months. Everyone blamed her, her mother’s voice sharp with disappointment. Only her best friend stayed close.
But he returned, softer, as though nothing happened. He spoiled Dora with gifts, although he didn't outrightly apologize. At their daughter’s birth, he held her awkwardly, laughing at her tiny fingers, playing with her at dusk. For a while, they mended.
Two years later, Jason drifted again. Months without him turned to silence. His touch, once gentle, became absent. His number changed; he moved from his apartment too.
Dora stood alone, clutching Jason’s last words: “We can love and unlove, this time, I'm done.” The ache grew. He was gone, and this time, she knew it was forever.
​
Ornguze Nashima Nathaniel is a Nigerian writer and editor. He also studied mathamatics at University.
Too Long an Email
Written by Ornguze Nathaniel
The email draft stared at him like a wound refusing to heal. He typed, deleted, and retyped until he finally let the words flow.
Kate had blocked him everywhere—WhatsApp, Facebook, X, Instagram, even their shared Netflix account. He had no other way to reach her, yet the weight in his chest demanded release. It was he who had to be angry, not Kate. You don’t cheat on a man and block him, he muttered under in breath.
“Dear Kate,” Rex began yet again, his fingers posing like the claws of an eagle.
“When we first met, I believed in us. I believed in love that could overcome anything—mistakes, misunderstandings, even betrayals. For a while, I thought we had it, something worth fighting for. But now, I’m left with disappointment, like ashes in my mouth.”
He paused, the cursor blinking. His chest tightened as memories surfaced—the first betrayal, that accidental glance at her phone, her laughter with the so-called “uncle” who wasn’t one. He forgave her, then convinced himself it was a one-off, a mistake born from a bad moment.
“But you betrayed me again,” he continued, fingers trembling. “Each time, you told me it was love, that I wasn’t enough, that it was my fault somehow. I stayed, thinking I could be better, thinking you would change. I was wrong.”
He stared at the screen, his reflection in the dark monitor mocking him.
“I now understand why all your ex-boyfriends left you. You are not someone to be loved.” He thought for a second, rubbed his eyes, and pedalled down on the “back” key until his new lines were completely deleted. This is a breakup letter, not a war note, he said to himself and yawned. Then went back to typing: “It wasn’t just the infidelity. It was the lies. The hollow apologies. The careless words you flung around when you thought I wasn’t listening. Love shouldn’t feel like this, Kate. It shouldn’t feel like drowning while the person you love holds your head underwater.”
His eyes burnt. He thought of all the moments he’d stayed silent, the trust he’d desperately tried to rebuild, the nights when he lay awake, questioning his worth.
“I deserve better,” he typed, the words feeling foreign but liberating. “Love should build, not destroy. And as much as I want to keep forgiving, to keep hoping, I can’t anymore. You’ve left me with no choice.”
He imagined her reading this, the way her lips would curl into that cruel half-smile, dismissive, unbothered. The thought twisted the knife in his chest. But he forced himself not to care. It was better to be a fugitive than being a prisoner of lust cloaked in the robes of love.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for. I hope, someday, you’ll understand why I had to walk away.” He paused and typed the last word in capitals: GOODBYE.
He hit the send icon and raised his mug of tea to his mouth.
Fleeting Moments
By Justice kingsley
​
As I stood on the beach, the sun’s fiery orb sinking into the oceans darkening embrace, I felt the weight of memories crashing against my soul. It was here, on this very shore, that I had met her, the one who had awakened my heart to the beauty and brutality of love.
Our whirlwind romance had been a maelstrom of passion, a tempest that had ravaged my senses and left me breathless. Every moment with her had been a revelation, a discovery of the hidden depths of my own heart. Her touch had been a flame that had ignited the very marrow of my bones, leaving me burning with a fire that threatened to consume me whole.
But like all things beautiful, our love had been fleeting. She had been a bird in flight, a whispered promise of forever that had vanished into the ether, leaving me grasping at the wind. I had tried to hold on, to tether her to me with fragile threads of my heart, but she had slipped away, leaving me shattered and alone.
As I walked along the beach, the waves washing over my feet, I felt the ache of her absence. It was a hollowed-out feeling, a sense of desolation that had left me feeling lost and forsaken. But even in the midst of that pain, I knew that I would never forget her, the way she had made me feel, the way she had loved me with a ferocity that had left me breathless.
And then like a mirage on the horizon, I saw her. She was walking towards me, her eyes locked on mine, her hair blowing in the wind. My heart stumbled, my breath caught, and I felt the world around me melt away.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I was afraid of getting hurt.”
I took her hand, feeling the spark of electricity that had always been between us. “I’m sorry too,” I said, my voice cracking with emotion. “For not being patient enough.”
We stood there, holding hands, as the sun dipped below the horizon. It was a fleeting moment, but one that gave me hope. Maybe, just maybe, our love wasn’t as transient as I thought.
