Whether you’re a seasoned wordsmith or just getting started, this is your space to shine.

Each Blavity Short Story is a reflection of the voices that captivate, challenge and celebrate the beauty and complexity of Black experiences. So bring us your magic—your joy, your truth, your imagination.

Together, we’re building a literary future where every voice matters.

Oshun, Yemaya, Shango.

Thando. Camagu. Ase.

Jiayou 加油. Namaste. Pura Vida.

Ikigai 生きがい. Niitsitapi.

Enkosi Black Mother God,

Every ting gon’ be better,

Better than Alright!

Ama unbowed her head and slowly opened her deep brown, almond-shaped eyes, as she sealed her daily manifestation with a dramatic exhale. She vowed to never miss a meditation, in honor and gratitude to the Universe, her Ancestors, and Black Mother God for the blessing of witnessing a new day.

Channeling her elders’ affinity for the sea, she felt a warm, tingly sensation flow through her entire body and gazed out into the indigo and lavender hues of the vast ocean before her eyes. The body of water was hypnotic, glimmering in aligned reflection of the lunar-shaped Amethyst healing crystal that adorned her neck.

Enchanted by the island’s lush greenery, Ama let the cool spring breeze quiet her mind. Humid air danced through palm, baobab, and seagrape trees above, carrying the sweet scent of mango, lemongrass, and jasmine nearby. She breathed it all in, awakening all six senses, then smirked—a peaceful offering of gratitude to the natural gods: Sun, Moon, Earth, Wind, and Fire—for the gift of a new day, a new life.

Ama adjusted her posture and softly dug her buttery cacao-colored toes into the sparkling obsidian-dipped sand beneath her. The black beach seemed to stretch an infinite number of miles as far as her third eye could see. The warm, cozy layers of the charcoal sand relaxed her body, and its iridescent play of rainbow colors flickered back and forth between her eyes, consoling her spirit into a kaleidoscopic trance.

This was surely her most sacred and healing place for as long as she could remember. Her inner child never felt more at home than on this mystical indigenous land, nurtured for centuries by her elders and their elders and their elders. Tightly gripping a handful of Imphepho that she collected from the bush the day before, she slowly opened her fist and released the offering, laying it down by her side. She then stretched her legs and lay back, locking her hands and fingers together behind her head. Closing her eyes once again, her mind drifted far, far away to a dark space and time when she was barely living, only surviving on hopes, wishes, and dreams…

Black skin, Black majk, Black joy, and Black power

Why do you shrink when it’s always been your hour?

Black love, Black tradition, Black babies, Black healing

How do you fight in a world when you’re numb to feeling

Black truths, Black legacy, Black blessings, Black debts?

When will we reclaim our stolen lands, bodies, and intellectual assets?

Black art, Black nature, Black innovation, Black liberation

Where is the environmental and restorative justice, the reparations?

Black women, Black men, Black queers, Black trans folks, allies, & lovers

Who can honor and respect us if we don’t honor and respect one another? Black success, Black wealth, Black herstory, Black fame

What new stories can we ignite future generations with, outside of our pain?

Within seconds of her nostalgia, she felt a light tap on the top of her head, instantly breaking her hypnotism from the past. As the taps progressed, they became heavier and more rapid, with their momentum building up into a rhythmic drumming, pounding across her entire body, causing her to sit straight up and fully emerge from her dazed position. Reluctantly opening her eyes, she peered up at the bloated rain clouds swimming across the rustic salmon colored sky, ready to unleash a quiet storm.

As if on cue to gain her undivided attention and permission to exude its greatness, the taps grew even harder now that they had an audience. Finally revealing themselves as a fierce collection of giant raindrops, the size of key limes, the rain surged passionately, racing down from above, expanding from a drizzle to a full downpour in milliseconds. Mesmerized by the flood, Ama sat still, unmoved by the storm. She watched the mist blur the horizon until sky and sea became one.

Unexpectedly, as if her hands were moving through a puppeteer without consent, she gently untied her now drenched and translucent silk and cotton kente kimono. Soaking wet, the traditional robe clung to her curvy body like molasses, so she peeled it off and allowed it to fall underneath her glistening body into the damp sands. In the same motion, she reached on top of her crown and unraveled her thick, salt and cayenne pepper-colored locs from its loose bun and stood up freely in all of her birthday suit glory. Without hesitation, knees to chest, heartbeat racing, she bolted full speed in unison rhythm to the 808 bass of the raindrops, diving straight into the purple tides of the raving sea. Colliding her ebony melanin into the growing intensity of the powerful waves, she faded into the balanced symphony of the fiery rain showers and tranquil whispers of the island sea, taking one last deep breath before vanishing completely.

The blinding brightness of Mama dusk grazed across Ama’s slumbered face, bringing her back to an alternate reality. Wiping the deep sleep crust from the corners of her almond-shaped eyes and the salty drool from around her full lips, she then shook the black sand from her scattered locs. Sitting upright, she scanned her surroundings, looking for signs that her rain dream was of this world or another.

To her dismay, there was no deja vu, hindsight, clairvoyance, or any evidence whatsoever to reassure her that she wasn’t losing her beautiful, ever-loving mind. The only indications that she was indeed in a conscious state were her missing bundle of imphepho and the sudden sacral chakra grumbling of her womb. A reminder that she had not eaten in at least a few hours. The last meal she could remember having was when her elders, Papa Flora and Mama Aloe, filled her belly with their island-famous cajun shrimp gumbo over creamy yellow grits, with a side of pickled okra, kimchi salad, and green bananas…washed down with an ice-cold sake rooibos flop.

In the priority of getting her life and hunger together, Ama let go of her investigation and focused on reconnecting with the ancestors and foraging for fruit on the way back home. She rubbed her amethyst necklace and brought the stone to her lips to lightly kiss away any anxiety or fear that invaded her mind, spirit, or body, then crossed her legs, closed her eyes, and took three deep breaths, inhaling the Himalayan-salted ocean air one last time before ending her morning meditation.

During her third breath, her practice was suddenly disrupted by a roaring hot flash of wind that crashed through her kente kimono, brushing against her chiseled back like an explosive heatwave. The force was so commanding that it untangled her Lotus pose, extended her legs, and pushed her entire body forward across the sand, heading straight for the seashore. The wind carried her body with so much speed, strength, and persistence that the ocean water was now tickling the heels of her feet as if in victorious celebration. As the ferocious winds continued to fly around and through her body, plunging her closer and closer into the deep shades of lavender, violet, and indigo waves, the chaos abruptly ceased, and everything all at once transitioned into a freakishly calm silence.

As Ama attempted to regain her composure from the aggressive windstorm, looking ahead, she noticed a clearing in the ocean. She tilted her head to the side and blinked her eyes repeatedly, noticing an intuitively familiar yet foreign figure in the central distance of the ocean. Adjusting her focus, it appeared to be a mystical creature with uncanny, deep brown, almond-shaped eyes. The being was luminous, almost glowing with an ethereal lightness shining from the center of the ocean all the way up to the pink and orange skies. The being stared directly across the sea at Ama with an intentionality that sent a cool shiver surging through her body, starting at her root chakra, heels of her feet, down her spine to her heartbeat, then through her locs at the top of her crown.

What in the Yemaya is going on here?! Ama inhaled. Cautiously pushing herself to a bent knee stance, she dug both hands down into the wet black sands of the shore. She paused and reflected on her inebriation and contemplated how much herb she had ingested the night before, and if it was disorienting her system to the boss level of hallucination. Shaking her head in a last effort to recalibrate her reality, she wiped the sand from her hands on her kimono, balled up her fists, and vigorously rubbed her eyes to confirm if she was seeing a mirage or experiencing a supernatural encounter. Kneeling in the sand, eyes closed, she exhaled in a final attempt to regain her sanity and refocus her vision.

Opening one eye at a time, she gingerly looked out into the purple haze to see the sea creature unmoving, wading patiently, not in threat or invitation. Both Ama and the mysterious being waited for what felt like an eternity without breaking gaze.

Then, without warning, the being gestured toward Ama, signing a left pointer finger to their chest and then making a “V” shape with their left hand toward their eyes, and lastly moving the V shape hand gesture back towards Ama. Ama paused in reflection before wording the signing out loud and then slowly gestured back to the being:

I

See

You?

I See You.

For the first time, the being smirked, followed by a wink, and gracefully dived back into the stillness of the purple ocean, vanishing with the day’s sunrise, as if to welcome the night’s moon tides and Ama’s dream manifestations past, present, and reincarnated.

Jai Thando Stephens

Writing since July 2025 · 1 story contributed