Tag: AnitaTonia
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Low Volume
A Sasspoint Village Narrative By 6:48 a.m., Marceline Rowe had already ignored two phone calls, one twelve-minute voice note, and a text message that simply read: “Call me ASAP. It’s too much.” Nothing good had ever followed the phrase “It’s too much.” Especially before sunlight. Marceline lived in the quieter side of Sasspoint Village, where…
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The Art of Strategic Vocabulary
The Saturday Artisan Market in Sasspoint Village was packed with the usual polished crowd: women in beautifully tailored Ankara outfits quietly judging each other’s fabric choices, men talking about imported coffee beans like they were stock investments, and children running dangerously close to handcrafted candle displays that cost far more than anyone’s common sense allowed.…
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The Cost of Keeping
In Sasspoint Village, spring didn’t just show up. It brought things into the open. Closets were opened. Drawers were emptied. Corners that had been overlooked suddenly mattered. Naomi stood in the middle of her home, a large box in front of her labeled: KEEPTRASHDONATE Simple categories. Clear choices. She folded a sweater, paused for a…
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The Refill Policy
The sign was still there. “Refills available for members only.” Sasspoint Village had levels for everything now.Even coffee. Gold tag on my key—membership has its own perks.I forgot my home. Mara tapped her cup lightly on the counter. Empty. Empty. She checked her bag again—slowly this time,as if the membership card might appear out of…
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The Joy Route — Exit 17:22
The Joy Route — Exit 17:22 A Sasspoint Village Story by Anita T. Kumeh “Next stop—Heartland,” said Auntie Michal, flicking her blinker like she owned the interstate of life. We were on a spontaneous road trip. The kind that starts with, “Let’s just get out of town before somebody starts a monologue of murmuring.” The…
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Without Permission
WITHOUT PERMISSION A Sasspoint Village Short Storyby Anita T. Kumeh The lobby buzzed like a beehive in designer heels.Executives floated past one another, wearing name badges that were bigger than their humility.Every lanyard declared legacy.Every handshake calculated future mergers. And then— She arrived. Paisley couture.Gold boots loud enough to wake sleeping destiny.A leather-bound journal tucked…
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Daughter of the King
Moms, this poem was written to celebrate you. Embrace your strength, grace, and sacred ministry with confidence. ❤️
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Uncrushed
© 2025 Scriptures, Sass and Stories with Anita. All content, including text, images, voice-over, and story elements, is the intellectual property of Scriptures, Sass and Stories with Anita. Unauthorized reproduction, distribution, or adaptation of this material in any form is strictly prohibited. This work is protected under…