K. Ibura
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K. Ibura is a writer, painter, and traveler from New Orleans, Louisiana. The middle child of five, she grew up in a hardscrabble neighborhood with oak and fig trees, locusts and mosquitoes, cousins and neighbors. K. Ibura's work delves into spheres of human liberation, human connection, and evolution. She employs speculative fiction and creative nonfiction to take readers through mind-bending journeys into the transcendent, the mystical, and the fantastic.
Otherworldy
FictionSpeculative FictionForeign Land // Otherworldy // Yearning
Of Wings, Nectar, & Ancestors
Posted on 6 February 2013
1 On deep purple-black nights, when the whole house has pushed itself into slumber, WaLiLa’s energy flits around her room like a moth. It leaps up to do jumping jacks & turns cartwheels, then clings to the ceiling. It bounces off the walls & jiggles its knees impatiently. WaLiLa is a jitterbugging ball of need… »
FictionSpeculative FictionDanger // Otherworldy // Touched by a Stranger
At Life’s Limits
Posted on 6 February 2013
1. Musicians, practicing an age-old tradition, scatter syncopated rhythms across the night sky. Through rapid hand movements and homemade instruments, they pay homage to fierce gods. The music tattoos the sky’s surface with patterns of prayer, patterns that transform themselves into welcome mats for beings in realms the musicians have no knowledge of. One such… »
FictionSpeculative FictionAuthority // Futurisms // Otherworldy
Ferret
Posted on 4 December 2012
The ferret’s claws clicked echoes into the silence. I wanted to scream out. Instead I listened to the rasp of grandfather scratching his chin. Everyone’s gaze followed the ferret as it scurried around the compass, but I turned away. Without looking I knew the ferret would be running in dizzying circles. The dull thunk of… »
FictionMediaPodcastSpeculative FictionForeign Land // Loss // Otherworldy
Debris
Posted on 4 December 2012
It is legend how my mother kept my grandmother’s eye sockets clean with the pure white feather of a cockatoo. She often sent me to the forests to pick marigolds to stack high around Grandmother’s skull. Grandmother loved the smell of the marigolds. She told me so every time I entered the house with an… »
