‘I bet you can’t climb this tree and jump from the highest branch!’ said the new boy. I sat there lightly caressing Candy’s back, and smiled when she purred in approval.
Tom, stared at the new boy with suspicion and anger. No one, and I cannot insist this enough, no one spoke to Tom in that tone.
“Of course, I can.” Claimed Tom. Although I had never in the twelve years of knowing Tom, watched him climb the peeple tree and jump from its highest branch. But then again, what the heck, who was I to contradict Tom, our leader? Continue reading
There once lived a boy who sang so beautifully that he was accepted directly into the semi-finals of Voice of Okremia.
An old painter had found the boy outside his house, standing in a corner near a broken street lamp, crooning a rhyme of rain and thunder, oblivious to the pouring and roaring around him. Standing by the window, listening to the boy, the old painter’s mind was awash with a thunderous rain. He shook himself out of it; he had to go outside and get the boy inside. Feed him and get him into warm clothes. Continue reading
I laboured myself off my bed, it took exactly ten minutes for me to lift my legs and place them on the ground beneath. Parts of my body, I never knew existed, had been aching in pain and anger since five years now. I trudged to the mirror to take in my sunken eyes, chapped hollow cheeks and smoke stained teeth.
Last night’s binge drinking and smoking pot was not helping me in any way. For that matter so wasn’t the night before, or the night before that.
I loved my routine, the routine that involved replacing food with alcohol and water with weed. It allowed me to pass out night after night; in a drunken stupor. Just what the doctor advised. Continue reading
They entered through the door, the woman and her two daughters. With flowing white togas, clinched at their waist, they looked like the ray of sunshine, I did not know, who they were. But I had been waiting for them, for too long.
“Mother, is this where we will live?” The younger one, almost five years of age, with golden locks, and the face of an angel, spoke up.
The woman looked around, her face a mix of sorrow and disdain.
“Yes, agape mou this is our home now.” Continue reading
So, recently, I started chatting up with this young mother I just met. A consultant, like me; and as usual, we moms started discussing what a challenge it is to work and manage kids.
As the discussion went on, I had this sudden epiphany that she was nothing like me.
It started with her gushing on about her four and two yearolds, and how she could never forget the beauty of giving birth. I pretended, genuinely pretended, to “Awwww” at that remark. Instead my treacherous mouth lined into a snigger; birthing, beautiful! Continue reading