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The Next Lord Of The Central City. 27
I grab my softest sweater, my favourite, and ball it up. I bend down, arranging my face into something I hope is friendly, then wrap his arms around it. He holds it while I walk away to the vault. I have the pills to arrange and store. On my return he is in the exact same spot, his arms still hugging a sweater that lies cold on his feet. I'm such a shit. He's in total shock and I'm arranging my wares. This is why he needs a mom, not some hopeless teen. I go back to him and pick him up just like I did in the old train. At first he is stiff but then he melts into my body, his arms limp, dangling like a doll. Without being aware of it my left hand rises to stroke his back. Then he begins to cry softly, wetting my shirt. I thought kids were supposed to cry loudly, not this guy apparently, he cries like an old man beaten down with sorrow.In this life you make me stable, then you pull every little thing from beneath my feet and are indifferent to the fact that I can no longer stand - until
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The money-nexus reward manipulative behaviours and these can manifest in personal relationships as a societal cancer.Being manipulative is wearing the team jersey and playing only for yourself. In doing that you cheat yourself of the loving bonds and support a team can provide, of all the good feelings that make living so incredible.Manipulation can be a "flash bang," the moment they drop a bomb they create the most attractive "smoke and mirrors" they can conjure.There are some that play games of "relationship chess." It's a game for morons. Relationships are all about loving bonds, trust and being giving. They are about nurture and being protective. The only way you can have any of those things is to get off the board and be real, be vulnerable, be soulful with the one you love. There are times a manipulative person has forced me onto the board, to play it their way, yet I am also not on the board at all. These are my Schrödinger's cat moments. I am there and not. When the "game i
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Though we can love our traditions, of dresses, suits and rings, the marriage happens long before in the quiet moments of these star-united lovers.Their marriage was written in their eyes the first day they met, not a thing of human-kind nor laws, yet existed as if the universe had brought together two souls that were already betrothed.A marriage is a deep and loving friendship, one in which the love is so strong that each would sacrifice for the other, one that sex gets added to. So the only way to a lasting and happy marriage is via friendship. So take it slow, get to know the other person fully, be best friends.... and save the sex for marriage... because when you do that you'll find that humans mate for life and it is a sure way to a joyful way of living. The alternative is exposing yourself to the risks of sexually transmitted disease as potential partners "try you out" in non-committal ways. This is because you didn't take the time to be best friends first... that you got addic
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In the twilight yawn of heaven's black rose two tall trees of sombre peeking green, their tops a round as if drawn in mathematical precision. And as I gazed at them for a blessed moment, the kind that could be any length at all in the twinkle of eternity, I saw the eyes of an owl, great and wise. Before I could breathe another, before my brain was capable of any other notion, I was behind those green owl eyes in the sky looking down upon the black-cradled ground. For these were the eyes that watched all the galaxies in the dominion of love, the ones that belong to our guardian, our God. And to them I was a speck, safe and happy, so at home there in the sky, there in a place that touches our reality and yet belongs to another.The vision? Tell the vision? Tell of what we dream will be? To show the vision, to tell the vision, we will need a tell-he-vision show, naturally, my dear Watson.From the beauty of the dreamscape, in the place between the thoughts and the movies of the nighttime
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The day I stopped believing that you loved me, that you would protect me in the same ways I protect you, we were over. The relationship breakup was set in motion from that point onwards.Once I ran through fire for you; now my love for you is ashes. The wind catches it every day, a macabre confetti. All I do is wait for your anger and watch more fly away, cinders that should have been petals in softest pink."The man you were, the one I married, would have kicked your ass all over this God damn room for talking to me like that. You were someone. You were that guy, the one who had the principles and the backbone."The past few days were nothing but fun, but they were only that way because I gave you everything you wanted... and we both know you got everything. Then you destroyed me with your words, found every perceived fault. When I failed to acquiesce you got more angry and became entrenched. You think yourself better than the 'one night stand' guys, and in many ways, you are. But yo
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The confessing codes need a master to handle them. They cannot be interpreted by one who is an amateur of the craft. Everybody confesses everything, their deepest crimes and fears in everyday language. For a code-breaker it is simple to follow the trail and expose them all. Gemma was one of the linguists who could break them. Some saw what she did as magic, yet in truth she was partnered to the positive universe, a tool of the divine force and saw nothing special in herself. She was as natural as the trees and the fish in the oceans. Yet in the "junk" speech, the ad libs and the stories people tell, in their creative flourishes, there are clues. Much is actually junk, fears of nothing and misplaced guilt, yet a master such as her could tell what was real because the universe placed flags only she could detect, shone lights that only she could see. It was as if her soul shone a black light and the criminals were marked in some invisible ink. She was the ultimate detective, the one sent
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In late spring, the newly freed petals flutter as butterfly wings, bright and soft, taking their place in the garden foliage. Together they create rainbow stepping-stones for every creature bold enough to see it.Rose petals tumble from a placid sky, brilliant reds waking a wintry morn. The bride and groom run through nature's confetti in their jeans and toques, a frigid breeze carrying the delicate perfume into the city air. With a warm smile radiating to her well-wishers, the bride raises a hand to ward off the flurry, a fresh gold band glinting in the sunlight. The newly minted Mr. and Mrs. jump into an old chevy, its once cherry paint sun-bleached to a well worn shade, tin cans tied to the bumper.Long after the wedding car has gone, the petals remain - splashes of summer blooms on the grey sidewalk. A passing child stops to scoop some up, filling her pockets. An elderly couple points and chatters with nostalgic glee. But most folks hurry on unaware of the rose petal carpet they w
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Home baking was a thing I picked up, such as some learn the guitar or take up some sport. At first I wasn't so good, but the more I paid attention to the details and tips, the better I got and the more fun it was. I learned to grease my pans properly and measure my ingredients right. Now that I'm actually a good baker, now that the things I make can hold their own with what professionals make, I am free to make up my own recipes and change things around. I love that. It's just as with anything I guess, you have to learn the rules before you can break them in your own artistic way.The woman sits in the chair by the window until she is moved back to the bed. In the bright spring daylight her hair is snowy and skin like a wax dummy, crudely carved with tools too sharp. Her head is in constant motion as if agreeing with sentiments no-one else can hear or perhaps the ruminations of her own mind, mulling over a lifetime that draws to a close. On her dresser stand many photographs including
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The Next Lord Of The Central City. 48
"You're right. We don't know anything about her where about." I remembered how I wanted to discuss this with my mother. How I wanted to bring Tara home to her. But now, she was gone. Just like everyone else I'd known. Kedar, Tara. Nila. "You'll figure this one out. You always do." Mona comforted. "Thanks." I replied her with a smile. When she spoke, it sounded oddly creepy, as I just realized how very similar their voices sounded like. "You know, you remind me so much of Nila.""That was what father used to say.""Father? Old man Ayer?" I remembered how Nila had denied sir Ayer about being her father. But the fact that I never gave her a chance to explain herself bothered me the most. "Sir Ayer?" She called the name like it was an odd creature's name, something so unfamiliar. "No. He's not our father. Our father lived here, in Talot. So did Ragnila. You know, we were all happy together. Until one day, she just ran off with a lady friend, and never returned. She was a young girl, a
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Life is so full of mysteries that each day, we uncover a tiny piece of them. The gifts it offers... the wonders of nature, the cryptic knowledge of time, the breathtaking view of the ocean and all of its divine beauty that unfolds beneath it.But not all that glitters is gold. All that is sometimes good, is also bad and dangerous to us, at one point in time.Raya Soldiers, a remarkable selfless young girl soon finds out about a mysterious piece of ornament, not the kind that was pretty and shinny and would make you the picture of loveliness at the dance party-it was similar to those kind that changed the entire life of a person. A simple gift you might say, but what happens when a simple gift turns out to be a hard nut to crack? This tale uncovers the true meaning to friendship, love, true strength and compassion. Sharpens the blurry image of the lives of three friends, redefines the reality they'd all chosen to abandon. And if all fables truly taught us a lesson, these three friends
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•|•RAYA•|•"Yes. I hated it." Raya complained like she had been doing ever since they stepped foot outside the mall. It wasn't like she was the type to whine and whimper like a cry baby all the time. In fact, her own definition of maturity, was to always go with the flow. "You go with the flow. Just make sure you must have worked super hard, and if it doesn't work out, it's wasn't meant for you. Don't fret." It was her anthem and she made sure she recited it to all of those that were close to her. Sadly, Nora, her younger sister, had always been the victim of listening to her specific words of wisdoms. She angrily dropped the bags in her hands down on the floor and stormed off to lie on the nearest couch. "I hated it so much. So much that, that... it still bothers me tomorrow!" It wasn't as if she hadn't been approached by old men, delivering a special kind of religious visions to her. One time, a man that looked like he was in his late seventies had appeared to Raya, and predicted t
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-OLIVIA-"So how do you want the news to go about slimcute?" Amber asks, her voice bringing me back to reality. The reality that I'd just got dumped by yet again, another Yoruba demon. Amber's father is one of the few richest people in the whole of Lagos and even Nigeria, making her a young, well successful lady. We're the same age, but twenty four looks so great on her that you would think she was just clocking sweet sixteen. Clear, smooth skin with baby cute face and petite stature-damn! I was always secretly jealous of her. Though she's older than I am with two months. She just had her birthday a couple of days back, and it was insanely amazing. I get it from some people that I talk with a UK accent, but since I've met her, I still have doubts whether she was Nigerian or not. She speaks like a real descendant of the queen Elizabeth's household. "Leave her first, she might be connecting with our lord." Lola replied, with her thick and manly voice. Everything about her was manly; he
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"I can't believe that woman made us travel today?" Rachael complained from behind me as we walked out of the airport. Mum told her that she'd like for her to stay with her sister, Aunt Roselle, till she finally decides what to do with her like. Typical of her. "And it's so sad I get to stay with her of all people?" Aunt Roselle was nice in her own way, but was exactly mum's junior. Not just junior as a sister to her, but junior to her in every other way. She craves respect more than anything in the world, talks like mum with a weird fancy accent, eats like her, and loves operas like crazy! In a nut shell, she's mum's replica. "I mean, why can't I just move in with you?"Because we're bunch of dudes Rachael. Now shut up already.""So? I'm like a dude too. Only that I've got some nice female parts, like the boobs and-""Oh for godsake Rachael, would you shut up! You've been talking non stop for hours." I asked as politely as I could, or at least I pretended I acted politely."Well at le
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Monsters are real. Ghosts are too. They live in and around us, and sometimes they win. For me, the demon that haunts me is nothing more than the tiny voice that whispers in my ear; "you'll never be happy again." How would I ever be?When I was a child, I was afraid of ghosts. Now that I'm a grown up, I realise what could be more scary. Me.I don't live inside the darkness. Because the darkness lives inside of me. I am my own darkness. I remember when I first heard the word, 'Agoraphobia.' That word was way too big for a thirteen year old naive girl. I despised the word so much that it haunted me for a long while. Until few months back when I realised that you can't drown your demons. Those bitches know how to swim.Agoraphobia from the dictionary means: a morbid fear of opened spaces. To the doctors it may mean: a disorder caused from stress and often triggers a panic attack when out in public alone. But to me?To me it was traumatizing. Because I knew what I had, had nothing to do
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"Mr Bernstein," my boss was saying to me but sadly, I was not listening. I'd only just heard my name, and instantly, wished I could hit on a 'backward' button. "Do you agree?""Sorry?" Confused me asked, and Mr. Pitt let out a low growl. He did that a lot, creating a sound that resembled some hungry and angry wild NaGeoWild predators."If you do not comply to this, you can save yourself the stress and don't bother resuming tomorrow." He said, hinting no sign of emotion whatsoever."Wait, you would fire me if I don't join your secret illuminati club?" "Yes." He replied and even though I couldn't see much in his darkened room for an office, I saw his head shake as a nod. "Mr. Pitt, this is absurd. Completely." I panicked, because who wouldn't? Ever since my wife left me, my life had been a wreck. Not that I used to be wealthy, but that was the more reason I was broken. My job was the only thing that fetched me little incomes. Call it pride, but I chose not to depend on her for almost
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That morning, I was over at Carolina's house—or hotel room. It was a rather weird drive to the venue but I stuck with her explanation. My home was not what it used to be anymore, and thus, far from safe. Hers on the other hand, was pure and off limit for demons. (Who'd believe that I'd be taking about demons so casually now).It wasn't one of those hotels with five stars. Or those with four. Or three. Or any stars at all.This was just a place where one stayed as long as they had their money. As you would have guessed, the building was a complete havoc. Whoever managed the hotel definitely cared less about beauty and attractive structures and decors. The vicinity wasn't even a conducive area to begin with. I hoped that would be my last visit. I prayed."So, I believe you've been well oriented the last time we spoke, huh?" Said Carolina, who might have not noticed me catching my breath. I was taking a moment to survey my environment and it turned out the hotel's outside was a facade.
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"Mr Bernstein," my boss was saying to me but sadly, I was not listening. I'd only just heard my name, and instantly, wished I could hit on a 'backward' button. "Do you agree?""Sorry?" Confused me asked, and Mr. Pitt let out a low growl. He did that a lot, creating a sound that resembled some hungry and angry wild NaGeoWild predators."If you do not comply to this, you can save yourself the stress and don't bother resuming tomorrow." He said, hinting no sign of emotion whatsoever."Wait, you would fire me if I don't join your secret illuminati club?" "Yes." He replied and even though I couldn't see much in his darkened room for an office, I saw his head shake as a nod. "Mr. Pitt, this is absurd. Completely." I panicked, because who wouldn't? Ever since my wife left me, my life had been a wreck. Not that I used to be wealthy, but that was the more reason I was broken. My job was the only thing that fetched me little incomes. Call it pride, but I chose not to depend on her for almost
