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The Next Lord Of The Central City. 32
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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Chantara stepped into the woods and saw tons of trees. Into the jocund day the tree stood as cheerleader to each passing spirit.The tree in the ever-hug of the atmosphere, crows the hillock and flourishes both wand and foliage.Tree bark is the brown fingerprint of my soul, for as I touch it I feel a divine connection spark.The tree leans into the sunny rays as if they were lovers in eternal trance.Though black heavens and sun-lit days, the tree is sentry to landscape, the stoic guardian of so many souls.The tree is the grand poem of the living world, a beauty that encourages the spirit to dance though words, to make our odes to it's branches that spread heaven-bound. And in the strong light of the new day it creates a kiss for the senses in those moving leaves, the thousand green hues and the soft whispering in the wind.There in the centre of a million grassy wands stands a tree, her bark so patterned as if carved by her own rain-born flash rivers. She stretches up, as if so pr
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My home was the definition of "perfect", and by perfect, I meant perfectly still. Not an utter of noise coming from children's crying or fighting, no screaming and arguing from a wife, no disturbing sound from the television or radio - all in all, no distraction at all. Especially while I was having a man-to-fish word of advise with my only roommate, Sam triple zero eight."Do tell me Sam triple zero eight, how is it that the woman from page two hundred and twenty three was totally mad?" I asked him and he was lost in deep thought. It was a befuddling question indeed, "perhaps she was cursed?" I asked again, and the wind gushed in via my open windows. "Sam triple zero eight, do say something." Snorting at my funny question I realized why my roommate hadn't uttered any reply. "I know right? There is no such thing as a curse."Sunday morning was going so well as it usually did. It was my day off like it used to be every Sundays and I was having the day of my life. You see, I whisked a
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Monday morning was quite alright just as it used to be. At exactly 6:29 am, I was up, ready in my hands was a big glass of lukewarm mixture of distilled water and fresh lemon juice. I never missed a weekday without taking my healthy to-go diet drink. Then the rest of other human daily activities were carried out; brushing of the teeth, bathing, friendly greeting with roommate, special preparation of healthy salad with extra virgin oil dressing(and also another glass of lukewarm lime and water mix) ten minutes of frog jumping (for exercise of course) and I was off to work.Only thing that befuddled me at work that day was the same dream I'd been having lately. It happened again the night before and almost ruined my morning. My eyes shut closed and ignored the faint chattering of the customers spewing out their life histories. Soon, all the noises became a faint in-the-background muffling and muttering.I was in a room, with nothing but darkness as it's atmosphere, yet, it was all black.
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The room was dark, as it used to be, and my eyes, heavy and blurry. Was I still sleeping?But I could see her. My heart, my love and my soulmate. Slender and sublime she was. Her face held a natural youthfulness. Dashing black hair dropped down to her waist. I called her, my Rainha because she truly was my only real lover. Yet, death had seemed not to like me. He stole my Rainha from me.Her eyes that used to be merry and daring, now looked quite blank, and I wondered why. Was she not happy where she was?I opened my mouth to speak but they seemed not to obey. Frozen still and numb, I watched. The entire scene repeating itself like it used to. I was going to scream, tell her to watch out. It was coming and she could still make it. She must not eat that food.Don't die again. My Rainha, watch out. Don't die again. Put down the food. It's poisonous. Don't eat it.My whole body was stiff to the point I couldn't manage myself to look away. Maybe if I could slightly tilt my head to the lef
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Tuesday came and went like any other day. You'd think that I went around crying and foretelling to everyone at work about my tragic incident, and the loss of my dear roommate? Well I didn't.Supernatural things like that wasn't so easy to say out loud. If one was not careful, the psychiatric home would become theirs more instant than they could imagine, and what good would that for me?Time was rather fast. I paid less attention to the annoying customers that stopped by, that my boss would have noticed. For my own good, he was absent that day. Other coworkers did ask if I was alright.Well, was I alright?Soon, night time came, and I was home. Back to the place that didn't feel like home anymore. I'd lost whatever comfort I used to enjoy. Now my home was a house of horror. What bothered me the most was not how alone I now felt without my roommate. Rather, it was about my evil twin. I'd try to tell myself that it had just been a nightmare. But as my eyes glanced past what used to be a
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"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
