creative writing – Page 8

Simple World

The water rose till the glass that held it in broke into smaller pieces. The current had exploded and those caught in the waves were left to curse their luck. The lucky ones stared hard, and without any reason they let loose of vile words and curses. They threw their offense at the wounded ones without an offer to help. “Why should we?” Some of them questioned. “These filthy souls asked for the dirt.”

So the pain again receives no answers. The turmoil most mirrors suffer; always receiving accusing stares from the unassuming onlooker. Out of body, without hesitation the particle of mind will find its source. Believe it or not, the same goes for those who wish to drink from the fountain others reject.

No money to ask for a date. The broke man will use the words of strength or the strength in words to reach the heart of the red star. Never question the moth who buzzes close to the flame without papers. The sign says out but the arrow puts inwards. Laziness might be a disease but hard-work is hardly infectious.

The walk of confidence shows discipline and the slash of an angry man shouts victorious. Remember, the soul will cry but the body will remain for a week or so. The demands of the hardly-working man causes the less-able to always stay in comfortability. No wrong, as long as your own way works.

The embrace from the screams of the never visited place called Venetian. The lung dries up from always saying what the bucket can handle. There! Nothing is left for this part, so onto another.

Coincidentally, the day came with full force; blazing bright. The flight to the top of the happy rhymes was rejected by those who feared the stars. The light all hope to find is in the darkness that most fear to live in. No one fears the cloud-dust up high, but we all fear the shadow, whose only desire is to reveal the unknown.

Though my dream ends here, I still have nightmares bright in the day. The advice is to go to that place where rejection came in abundance. Unlike what they say, the lessons in life is abundant and very unapparent. In darkness, we must first find that tunnel and then maybe later the light. And to think, life was so simple back then when peaches were extremely delicious.

My dreams though.

The Original Orange

The proud but always smiling badger stared at the yellow orange with much curiosity. His white and black fur shone as the sun stood in the sky without fear. He wondered why this particular orange was just so yellow. Every orange he had seen before were not as yellow as this one. Mr. Blind Hedge-Hog had told him that the yellow orange was a sign of doom.

“Foolish Hedge-hog, he doesn’t know anything,” the Smiling Badger thought.

Doom only came to people who wished for it. You get what you wish for. He hated people who were always negative. For example, the always drunk pink Squirrel was always having trouble because of his constant negativity.

For all this smiling Badger knew, this yellow orange was a sign of good times. The smiling badger knew he had to stop Mr. Blind Hedge-Hog from spreading more lies about the yellow orange, so he decided that he would go up to Mr. Blind Hedge-Hog’s house and confront him.

Knock! Knock!!

“Who is it, is that you Mr. Yellow Squirrel?” Mr. Blind Hedge-Hog asked with much curiosity.

“No! It’s Mr. Smiling Badger.”

“Oh you, I really would like if you could stop smiling”

“I can’t, I am the smiling badger.”

“I know but your smile is just borderline plain ridiculous,” shouted the hedge-hog.

“You see its hedge-hogs like you that continue to piss off the humans.”

“How do those always angry humans relate to me not liking your smile? You know Mr. Smiling Badger sometimes I don’t believe I know you”

“Typical of Mr. Blind Hedge-hog, you always keep quoting annoying irrelevant references. You watch too much of those human television shows.”

“Shut up, just shut up, you know nothing. You know nothing about anything with your sassy looking face.”

“Oh for the love of my father’s smile, are you Hedge-hogs ever serious?”

“Hmm, you know that’s a very difficult question, but be rest assured that the yellow orange will answer your question, with doom of course.”

“Stop speaking such blasphemy, the yellow orange will bring peace and harmony.”

“No, you are wrong my friend, the yellow orange will kill us, except me off course and maybe my wife.”

“Alright I can’t take this anymore, open this door at once, you spiny little mammal.”

“Oh wow, you know, all this time we both were engaging in this heated debate over a yellow orange, I honestly honestly! forgot you were still at the front of my door.”

“That’s it, I’m going home, I hope you Hedge-hogs turn into zombies and kill each other.”

“Now that’ll be cool, like I’ll just freak the living nut out of Mr. Yellow Squirrel”

“By the way please extend my greetings to Mrs. Smiling Badger for me, I miss her sassiness.”

“Mr. Smiling Badger, are you there?”

“Well well, I guess he went away”

“And I was just about to open the door.”

“Oh Life, we hedgehogs are just beautiful and misunderstood.”

The story of the hedge-hog is an ongoing series, catch up with previous episodes of the hedge-hog

The Legend of the Hedge-Hog

The Curse of the Hedge-Hog

Bamza and Leela

Approvingly quiescent, Bamza sat next to the large garbage bin. “At last,” he sighed, he was finally in perfect melancholy. This was the only place in the circus that was without laughter or forced delirium. His legs were sprawled all over the floor in an unfazed manner. His left hand held a half empty bottle of Captain Morgan’s rum. With a sudden realization, he came back to reality from his temporary rest and gulped down the remainder of the spicy rum. Each gulp brought back harsher times; from his failed career as circus clown to his failed marriage to a woman who unknowingly was only interested in his money; it all flooded into his mind without a hint of restraint.

“Wretched woman, I hate you,” he drunkenly blurted out. The liquor was now showing its full blown effects, and with a roar he stood up and danced around to his own delight.

“Left, right, left, then right, right!” he sang while moving his legs accordingly.

As his mind remained in a melodic trance, a Nebelung cat appeared from nothing into Bamza’s clear front view. His veins swelled up as he became fully aware of the silky-furred cat.

“Leela!” he exclaimed, and without much thought he immediately began pursuing the cat. He chased and chased. Up and down Bamza ran, he had only one goal on this moonlit night and that was to capture that fuzzy-looking creature. The cat ran without any sign of fright, it was as if the cat knew the pursuant was a failed-man who could not even catch the pieces falling from his own life. Bamza on the other hand looked very determined to succeed, “he had to accomplish this mission life had presented to him,” he thought to himself, “He just had to.”

With his hands almost on the cat, Bamza slipped and fell rock bottom on the floor. To crown his great fall, he had fallen on slime liquid. Bamza was mortified, so he cried. He remained on the floor with discontent written all over his face.

“Blast! This dress cost me 500 bucks. Oh why? Why?”
“See what you caused,” he said, pointing his fingers at the cat.
“I hate my life. I hate this whole damned place. Oh God I am tired, I’m just tired,” He cried.

And so it was that he fell into a deep sleep right next to the garbage disposal. The cat sat close to the now sleeping man. With its glittering eyes, the cat looked at poor Bamza with pity.
And there Leela sat; patiently waiting for her owner to arise from this deep polluted mess.
“Slow Night, So Long,” she purred.

Rise and shine
Drag that weight
Slowly the pain will subside
Even till the night
The cries will be heard
Only the victorious know the joys of the morning

Chains Broken

Every step up that ladder seemed unattainable. The progress made so far was slow as it needed to be. Our thoughts were closer to pain than hope. Pain was easy to obtain. Pain required no formalities to settle into your place of rest; like an unwanted guest who refused to depart.
So I tried; again and again, on and on, I revved, but the clock refused to heed to my words. The wheels kept pushing forward; upward to somewhere that looked like heaven. So to the edge I step; a place where I had no choice but to move on.
Silence engulfs me
A deep sigh,
Back here, one last time
Then it begins
Forgetting pain and sweat, I run
My path gets more unclear by the day
But I preserve and scratch deep down
With my heart bleeding courage
I reached
I had come in last but nonetheless I had succeeded
To my own voice,
With precise clarity
I heard emptiness had fled away
Leaving behind a taste for survival

Spin

When the young arrived the old quietly sat on their chairs

Our lives spin in circles hoping to align directly with our desires. Some people never get to see their deepest wishes come to fulfillment, but only a few realize whatever their heart had hoped for. They journey into loneliness without preconceived pressure, but with a free-flowing effortlessness. Unfair civilization; definitions of the world we continually live in. We are bound to hate one another with disdain and bitterness. Sometimes hoping for a change is like a ball stuck in a dead stream; hopelessly stagnant. Slowly and gradually we disappear into solitude and despair. Love seemed to be the right way but when sought and pursued, a cold shiver was received. SPIN

Third Person (Voice)

You know after all this; the constant pressure to succeed or fail, the pressure to fake a smile or a frown, the pressure to find one or another, or the constant looks from the street judges, there I am (moi). Standing there or maybe walking with my back turned, I look strange just walking, fighting my through another man’s time. I know that’s contemporary life; “you work to live,” but where is my own time?

The elites might know, I mean I toil for them everyday. They should know something, right?

Where am I in this ‘scatta’ ‘scatta’ mess?

Have you seen me lately?

I think I’m lost, missing in action

So is my voice lost in this strictly commercialized noise?

Oh well there it goes again, echoing away my soul

I can’t hear it, even if I lean further, it has gone too far, or am I too far away?

After all this motion and more motion

Where am I?

Where is my voice?

I think I might have to shout much more louder to get it back. Reach for the stars, they say!

Uyi by the Crescent

Palm oil on my shirt

Okin biscuit in my pocket

On my way to school

Not a care in the world

I had forty Naira in my hands

A stroll on Zambia road

Barnawa shone bright in the morning

The Curse of the Hedgehog

After he had got bitten to death by the once seemingly sane hedge-hog, the yellow squirrel returned from the underworld only to receive an interesting call.

“Hello, my name is Mr. Hedge-hog. I am calling on behalf of Zerrazen. Am I speaking to Mr. Yellow Squirrel?”

“Yes you are,” replied Mr. Yellow Squirrel.

“Well sir, I am contacting you in regards to a past due balance on your account.”

“Yes, I know, but I could not pay my bills on time because at that time I was M.I.A.”

“Oh yes sir, it says on your bill, that you are currently in transition to becoming a fully fledged zombie, and we at Zerrazen take that seriously.”

“Well, if you or Zerrazen really understood my situation, you all should also know that getting a job in my current state is practically impossible. I mean everyone keeps running away from me, it’s like I’m cursed.”

“Well sir, you are a zombie in transition, I mean you’re practically not alive.”

“Do you think I don’t know that? I am freaking dead walking yellow squirrel.”

“I understand your situation Sir, if I was bitten by a zombie Hedge-hog, I too would be fuming.”

“Argh argh argh argh argh rah argh rah rah awrrrrrrr rahhhhhhhhhhh”

“Sir, are you there?”

“Arghhh rah argh rah arghhh rah rah rah awrrrr rahhhhhh”

“Sir, oh my, what a pity, there goes another Zerrazen customer. He didn’t even get to pay his past due bill.”

The hedge-hog quietly dropped the phone and sighed. “Typical of a yellow squirrel”

Kaleidoscopic Dreams

If you may, allow me to let you in on a little secret. Where may I begin? Right here, I guess. You see, I have these several, several dreams, many of which I almost never seem to wake up from. In between these episodes, I reach far deep into where I want to be in life. And, every time I try to wake up into my dream, the path becomes nothing more than a scene of an empty room stinking with the smell of vintage books. Sometimes, I try to trick the Queen in my dreams, but her knowledge knows no bound. She told me to break, to break, I must amend, and to amend, I must seek the red bird.

So I tell her “Where do I find this bird?”

“In freedom,” she said, “A place lacking mannered discontent.”

So back there, I went.

Back here, there is nothing, but the empty smiles I receive; faces loosely cringed and plastered together with false hope. Yet again, I am filled with great disappointment.

“These faces have no answers!” I shout.

Faces after faces, I tear away and amend the missing scraps, hoping to find that one bird. The days go brighter and longer; refusing to give into the darker times.

Like a perfect time, I fall right into the sands of time. With rain falling, and the moon shining, I found her. The red bird looking down on me welcomed me with a tune. To my utter astonishment the red bird cried these words to me.

“You fool! All you needed was to fall. All along, I waited by the Iroko tree, night after night.”

After all had been resolved, I and the red bird fly back there without much haste. In my state of equanimity, I quietly hoped I had found my cure because, I badly wanted rid myself of melancholy.

So back there, we went.

Back there, where leeway was abundant, and the bird played her tune with much ease.

Sour Orange

I still wonder why you like the room lit so dim. I can hardly see you when you cry. If you let go of my grip, the scene of misery will last on forever. Hold on tighter. Drag my rags closer to your shattered chest. Pierce deep into my skin; pain always tasted so bittersweet. Our time lasted only till the sound of the bird.

A mockingbird, indeed

Too soon enough to begin, I guess?

With my taste buds gone sour, I shut off those twisted tunes and threw them deep into the skies; far away, where those spacemen could only dream of. A secret place you might know of. I never ever forgot about those long delusional days filled with gifted silence and much red.

Will I ever taste sweet again?

Too much sourness

Stop this or I might bleed out

Drowning in my own feelings

Looking up at the river-like sky

Oh great blue monster, cry down your own worries

So that I may drink and sink.

So they say you speak no more of me. I strived hard to wait for another word from your big egotistical book. I hoped to dream into the realization that it was never ever to begin.

Bombs I left untouched

Scattered there and here

Some by your place

Falling down

Your hair ever so bright

So they say you speak no more of me.

I strived and strived to begin at the beginning.

Always seeking, and never asking

So they say you speak no more of me

I say you talk shit