fiction, mental, Short Story

Out Of My Mind!

Once upon a time there lived a boy, a naughty boy, a little boy with nothing in his hands but trouble on the double. One golden morning our naughty little boy set out on an adventure to destroy the peace. He said to himself, “oh look how all these folks go through life with ease. If I can’t have my piece, I’ll fill their tanks with flees!”

So the little boy started on his journey of evil. He stopped by the gates of the yellow cottage on the hillside that was the home of Mrs Widow Kensworth. He shouted, “Little old lady, Little old lady, Come out Come out I have a treat for you. Bring me your dog and today alone I will give him a wash for no Penny”

He did this jumping from house to house, yard to plot and by the break of noon he had collected enough flees to fill the bucket at his knees. A few minutes of rest will do, he said to himself, having shown great determination to disrupt the pleasant joy in this comfy little town.

You see, this little naughty boy that lived once upon a time was a city boy. He had travelled with his mother from town to town, always being forced to move because his mother’s work was apparently “unorthodox” (whatever that means)…He had heard this description of his mother’s work from his friend Rufus back when they lived in Handercliff-town. Rufus overheard his father spreading the news to his mother over dinner and the round table…

Anyway, yes, he was a city boy you see, and he liked the fast and uncertain life that those folks live that side. And since they were always moving, him and his mother, he became rather lonely and began giving up on ever making friends if it only meant that he would leave them a couple of months after growing fond and a bond with them.

Eyyy, pssssttt!!! it’s supposed to be “his mother and him”…and I’m not lonely, I just really think this place is boring and I’d like to give them a little something to get their blood pumping…haha, IF you know what I mean *WINK*

Woah, WHAT? HOW? WHO’s DOING THAT?!!

It’s me mate, I’m doing it. You’re doing it to be exact, but practically I’m the one doing it. Here’s a suggestion, Try making me sound less like some antient Medieval folktale…Give me an I-phone and a Kim Kardashian, come on man, I’m your imagination…live a little!

First of all, Who are you?

I’m the little naughty boy. You know, the one you didn’t even bother to name. Thanks a lot Einstein…

You’re the naughty Boy in the story that I’m writing?

Yes mate, Come on, Don’t act like this is the first time you’ve ever spoken to yourself. Just because I came now in the form of a fancy little character you were trying to create, doesn’t mean I’m any less realer than any of your other thoughts…

Wow, I never thought I’d ever have one of my stories talk back to me, this is weird. should I be worried? Ahh man, now for sure I’m going crazy! *SIGH*…How did this happen?

Ah dude, I wasn’t here for a Q and A session. I only wanted to suggest that you put me in the next scene with an actual babe instead of some Granny in a cottage bro, Come on!!

Haha, I like the feel of that story, You just had to be patient and wait until the end of the story and stop being like everyone else who likes jumping to conclusions, and even worse, like the rest of the other thoughts that come out of my head without even giving each other a chance to finish and me a chance to breathe and catch some air, and have some peace…man, why doesn’t anyone ever just let me have my piece?

Damn! Chill bro. I’m only here because you believe in me so much. I am a figment of your imagination, I’ve been in your head for so long and now you finally took the time to write about me. And when you wrote about me, you probably allowed me to manifest and I just had to take my opportunity man. As you said, those thoughts in your head don’t play fair, so I thought I’d just pop up and ask that you give me a few nice things to go back with you know, just until the next time you think about me…

Ya well I’m sure you know that I don’t really have much control over what happens in there man. And I’m sure there are some rules, or at least there should be some rules against words talking back to their author or whatever you are…

Hells Yeah there are rules bro! Haha But read up, you’re the one who said I’m a naughty Boy..Haha, So I guess this is me pouring flees into your tea pot too hehe…Now Give me a name, It will help you remember me, Please bro…

Okay, here’s your name, Fold! Now do as your name and Fold back to where you came from!

 

 

 

 

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fiction, guide dog, Short Story

Working man.

What time is it? I don’t want to stay up too late again, it gets too tiring during the day when you don’t get enough rest at night. I learnt that lesson the hard way.

This morning the boss woke up so early and I had to be ready in a snap, I tried to cry for a little nap but she wasn’t having it. She needed to run some errands in town, this is the life of a working man and I am that working man.

We got out of the house to a beautiful Morning, I could smell the roses fresh with the dew from the night. I couldn’t smell no danger, so I was confident that today would be alright.

As we walked through the streets I was harassed, as usual by those lazy security guards. They act like they’re working but I know that it is all a performance. I know they sit by the gate all day waiting for the girls to pass by, it must be nice being professionally lazy.

Every time they see a true professional like myself walk past, they have to turn into a fracas. But I cannot lose my focus over such a circus, so I just keep on walking, doing what a trained professional like me does best.

It’s an important job this. The town can get so busy at this time of the month, and today was no exception. We’re crossing streets, red light, green light, headlight and taillight…i spot them all as we wistfully make our way through the crowds.

People are amazed at the precision I put into my work. Some doubters think I will fail, but I have my master’s confidence. We’ve been working together for over a decade, we have become family in the process. There’s no way I’m going to let her down.

We walked through the park and those pretty boys are chasing frisbees, checking out girls and enjoying picnics. I would be lying if I said I don’t envy them sometimes, but as I have told you already, I’m a determined workman and I will never allow playful desires to deter me.

We made it back home that evening to what is probably my favourite time of the day. I got my favourite treat for dessert and she gave me a much needed backrub. She sneaked in a little tickle and I gave her a kiss goodnight and she was off.

We’ll do it again tomorrow, I’ve already lost some sleep time telling you this but now that you know how busy I am, I hope you will loosen up on constantly asking why I haven’t found a bride yet.

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satire, Short Story

Jack and Jill.

Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water.

Jack fell down and broke his crown, then Jill came tumbling after.

Jack got up at snapped at Jill, she had turned his misfortune into a spoof.

Jill got up, her empathy rejected, then teased “no food for fools who lose their cool – only punishment for broken crown”.

Jack did get some sense knocked into his head and said, “why up the hill? The water flows downstream!”

And so they walked and saw Diddle’s cottage. They knocked twice each, singing “Hey Diddle Diddle”

Inside was the cat with a fiddle, the cow jumped over the moon.

The dog did laugh at such good sport, and the plate ran away with the spoon.

What a weird old man Diddle is, Jack said, he needs to get a maid, I think his brain is delayed.

Then to home they hurried, on the way they passed Humpty, as he sat on the wall.

He’s been there since fall, said Jill, he’ll never grow tall.

Yup, nodded Jack, I heard he’s a washed up Horseman – Oh from Grace, what a fall.

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Love, Relationships, secrets, Short Story, Uncategorized

Loveless Love Letters

Dear Dorothy

Is it your comforting touch, your cheering laugh or your tight squeezing hugs that’s got me missing you? Or maybe it’s just my regrets, of the pain I caused you that has got me thinking so deeply.

I remember how your big eyes used to light up when we were together. You would smile as you lay your head on my shoulder telling me about your friends, the real ones and the fake. You thought I was one of the real ones and set no boundaries for what you could say next, you just said it all and I was all ears all the time.

I, however, could not even begin to tell you what was on my mind. It wasn’t you… maybe it was what we were doing together but looking back at it now, I did not really have your best interests at heart. You are Beautiful, always have and always will be. But I took that beauty for granted – I had somebody else.

Yes, it’s by time I confessed. My heart has always belonged to Diane. I lied and told you I was getting tired of her, but every night I rested in her arms and had no trouble falling into peaceful slumber.

I kept you hopeful – of a time when you and I would pack only our favourite clothes and note books and run away together. We said we would leave it all behind, the money, careers and past lovers…but in truth that was all just a dream, a youthful fantasy – it was never going to happen.

Diane has gone back home to care for her young siblings while her ill mother is in and out of hospital, and although I should be worried for her and their family’s pain – I am now missing you. Maybe this is just a lonely man trying to satisfy fleshly urges, or maybe this is our time Dorothy – maybe we could set sail with those dreams we once buried.

I’ve always loved how you composed your poems, although I have never been able to produce words under such a rhyming pressure and for sure I never will have the pleasure. But still you loved my short stories and we said that together we would take over the world of free-lance literature.

I heard some birds singing a song about how you had found a new love, but you and I both know that he is just trying to fill up my old boots. What we had, no – what we have is real, a true connection you know – chemistry. I will come by real soon to take back what is rightfully mine.

Until I come my love, do prepare some poems for me…I’ve got so many apologies to sing to you, and some ice-cream too. We can sit through the sunset on your porch as we let our words do the talking. It will be like old times. It will be a Grand time.

Sincerely yours.

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African, city, dreams, God, Short Story, south africa, Uncategorized

The City & small towns

So I was taking a walk the other day, yes an actual walk – slow paced and with peaceful thoughts and maybe even a song (a calm song) – one that you would play even by the waterfall.

Suddenly it began to drizzle and I was taking a walk in the rain. Imagine that, an actual walk in the rain – this kind of stuff is unheard of in the City where I come from – it’s an experience we have reserved strictly for thoughts of retirement by the seaside.

That’s the beauty of a small town isn’t it? You are afforded so much space and you don’t have to rush to and fro’ in fear of being stumbled down in a sidewalk-stampede.

The clouds took a deep breath and the drizzle turned into a shower – paradise is over. I began taking larger steps to hurry back home – you can take the Boy out of the City but you cannot take the City out of Me. We have never loved the rain I tell you, our working-class uniforms and overpriced trends do not allow that.

So I increased my pace, put some springs into my steps – but you cannot pick and choose which part of the City you want, you have to take the whole package. And that’s when the bounce began to show, along with chest out and head in the clouds…that’s how we do it in the City.

Small-town folk always think we are just arrogant, but with the number of thieves our overpriced-ness attracts, it’s better to look like an aggressor than to look like a victim. That’s one aspect of city life I had no trouble mastering. You have to know the lingo for the tango, there’s too much wisdom to learn on the City streets.

To be honest I don’t know which lifestyle I prefer anymore. The City life is in my veins, I bleed cheeky and trust nobody – yes The City is who I am and and have always wanted to be. I always dreamt to build my empire, spend more time with Mandela and The other heroes and make an impact! And at least I just have to keep my eyes open because most devils there wear their horns proudly.

Small town folk are harder to see through – there are less demons here but the few are harder to spot. The small town-feller is who I want to become now, not to be one of the few, but to live a modest life and enjoy more time alone with God, I trust he makes the greatest impact.

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crush, fiction, Love, Relationships, Short Story, Uncategorized

The Story of a Bus Stop

Saturday morning and I’ve overslept. This leaves me with little over half an hour to get myself together, I promised that I wouldn’t miss Lisa’s little-league soccer game “for anything in the world” , for hers and my sake – let it not be missed because of Sleep!

So I get up and it’s decision time. I come to the conclusion that something is going to have to be sacrificed – Is it going to be a shower or breakfast? Well I did shower last night…so I’ll have my bacon and eggs.

I race up to the Bus Stop and it seems I’ve made it on time. So there’s this young lady sitting on the other end of the bench, she’s got on a red summer dress with yellow and purple flowers on it – what a pathetic description, but I don’t know flowers that well you see. She’s also got on a yellow head band, and she vibes just like a summer breeze on a lazy Saturday morning.

Anyways, “hello” as I wave in her direction. She lifts her head slower than frozen time and with a smile and no words she waves back. Okay, “why did she do that ?” I start to wonder as I slowly fall into my over thinking daydream.

The worst part about my over thinking is that I also believe that she is also over thinking, maybe she thinks I look good, maybe I’m her type, or maybe she’s expecting me to come closer to her and compliment her puffy sandals. Or maybe she’s not, maybe she’s thinking about her tall and muscular Boyfriend, he probably has some cool tattoos and a car – she’s probably waiting for him right now.

All this thinking and the Bench no longer holds two people. Between me and this beauty there now sits an entity made from a mixture of Fear and my Love for her. Yep that’s how quickly I fall in love – So you can imagine how many heartbreaks I’ve had, which should explain my fear…or maybe I’m just using that as an excuse for my lameness when it comes to making girls think I could be anything more than a friend.

So the bus comes around, she gets on and my theory about her boyfriend has already been proven false. I follow her on the bus, and it’s decision time again – do I sit next to her or not – let’s just say I found myself sitting some rows behind her regretting why I didn’t suck up my loser-tendencies and sit next to her. I could have been talking to her by now, could have made her laugh and she might have confessed that she likes me too…aaand I’m over thinking again.

The bus came up to my stop and she was getting off as well. I decided it’s time to man up and make my move. She walked up towards the soccer grounds and I followed, but I’ve got much longer legs than her so I couldn’t maintain my walk behind her even if I tried. I came closer to her and this was my chance, in my head I’m trying to bring all my pick up lines together for this big moment (not that any of them have ever worked) – it was almost time for action then she jumped on me, I wasn’t in it so I lost my balance and fell to the ground, “You kept your promise, I can’t wait for you to see me score” , Lisa said as she pressed me with a huge kiss on my cheek.

“I wouldn’t miss your game for anything in the world” , I replied.

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dreams, Friendship, Short Story, Uncategorized

I dreamt about you

I dreamt about you last night, I don’t know where it came from but it reminded me that true Friendship is more powerful than distance and time.

It’s been a decade since we bid our farewells on our last day of high school. You and I refused to admit that it could be Goodbye, so we agreed on “Until I see you again”. How young and foolish of us to think we could get the better end of time’s harsh stick of reality.

Anyways, I saw you in this dream and you finally had it all under control. You made it out of college and your career was waiting for you on your porch and you’ve been alright ever since.

You fulfilled your promises and got your mother that house on the countryside where she can grow her daisies and tomatoes…she sells them in a street corner in their quiet retirement town every Thursday as an excuse to get her nose into everybody’s affairs. Your dad is even more stubborn than he was in those stories you used to tell me in English class. He refuses help from the local boys when he loads the stock into the Ford you finally bought for him, but it wouldn’t be wise for me to undermine a man with such gray hairs sticking proudly out of his shinny scalp.

I assume you are now finally over Quinton, he put you through so much and almost had you giving up on Love. You have those perfect twins just like your favourite singer Beyonce and I’m actually glad your husband found you because now maybe the rest of us guys have a chance with the ladies. You guys seem genuinely good for each other. You rescued him from alcoholic habits and he saved you from yourself. Yep I definitely think you’re over Quinton.

I remember your head was just as messy as mine, but now you’ve got your head thinking straight. You can actually concentrate now – there’s no more little flower and heart drawings on every page corner in your book and no you did not end up creating your own comic book…and your emails did not convince cartoon network to bring back “the good old-school cartoons like FlapJack and Chowder. And now I wonder if you really wanted the cartoons or if you were just hungry.

We did bump into each other the other morning at Starbucks though. You ran up to me like nothing’s changed and you gave me a hug I can carry into next week. I struggled to hold a decent conversation, cheap ques about how your life has been were all I could afford…but the smile on your face brought back no change and I had no choice but to let you run off to collect your beloved “fresh muffins and coffee for breakfast”.

There’s a lot I should have asked you for old time’s sake, but it wasn’t a dream about me…so you continued on as you made life seem so easy and I guess your faith in God paid off. You always worried about how you would survive in a world where everyone else made you feel bad for refusing to go out on Friday nights, I hope you’re now realising that you did well to stand out – even if it cost you many lonely nights.

I however don’t know what happened to my life. I tried to live right but I was always in inner-battle between a heart that seeks God and a Mind that had been corrupted by the world…ah and look now I’m back to talking about myself – that’s always been the case – that’s the lack of self-control I’ve always suffered from and the need to always be heard which I now believe is a disguised cry-out for help in the hopes that somebody who has been through the same thing can just reach out and guide me, bring me in from the cold and tame this beastly brain…

Ah see now I’m losing focus once again. So let me stop myself because this wasn’t about me, this was about you. I dreamt about you.

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cry, Family, inspiration, Love, secrets, Short Story, Uncategorized

A Shoulder…

The older I get – The stronger I need to be – The weaker I am.

“It’s age, it’s fate, it’s growing up”, I tell myself everyday. I need to be an example for the young ones back home – stand tall, “Thats my older brother”, they need to be able to say.

I need to prepare for the harsh world out there, “That’s the new intern, an able Lawyer he’ll be”, They need to be able to say.

But all this is just a bit too much. It all happens so fast, I thought I was in the driving seat but that was a 2003 Toyota with my mom on the passenger seat so I kept it below 60/per hour…

Now I’m in the backseat of 500 Horse-powers and mom is nowhere in sight, I left her for my future. I’m being tossed from side to side because I can’t make a decision…I’ve lost control and I’m running out of fuel.

When I was younger you walked into my room and asked me what was wrong. There wasn’t much I could complain about so I rarely did. You laid such a good foundation so we only looked forward to moving up.

Don’t get me wrong I’m still looking forward. But I don’t have my own foundation yet I need to move out. So yes I’m sinking – or maybe I’m being blown by the wind, getting lost and seeing things I should never look at.

Okay so I set some standards for myself and I’m aiming high, I ask God to stay by me and I know he’s faithful. I’ll inherit this Kingdom with Jesus, but first I must endure the struggles.

And it’s his love that gets me wishing…wishing I had your shoulder to cry on because I lost myself, I’m crawling back and will be walking soon but I wish I could run back home and let you know that I’ve made some mistakes, learnt some lessons…

but I’m a big boy now – I guess I’ll just have to get Older – get Stronger and miss the Weaker me because, “I have overcome and succeeded” – I need to be able to say.

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Love, marriage, Relationships, Short Story, Uncategorized

First Place

“Are you an Athlete? Because Darling you’ve been running up and down in my head all day long.”

This morning I stayed an extra minute in bed reminiscing about the winter, thinking about the nights we stayed warm by the fire that burned much like my young heart burns for yours. It was a time when all I needed was your smile to ignite endless thoughts about everything we could yet become.

At noon I got lost in wander, daydreaming about our future – we kept our promise to love each other forever to set an example for our children and our peers, an example that True love never dies. As pentioners we spend the sun on our porch by the sea-side until the moon comes around to lead us quietly into peaceful slumber.

In the evening…well here I am writing this post about you.

It’s so sad that there is no such thing as the “Girlfriend olympics” because I know you’d be a shoe in to win the Gold my love…they probably know that and maybe that’s why they don’t have them. But you’re in a league of your own – they would have to create a Platinum medal for you my sweetheart.

Ahhh but some might confuse Platinum for silver…

Which actually gets me thinking. Maybe that is why a man buys his Wife a Diamond Ring when they get married. Maybe it’s his way of letting her know that she has won the race to his heart.

If that’s the case then you my love deserve the brightest Diamond on this Earth. You haven’t just won the race to my heart – you saved my heart from the track to darkness.

I used to run the race of death and I was winning. You came and you taught me how to Love. Each day we spend in this Love is a learning experience on how to care for another person more than we do for ourselves. You challenge me to be a better person with every passing conversation and encourage me to actually trust less in my pride and more in loyalty and faithfulness. Today I am able to Blog about the Love I know and it’s all thanks to everything I’ve learnt from you…I write quite an inspired thesis online but it’s you who suffers when my trials turn to error…

With that being said, I should probably admit that you never actually had any competition to my heart… I’ll still get you your Diamond Medal one day though. But until then, you should probably get some rest from all this running – I hope you kept my heart somewhere safe.

*Dedicated*

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