The magpie’s song

Adorned by the brittleness of his aching spirit, the Magpie watches himself in the reflective stream and nods approvingly. His kins would be proud, if they could see him stretch out his nestled wings and glide inches above the water surface.

It is a good day. And it going to get better.

Victory is in the waddling stream, it is in the harvest of the trees rootling. It is in the squeals of the busy beavers. It is in his brother’s pea-sized eyes.

For years and years, his kind had been predated, and hunted down. He remembers his dear mate lying on the zenith of an Alpine mountain, try as he could, her small heart palpated and went silent before she thought of giving up. Stricken down by some hunter fellow. What woes trails the magpie’s life. Loneliness settled faster than the snowy blizzard that brewed on the day that the colours from his flamboyant feathers turned bland…until now.

He gripped the soil underneath his talon and pushed with all his little might. The time to mourn had come and gone. Today he smelt victory in the fields. He’d advocate it all day long

“Hello”, he yelled to the Robin

“Salute”, he tweeted to Frau Puffin

And then he settled on jenny’s windowsill and sang the most serene symphony she’s heard in a while.

When they asked him why he was so ecstatic with curiosity dripping from their lips, he winced and flipped and giggled and said, It’s going to be good day after all, as he pecked off the crust of jenny’s shepherd pie

Mother

They say the walls have ears, little do they know that the walls have mouths too. And they speak to her, they teach her what it means to be aware

She lived with three siblings which was invigorating but she still hid who she was. A girl that heard the walls when they spoke. Then came a day darkness consumed the land. She saw the a shadow take the form of a hat with an arc drawn around a woman’s eye. Birds perched on barbed wires saw it too.

Nobody else did.

They had been looking for mother. She’d gone into the woods to harvest wheat at the bank of the streaming waterfalls. And now as the moon swallowed the sun and grew fuller, darkness ravaged the earth like an Octopus devouring a sardine.

Something was coming their way, and it was neither mother nor was it as charming. Whatever it was, it took the form of a woman and was drenched with the darkness.

The earth created a mouth that beckoned on her to flee. The birds squawked like they were perceiving an erupting volcano. She tugged at her siblings burlaps and yanked their arms. Two of them hearkened to her bargain and they began running home but the eldest chose to dance the tune of a cowardly lion. Somebody had to find mother.

As he approached the thick of the woods, there was silence so deafening, his ears began to bleed. Soon he came face to face with darkness in a woman’s form. He smiled and drew closer, that had to be mother. In a way he was right for it looked like her but her eyes were black like they’d been replaced with iron ore. There he stood entranced by the likeness of his mother as she sucked out his soul into a calabash and filled him full with darkness.

Alas , three kinders running in the woods. The tentacles of darkness close behind them. One of them took a wrong step and twisted her ankle. That moment of weakness was all the darkness needed. It enveloped her without delay and like a breeze she was gone.

The darkness grew stronger with the fullness of the eclipse.

Two kinders arrive in the cottage. They shut the windows and light the lanterns. The illuminating candles will protect us. They huddled at the east corner of the cottage. “protect us”, muttered little girl to crumbling walls. Though crippled by fear and terror, little girl incanted louder. Her voice echoed through the room. However, mother was stronger and needed her family. She grabbed the boy’s ankle and dragged him away.

Before mother could take little girl, the sun is hurled from the moon and returns as the center of attraction. Little girl takes a breath of awareness, rising off the floor of the house that was once saturated with a mother’s love.

Mother retreated deep into the woods where the trees formed a canopy shielding against the sun. she counted the souls of her special children. Each unique and vulnerable in their own way. She thought, Maybe it’s not hogwash when they say, the best thing you could do for your kids is not have them at all.

Last stop: Hope

Ms dukings hung her head outside the moving van. Eyes darting from scrub to scrub. Hill to hill. As though he would pop up. She didn’t want to miss any moment. The journey from Ibadan to Lagos central was four hours, out of which they had exhausted 2. Detective Kozak had attempted making small talks with the distressed mother earlier during their Journey despite being overwhelming bad at it himself. He eventually gave up. If psychology had taught him anything, it was that if you couldn’t distract the mind from it’s ongoing war, you would consequently excite it.

At this point of the journey everything was beginning to look like tumbleweed to Ms dukings yet she couldn’t let herself blink until she noticed Kozak slowing down at the end of the roundabout and turning into the roadside gas station on the outskirt of Kaduna island. The Automobile was coming to a halt when she started;

Wh— what are you doing?

The detective heaved, “your mind could use a break and frankly I’d like a cup of coffee myself”

“I’ll wait here”, she objected.

Knowing there was nothing he could do to convince her, the detective opened the door to elit the vehicle as Dukings held his hand and squeezed them as tight as she could. As their eyes met she confirmed her fears;

“You are my Last hope. We have to find my son”

“This is the last stop before we enter Lagos. Ms Dukings”, `Said the detective as he observed at the vast horizon.” Be prepared for what we’ll find”.

Silent eyes

I was standing at the front of my mat with my feet rooted to the earth, much like a woman with silent eyes waiting for hours at a bus stop.

Prudently listening and smiling, like her cares had been washed away with dunes on midnight’s wave and she didn’t have anywhere to be. Though she receives no visual input, her ear are busy and constantly overwhelmed.

She could hear the school children chattering, snacking, doing what school kids do. The cars swoon past her, like they were racing against the impending mortality of their desires.

Today she met me, and I met her. neither of us could see each other, and it was perfect that way. Her whites of her eyes had turned to the heavens as if she was permanently searching for a starlight. Mine were shut, temporarily.

I sensed her graceful smile and her kind colours that illuminated from her fragile soul.

Her silent eyes saw everything and reflected nothing. Her ears followed the every sparrow’s song, every lingering moment. Every cutthroat Innuendo. She held the implosive secrets of many-a-man that transformed into feelings that could set her ablaze.

She spoke to me like a long-time friend, her successes and anecdotes of her pain. I was moved by her words of wisdom and the passion in her voice. Sometimes she weaved her secrets between the strands of poetry.

Finally, my ears were overwhelmed too so I opened my eyes to greet her face. It was then she told me the most important thing that contained no words, and a smile that stretched from her lips to the edge of her silent eyes.

Delilah’s wish

She waited at the foot of mother’s rocking chair, next to the polka- dot curtains, cuddling her head between the flesh of her palms.

Mother was 122 years old with the smile of a 6 year Mädel. Her silver hair was ankle-long and growing. She reminded Delilah of an orange orchid that blossomed in spring.

Mother always told her that if she wished hard enough, it will come true. Think of it as the source of your soul’s turnover, she said. So every second she held a wish, like a golden goose egg on a Mughal-gem spoon. Her wishes bloomed into ideas that transformed into pictures that broke out of the oasis of her mind.

Everyday she was living her best wishes within herself, disconnected from both bright and shadowy side of the world.

Outside, the ground was a muddy mess of earth, the trees twisted their roots deep into the malleable soil, claiming their territory while providing nurture for the wrmy worms and beetles. The rain had poured for weeks, and even now, there seemed no sign of dryness.

Delilah had stayed in. Albeit her love for the unsynchronised kiss of the soluble element on her coarse skin, seeing mother’s radiance was a far pleasurable experience.

Delilah pulled out her book of colours tucked beneath her pillow and began to scroll like she always did. The moment she sprays her colours is when her cheeks are flushed, her body squirms with joy and her frosty soul melts into a healing orange puddle.

She would colour in her dreams, and then paint herself when she’s awake. Her aesthetic was more-so an extension of herself than a mask

Today she painted freshly baked banana-cupcakes on the stove. Windsor, the tabby cushioned between two flower pots. She painted her mother looking out the curtains watching the rain drip drip with wonder in her eyes. Delilah imagined she was thanking God for the gift of the seasons.

When she was done, she proudly handed her masterpiece to mother. She couldn’t have wished for anything more than the truth her sketches revealed even without tracing a single ink to paper.

Oracle

 

Oracle

 

Perhaps it’s is glaringly obvious that I’m a tad fascinated with the occult.This time I decided to focus on  communities like the illuminati in an aboriginal perspective with a short story of an oracle.  This takes place in the Urban tribe of Asaba in Nigeria.

Share your lovely thoughts, how do you think it should play out, Should my protagonist  accept her fate or confront it?.

Cheers to the long weekend!

 


 

 

“Be keen on your decision” said the hag to Chioma, “there’s no turning back from this”.

 

Chioma’s mind was in pieces, she couldn’t stop wondering  how she got into this predicament. She was hoping that the hag was only trolling her.

 

Ha! that’s it. In a few minutes a camera crew is going to burst through the tent and her, and this fake-ass oracle woman will have a jolly laugh

 

Eyes ever so intently fixed on the entrance.

 

“Chil—,” The hag snapped her fingers in an attempt to get the girl’s attention.

“Where’s the camera?,” Chioma was frustrated. “Is it in that deplorable head wrap of yours? II mean, what is your game here?”

“THIS IS NOT A GAME!,” the hag spat. ” I’m offering you a resolution.

“This is hardly a solution,” Chioma spoke in a fear-gripped tone, realising that there is all too real. “Taking one part of my life to replace another is not fair”

“The spirits are never fair, silly girl, You must accept your fate with dignity. Only one man has dared to challenge the oracle and lived to tell.”

 

As Chioma sat there deep in thoughts, she began to reminisce of what a beautiful life she was having until this moment. She started her week in such high spirits,  Entertaining others have always been a dream of hers. She was determined to challenge pending adversary.

It was while she was on her way to her betrothed’s, that she saw the tent. She had shrugged it off and continued her trip when she stumbled across the witch who said to her;

“Do you believe I can make your heart desire come to pass?”

 

She had followed the hag back to the tent and attempted to pay her for a prediction.

 

The woman spat; “Your coins are worth nothing to the spirit. This is no  prediction child. What you surely ask, the oracle will generously deliver…. but be forewarned for the price is heavy. Do you accept?”

 

Chioma nodded.

 

“Ayeye ayayah keke nyin.
Ayeyeyeyah ndibe nzu kwa ti mutele.
Ndi ndo udo udi keke nyin kwa mutele.
Nzu mkpe amadu ndibe kwa ti mutele.”

The hag continued to recite the incantation and then proceeded to mark Chioma’s temple with a coal talisman.

 

“The spirit invite you to say your wish”

“I want to be the greatest performer of all time”.

 

The hag whistled for damn near 30 minutes.

 

“What you wish for  is done, in return, your first child will the son of the oracle.”

Chioma argued, “I’ve given myself, isn’t it enough?”

“You are merely  the down payment. Give up your first child, this is the deal the oracle is willing to make.”

“Never!”

“Then you may choose success or  save your child”.

” Or what?” she frowned

“You will lose your life in a fortnight,” cautioned the witch.


Early the next morning, Chioma hung a satchel over her shoulder and set out.

Before midday, she was going to cross the first  of many rivers.

The woman wasn’t clever telling her that the oracle had been defeated. She must  convince this warrior to do it all again, or become a victim of circumstance.Whether she liked it or not, her purpose has been changed forever.

 

 

 

The Pre-extinction of Mankind

It is the year 3005. Approximately a century of a light year,  man is on the verge of extinction. The ozone is depleting, unfiltered rays shone through. Each Human  had a 100% chance of getting cancer if they were exposed to the atmosphere.

Augusta sat at her grandma’s heel, they’d just had lunch. The grub is meager now-a-days, all food, even confectionery  truck  foods had GMO traces in them which is gastronomically toxic. At the time of discovery, less than 3% crops were organic and while the world steadily ate their way to the grave, Australia  proved resilient to the natural selection of humanity.

Augusta loved stories, her favourite were about the life before the extinction era,  she was curious about civilization and the millennials. She’d revere in the stories like she lived then as she’d never known smart phones or social media and today was no exception. Luckily grandma Alex is the best story teller alive, literally, as there were only 300 humans alive.

Grandmother Alex enigmatic eyes loomed into the distance. She knew the story her grand daughter would request far too well. She relived it as many times as she reiterated it. She heaved heavily as if it’ll hurt to utter a word. She started;

“I come from a time of great triviality. We could have done better because we knew better. It was the year 2017 and mankind was at the peak of evolution. The world had 3 trillion occupants with oodling birth rates and a recline in  mortality.

I was a young student at the time, my ultimate goal, to become a neurology specialist. I was insouciant to the world around me,  It was the only way to stay sane… little did I know what life had in store for us. The migration rate was explosive, with the ongoing war in the Middle East, and economic stand of third world countries, everyone wanted a better life elsewhere than home, including myself, albeit this was the beginning of the end.

A neo-viral disease surfaced,  The terminal ailment was traced back to a CNC mechanic in Cardiff. I was the resident physician on call that day.  He presented symptoms of a complicated flu, 11 days later, the young man made a complete recovery, or so we thought. Later that evening, he suffers from status epilepticus and died within seconds. A culture of his blood sent to the lab suggested that the infection was a recombinant cluster of Ebola and Dengue virus. Attempts to identify it’s diverse symptomatology failed and sure enough, the disease spread fast.

Vietnamese migrants were the first to be associated with the disease.  East-Asia crumbled under the blow of an epidemic, the economic instability worsened it.  Attempts by the world leaders to aid Asia proved futile. Europe and USA went on the defence, abandoning Asia, watching under quarantined roofs as one subcontinent vanished. There was an uprising by world activists; liberals protesting the governments, and thus began the third world war.

Lives were destroyed. Dreams shattered, and families  separated.  Meanwhile Russian biologists worked secretly on a trial antidote for the pandemic, it was solely in the interest of the government. Nonetheless, the grim reaper spared them not.

By 2020,  the rate of inborn errors of metabolism had drastically tripled, and the world population was halved yet again. This was indirectly linked to GMO in food produce.

All these while, Australia went A-wall. That seemed to have a source of hope. Unbelievably, it worked. Almost no one migrated there. In that period, Australia was simply forgotten. The underdogs survived the greatest tribulations of Mother nature.

You, my dearest Augusta, are the descendants of the fittest survivors, grandma concluded.

Although Augusta loved that story, she knew it was a far greater burden for Grandma Alex. She made a solemn promise to herself that she’d never make her millennium old relative relive the worst era of her life.

An so it was, because as nightfall came and they rested their eyes, so they could fight tomorrow. Grandma suffered a stroke.

Today is  29. 2. 3005, General population of the world, 299 survivors left.

 


I wrote this story a while back but held back from publishing it. I guess now’s as good a time as ever. I hope it makes sense to you and you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Don’t forget to let love shine through your words, and deeds.

Bless your beautiful hearts. Au revoir.

die Katze und der Hase

Once upon a time, in a totally real, not made up kingdom close to the Amazon,  all animals lived in harmony.

They broke bread together and partook in delightful feasts

The Emperor and highest in command is the Elephant

The  Musicians were the birds and crickets

The Hunters included the Hyenas, wild cats and sharks

The decorators were the graceful butterflies

On security details, they had the porcupine and hound

As their community grew, many animals who did not have a job found one that gave them much purpose and fulfillment

Even the Fox became the kingdom’s travelling salesperson.

The baby animals were trained by their parents and relatives as they would take over the role when their loved ones were too feeble to continue.

The young owls studied the act of philosophy and diplomacy from their grand father

Everything was perfect. Everyone kept busy, everyone except the cat and the rabbit.

No one really knows about their absence. After the  community’s wholesome breakfast, they simply disappeared until the same time, the next day.

The Dog  aka whistle-blower Joe became suspicious, hence, he approached the mighty Emperor;

‘Sir I have reason to suspect that the Cat and the Rabbit are cajoling with members of other communities,  they may even be spies my Emperor, think back to your earliest memory of them, I can’t  recall them as kids, or their parents, can you?’

The Elephants fussed.

‘You’re right loyal dog, They just appeared here,  as you know,  I never forget. We must arraign them in front of the magistrate’.

 


 

And so it happened that the following morning, the cat  and Rabbit were tossed  into jail.

‘Hear ye, Hear ye’. The  Magistrate, the giraffe announced pounding his heavy gavel.  ‘the defendants may appear before my court’

So the cat and the rabbit, bound  on  all  sides by two hefty rhinoceros guards  and hippo bailiffs appeared before the judge.

The judge raised a brow;

‘Ok, I’m gonna keep this simple coz lunch starts in 15 minutes and I gotta catch the sautéed pithy tendril before they run out. You two stand here accused  of spying on our community and stealing information about us’

‘What information?’ the Cat mocked;

‘Silence! do you understand these charges, have you anything to say?’

‘I have a question’, announced the rabbit meekly,

The whole court leaned it. The rabbit rarely spoke, except for the old owl, no one knows how he sounded like

‘Go ahead’ nudged the Giraffe

In his thready, squeaky voice, the Rabbit askd ‘why are there only wryms,  tiger snakes and crocs in the prison?’

The Giraffe shouted with austerity, “because they are baaaaaaad mother fuckers, and they’ll eat your cute hiney  for breakfast without blinking twice’

‘This is ridiculous’, objected the cat,  are you so curious about where I am? My aeipathy is laying at the vantage point of the hilliest rock where the sun hits just right and occasionally licking my sack, why? BECAUSE I HAVE NO JOB, is that a crime now?

‘Me too’, said the rabbit

The Giraffe looked at his watch and said. ‘I rule that you two are unguilty,  Lazy bigots. Now, get out of my courthouse and get a life!”


 

News got back the Emperor that two furry critters needed to secure a job

‘Well that’s easy, said the Elephant, they can be poets’

‘Sir the Seal has that,  his work is like Troubadour’, the Emperor’s secretary,  Swansil the Swan suggested

‘What about good distributors’

‘The Chimps Sir, they even deal with perfumes

‘They like to groom, how about a hair saloon?’

‘Sir, you send your wife to  Bear & Brothers™ for her coils, he’s excellent at it’.

‘Right right  then perhaps design?’

‘Fashion is the peacocks area of expertise’

Four hours of bantering later, the Emperor consulted with his council men. They made more suggestions, albeit there was really no free occupational sector available.

By the end of the day, every one had collapsed from exhaustion. Finally the Elephant called in the Cat and the Rabbit

‘Listen, we are tired! just tell us what it is you want to be, and you can resumer training for it’

They exchanged trepid glances; ‘well we don’t know’, said the rabbit

‘You have until tomorrow morning  to figure it out’.

 


 

The following day,  the Cat and Rabbit, arrived zestfully to the throne room

‘Have you arrived at a decision’, a doubtful Emperor scoffed;

‘We think you were on to something, We should be spies!’ said the cat

The Elephant’s eyes flung open, ‘You’re right…I did come up with that ‘

the swan  said matter-of-factly, ‘technically, the hound did….’

‘Silence! roared the Emperor, from this day onwards,  I decree that the cat and the Rabbit will visit new unexplored territories,  learn about it for as long as they deem fit, and report back to us’

After the decree, the Emperor called in the spies, ‘have you decided where you will start your mission ?’

The Rabbit cleared his throat, ‘there are these interesting race of upright walking creatures called  Humans.

“What makes them so special? asked the Emperor

the Cat said; “their strengths: they have a wide variety of resources we can steal and industrialise

Or weaponise even” added the Rabbit

‘And their weakness?’ said the Emperor

‘Glad you asked my Emperor,  smized the rabbit, they’ll consider any breathing thing as a pet. Together we will be unassailable’

And thus engendered the prodigious adventure of the Cat and the Rabbit in the Human household and the Kingdom flourished, or so they thought.

 


Hey friends. Today I thought I’d get a bit silly today. I recently visited my friend’s family and one of them wanted me to give them a bed time story. But, since they don’t speak English. I had to deliver it either in Magyar or Deutsch.

I couldn’t deliver. But I vowed to give them an original Alexandrian fable that I will completely translate to Deutsch in time.

Let me know what animals you liked, and the ones who think should have been featured, as well as the role they should have played in our euthopian society.

 

Follow the sun

7.38 AM

The streets are crowded

A glowing yellow ball

seats at a vantage point,

hiding behind rooftops.

Ike tiddled his flute

This early in the morning,

he had to go the farm.

He spent the first hour

lying on his back,

playing the instrument

then he buckled his belt,

and begun harvesting cassava.

Other kids his age would frown

at the thought of picking up a machete

or being stuck in a field

for most of their day.

They would rather play football

or shoot arrows at bush animals

but not Ike,

he didn’t see the need to play

when he had four younger siblings

relying on him.

Both his parents were gone

few rumors have settled across the village

regarding their disappearance.

Some say they couldn’t appease Sango

on the eve of the New Yam’s festival

as every man had to present his harvest

outside his hut.

In the still of the night,

Sango would descend on the land

and claim what is rightfully his.

However, the god was offended

by the measly bundle of cassava

at their doorstep.

He was so appalled that

he broke into the home

to kill them all.

Ike’s mother pleaded for the sake of her children,

asking Sango to spare her younglings

Pity overshadowed Sango’s wrath

so he agreed.

Others rumored that his parents

were so frustrated with their life,

and responsibilities

that they took off in the dead of the night

without so much as a farewell.

Ike doesn’t recall much from that night,

except that his mother sent him

into the other room in their minute two-room hut,

and instructed him to not come out

till dusk.

In the morning, his parents were missing.

In Ike’s world,

there was no time for football

but on this particular day,

the sun was deterrent to his job

He straightened his posture,

and in a burst of fury he exclaimed;

“Oh Osun, You know my heart and all I wish to do

is plowing the earth so I may feed my siblings.

I have no shilling,

only a leaky thatched roof above my head.

Why must I be cursed by the sun for my ambition?”

When he finished, the sun grew black

Ike froze in fear.

He wondered if the day of reckoning

the high priestess spoke so frequently of was nigh.

He could feel his heart implode in his chest

and minutes later, the sky became bright again

but something had changed.

The ember hue beamed eastward,

away from the field.

Ike picked up his machete and gear

He ran across the fields into adjacent farms.

He ran into the village,

past the maidens bearing terracotta pots upon their head

He crossed the village stream

and came to a halt at the east border of the village,

before the forbidden forest.

The forest was home to the gods

Only the high priestess and witch doctor

were welcome to enter for their customary rituals.

Without much pondering, Ike ran into the forest

He came to a halt at the foot of the tallest palm wine tree he’d seen.

That was the vantage point of the sun, he was certain.

He dropped his gear and tugged his weight up the tree.

Once at the top, he could see not only the village,

but other settlements,

even the city of Lagos,

where the traditional King lived.

He was amazed at the view surrounding him.

It occurred to him that he wanted more.

He wanted to explore life outside his village.

Eventually, he conceded to the blinding sun rays

and climbed down the tree against his wishes.

What he saw bemused him.

At the foot of the palm tree.

Ike was looking at a polythene bag

filled with iron ore.

He considered grabbing it

and running away

but he was no thief,

and besides, only a dumb fool

would steal from the gods.

“It’s yours,”

A familiar voice came from beside the tree

Ike stretched his neck to see his mother.

“The gods are rewarding your good will,

you could leave this village and live comfortably in Lagos,”

she continued, “or you can come with me, Ikechukwu.”

He wanted to wail and roll in the dust.

He had no strength left in him.

Eight years have passed since he last saw her

His eyes locked with his mother’s

and he knew if he left with her,

he wouldn’t have to toil the soil another day in his life.

He would have peace.

But, he wanted to be more

so he held her face, pecked her cheeks and bade farewell.

He grabbed the bag and begun his journey home,

away from the fading sun.

Understanding Psychosis

Shut the doors behind you

what I’m about to say,  no one else can hear.

These are not my memories, it is just my subconscious

showing me the deep and twisted projections

I fear, yet hold onto.

The farther it is in time, the less I seem to recall the darkness,

that all too familiar darkness.

However, that doesn’t affect me,

it is the drowning fear that creeps in with it that does.

 

 

I was suddenly in a place that smelled strange, a large hall with concrete walls and high ceiling, tho, I didn’t feel safe.

I could recall the girl’s face, Tina—that was her name.

We sprinted through the endless corridors, past the serpentine marble columns, 300m past the cooling room.I stopped! huffing hard with both hands on my knees.

Tina was breathing heavily too.I reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders.

” Where are the rooms?”

“You don’t know? silence,  “Alex, are you ok? 100m eastbound. ”

so we continued into the room. I locked the doors.

Tina spun around, “what are you doing?

“we need to be safe” I retorted

“From who?” no words.

She started for the door, “this isn’t my room”,  then paused

“Alex, I dunno what happened today”, fixing her gaze on mine, she continued, “are you ok?”

“what is it with you and that question?”

“I”m heading to my room” she grabbed the door handle

“Be safe,” I whispered

“This whole place is safe, just get some sleep,” the door slammed behind her.

********

 

For the first time since we got in, I carefully observed the room around me, the windows were slightly opened, a beaded curtain draped from above the windowpane, shimmering in the night light, a floor lamp divided the room into two halves but the most intriguing was a painting, it was a child’s face, eyes rotated upwards with parted lips, in the middle of his forehead, he had a unicorn’s horn and  bright rainbow illuminated around him. At the bottom right corner of the frame was inscribed: “fuck your psychedelic”, signed Alexander.

I stood there, mesmerized by the painting, having no recollection of when I made it. I didn’t hear the door close behind me

“What’s the problem, Alex?” I jumped when I heard the voice and turned swiftly

I jumped when I heard the voice and turned swiftly,”who are you?’

“Your roommate, Bianca”, she grinned.

I noticed she had green eyes which sent chills running down my spines

” who are you, really? ” I demanded again and I heard a loud thumping noise resonate through my ear canal

“you should go to sleep now”  was the last thing that echoed

*******

who am I? where am I? is this real?

A buzzing noise filled the air and I came to realize that I was sitting on a bench in the courtyard. Beside me was Christopher, my occasional buddy chattering away on a conversation I may or may not have instigated. My head was rocking side to side.The sun-dial was pointing south, which meant it was 4 pm.

I stopped moving when I heard a slow crackling sound.I  stood up, blinking severally, I began to walk, following the direction of the sound to a room known simply as ‘the ephylis”. A sphynx cat lay on its hind leg in the center of the room, it’s body stretched out across the room with its rump towards me. I tip-toed into the room, as slow as I could until it’s full body was within my field of vision. It had green eyes. Sweat was beading across my forehead and my breaths had become heavier and rapid.

“What are you doing?”

I lifted my head up to see Christopher standing at the doorway and when I returned my gaze to the center of the room, the sphynx cat was gone.

I sighed, ” somehow, I feel I may be drifting between reality and an alternative dream land”

“Can’t you tell what’s real and what’s not?”

“Can you?”