Social media isn’t available for much of your personal life anymore. It is available mostly for the goods and services you offer. This can be sad and not encouraging for those who are not involved in any form of trade. Social media has become more of a place where goods and services are advertised.
I have a friend who watsapp’ me interesting pictures almost every morning and I kinda start my day reading whatever he sends (I am sure he does make an effort in choosing what to send because I like it all). A week back he sent me a quote and since then it has occupied some space in my crowded head.
It reads, “I think we forget things if we have no one to tell them to”. It’s a simple sentence which most people will read and ignore but I couldn’t do so. For a week now I have been thinking about things I forgot in the near past only to understand if these words make sense given the way they have captured me. Not just myself, I started probing my friends if they happened to use the word “I forgot” in our useless conversations. After a weeks’ exploration, I have…
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Now I’m walking home from the bar all woozy, at the same time I feel high. Trying to keep my feet firm on the pavement and wiping sweat off my face, then this mini-van with it’s windows fully tinted just brakes to a halt beside me with two muscular men rushing out! I was startled and the booze cleared off my eyes immediately, but I wasn’t smart enough to pick to my heels. They grabbed me hard and threw me into the van and the driver sped off like a dog running out of hell. ”who are you?! What do you want with me?!”, I screamed. A few seconds later, I felt a needle-like pinch on my arm, before I knew I was fast asleep. I was anaesthetised.
My eyes were beginning to open gradually. I was starting to feel cold. I felt bare on my chest and legs -my shirt and trousers had been taken off. I was left with my undies. I got up and looked around and saw several other guys all stripped off their clothes and left with their pair of boxers. We were about 20 in number. We all looked like we were in our late teens.
Suddenly, a voice over PA rumbled, ”you have been chosen!”. ”chosen for what?!”, we all shouted.
It’s a hall with the windows far above, and with railings around. So there were people on that floor watching us, all dressed in black with their faces masked and they were armed with rifles in case anyone of us tried to pull a stunt. By the way, the hall had just one entrance upstairs and one downstairs which seemed to be well barred from the outside. I was the closest to the entrance.
The door suddenly opens and 4 muscular guys come in, walking towards me. They had this ‘no mercy’ look on their faces. I just knew I was the next for whatever plan they had for the teenagers locked up there.
I was taken to another hall with the word ‘BRANDING’ inscribed on the door. I could see a chest with red smoke in it. There was something like a rod in it. The monk by the chest brought out the rod, as the men forced me down on my abdomen. It had a thick flat piece of metal at the end that was in the hot coal.
Feeling all tensed, I already knew what was about to happen. Struggling so hard to get free off the thugs, but I was outnumbered by 4 to 1. Before I knew it, I was being branded with the red hot metal which had an ambigram craved on it. It was so painful that I cried ‘mummy!’ once again! Then my eyes opened and I looked around to see my standing fan swirling, and with lights coming from the television screen. I was watching a movie before I fell asleep. I realised I just had a dream.
It’s 1837hours, and it’s a little dark because of the daylight saving -longer night, shorter day.
I’m going for a stroll in this under-grazed and lonely farm, listening to Linkin Park’s ‘The Requiem’ from my phone, but on a low volume so I would still hear sounds around me. With my school-bag backed, holding a torchlight in my right hand, enjoying solitude, my secret mood, and this irremidiable silence, I was beginning to get inspired.
Now on this footpath, to my right is a thick bush, to my left some trimmed flowers. Taking 1, 2, 3 steps, I begin to hear these sounds like people humming, crying, and lamenting. The more steps I took, the louder I heard the noise. I paused, removed my earpiece, zipped open my school-bag and dunked the phone inside. Zzzipp!, I zipped the bag closed. Still hearing the mourn, I was beginning to get frightened. I flashed my torch in the direction of the noise but only saw a ditch with a dim ray of red light and not too much smoke coming out of it. Then suddenly, the noise stops. Out of curiosity, I started to strafe slowly towards the ditch. I was beginning to feel the warmth coming out from inside it. I went closer, although I was feeling a little anxious, getting all sweaty and feeling like I was being stung by thousands of tiny needles -anxiety. Suddenly, the noise starts. I became shocked! I felt like my heart somersaulted! Before I knew it, I was on my way down to the ground. Still hearing the mourn, I realised it was the sound of the souls in hell crying out for redemption.
© alfredmodey 30052011
I had a short dream in the early hours of 12th December, 2015. A dream in which someone describes The End time as a time that will arise; as a time that is buried at the moment. It will not come like tomorrow or next month, it will come in tomorrow or next month. Its rise will commence in the 24 hours of a particular day. It will ‘arise’ or ‘resurrect’ just as vampires do.
So I’m eating roasted, spiced buffalo with two other men. They appear to be 10 or more years older than me even if they may not be the same age. One is from my clan, the other is from a clan whose relationship with ours is fragile. There’s a fire about 5 feet in front of us where the killed buffalo is being roasted. The man from my clan is telling the story.
In The End’s time (yes, possessive because it’s a time or a place -I’m not sure- that has its own time and weather and all that sort).
So in The End’s time or place, the Sun is constantly a red flame burning from a dark sky. Beasts roam the place or time. Not radical beasts carrying nines and AKs, using explosives in order to cause terror, but man-eating beasts, beasts able to break a lion’s back with one slam of its jaws, beasts with mouths big enough to contain an adult horse. Of course, this isn’t the only kind of beasts that roam the place or time. There are others. (I’m struggling to peel off flesh, with my teeth, from the bones of the roasted, spiced buffalo).
The End seems like a place or time that will merge with Earth for Earth’s future destruction.
People, horror is coming.
The End will arise… …soon.
This is a very short piece I wrote in May. It was my entry story for The Farafina Trust Creative Writing Workshop which I got into. This story is special to me because it’s the story that got me into my Fave’s workshop (duh). I wrote this story within an hour. It was the day of the deadline for submissions of applications into the workshop. I had been too nervous to apply all along and on the last day, a dear friend pushed me to write something quickly and apply. I’m glad he did. It’s certainly not the best story I’ve ever written, but I love it anyway.
I hope you enjoy reading this, and don’t forget to leave comments…
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I am hungry. It happens a lot these days. I have nibbled on enough snacks to conclude that no amount of food will fill the longing in me.
Giving up on food I seek company, not just anyone’s, only from minds that can sate a fraction of the hunger. I keep my phone close, staring at it with longing and wonder why no one has reached out yet. I consider reaching out then check myself. I won’t grovel. That which is not given freely I do not want.
I sleep a lot now, it’s the only addiction I can allow myself to indulge in. It is considered the least harmful, but I have seen what it has reduced me to. It’s just as hard to give up as the others. I can’t have enough and when I am roused from its sweet comfort I am miserable and listless.
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I didn’t want any unnecessary delay at the bank, I was well aware of the bank procedures I can’t cash this cheque without my ID card, neither can I enter the bank with my bag, I grabbed my wallet and ensured my student ID card was in it, as I walked into the bank. I was in a terrible mood, the long face I wore said it all, the queue that greeted my eye didn’t make it any better, I was angry. If I had my way, I would have been on my bed, with my head phones listening to Dolly parton’s ; two doors down, with a bowl of pop corn and a can of fayrouz, my day would have been just perfect, but since my mom could be inconsiderate sometimes, she practically forced me to come cash her the cheque, for the first time, I wished I was…
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Each time I acquire a new phone, before I decide on what to do with it my first action is to view the gallery; pictures especially. It tells me a lot about the original owner. At times my findings make me feel guilty. Some of them, from their pictures, are people barely surviving yet buy big phones for reasons I can fathom still by going through the phone. Some others, I know, will be getting a new and even better device before the next day runs out. For these ones I feel nothing at all. My job has made me an expert in human behaviour. Not the type you learn in schools – that one is all theory and doesn’t hold weight.
No matter how guilty these pictures make me feel, I am not one to waste my energy worrying about that which cannot be changed. The time to worry…
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