On Awards And Other Stories

I feel blessed to be recognised and nominated for four great awards within four days, three for ‘Blog Of  The Year Award’ by the great poet, Sagedoyle whose poems are expertly written and fantastic, the wonderful  Mridula a great writer  and Cristian Minau, whose wonderful posts and pictures takes you on a tour of the world,  they’ve got fantastic blogs do check them out. I was also nominated for ‘The Beautiful Blogger Award’ by the brilliant Natesh, such honour! Thank you guys!!

The “Blog Of The Year” award is different from other awards we might have been given in the past, because you accumulate stars.

Here are the rules for this award:

1. Select the blog / blogs you think deserve the “Blog Of The Year” award.

2. Write a blog post and tell us about the blog / blogs you have chosen. There’s no minimum or maximum number of blogs required and ‘present’ them with their award.

3. Please include a link back to this page Blog of the Year 2012 Award and include these rules in your post. Please don’t alter the rules or the badges.

4. Let the blog / blogs you have chosen know that you have given them this award and share rules with them.

5. You can now also join our Facebook group – Click ‘like’ on this page ‘Blog of the Year 2012′ Award Facebook group and then you can share your blog with an even wider audience .

6. As a winner of the award, please add link back to the blog that presented you with the award, and then proudly display the award on your blog and sidebar and start collecting start collecting stars!  

Unlike other awards which you can only add to your blog once – this award is very different! When you begin you will receive the 1 star award, and every time you are given the award by another blog, you can add another star! In total, you get to collect 6 stars !

Which means that you can check out your favourite blogs, and even if they have already been given the award by someone else, then you can still give them again and help them to reach the required 6 stars!

For more information check FAQ on The Thought Palette

Every blogger I’ve come across here are wonderful and unique in their own right and deserves this award, so I closed my eyes and when I opened them, wrote the following as my nominees :

http://subhanzein.wordpress.com

http://bennaga,wordpress.com

http://managuagunntoday.wordpress.com

http://sharingmemyselfandi.wordpress.com

http://rendezvouswithrenee.com

http://tobreatheistowrite.wordpress.com

http://clanmother.wordpress.com

http://junesday.wordpress.com

http://greenlightlady.wordpress.com

http://artisticmilestone.wordpress.com

http://toffeefee.wordpress.com

http://revelationsinwriting.wordpress.com

http://popalx.wordpress.com

http://boomiebol.wordpress.com

On Other Stories:

I want to say I appreciate every support I received from everyone when I battled with severe cold, I am great now and back to work, love you guys for all your cares, we are a big fat family!

And on a lighter note, I didn’t finish my Nanowrimo, I had to stop at 11K due to editorial duties, my office was inundated with an avalanche of work and I couldn’t tear myself into four parts, If I could, I would have written 80K. To all writers who won, congratulations!

Love and Peace Folks!

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Bless You!

Original caption: Not faked. I was trying to t...

Original caption: Not faked. I was trying to take a hankie photo cos I have a cold and sneezed! (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Much of Britain is soggy, wet, windy, cold and most of the west Midlands, Wales and parts of Scotland had been issue with  flood warnings, it’s not an enticing prospect.

It’s been a very unpleasantly wet day and to cap it up, I caught a cold. Well… you might say having a cold is not a big deal but to me it is. I could have been perfectly okay with the cold but for the sneezing and headache, it was hell!

I was able to do most of my work except working on the computer,  the screen was blurry and I couldn’t see a thing which was when the ‘bless you’ began. I sneezed the first time, and my kids chorused together,

Bless you,” and courtesy demands that I say thank you (that’s our unspoken rule in the house, don’t know about other families)

Second sneeze!

”Bless you,” (Thank you)

And by the time it was the third, fourth, fifth sneezes going on to the sixth, I yelled in frustration,

”Don’t bless me again!”

And typical of my six-year-old daughter, she asked coyly with traces of a smile lurking around the corner of her mouth,

”Mum, what’s the opposite of bless you,” I thought about it before answering and said without looking at her.

”Nothing,”

But she didn’t buy that and her older brother chipped in, ”Opposite of bless you is….” And I cut in before he could complete the statement.

”Any one cares for Open Season? I asked and was able to diffuse the tension, wouldn’t want my children saying the opposite of bless you! ‘Open Season’ is a very funny movie we all love watching, it featured Martin Lawrence and Ashton Kutcher.

Kids are funny and honest, unlike adults!

*****

I have been given two great awards within three days and I am so grateful, I promise to write a post on it and announce my nominees, everyone deserved it anyway and it’s been a pleasure connecting with such intelligent, awesome friends. Wish I could see everyone and we’ll have a great party. Thanks folks for reading my post always.

Love and Peace!

TIME (Mina’s Pain)

Map of Essex, UK with Southend-on-Sea highligh...

Map of Essex, UK with Southend-on-Sea highlighted. Equirectangular map projection on WGS 84 datum, with N/S stretched 160% (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The cloud was grey and I squinted my eyes at a tiny shred of light which rebelled and stung my eyelids. The gentle lapping of waves was music to my ears and I wondered briefly when I would be judged.

I was going very fast down a tunnel, it was akin to the last time dad took me to Southend-on-Sea in Essex, where I made sure I participated in every activity, the rides were the best. The utmost feeling of exhilaration and belly ache due to uncontrolled laughter is deeply entrench in my memory but this one was a little different. I wasn’t holding on to any safety belt, rather I felt suspended, weightless as if I was in space and then there was a heavy thud when I landed on a hard surface but it was still dark and I couldn’t see a thing.

I died, didn’t I? I was sure of it, I tried turning my neck but I seemed to be  tied to some sort of plank or stretcher, whatever it was I had no idea, but I wanted to run, get out of where I was. I tried opening my eyes but I couldn’t and panic steadily built up within me.

I tried licking my lips but it was the same, I couldn’t do anything, all my senses were on fire, maybe I am in hell, I was never a good girl, always getting myself in trouble, I mused with a grimace, actually I wanted to smile but I am kind of getting used to not been able to tell my body what to do.

Suddenly, there was a cracking sound and I heard a door opening with footsteps coming nearer and nearer. There were voices, male and female voices, next thing  I heard was a short laugh and there was silence. I could bet  my life on it that my heart was beating so hard it was louder than any CGI effects.

The waves again with the sounds of seagulls assaulted my senses, their wonderful chorus grated on my already hyperactive nerves. Another shaft of lighting was coming through wherever I was and the music, oh, how I loved it!

It was Michael Jackson’s song ‘Heal the world,’ and it dawned on me, I am not dead, I don’t think the devil would play such a song in Hades, nobody would dance to it, besides, he doesn’t care about the world, but where the hell am I?

Unfortunately for me, the footsteps faded away into the distance, my chance was lost, gone. That was when I noticed the temperature, it was extremely cold, piece by piece, things began to fall into place, I remembered the three men, the attack on me at the alleyway and then in my room, and dad fighting and…

The worst possible scenario was, I died, they took me to the mortuary but now the possibility of me freezing to death wasn’t such a bad idea, at least I would be gone and perhaps my parents would find closure. Speaking of closure, I didn’t recollect seeing mum, it was only dad who came to my rescue and his words,

”You are safe now Mina,” was loaded with meaning, I have to find out what he meant by that, there are too many questions and I have to be alive to ask those questions, I have an inkling my dad knew more than he was letting on. My resolve was to get out of my confinement and do something, I can’t go silently in this horrible cold and expect dad to be fine, but what about mum?

Then there was a miracle, I heard footsteps again and the voices weren’t so muffled like the first time. A woman’s voice was speaking rapidly and then there was another voice, husky and so familiar but I had no idea what he said. After that I heard another sound, it was as if someone was clicking a gun and I gritted my teeth ready for anything, at least I could grit my teeth, which was an improvement. But it was nothing, the feet were getting closer, I strained my ears and heard someone said,

”She didn’t suffer Dan.”

Dan? That was my dad! My dad is in the room. I tried to conserve my energy so I could function well when suddenly I felt a rush of adrenalin and I was gasping for breath as I was pull out and then there was pandemonium. A woman screamed and there were rushing of feet, but I could breathe, I opened my mouth but my eyes was still closed, I cleared my throat and said weakly.

”Can someone please give me a cup of water please.” My voice wasn’t so bad, I thought, pleased with my progress and the next thing I did was to try to open my eyes and when I did, I saw a familiar face, someone I’d given up for dead. Never mind it was me in that place now.

My brother, Albert, his face was like I remembered, strong jaws, serious eyes, bushy eyebrows and his dimples, those dimples used to drive women crazy. He was fearless and the only one who could approach me.

He moved closer, peering down at me with his boyish grin, his teeth was still sparkling white but I noticed everywhere was silent and I tried to move my neck,

Don’t move,” he whispered softly, his eyes never leaving my face for once, ”Dad’s gone to get the doctors.”

”What happened? Why did you leave home?” My voice was still hoarse and I had to use every ounce of energy within me to speak.

”We’ll talk about that later miracle Mina,” he countered, taking hold of my hand, ”you’re so cold, you scared teh hell out of everybody Mina,”

”But you are not scared,” I said, and my voice was getting stronger.

”I don’t scare easily,” was his reply and my dad came in with a bunch of doctors and nurses.

The next few weeks was crazy, the press were practically a permanent feature at our Kilburn High road home. I was shielded from the press because of fatigue, I didn’t think I could face them anyway. But dad was noncommittal, he didn’t want to tell me anything and  mum was still in the hospital in induced coma because of her massive injury, Albert told me that after I’d continually nagged him for details.

But dad’s behaviour was strange, it was as if he was expecting me to live and not die, even with over ten snake bites on my face. After the attack in my room, he was able to send the three strange men packing, how he did it I had no idea. I was later taken to the hospital where I went into a coma, came out of it and two days later died in the afternoon.

They transferred me to the mortuary where I woke up the next morning when I am to be taken for burial but there were loopholes and dad refused to fill me in. Then, the surprise of the century, my brother suddenly returned home after four years of zero contact.

None of it made sense, Albert was in my room one hot summer afternoon, he sat beside me on the bed and asked casually,

”How is Josh?”

Josh was my on and off boyfriend and with my picture on every newspaper in the country, he’d suddenly developed cold feet.

”I don’t know, he is the least of my problems now,” I mumbled.

”Why did you say that,”

”I am queer Albert,’ I said hotly and I know by now my face was turning red, ”I can’t seem to mingle with people my age,” and I kept quiet staring at the window, ”I wish I had died.”

Albert laughed pulling me close to him and sniffing my hair, ”I knew you can’t die little sis, when dad called me and told me what happened…”

”Dad called you?” I asked incredulously, searching his face for any hidden clues, ”I thought no one had your number.”

He swallowed hard looking at the ceiling and I know he was trying to lie.

”Don’t lie to me,” I said quietly.

”I am not going to,” he replied limply, standing up from my bed and moving towards the window, his back stiffened and I have the feeling he was trying to control himself. He parted the curtains, peered outside and when he turned to look at me, he had tears in his eyes.

”I had to go to Germany, there are so many secrets you need to know Mina and when I found out about where we came from, I couldn’t stay in this house any longer.”

”What secrets Albert?” I asked with apprehension, the hair at the back of my head stood on end, my brother was looking at me strangely and I noticed he was perspiring heavily, his was also breathing funny.

I grabbed my bed sheet with brutal force as the memory of that fateful day assaulted my senses. Albert’s eyes were changing to a strange colour and he wasn’t speaking, the silence was killing me slowly.

He walked towards me, his eyes never leaving my face and I couldn’t look away , the glow wasn’t so scary. I stood up from my bed and moved towards him.

”What secret Albert,” I whispered again, ”tell me the secrets of this house!”

Suddenly as it had begun, the light in his eyes fizzled out, he was no longer looking at me, his attention was on the doorway and I turned to look.

Dad was standing there with an inscrutable expression on his face.

”We are going on a trip.” and he was gone.

Albert was about to follow him and I held him by the elbow,

”What is going on?”

”With time you’ll understand.”

”What if there is no time,” I searched his face for clues but I got nothing. He seemed to consider what I said and closed his eyes.

”Mina, you are the riddle behind everything, only you can handle this.”

By now I was almost going crazy, the more questions I asked, the deeper my pain increased. I am just nineteen years old, yet I feel the weight of a hundred year old woman on my shoulders.

What if everything about me had been a lie, who am I?

Albert pulled me close in a tight embrace and said quietly, I could feel the pain in his voice,

”Nobody can succeed without you, you are time, you are indestructible, just have that at the back of your mind.”

Time, that word again, what has it got to do with me?

”Mina,” dad called me from the hallway,

”Yes dad,” and I went to meet him.

”We have to go now,” he said urgently.

”I have not packed anything and where are we going?”

”You ask too many questions Mina,” I noticed the irritation creeping in on his voice, ”if we don’t move those men would be back and we can’t let that happen can we?”

”I am not moving an inch until you tell you what is really going on.” I said firmly and that got to him. He knew once I pouted my mouth, I won’t bulge until I get what I want.

I heard the sound of helicopter and it really hit me hard, we are fleeing, my dad was almost begging and I could sense the urgency in him.  I decided to give him benefit of the doubt.

”But dad, promise to tell me everything.”

And a smile crossed his face, ”do I have a choice?”

I followed him down the stairs and into the kitchen, Albert was already waiting for us, he was holding the door which led to the garden. When I saw the helicopter’s blade, I was scared, I had never been on one before. We quickly climbed in and the helicopter was up in the air. We were flying away when I heard a mighty explosion.

It was our house, and I watched with a sinking feeling at the pit of my stomach as it went up in flames, another explosion ripped through the building and our neighbours’ house was also engulfed in the inferno. I glanced in Albert’s direction but he looked away. My dad was sitting beside the pilot, he didn’t even bother  looking in my direction. I stared down at the bright dot  which used to be our house and my heart filled with sorrow.

All my childhood memories has gone up in flame and we are now on the run, from what? No one was willing to tell me, not even my family but I am a survivor, I would find out everything, whether in this life or the next.

Definitely in this life, I decided grimly.

NP : This ‘TIME’ piece is quiet a long one because this would be the last post until the book is published. Thanks for reading the story folks!

A Bull’s Revolt

Matador 1

Matador 1 (Photo credit: Son of Groucho)

I stared at the Matador with hatred oozing out from every fibre of my being, I remembered the warning I gave to Japheth (it was named after its owner) and the others about the plans of the humans.

”They won’t stop killing us, we can revolt,” I cried out in pain, willing the others to come out of their cocoon and think for once but it was futile.

”With what?” Growled the idiot, we nicknamed him idiot because he doesn’t care about anything except grass, it once told me thinking is for humans not for bulls but I do think about my future and I still have nightmares about the death of Japheth.

I decided to fight for my kind, to revolt against the perceived norms that bulls can’t think because I can think and I don’t want to be taken for a fool anymore, if only I can control my anger!

They’ve killed us for fun, they’ve killed us for our anger and all for what? A piece of red cape! Such abomination! But this time it had to be different, I won’t buy into it. My resolve was commendable even though it was so hard. I watched with misty eyes as the red cloth was whipped from side to side, the Matador’s oily hair gleaming in the sun as he beckoned to me and I smelt his arrogance.

I glanced briefly at my hoofs and the brown sand which had been darken by the blood of my kind, I told Japheth I would fight my anger, I won’t succumb. And then the Matador glared at me angrily, daring me to come get it, oh boy, it was so tempting!

How lovely it would it be to thrust my horns into his well toned stomach, to hack him down until his blood flowed the way my friends had been brutally murdered.

I remember Japheth with such fondness and today, I will not fight!

With a deep sigh, I turned away from the Matador amidst gasps from the audience in the arena…

*********

When someone succeeded in making you angry, believe me folks, they are controlling your life. Refuse to give in to the taunts and jeers of others simply turn your back. You’ll be glad you did and might actually be saving your life.

Thanks for reading my post and by the way, ‘A Bull’s Revolt’ was just a figment of my imagination. I will post ‘TIME’ on Monday and the rest of the story would be published in kindle and paperback soon.

 

The Unexpected

Congo

Congo (Photo credit: robynejay)

I left work quiet late and rushed to pick my kids from school, when we got home, I quickly rustled some food together and we had a hearty lunch. I decided to take a nap before going back to my home office and get some work done but I couldn’t sleep so I came back to the living room.

6.30 pm:

Reclining on my favourite sofa while surfing through different television channels and suddenly the unexpected happened, we were plunged into darkness. My children looked confused because it’s never happened before and I was too.

I was not ready for that so for the first ten minutes or so I just sat in that darkness completely nonplussed and indecisive. My kids were firing fusillade of questions at me but I had no answer for what had happened.

By the time I sprang into action, my kids were getting used to it and after a series of phone calls, I was able to find out a few facts. We weren’t alone in that situation, our whole street was in darkness so it was a major problem and it would take a while before the problem could be rectified. Though we slept in the cold without heating, at least we were safe. By the next morning everything was back to normal but the experience stayed with me and brought a lot of scenario to the fore.

Life is very unpredictable and that is a predictable fact. Sometimes, what we don’t plan for could derail our lives in unimaginable ways. My electricity going off was a minor issue you might say but sleeping in the cold and not been able to cook for my kids wasn’t a pleasant experience but what about people in war-torn countries? How would they survive living in fears for their lives knowing the next moment could be their very last? How do they survive living in such inhumane and brutal condition?

In the Democratic Republic Of Congo, rebels are instigating another round of fighting and people are fleeing their homes, it was totally unexpected, lives are ruined because people have been forcefully ejected from their homes, livelihood would be none existence, it was like survival of the fittest and none of them signed up for it, just a few bigoted fools who believed they can plunge their country to war at will are responsible for such atrocities. I can go on and on but we should just be thankful for little mercies we have, many people aren’t so lucky and many of these innocent people did not ask for war but it came to them unexpectedly.

How do they cope? I have no idea but it breaks my heart knowing right now as I write this post a little girl might be living in fear for her life!

When life throws something totally unexpected at you, how would you react?

Thank you all for reading this post!

TIME. (Mina’s Struggle)

English: Dawn on the lower Zambezi river – Zam...

English: Dawn on the lower Zambezi river – Zambia עברית: אור ראשון על נהר הזמבזי בתחילת עונת הגשמים, אזור הזמבזי התחתון (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It was a stalemate as time stood still. Ever so slowly, the men inched closer to my bed , they weren’t walking, they were just gliding as if propelled by an engine and unfortunately for me I was immobile. It was as if a slab of concrete was resting on the lower part of my body, I felt pinned down, I couldn’t move. With no other option but to await my grisly fate I closed my eyes and in doing so I was able to  draw strength within me and my grandfather’s voice seemed to echo deep within my soul,

”The weakest thing in the world is fear, once you look your fear in the face, its power is broken.”

But it was hopeless, the only fear staring me in the face were three stinking men, and then it occurred to me, why not scream?

And I opened my mouth expanding my lungs for a tsunami scream but it was just a whimper that escaped, the sound was akin to a hen been strangled.

Beads of perspiration gathered on my brows like soldiers going to war. I watched with apprehension as death approached, whoever these people are, whatever they want, nothing is going to stop them.

They got to my bed and all three of them bent down at once, the sight which met my gaze was simply out of this world. They weren’t men at all, they were nothing, an empty space fluffed up in men’s clothing.

”I don’t get it,” I said out loud pleased to hear my voice, where have the men gone? And I did what I should have done earlier, I shouted with every ounce of strength I possessed.

”Daddy!”

I felt a tremor go through me but nothing happened, there was an eerie silence. And then it occurred to me, if they could get to me, what’s stopping them from killing my parents before proceeding to my room.

I tried moving my legs and found out they were working, something must have happened when they got to my bed, I thought and leapt to my feet as if struck by lightning.

My room was quiet big so I have a lot of space to manoeuvre and move away from the men but my eyes was on them. I was still fully clad in my party clothes because I was too tired to change before I fell asleep. I just needed to get away from my room and find my parents. I went straight for the door but it wasn’t bulging, yet it wasn’t locked. The three things hovering over my bed began to hum. I banged on the door repeatedly shouting,

”Daddy, mummy, can you come get me?”

”They can’t hear you,”

They hissed behind me but I was still watching them bent over my bed, how can they be speaking so close to me? This has gone on far enough, I thought and turned round.

”What the hell do you guys want from me?” I yelled angrily.

But there was no one there, just an empty space and I was beginning to question my sanity. I can’t see them, they can see me, is that not how people lose their senses? When they start hearing whispers and voices speaking from the sky?

And then I lost control and did the unthinkable, I went over to those things and kicked one of them in his backside and there was a howling sound.

”Yeah, common, give me what you’ve got,” I snarled angrily.

I kicked the second figure, another heartrending sound, the more I kicked the more their screeching increased in intensity.

”You guys are even losers,” and I landed a killer punch on the head of the third  figure and that was when I made my biggest mistake.

They straightened up and strode towards me pulling their hoods back in the process, they looked like ordinary men with long brown hair but when they opened their mouths, they’ve got no tongues, rather they had snakes for tongues. I moved back glancing at my bed and saw the necklace grandpa gave me shortly before he died.

”I got it from the Zambezi river,” he had explained with a mysterious glint in his blue eyes while fastening the gold chain on my neck, ”keep this under your pillow, you never know when it would come in handy.”

”How can you get a gold chain from a river?” I had queried him.

”There are worlds beyond our world,” he said carefully, avoiding my eyes, ”I met a woman in that river and she gave it to me.”

”I don’t believe in aliens Grandpa,” I said softly.

Mina,” he called my name softly, ”what if you were the alien my child,” I smiled at that but said nothing.

The gold chain under my pillow was actually fending off those strange fellows, I moved back looking for a way to get to my bed and that was when the door of my bedroom was blown apart by a brutal force.  And my dad’s big frame filled the door, his  face was dripping blood but he was shooting wildly, screaming with a deranged look on his face.

By now the men were circling me like a predator, waiting to pounce, my dad did not stop shooting, I lurched forward and my head was almost ripped apart by the snakes in the men’s mouth, they attacked me, hitting me in the head and lashing at my face but I managed to fend them off, getting bitten in the process and I knew I was mortally wounded.

”Dad, save yourself, get out,” I yelled, watching in horror as he stepped on the fallen door, coming into my room, a determined look on his bloodied face.

But it was too late, my dad threw his gun on the floor in anger when it was not having any effect and attacked the creatures from behind, punching them furiously and then there was silence.

I was slipping into unconsciousness, they must have done something to me. The last thing I saw was the face of my dad hovering over me,

”It’s alright Mina, you’re safe now.” And I saw a similar gold chain on his neck.

”I am sorry dad, they’re just too powerful,’ I whispered weakly while my life slowly ebbed away…

 

NP: Happy Thanksgiving dear friends, I hope you’ll enjoy reading this piece as much as I enjoyed writing it. I have decided to turn it into a book (like a novella) I will publish it soon but I promise to post one more next week. Thanks for reading, I appreciate it!!

Cheers-:)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TIME

The Thinking Man sculpture at Musée Rodin in Paris

The Thinking Man sculpture at Musée Rodin in Paris (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I quickened my pace, my heart in my mouth, the winter wind slashed my cheeks into shreds as involuntary tears slipped down my cold cheeks. I dread passing through that horrible alley but I’ve got no choice, none of my friends were going my way, so I had to walk home alone.

I clenched and unclenched my fists and trod on, my heels making a tapping danceable sound. At first, I thought it was my mind but the whispering got louder and louder.

”I shouldn’t have gone, I shouldn’t have gone,” I kept repeating under my breath, at the same time casting surreptitious glances behind me, trying to ignore the deadly whispers in my head. I don’t want to show my fear though it was all over me, its slimy hands rests on my soul with ease.

It was insanely cold and I was scantily dressed for that time of the year. I hugged myself and trudged on, mad with myself for my stubbornness. I was almost out of what I perceived was ‘the danger zone’ when three men appeared out of nowhere, standing a few paces from me, their faces were hidden with their hoods.

They were breathing heavily but I noticed something unusual about them, they seemed to hiss like snakes. the hair at the nape of my neck stood on end but I was ready to fight to the death.

I knew it, I saw this coming, I thought bitterly, my stomach in knots, but strangely enough, I was not afraid. Everything happened so quickly that I barely remembered the details.

The men defied gravity as they flew into me while my arms and legs did the rest, my taekwondo training had not been in vain, all thanks to my mom.

In less than twenty seconds, it was over.

I didn’t wait to see if the men were okay before I took to my heels. When I got home, I crept up to my room and wept bitterly.

I was wasting my time, I could have died easily and would have become another statistic. I glanced at my watch, it was one o’clock in the morning, I knew my mum would be fuming and she had every right to.

I finally managed to sleep because I was so exhausted, barely half an hour later, I was rudely woken up when I felt a cold hand on  my shoulder and the whispering began again. I propped myself up on one elbow while I used the other hand to switch my bedside lamb on and the three men I thought I’d beaten were standing calmly against my door, in my room, I could feel their eyes boring into mine.

How did they get in? I should have called the police after I managed to get away, I thought frantically and this time around, I was afraid. My parents’ room was next door and if I scream, I am sure they would be in my room within minutes but do I have the time to do that?

My time was running out, I could feel it deep within my soul. My life flashed before my eyes in seconds and I wished I had listened to my mum. She had warned me to use my time well.

What should I do?

NP: I wrote this at the spur of a moment, it’s a short story. Would love your feedbacks!

Cheers-:)

Eyes Of A Critic

The Critic

The Critic (Photo credit: A river runs through)

”Do you know the easiest job in the world?” My friend asked nibbling through her popcorn as we watched Mel Gibson‘s acclaim film, ‘The Patriot.’

”No,” I replied absent-mindedly, totally engrossed with Mel Gibson hacking through the body of a British soldier who had taken his son.

”The job of a critic,”  she declared self righteously, her eyes spitting fire and I groaned inwardly, knowing exactly where the conversation was heading.

”Huh,” I grunted and she got the message. I was not going to allow her distract my attention from the film.

The film was over before I knew it and I saw her off,  we chatted briefly about the story line and the American war of Independence and she left with a promise to keep in touch. On my way back home, I thought about the question she’d asked earlier.

We are all critics one way or the other, watching X factor, I had my favourites contestants, there are some books I would never read, some music I would never listen to and some movies I would never watch and I think I am not alone. That doesn’t make me a critic but I just chose not to like such forms of entertainment.

Granted, it’s easy to criticise but sometimes critics can build us up and make us a better person. Writers hated bad reviews with a passion, I do and I even dread it with every fibre of my being but sometimes you can see through the eyes of a critic and improve yourself.

But some people would never see anything good about anything or anybody, people like that have problems, deep-seated issues about their lives.

Maybe you’ve come across people like that in your neighbourhood, it could be anywhere, my advice… Just ignore them and live your life with no care in the world!

Everyone cannot love you, Barack Obama can testify to that. It is deeply imbedded in our makeup as humans, we are irrevocably fallible and prone to seeking people’s approval, when we don’t even realise it.

And the great news is  while some people might hate your gut others may simply kiss the ground you walk on.

Faith Of The Writer And Other Stories.

Faith Happens

Faith Happens (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Writing is serious business (or any other career for that matter) you write because you believed you have something unique to share to the world and it’s a very risky business indeed to labour, work tirelessly with little breaks churning out your literary best and not have faith in yourself.

Blogging is the same but slightly different. You can blog with only your close friends or family members as your audience and you might not give a hoot about having few or no followers perusing your page. Why? Because you’ve got nothing to lose.

But If writing is your business, your life and everything you live for then you are in big trouble if you don’t have faith, in yourself and in your prospective readers.

What do I mean by faith? It means to have confidence in your ability to carry your readers along, to write what they want to read and believe me that is hard work. Faith and vision are two separate things, your vision is your idea of what you perceived is right, it’s like a revelation, while faith is the confidence you have to even believe in your idea in the first place but the most important thing is to believe in yourself and mark my words, you will always find people who believe in your work too!

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Now, why not forget what I have just said about writing and just pick faith. Do you have faith in yourself and people around you? Or are you the kind of person who doesn’t trust easily?

I was that kind of person before (not anymore!) My motto  was ”guilty until proven innocent” I guess because I have been repeatedly lied to by people I really trust (especially female friends) and I just don’t believe a word people tell me anymore.

But as time goes on, I kind of had a change of heart. I don’t deal with the situation at hand, I deal with the person. I don’t need to have faith in someone before I love them, I just do! Regardless of what they might say or do, it doesn’t really matter. What is really important is, I don’t give myself headaches whether my friend is lying or telling the truth.

Succinctly put, my new motto is, ”Innocent until proven guilty

What about you? What is your motto? Do you trust easily?, Do you have faith in yourself and people around you?

Share your thoughts and stories with me…

The Masterpiece

The Mona Lisa (or La Joconde, La Gioconda).

The Mona Lisa (or La Joconde, La Gioconda). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Leonardo studied the painting and was not satisfied with the direction it was going. He’d spent hours brushing it up but Leonardo wasn’t convinced, when the Lady La Gioconda sat down for the portrait, it was easy but now, putting finishing touches to it seemed like a herculean task. In anger, he yanked it off and took it to his sparsely furnished room and hid it under the bed.

Straightening up, he sauntered outside his room, staring mournfully at his tools, he felt no inspiration, nothing. His mind was dead, his brains passive, his emotions bland and then out of the blues, he saw a rat.

His brown eyes followed the rat everywhere, the more he scrutinised it, the more he felt the fluttering of visions and hope surge in his heart. He hurried back to his room, gently drag the painting from under its hiding place and resumed work. His flurried hands began the arduous task of creating the masterpiece that would be one of the most important paintings of all time. With his hand under his chin, he surveyed his handiwork and was quiet satisfied at the result.

Alas, behold Mona Lisa.

I believe we are all masterpiece in our own little world but let me play with your imagination a bit…

I was  Lisa del Gioconda née Gherardini  now a writer living in London.

Have you ever felt that lingering sensation that you’ve lived before, in eras long gone? I am  a writer so it is very easy for me to transport myself to 1479 when I was born to 1542 when I died. So if I was the Lady La Gioconda, what did I do except pose for a painting which is now one of the most famous paintings of all time? I wish she did more than just sit down for a portrait commissioned by her husband, maybe supported a just cause, a charity, gave to the poor?

Lisa was not known nor celebrated in her time, she lived a peaceful simple life, records had it she loved her husband… or they loved each other (I am a hopeless romantic, spare me!)

So, here is the deal… How would you loved or want to be remembered? Let’s say in the next five hundred years, what would people say or write about you?

Just give it a thought guys because I am dying to know!