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Showing posts from September, 2022

Tim Swindler

  February 2022. She laid on bed eyes glued to the ceiling, with her two arms across the back of her head. Her left leg dangling over the right one. The light was dim and the house chilled. Just a low volume afro pop from the radio at the farthest end of her small house. She hears it straight in the middle of her head, its soothing.  Thoughts are waltzing in her head. Like many other young people, she wants to make life better in this trying world. She tries, she want to do her stuff and make them count. She doesn’t want to just pop out filthy rich one Friday morning, with high end vehicles and a throng of apartments somewhere in kileleshwa.   They say the streets do not favour genuine people but that too has a limit. There is a notification pop up on her phone; she doesn’t bother because she’s thinking of how she will make her deliveries tomorrow. How she wants to reach all her clients before noon. There is another notification and it causes her vexation. She reaches for her phone

Grim Reaper

I flicked through the pages of the little white booklet I held on my hands. The first page bears a portrait. A photo most likely taken with a selfie camera. I can't help but wonder how she felt when taking the photo. The organic smile that plastered her countenance as she pressed the shutter button. She has a smooth brown complexion. Light skin if you may. Her jaws hold a parade of pristine white teeth with a prominent gap between the upper front teeth; hallmark of beauty. The gap is wide enough to make me wonder if she can say the word 'samosa' three times in quick succession but not too wide to make one fret. Beneath the exceptional portrait are the words sunrise and sunset written in flowery font, perhaps to mitigate their effect. The procession from the morgue had about five cars and a hearse. John, the husband of the deceased, sat in the front seat of the hearse. His elbow rested on the window and his palm supported his head that seemed to be weighed down by grief. At

A touch of Charity

  One of them had a bad face. The bad face was a shy but happy face, warming hearts. She had the best heart. She blushed alot. The other was an alcohol addict. She was also a happy face. They matched in, dressed in yellow t-shirts and jeans trousers. They sang with passion when called upon to. Some of them recited in Spanish fluently. Others had no business besides just being happy. Some bad spirits should never descend upon you on a beautiful day. They should never come in between you a day like this! It is miserable to feel a certain way in certain days. I almost missed the event.  I stayed indoors to decide whether I should go or just call it off. It was one of those strange moments when you have nothing to do, but also you got to do something to pass time. My laptop that has been in a coma for about a month now was there staring at me and it was my perfect destination. Thanks to YouTube for the good tutorial, even though I did not do anything constructive after opening every screw