Posted in TALL TALES

HOPE IS A DANGEROUS THING

BOMB BLAST
SOURCE: DAILYMAIL.COM.NG

Let me tell you a story – a story of you-will-have-to-decide-what-it-is-about-when-you-are-done-with-it. Let My Muse spin you a tale. Listen as my heart beats to the steady rhythm of the spun tale. Listen to my eyes speak with each tear drop. Listen to my unspoken words, my bowed head, my drooped eyelids and my steady breathing. Listen as my fingers tap to the music of the silence – tap, tap, pause, tap, pause, tap, tap, pause, tap, pause. Listen to my toes as they interfere with the passage of the cool evening breeze, pointing towards the sky, defying the direction of the wind.

Can you hear it? It is the story. It is the tale of the future of the past; a tale of the possible outcome of what was. This tale is told when the hearers see. You will see if you have been listening.

‘…Why are folks in a hurry to get married?’

‘The society expects it at a certain stage of our lives.’

‘Okay. I hope my future husband dies as quickly as possible after we get married. That way, the society gets what it wants and I get my peace of mind…’

A harmless conversation I didn’t remember until that fateful afternoon. It was a lovely day. The sun was being merciful and the breeze teased all who walked on the face of the earth. Everything was beautiful and every second seemed to announce its passing away. We walked side by side, my grin widening with each stride. My gnarled fingers found warmth in his soft palms. We were a pair, yet three. The life within me responded intermittently to our conversation. I couldn’t decide which was brighter: the day itself or his pearly white teeth. Suddenly, we were thrown into the air. Gravity, like a jealous second wife, despised us for clinging to each other. She pulled us apart as the concrete hiding mother earth received us. Noise, chaos, blood, corpses, flames were left in the wake of three consecutive explosions. All my ears got from my lips was ‘God!’ ‘God!’ ‘God’.  I felt the wetness between my thighs, and the red of the liquid stopped my sob midway. I needed to find him. I found him with on the white of his eyes looking to the sky. I picked up what remained of his left hand and held it to my chest as I howled for all that I had lost. It came to me then.

‘…Why are folks in a hurry to get married…’

Be careful what you wish for….

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Author:

A world changer who tells the stories that deserve to be told. Fiction may sometimes be real.

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