Saturday, 29 November 2014

The Road Not Taken













by: Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, 
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth; 
Then took the other, just as fair, 
And having perhaps the better claim, 
Because it was grassy and wanted wear; 
Though as for that passing there
Had worn them really about the same, 
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black. 
Oh, I kept the first for another day! 
Yet knowing how way leads to way, 
I doubted if I should ever come back. 
Somewhere ages and ages hence: 
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -
I took the one less traveled by, 
And that has made all the difference.

The Victor






by: C. W. Longenecker

If you think you are beaten, you are.
If you think you dare not, you don't. 
If you like to win but think you can't, 
It's almost a cinch you won't. 
If you think you'll lose, you're lost. 
For out in the world we find
Success begins with a fellow's will. 
It's all in the state of mind. 
If you think you are out classed, you are. 
You've got to think high to rise. 
You've got to be sure of your-self before
You can ever win the prize. 
Life's battles don't always go
To the stronger or faster man. 
But sooner or later, the man who wins
Is the man who thinks he can.


Thursday, 20 November 2014

That girl




"She's mad, and i told him because he needs to know that the woman he married," i sank on the seat opposite the mirror, " Is terrified of age and punishing the world for it.My wife my Wife," Leanna Mimimicked. Her fathers praise rang through her eardrums turning her stomache like a washing machine. "she tried to kill her because she's jealous, because she's ugly rotten on the inside, mad and forgotten,"
"What do you mean forgotten?"
" Mum feeds off attention. you think its about how we feel, or that men on the street don't wolf whistle at her anymore, she lost a job that made her feel powerful, and here she is cooking up ways to destroy the life of a girl half her age if she could kill her she would, but not for us, not because we feel bad," Leanna took in a long sigh. " Because she's sick of herself, and nobody sees it but us. The dresses that dont fit. The friends who dont pick up her calls anymore, she feels left out of everything, and were supposed to save her, when was the last time she talked about just us. Our achievements, i got complimented at my job recently, mums so obsessed with this girl, she didn't even mention it. My boss joked soon id be the boss." Her brother wiped the tear from her eye. They were a family, each one on an Island , none more desolate than their mother herself. Her world revolved around competing with a girl half her age,  " i bought her a gift a while back, it wasn't flowers, she instantly launched into a monologue about Olivia Jones,"
'Olivia Jones," Wolf supplied, "is just living the life mother wanted to live growing up, and were suffering. She figured out a way to bring on the girls seizures,"
" I wish it was simple. That i could just say she's nuts and that's the end of it,"
"but it's more complex than this," he ran his hands through his dark hair, " she can hold a normal conversation, she cooks like a normal housewife, she even apppears normal when she talks, but you have that girl appear, and she starts allover again,"
"its something about that girl."
"I think its something about her past, she refuses to resolve. Ghosts, they haunt her, and that girl reminds her of someone. Someone that made her feel less than adequate."
"She tried to kill her," Bertrand put in her shiny black hair swaying in the wind, Her brown eyes now needle black. " She used the urn to try and kill her saying she'd die of axfixiation, If you saw the look in her eyes, razor sharp, she knew exactly what she was doing."
There was a ghostly silence. It hung like glue from trees, fear echoed in their hearts, each one beating a bass line. " She's too selfish to do it for her family, this is about her. Your mum's about ego. There's a way she envisioned her life, nothing in her life turned out the way she wanted it,"
" That girls done so much to..."
" Dont you get it, your mum's trying to get her power back through this one girl. Other people have hurt her, but this is about more than being hurt, it's about everything, it's about not being abandoned, not being left, and trying to mould you into the characters that she wants you to be."
I scrunched my features the way i used to when my teacher asked circumference questions.
" She's not happy Lea, no amount of torturing girls half her age will make her. She married into a life. She's jealous of what you refuse to see. She's jealous that girl is loved, look how much she has to do to get love. Women have to become sluts , whores, slags, so she's moderately attractive, anytime that girl gets male attention your mum starts making a spectacle of herself, so somehow the attention lands on her, she craves attention. You can't even have friends over without her turning it into a circus." I swallowed hard, deep down i knew the truth. It was heavy on me, but loyalty itself is a burden. " That girls problem started with your mother, your mother with her, the way she makes things up, who knows where the truth lies." She reached for a large glass of water, downing it as though it were gin. " She's emotionally exhausting, and lying, and suffocating, and i guess ill see you around." We looked at her in confusion my brother and i.
" She wont get help for her....episodes, you wont get her help, your all pretending as though everythings fine, she's a threat, to someone else's child. Obsessed, fixated,she's not normal" another pause. " What if that girl had hit her head really hard and died. That's how people die from epilepsy. What your family did was attempted murder, and for what? Because one woman refuses to grow old gracefully. " She downed another glass of water. " That's how John Travolta's son died of epilepsy, if that girl was on her own and you were using whatever you were using. It would have been murder." I wondered what we would have done after that? Would we have patted her on the back and supported her whinings about feeling inadequate? My mother is one of the most manipulative people ive ever met, she knows how to play people off against each other. She'd done it most of my life. Power hungry, Egotistical, and exceedingly cunning, lies leaked off her tongue like water, there was no doubt my mother had done her research on Epilepsy, she knew the dangers. I leaned back in my seat, i studied my brother's expression. " John travolta's son had an epileptic seizure hit his head and died in the bath." It was said with a sombre knowing.

Sunday, 16 November 2014

How to be a blockbusting bestseller






Business isn't just for a brilliant mind, it is accessible to everyone if you have knowledge of the digital platform. Search engine optimisation is key to success, whatever your marketing tool. Know your analytics as effectively as you know your brand. Have a keen eye and a unique selling point. What is yours ? What is the angle you aim to connect to your target audience? They speak in a language you can understand, but listen carefully. It is beyond simple questions, it is the engagement in sources that are trending, the celebrity impact, media, and culture. Know your audience like the back of your hand, how would they navigate the aisles to find your product. If you could pitch your product in simple, precise lines, how would you do it? For example Lianna is releasing a new self published piece to assist the promotion of her work. How will she market her piece and her brand.  She would promote herself with useful and resourceful articles about her area of expertise and create a link where others can access her portal of information. Lianna Brands new bestseller web of deceit, a spine tingling block buster about a deadly game of cat and mouse, has sold over fourteen million copies worldwide. It is accessible internationally, and is a book soon to be translated into a multi award winning film. A page turner that has you hooked frolm beginning to end, readers are calling her the new John Grisham. What do you think? Download the first three chapters of Web of deceit, a captivating read. Are you bored this summer? Not anymore. With lovable, changeable characters, this book will have you hooked from start to finish?

How do you engage an audience? If your a writer you have less than five minutes to pitch your book across a sea of literature produced to precision. Audiences are hungry for different reads, know which market you are appealing to. Chick lit, for the modern girl on the go that needs something quick and delectable to seduce her imagination, crime thrillers for audiences with an arithmetic mind. People pick up books for the same reason, they buy a product. Within that narrative their not just looking for escapism, they are trying to find an answer to an internal question. Books are healers. Literature is the plaster some choose to put on the wound.

Generate interest for your book, whether it's picked up by publishers or not. I've always argued that people in the creative mind have to be more business orientated. Publishing is a capitalist industry like all areas of economy if they can see a market for your work they will endorse it. Yet if you venture into self publishing, you have to become both writer and entrepreneur.  Social networker there are key events you can attend at meetup, eventbrite places that will assist you to build that self confidence in your work.

Publishers are identifying what is personal to you as a product. Once it's out there it's more than just your baby, it's an opportunity to acquire capital and connect with your audiences at a human level. In the scurry to be picked up by publishers and prestigious organisations, people often forget some of the the five factors, and the people their selling it to. Branding, hook, pitch, market, sale. Know your audience, the places they'll go to network, have a keen eye for the type of story that will appeal to them. Are you niche? Are you fulfilling a gap in the market? Are you answering an age old much recycled question. Look at the questions your audiences are asking online, look at last years books that were on the bestseller list, the books celebrated by key media. The digital platform is a powerful tool if you use it effectively. Word of mouth is the most powerful marketing weapon out there, go to readings like my sister Irenosen Okojie does. Get an insight into the industry, know how campaigns work, and what campaign you will use to acquire the interest of your audience. The internet creates international crossover. This means someone who is in the states can literally purchase your product without even blinking.

Market analysis, strategy, and core principles are useful for the fulfilment of your task. Go on forums , question and answer sites, What questions are audiences asking. Which books are trending and why? Understand the why, there is more to be understood beyond the simple exclamation of i am a writer respect my work. To run publishing houses, publishers have to stay financially afloat. As much as many are about engulfing the public, you need to be the writer who thinks beyond simply being a creative. Think with a business mind. Sell yourself, and pitch your book effectively to audiences. Why should they invest their hard earned cash in your style, over Barbara Delinsky, Jude Deveraux.

Mainly because you are bringing them something new, a scintilating page turner, which will keep them curled up in corners, biting their fingernails. Create that hunger and you will see results.

Checkout my upcoming ebook Lunchbox Millionaire.
and my google plus: redebony

Destination of a dream warrior



image by Gilad


Life is a game of charades, everybody playing their social character. To yourself, always be true, be honest, know who you are. Dont let anyone steal your greater self, it is the promise of a burgeoning future. We are not icarus. Man has looked up at the sun, landed on the moon. We are visionaries, and with hope, we pick ourselves up and lead to our destination. Those who hunger to be great, it is a journey, and we all take our own clever route. As you hike up that mountaintop, dust from sandstorm stinging your eyes, know what you may become. See your infinite potential.

Friday, 14 November 2014

Strengthening Self esteem and fueling Self forgiveness





For 3 years someone tried to make me feel so bad about myself , so insecure so small, because they themselves felt inadequate. It was a choice they'd made within themselves, and it was supposedly my fault this person hadn't built up a healthy respect fort themselves. Validated their self esteem. I was called a Nigga consistently, by a black family, ridiculed, made to look small so they could entertain their guests. Here's what i say to people like this. In the long run those you try to destroy can build themselves back up from you as far away from your toxic self hatred as possible. The people you try and ridicule them to, are like smoke, you know when it's present but it will never last. Everybody likes attention , everybody likes to be given attention. This happened because once upon a time id had the empathy in my heart to show kindness to a guy that was lonely, lacking and had no self esteem. I didn't judge the job he did, or act superior or as though i were better than him. Yet his self hate and his own jealousy consumed him, along with the need to be validated by others. Despite telling him that he was doing good, a plus of encouragement, in return he stood back as lies were spread about me, and had the audacity to become jealous when other men who had self esteem could get close to me whilst i crossed the street, ducked swerved, ignored and chose to avoid him for the rest of my life. He was cruel, malicious, and used me as a platform to feel like a man, because without any discussions, complaints, without using me as a foundation he was just an average joe. He had nothing. My kindness had been used as a platform, to acquire respect from others, whilst he hid the truth about a mother that had a fixation with me, and clearly had mental health problems.


When you come across people like this dont make yourself vulnerable. if they have issues with self esteem you wont be a positive person, you'll be an enemy. I had something he didn't have. I was happy and i was confident within myself. Because of this kindness, he saw it as a weakness. He began to ridicule me with friends on a consistent basis, telling lies that i was an ex prostitute, trying to alienate me from as many people as possible. People close to him played the victim, bitter and envious convincing others they were under attack in some way, begging for as much sympathy as possible. People who felt like loosers at life, needed to feel like winners.

When you come across people like this know the truth, because they will twist it and long after the battle is fought will come in with swords and daggers. Why? Because they have felt powerless for most of their lives, felt weak and wanted to validate themselves. Felt as though they were worth nothing. You validating them with kindness makes them believe they can capitalise on this. After three to four years of ridicule, humiliation, spreading all my personal affairs throughout the area, and capitalising on private information about me, suddenly he had made  a mistake. After an intense bout of depression, trauma, feeling consistently judged, being called derogatory names.

Men like this or women like this are full of so much self hatred they are trying to punish you for all the other people that have hurt them in their lives. You are in the midst of an emotional tornado. His defence i made a mistake, whilst strategically trying to alienate me from family, bullying and harassing me, whilst those around him pedalled lies about who i was. Anytime i tried to move my life forward positively, he'd try and reappear , happen to lurk nearby he was sick and i was sick of him. When you come across people who have tried to destroy yourself esteem, suddenly conveniently, what they did was bad. They made a mistake, now they've gotten all the attention for destroying or picking at your self confidence. Whilst you pick yourself appart day by day, just because simply put, you said the truth. Know the truth in your heart, and trust it in your heart. People like this want to destroy you, or take something away from you, then walk around guilt free. He had a daughter, a child. Whilst i was being called a harlot, and a whore, things he knew in his heart i wasn't. He would have the audacity to go to that child. Teach that child. Being a parent from my experience with my family is about growth, your a teacher.

His bouts of " i made a mistake," to reconcile his conscience to give himself piece of mind, to free himself from his issues of self hatred. Whenever i tried to keep a wider distance, he'd announce to people " that i ran away from everything," happening to be nearby at convenient times. Hoping id wave like i used to, or leave whatever i was doing and simply come out and say " yes you made a mistake, but lets move past this."

Never. My mother once said not forgiving someone is like holding unto hot coal, and allowing it to burn you. Hatred eats away at your insides making you bitter. I can happily say, he's too low on the totem pole to hate. A pathetic excuse for a man who couldn't stand up and be counted, and that will haunt him for the rest of his life. I was everything he wasn't and he hated me for it. Used it to his advantage, to make friends, to place himself in a power position and now he's more powerless than ever. He now defends, my depression was " just him messing around," day after day the torment i recieved by an obese sister, bitter because her looks were not up to scratch and a mother that was fixated on me, " was just him messing around" . Digging into my past, naming himself after the man i'd fallen for when i was younger, dredging up the past was just him " messing around." Because people laughed at his jokes, and ultimately i was supposed to learn my lesson.

I have learnt that there are people worthy of love, people you invest in, and those wgho will spend the rest of their lives wondering why they dont feel the love even when its given. Because i dared to have confidence in my dark skin, other men dared to have the self esteem and the independence to think this is an attractive woman, i dont care what anybody thinks, i will go after her. He wanted to punish me because he couldn't punish them. It wasn't anything id done, im an intuitive woman, it was more than that, it was the fact i couldn't love him.

The fact that i couldnt forgive him, because when i was at my most vulnerable, he tore me down so the people around him, would respect him. They'd pat him on the back and say "your such a funny guy," and then what? A girl who once upon a time had humbled herself, would hear him tell others, " i was nothing but a Nigga," call her a Nigga.

After all of that i am proud of myself and proud of my dark skin. I didn't need an audience to tear someone down, i judge people based on my own principles. In this lifetime no matter how he sleeps, in the back of his mind, he will remember this. When i had nothing, and he had nothing to offer me, i never looked at him like he was less than a man, i never laughed at the work he did, never ridiculed him, and never joined others to call him dumb. At that time, much like i do, i'd seen a softness, a kindness there, something that was beyond miniscule things or shallow judgements like how pretty, or smart, someone is. What he had never learned. Is that life makes us intelligent. Whatever road you take you are being taught, school is a tidy education, but the lesson's life teaches you, you never forget them.

I feel no shame in my once upon humble heart. If you are leaving a self that was once familiar to you, ready to make a transition, and it comes from pain, do not punish yourself further. In time you will heal. Forgive yourself the risks, the bad choices, the intent, in my la la land things would have ended differently, as i embrace a new reality i know things would have ended differently if  he was a better man.

Celebrate the choices you made, the stories when they arrive, you'll tell your children with pride. Not winning a pathetic battle against someone with self esteem fighting for the little they had, celebrate having the kindness in the first place, and know how you will adjust in the future.

When i was younger i wrote a series of love letters to a man of mystery, every morning at six o clock , five i'd crawl out of bed and hand post shakespeares poems beyond his door. I was smitten. This didn't end up the way i planned either, but i loved the adventure, the blood pumping through my veins, the flip of a stomache every time i saw him. Because in his deep voice, and his comfortable masculinity i saw, i was all my selves. Boyish, charming, shamelessly pretend over confidence. I still remember his scent, and the way he walked, his black jacket sweeping the air.

My mistresses eyes, i recited to him. Because he was that breathtaking and what i needed to say, i couldn't voice it in words. It was potent, and sweet, creative and sensual, like i was, and until the other sixth formers came, i was unjudged.

If i had a daughter i would write letters to her in the morning she'd wake up to them at the breakfast table. You are beautiful, you are loved, you are priceless, i think often of the pancakes id make for her as we sit at the breakfast table, discussing the days agenda. We'd have pancakes and cinnamon, and a wealth of discussions, about life, knowledge, growth, and the world beyond her walls. Id tell her consistently to love herself no matter what. The world is a tough place. Not because of the things people assume, like job hunting, housing, it's more than that, your constantly looking for the right people to connect to. Connect to your inner spirit, your guardian, the all knowing self, because when those mistakes happen, its not about forgiving others, it's about forgiving yourself for making those investment. What we invest in people is priceless, we invest our time. That time you can never get back. Id tell her to navigate, let others reveal themselves as well, hope the chaos is not in their minds, and they want to share in the wrong way with you. I'd sit her on my knee and read to her, books like the catcher in the rye, Robert Kiyosaki's rich dad poor dad, and teach her how to make Spaghetti Boulognese her way. When it hurts too much i'd cuddle her and say, you took a risk on someone who didn't know what they had. Someone who chose to be weak of mind rather than strong of spirit.

The war is happiness, everything else is in between. If your happy based on the right things, if you can look at yourself in the mirror and say honestly to yourself i did this without an agenda, then youy can go home peacefully. Home is the happy place within, a self undestroyed by the monopoly of minds. Yet i would argue in defense of this article although people talk often about forgiveness being the hub of truth and the exorcism of pain. Realise forgive when your ready. Never ever let someone think they can manipulate bully you, or harass you into forgiving them to ease their mind and their conscience. Why your so bad is because despite two parties not acting perfectly, your worse because they crossed boundaries. Not because you were evil, or because you were bad, but because you didn't comply and something is tugging at them. No matter the smiles, the laughter, it is a charade and they will play that part forever. There's a difference between those who are genuinely happy and those who are truly at peace. He will never find peace, because i will never give it to him. It takes a restless soul to set out to destroy then stand in front of an audience and simply say, " i made a mistake." A mistake is spilling pasta, crashing a car into someone's back end, not messing with the sanity of someone else, out of envy and a need to control. To be looked at, as that guy. You dont know how that guy got his self esteem, you may never know his story. Forgive yourself, because when we take risks on people, at the cost of things that are valuable to us, we learn the hard way.

For a long time i was angry, furious, and then i realised, i would never see him again, and i smiled at that. I would never see him, but he would always see himself, he would always know the truth behind the things he did and why he did them, and you can lie to the world but you can never lie to yourself. I took a risk, because i believed in someone and i wanted to pep up their spirit. Not knowing that this kindness they would use as a weapon against me. Exaggerating lies. Freedom comes with truth, for him i will never be that girl again, because that girl was a nice person and she had a good heart. He wont stop me from being that version for others, but he died a long time ago. The illusion was never real, it was someone pretending to be a version,
when no one else was around, being manipulative.

We know what we see, we know why we see it. Maybe we yearn to see those things in people, but when the blinkers come off. Dont be mad at yourself, you made a choice based on a character they presented.  If you have someone nagging at you, whining about the ease you "let things go" know in your heart, the decision is down to you. When the spirit is free, so is the body and most of all so is the mind. I dont blame myself anymore for the risks i took, because it cost me more than i thought it would. Social confidence, i was placed on medications, i shouldn't have been on, my weight changed, but when i look back at what i did, i realise i would do it, but for a better man. A man that's worthy of respect. People say respect is earned for a reason. This strategy protects you, it protects your sanity, and it protects your heart. Let a man like this ever teach about kindness, i sacrificed more than family, i sacrificed sanity, based on a whim, and a character he presented to me personally whilst those around him were told something different. He would die a liar, and i venture towards a greater happiness. I will never give him ease.

As red i will say one thing it takes more than a certificate to be a teacher, we teach our children, we teach our friends, we teach our family, but most of all in life we are consistently teaching ourselves. You owe no one nothing, and the people who engage someone like this, ask them whether they would forgive someone who cost them so much. Timing is everything. Free yourself, forgive yourself, give yourself peace, and trust why you made your choices. Celebrate your Xen, when you have it, it is worth more than gold.

Wednesday, 12 November 2014

How to spot a looser and run




Losers are people with mental and emotional drought.The guy who lacks creativity, ideas, but most
of all wisdom. He may have a child, yet his focus is not on the progress of that child, his focus is on competing with you and what your doing. How else do you see a  looser? Looser are always seeing that others have done things wrong. Their like a cancer always eager to suck your life energy and your time bringing about tales of everybody else's failure, yet you look at the state of their lives, this person doesn't even want to try. The only way they can win is by tes. They are the gossips that distract you with tearing down the spirit of others, they are the gossips who distract you with tales of every life story, every disappointment. The worst thing in life is to be a second hand victor, that means you succeeded only because you either encouraged the failures of others, or you took great pleasure in glorifying yourself as things went from bad to worse for them. Their disappointments are simply that, disappointments. They will rise again, yet what will karma bring to your door. For the man who has had kids but his focus isn't on his family, his focus is on competing and distracting people who most days wouldn't acknowledge his existence. I want to be platinum, I want to be successful, I want to be seen as a leader, in order to do so, i'll tear down the lives of others. Strength and leadership is not about fake perception. It's not about being entitled, leaders can smell a pretender from a mile away. A man or woman with no identity, no intellect , whose only vision or goals is to dominate you. Build up your self esteem, ensure you build up your self confidence. This is the key to winning and focus on your happiness.

Tuesday, 11 November 2014

condemning the cowards





What makes a coward? A selfish person who wont deal with their unresolved issues. A discontent manipulator who is too involved in your life, to want to deal with the discontent in theirs. A man who feels brave enough to take on a woman but never has the backbone to face men his age. Someone who spends time looking for the trouble of those who they believe are weaker than them. Those who can never take responsibility for their poor actions. Those who do malicious things and try and jusify them to themselves, choosing to ignore the balance of right and wrong, those who neeeeeeeed to be the centre of attention constantly, as though the world needs to revolve around them. The forever victim, No one needs people like this in their lives. Life is hard enough.

Mincing the manipulative





Its not that manipulative people, dont understand boundaries, its that they dont respect them. Your boundaries are up because you respect yourself, it is your way of protecting yourself. Manipulators are takers by nature, if your dealing with someone who is selfish and controlling, you have to ask yourself one question. How long am i going to dishonour myself and put up with this. Clever manipulators are reciprocal at times, they can appear giving, but consistently despite their behaviour being wrong, they will look for consistent validation of it. Is this person forever contacting you to have their needs met, and not yours. Is this person forever playing the blame shame guy with everybody else, but they can do no wrong? If you are someone who is consistently being told what to do by an entitled manipulator, how long will this lifestyle be paradise. If your a man how much longer will you be emasculated like this, their behaviour continues because your an enabler. Enablers get walked all over. The manipulator may even make you feel greatful that your associated or linked to them in any way. Fight for your self esteem, let them whip and control the next batch of stupid people allowed into their lives.Its time for you to get your identity back.It's your life, its time to take the reigns back.

Sunday, 2 November 2014

This is you: Poem







image from amiller designs

I stood still, 
for you 
Time couldn't, 
She's like clockwork. 
You're not. 
I've wasted 3,656 days on you 
Work it out 
It's a troubling equation 
An ideal, 
Holding idealist hostage 
A crack heads illusion, 
Tainting realities fate, 
Hope was brown eyes, 
Sparkling with charisma 
You were the speech, 
The gypsies promised. 
You were the speech
The gypsies promised
 
We dreamt of things 
United in our failure 
A fading bliss 
The world would punish 
We left salt in our mouths. 
We left salt in our mouths 
We marched corners of 
A postcard 
Grinding our teeth 
Roaring oxygen out 
Clothes have been folded 
For over a year 
Folded clothes have been here 
for over a year 
I hold my breath, 
You have nothing left, 
This is the you 
I should have met.

Written by Otatade Iseghohi Okojie

Saturday, 25 October 2014

Escaprism


image by life takes crayons

I hit him back. I couldn't believe that my tiny fist had been a wrecking ball in Adrien crux's arrogant features. " you just...." he stumbled back as though in a dazed drunk stupor. Last year we had been face to face, nose to nose, and the knife he prodded near my round stomache, I was not pregnant just larger than the girls he was used to dating. I knew I wasn't as pretty.
" have you lost your mind?" He raised himself to his full height his handsome features mutilated. Swiping the blood from his nostrils. " if I left you,"
" if you left me who would love me right?" I slunk back against the wall, expecting the slaps I was familiar with. It came like the thrash of a whip. My grey eyes tearing as his brown eyes encompassed in shadow. " I stuck by you when nobody else did,"
" you drive them all away," I mumbled the terror still ripe in my throat.
" they weren't the right people for you,"
" I was strange, that's what you said. It's been three years of you were strange, I'm still strange."
" I do love you, you know." I wanted to claw his fucking eyes out. Maybe it was all the self help books I'd been reading lately, having to sneak to my friend Marietta's wedding because he'd had a problem with her, said she was easy despite being hypnotised by her full bosom whenever we spoke. She'd appear in my home shifty in turtlenecks, tying her crow black hair in a neat bun. Adrian's words they don't sting you at the time the way they sport when your alone with thoughts.
 " I see this shit in tv you know," I glanced at the tear streaked windows. The pitta parts of rain begging an escape. " I swore I'd never be one of those girls, they look so fragile, their voices come out like air burps, they walks like nuns and dress up like Muslim wives hiding everything."
"Is it the Afro, you can put it back in," he defended.
"it's not up to you, " I swallowed hard " I packed your stuff two days ago, it's in the downstairs cupboard."
" I unpacked it." he challenged his voice now smoothe and soothing.
" This isn't the man I met at the fair that day, " I ran my hands through my cornrows, " I think he lives in my head." No he didn't, but after the lies, being on trial with family and those who i was accustomed to, maybe he did. Was i asking for perfection? Adrien was a law student, dapper, handsome, girls oohed when he walked past the halls, i ahhed when we had our first conversation. The worst thing was, i remembered exactly what he'd said, those first few words in that deep chocolate voice. " I like eclairs,"  it was a strange sentence to open with. " I dont eat them, i just buy them for pretty girls like you." I, Annabella Ramone was not used to the word pretty in association with me. My sister was she had the looks, yet i had befriended every single book in the library to hide from the shallow world of men. " I wouldn't call myself pretty," i announced honestly, his smile already having an effect. " Just lonely enough to need a companion to things like Gala's, museums, and Fredericko Mustiq's concerto at Prism palace. " Much had changed since that day, i had changed, and as i grabbed the remnance of my belongings from the narrow sitting room, i finally confessed i hadn't wanted to. He wouldn't beg. Not for me i was too plain for him, but the calls would come later on in that week, or as the months followed, as i edged closer to my freedom. For i wasn't plain, i had come to realise, i was familiar, and he was too weak to let go, incase a better man got things right. I shoved my suitcase into the car, i paused pondering only for a minute before diving in, pressing down on the clutch and driving to my freedom. Once again i owned myself, and i wasnt claimed by a man's weakness or his jealousy. Somehow in his warped delusions i belonged to him, and now i knew i could never belong to anyone. I took out the hair band letting my hair fly with the wildness he hated, ignored the stone burried in my stomach and put the car into gear.

Chrissys love

image from pinterest

" it's because he loves you that he left," I swept my armada curls, metal and ink behind the curve of a pointed lobe. I wanted to fight her, my mother for not being honest to herself. For allowing him to tiptoe into the house his scent staining a map I had suddenly begun to figure out.
" he'll be back again," her fudge tinted eyes lit like candles. " How does someone love you so much they leave, "
" grown ups need space." we were on the edge of my bed, a bunk bed that once invited companions. I glared hard face at the pis coloured walls, once I danced in this room, now it was yellow and somehow it was blue. The scent of candle wax and gin hung in the air like a veil. Mother had rouge lipstick on. Mother did this to pep herself up Everytime he left because once upon a time she'd been told my father was too pretty for her, that once upon a time stayed. It dug into her confidence scraping the gleam out of her eyes as young girls with glowing skin, and pert buttocks strolled by our street. " gulf gulf is still here."
"I thought I'd fry her soon enough but the way she moves in that tank, " she would now say the movements of a multicoloured fish in a crowded yet isolated tank was like Mozart.
" your beautiful you know, enough not to open doors for strange men,"
She clamped skinny hands on my chin " he's not a stranger he's your father."
My mother reminded me of an old Picasso copy cat is seen in dalton market, buoyant with colour, jagged edge and sharp features. Her nose was strong enough to be a hacksaw, lips politely pulsed, hair as red as a policemans siren, but she was beautiful to me. For I knew her smell, and her smell wasn't tobacco, marijuana or the selfish stamp of bailey.
" let's look through the album again," I. Piped wanting her to feel better. My words sounded blocky to me in my stiletto tone. She needed to remember her youth, and the ghost of her laughter still echoed within the walls. " Chrissy, " she gulped. " your sixteen you know little of what love really is. Don't change the locks on him again okay?" I nodded the lie apparent only to me.
I would change them as soon as the sky lit orange, and the nightingale slept soundly in her nest.

Wednesday, 22 October 2014

Renee Zellwegger plastic surgery






I understand growing up and needing to upgrade your image but what renee Zellwegger has done, i believe will ultimately cost her her career. She was beautiful before. Absolutely stunning. Those eyes that sparkled those apple cheeks, she had that girl next door look and she would have grown into that woman next door look. Shes unrecognizable. I know her industry is tough, but we want to see the real Renee, the face we recognise, she was an asset to the film industry, that girl next door look really worked. Now she looks like something of real housewives, Renee....this is not happiness. What message is she sending to women her age and young girls.

Tuesday, 21 October 2014

Scapes





Slinky eyes
and bedroom talk
All our fears
They take a walk
Shadowed corners
Private Scapes
From this trap
Ones no escape
You are self
and self as I
My morning juice
My lullabye

Su Hill: Short story



image from  evanira.deviantart.com

"Your crazy you know that, this is acid rock hardcore shit it eats you." I shrugged at Adrien Molex, swiped playfully at his fringe. We were sitting on the highest precipice of nature's den, a place perfect for climbers.
"Your really gonna do this to beat her."
"I'd do anything to beat that fucking," His malteser eyes swallowed me, a thick finger pressed against my pulsing mouth. We were alive together. Fire in our veins, alcohol drowning our curling Oesophogus. Danger on the tongue. The bitch we were talking about was my twin sister Rhia. He was banging her, because that's how men communicate with her immaculate features, and slender shape. Then when he knocked on our door, the third time, there was a moment, like a bubble had swallowed us and we were in our hub. " It's ridiculous to think a man like you could love someone like her," i'd seethed internally.My eyes sparked with jealous rage, and then an orgasm of calm exploded as he placed a hand gently on my square shoulders. Millitant yet terrified of the world outside.
"I didn't know Rhia had a twin, she's very beautiful," funnily enough id always known i wasnt. It was like god had picked the petals of mothers womb, remaining was me, a shapeless stem. Lean enough to be gangly, short spiky hair which never agreed with order or hairbrushes. One kid once said i was deformed in comparison to my sister. It bit me at the time, and then i began to accept it. " Rhia looks latino, Spanish,is she mixed?" Stupid questions, stupid strangers asked. It sucked so hard being compared to my glamorous twin. At schools, girls ran their hands seductively through her endless main of wild, curly hair. Stubbornly she had managed to grow it to near her ankles. Rhia Evans looked like a painting, and i the younger twin looked more ....regular. I hated that. I never felt regular , i felt odd in my skin, like i belonged in a spaceship somewhere, martians please invite me.
"You can take the first hit," He flashed a dimpled smile waving hands appart,
"No way, i like being smart. These are the freezers, he scanned the almost empty moss green cliffs.
" I really want to kiss you right now, make you come to your senses,"
"it's a trip, i need a trip, people lean in when she utters a sentence, hungry for her adventures," i sighed, " im the salad or the green peas the child plays with on his plate. Lena the troublesome one. \Lena the meth head, and lena the product of an artist who barely came to completion. I pulled the white stick to my lips, sucking it in as it entered my chest, and teased in like a belly dancer. suddenly i felt a sharp prick in my lungs, fire and heat , i began coughing dramatically choking as i grappled for air. My eyes bulged, i could feel the veins popping out, it felt as though my body was preparing to shatter into a million pieces."what is this?"
I spat nervously, panic strangling my every breath. " People aren't what you assume."
"What is this?" I put my hands to my throat trying to cough out its contents.
"Something unpredictable. Your sister is waiting for me over there," he pointed a finger at curdwells narrow street. " It will look like you committed suicide."

Monday, 13 October 2014

The Musk





Kissing dust
The one i trust
i never showed you
the mess of us
how when you lean
we  scatter
Sherbet Kisses
  air
 this mirage
says harps just dont care
Though hands are thick and locked like chains
Find me in the arc near your shadow
Preparing the tedium
Of your tomorrow
Wiping windows
sprawled out on desk
an itching flesh
It needs caressing
Kissing
Kissing
Kissing dust
This self i love
this you
i trust
for fingers do not
own the musk.

Let me in




Soul brother
systems ink
Brain is scrambled these
thoughts i think
I catapult myself
into the hub
of your arms
thick and strong
you are the branches
Where Tree whispers
song
Fish Calypso
in this Ocean dew
I have seen
Yet am blind
to the worst of you
With each tiptoe
Fingers tiptoe across your skin
Mr Chocolate
let me in

Saturday, 11 October 2014

The pain of other peoples lies







There's nothing more frustrating than the pain of other people's lies. It's not so much what they do, but the fact they dare to think they can do it, lie about it, and make you appear emotionally unstable to those around you. Cruelty which stems from envy, the need to have a sense of power and control over others and the lives they live. These things are done consistently and then they gaslight you. Gas lighting is a form of emotional abuse when someone close to you or in your viccinity, humiliates or degrades you over a period of time, making you feel less than adequate, then convincing you it's all in your head. That you imagined such things. It's disgusting, cowardly, hurtful, but above all it's the most malicious form of abuse there is. They systematically bully and attempt to convince you, its all in your head, when you and others witnessed what was taking place. We often wonder how such people live with themselves, how they justify such cruelty, and how with such a weak spirit. They embrace a feeling of strength. If someone is degrading you, humiliating you, ridiculing you in some way, not once in a while, it is consistent but it is done cleverly and insidiously, you may think you are loosing your mind, think your on tilted edge. They want you to believe you imagined these things and they came out of thin air, why would you invent such cruelty out of thin air, for the love of it? For the fun of it? Because life isn't full of any other problems or disputes? People who feel weak. Want to make you look weak and they want as much as possible to convince those around them that your the problem. It's not what they were doing to you secretly that was the problem, its you and your state of mind. They can go as far as convincing you, that you are crazy.

Here is where you win. When they lie, they weaken a part of themselves. When they look in the mirror, it's the lies they see, and there's a sense of disgust at themselves for having to lie in the first place. Gas lighting is cruel, its sick, sadistic, but most of all it's weak. It takes a strong person to look you dead in the eye and say, "this is what you did to me, this is why i did it to you." With honesty there is resolution. Yet when someone is too weak to be honest, it tells you all you need to know about them, and who they are really.

Wednesday, 8 October 2014

Evacuating from emotional abusers





When your not supposed to be with someone your not supposed to be with them. You dont want them and no amount of bullying harassment or wearing you down systematically should divine that this one person is who you turn to. I once came across a guy who betrayed me in the worst way, after reaching out to him because i thought potentially he might make a good friend, i got the shock of my life. First i was ridiculed and humiliated by those around him so he'd feel better about himselves, but when is started moving past that. Getting my self confidence back,other guys began to find me attractive. He became extremely jealous as though i were a posession, as though i belonged to him. The more i struggled to build my self esteem the more he'd desperately tear it down, he was your archetypal psychopath. If i recieved phone calls from other men, he'd spread lies amongst neighbours and friends, ensure the people who i had once connected to were involved that i was loose or whorish. Despite it being extremely apparent to me that he had an interest in me beyond subtle niceties, this guy turned into my worst nightmare. Producing lies to alienate and Ostracize me from as many people as possible, it was done very cleverly by pretending as though it were a joke. I was just humor for him and his friends but there was something evil, sinister and psychotic about it. At one point out of sheer envy he came up with a plan to convince those that i was close to that i was mentally unstable. To friends i was described as 'the ugly one' he'd tell whatever affairs he'd listened too about me and my family to ensure we were looked down upon. Yet i'd see it in his bizarre reactions, when male friends came to visit, when id get a phone number from an attractive or confident guy, when i was alone he would happen to be near or tiptoe towards the same vicinity, pretending to get things from booths of cars, if i was moving about a certain time, he was suddenly moving about at that time, closing the front door quietly as he tiptoed back in. I hated him, because he had felt unsure of himself and inadequate his goal had been to destroy any ounce of confidence i had. When he sensed it coming back, the insults would begin again. He was psychotic.

Emotional abuse is psychological. Many of the things he did were sadistic and cruel, an abuser will use such strategies as comparing you to someone else to make you feel less adequate, insulting things that are precious to you, your skin tone the way you look, your features, whilst strategically trying desperately to control you. His problem wasn't that i had done, this that or the other, being someone with extremely low self esteem himself his problem was the fact that he couldn't control me. More so still because i had never ventured into a relationship with him. What would i say to women all over the world about men like this, the controllers, the Gaslighters, the emotionally abusive individuals who seem to believe human relationships is all about Millitant control. Run. People often argue points such as keep your distance if you value your self esteem, that's great, but what your looking at is a Suicide bomber and there are how many degrees of separation. We debate whether physical abuse is worse than psychological abuse, a wound will heal, but the mental scars heighten things you may already suffer from, paranoia, fear of trusting people and reaching out building , close relationships. They will counter their defense by belittling your emotions, calling you oversensitive, ensuring that those around you think it's in your head, yet if your so damaged and so lowly to them why the hell wont they leave you alone. It's simple on the surface they appear to be functional people, yet as time unfolds other people can see how damaged they really are. Relationships dont last unless it's a pretense, a man who may have a partner and a child, instead of being focused on planning that child's future, what school he or she goes to, what type of friends they'll have, where they'll be taken for the holidays and core things that deal with focusing on someone who is pivotal. It may not be a child, it may be a business and you have to be smart enough to be able to acknowledge why. I was called ugly systematically, nicknamed the embarassment, potential friends were warned of how supposedly loose i was. The abuse was insiduos and only took place whenever i was alone. Whenever other men appeared beside me and wanted to draw the situation to a close, he'd close the blinds, feeding more lies, at one point he had ensured those close to him spread a rumor that i had aids and was an ex prostitute, simply because i wouldn't sleep with him. He'd say things to friends such as "i wouldn't touch her with a barge pole," then beg consistently to others to convince me to have sex with him. " One night. Just one night." He'd try and make me feel inferior to family by saying such things as "No you just sleep with the dark skinned one, but the light skinned one you marry," Knowing how desperately i wanted things like marriage, a long term partner. He would assign those close to him to make jokes about how dark skinned i was, making it appear as though i was too black to be loved. Then one day it became too much and as i was at my lowest point, he'd encourage things like slit your wrist and cut your throat, hang yourself. Kill yourself. He's defence consistently remained "i was just messing about,i was joking." The worse thing about people like this is they appear to be consistently innocent. People close to me refused to believe it because they seem as though butter wouldn't melt. Butter doesn't just melt their soaked in it.

If you come across a systematically abusive person it's not just about you.Something in them is damaged and destroyed. A lot of the time, they want to be close to you whilst envying things about you.

Create distance
Find someone you can confide in be it a therapist, a counsellor, a friend
Out them at all cost, because what their doing isn't just sick, it's weak, their using you to make themselves feel emotionally strong. Do not allow yourself to be humiliated, if you were so flawed they would leave you alone.and focus on accumulating a better life, a happier life. You are not the embarassment they are. This individual refused to admit any interest in me because i was too dark skinned, not conventionally pretty, wasn't as popular as i had been as a child. Sing like a wolf. Howl like an Owl tell everyone, it will shame them into doing it less, because other people know about it. They can't defend it as easily, others would have witnessed it. The funny thing is for years despite the things i had accomplished even whilst dealing with a disability, ultimately i realised why he was doing this to me. I was seen as a strong person, and he wanted to humble me in the worst way possible.  I'd hear that supposedly " i fancied myself," when i'd speak up " he'd defend that i was paranoid, almost making me appear delusional." I began to feel unlovable. When people empathised with me, or he sensed it rather than admitting to his guilt, he would say things such as " i was playing up, performing, being an attention seeker." Whenever i tried to move away or create distance he became psychotic, " asking people strategically to slow me down. Dont let her get away, she runs away from everything." Yet i realised why he was doing this, in a show when i was watching the real housewives, one of the wives had said to the other, " i am your story,you need me just to talk about me just to get an interview, just to get a radio lookin, just to make a headline." That's how it felt with him, he needed me as a platform to have a topic of discussion with friends, family, anyone, he needed me to make him appear interesting. If i wasn't around him and those around him had absolutely nothing to share with others. To lure them in.

When you stand up to an emotionally abusive person, you will be told that your being a drama queen, manipulative, your always doing this, The problem isn't you it's the way they feel about themselves. Something about you makes them feel so emasculated they have to attempt to break your spirit.

Second thing women can be extremely dumb. One of my frustrations with the situation wasn't just what he was doing, but the fact that there were women who went along with it. Why didn't they speak up because whether they liked me or not a part of them knew it was wrong, that's why they kept it so hidden. That's why i was humiliated only when i was alone, then when other people were around me they'd make excuses for why they wouldn't create such a scene in front of others. It was much too much drama yet they'd expelled poison about those around me.

I also thought things such as all those young men who bought in just because they wanted to be part of a group, have a brotherhood, be part of something, what if that were there sister, or daughters they tuck into bed. Every woman has a side, every person has a past. Your past unless your a serial killer or an axe murderer your past should belong to you. It's not you, whether the abuser is a woman or a man, it's them. There are several degrees of pain separation, and sadly you may never know why your being punished for that one woman once upon a time that rejected him/her, for the childhood friend or sibling he/she could never measure up to. If someone is emotionally and mentally abusive don't pick the battle, pick the war. An exit is your best strategy. You will need your strength for all the tough things that life has coming your way, your self esteem is your armor. For men never be this guy, he does these things because he's broken. For women be strong enough not to encourage this guy, he is no pack leader. Your not being manipulative, your being honest.

Monday, 6 October 2014

365 days: Short story







painting by Franz Von


Smells, i cant put my finger on it cinnamon leaks through your nostrils, mint slides down your lungs. The hair.Short shiny bob, rich eyes a purple blue hue, lean frame, she was something you awed at. She looked like the others, the others look like mother when she was young, pretty happy, with her shiny black bob and retail uniform. She was dead in the eyes, I had to kill her. I had to kill them, it was my favour to the world, their beauty was a stain on it. It doesn't make sense, 365 days, 24 hours, i finish work at 9:30, their eyes are glued to me, those spirits, they watch my every move, she was other worldly. I had to bury her before i burried her. It started in a dream, unravelling like a scarf, 365 days, 24 hours in a day, 7 days in a week, she was a poltergeist haunting my thoughts. They speak in hushed tones when i march into the office, whisper, gulping down words that are delicious to only them. It's girls like her, i dated a girl that looked just like Madison Grey once, she wasn't as trendy. She was braces, and didn't swivel her hips when she walked. Instead she marched. Pretty girl, no one can blame me about the blood. It's them, they make you hungry. Your not scared of newspapers, or magazine articles or being exposed, you find tidy places, plots to bury. You ignore the sobs of howling parents on flatscreen tv's, or flyers saying have you seen this girl? Madison was the last. I swore she would be the last to me, she had to be, police were not as dumb as they looked. I was a concerned neighbour with brown hair and caterpillar moustache, concerned hippy who noticed a few things out of place. I was tired of my ingenius IQ. I'm ten steps ahead of myself it's been years, and it's gotten boring. Those stupid police officers look for bodies the way barbie dolls look for vintage classics. What's so precious about this life? You come you go. Yet Jason was lying to himself, he lied often it was the potential that they could find love, the potential they could find happiness something his mother never had. She wasn't battered physically, but life. Such pretty things they were, when he buried them he lined them up like neat Chinese dolls. " 365 days, 24 hours in a day," mother had piped every morning. " What would you do with yourself?" The sadness in her eyes was like a blunt object carving it's way through your core. She was dying, every day your alive your closer to dying anyway, but unlike the women in the groups, and the hubs, mother was dying of something else, a bitterness had eaten it's way into her core. Her smiles were plastic. It was a strange thing. To be so happy and so sad all at the same time, Then the idea had come to him  when he'd seen that fox out on pitchmans Grey, it was writhing and dying, it's teeth were visible as though it were trying to smile, he'd marched straight up to the house where the bread knife was plunged it into the heart of the animal. Somehow that made so much sense, perfect sense such a pretty thing, what if someone healed it, bandaged it up and it was different. It happened on Tuesday, Tuesday the 4th of October. "365 days in a year, 24-" she hadn't seen it, it was the old screwdriver in the toolbox he drove in deep into her navel over and over again. " Liar!" he tossed the word, feeling the poison within. " Your not happy you never were. No more smiles." Hunched over he stood back and finished his cereal as he watched her bleed all over the kitchen floor. It was a strange emotion, dark, empty, numbing, the world seemed quiet but the clink of his spoon on the blue oriental bowl." I hate that sentence. I hate pretenders." He burried her in the shed, they didn't have many friends but whenever anyone called she had relocated, was living with a sister for a while. Until he disconnected the phones and with her savings moved. " 365 days in a year, 24" that sentence always came to him when he saw them, the copycats of mum. It made him erect, his veins pulse, he'd speak to himself in hushed tones as he followed them around chelsea, kingscross in London one in Bermuda, 365 days, they were sick, he was fixing their lives.

Slaughter of secrets





image from the daily mail


"Flipkart,"
"Yeah my dad runs flipkart." Alistair was lying as usual, but in our circle you pretend like Alistair doesn't lie. Alistair does nothing wrong, because it was the week of the chosen one, and this week Alistair Roosevelt that short piece of spit on the back of my shoe, was a chosen one in our fraternity.
" I'm not drinking blood," he panicked.
" We pass the cup around you sip it, it's not like your gulping it, most of it is Ribena,"
My eyes circled the small hedge of trees in our small wood. Arsehole, how the fuck did he get in with my friends anyway, he had these like i call it, the pencil dot eyes, and these huge glasses which seemed to suffocate his pert nose. He was pale and freckled, and his new hair do reminded me of a hedgehog. A brown furry hedgehog. Shit, who am i kidding, he wasn't short he'd sprung up, was tall with bulky arms and this deep throaty voice that made girls swoon. The worse thing about being a teenager wasn't the pimples, the period pains, because somehow i was a tomboy hanging out with a guys fraternity. It was this. This! When i saw him, this! and my eyes did this shit because he'd changed so much, and so had i, i had changed. Not like Tracy Elderly who had huge bust and basically looked like Jessica Rabbit, i felt out of a skin that had once completely belonged to me. Suddenly there were high heels, platforms, girls in bikini strap blouses low cleavage, and i wasn't just looking at the guys anymore, i was looking at the girls and it scared me. Yet him.
"So no gulping?"
" You have to wear the crown as well," Jesus this bastard had a crown. He'd literally terrorised me in first year of high school, in french, my favorite subject, he'd learned to read the whole bible Genesis through to Exodus in complete Francais, in Maths this arsewipe could calculate equations in under 60 seconds, and here he was pretending to be part of the dumbest fraternity in Elkley high. Worse he liked Chrissy tambert, and even worse he still stared at me, im talking eating you with huge brown eyes, they weren't dots i lied i hate him. This bitch has legs from here to British Airport, and speaks in this really clipped speedy tone, like a bird on acid. " I saw Chrissy in German, " i announced, knowing my sudden social affiliation with one of the most popular girls in school made me as much asset as i was commodity. Chrissy was big news, "she asked about you." Not really, she talked about her trip to Sweeden, and daddy's new Bentley, along with how painful the boob job she'd done still throbbed in certain places. I scanned his expression, the loathsome look tiptoeing in my green eyes. I'm more plain than her i'm aware, but my father said like a shot of Tequila my personality gives me some kick.
" I think she likes you," i lied, wanting to connect in some way, yet hating that i did.
" Most girls like me, it's the hair he beamed." Cunt. Instead i smiled
" Actually she's got this plan to merge the fraternity's and host this huge barbecue to raise money for some charity,"
" Which one," he retorted in a bored tone.
" People with one leg and shit." Expecting a rise out of him, i leaned back grinning at the circle of boys. Tunde Bosch, who wasn't actually called Tunde Bosche quirked a thick brow, his husky tone revealing he knew exactly what i was doing. Alistair's brother lost a leg in the army, or was it a car crash he refused to cut it off. He'd said cutting his leg off would be like cutting his dick off, that just didn't make sense to me. Sadness lit his eyes, Alistair Roosevelt had really long lashes for a guy, and i blame the dimple or was it the scar behind his ear. The one only i knew about, like without realising he'd let me into his World, uninvited, and invited. I knew where it came from, an angry slap from an older brother had sent him crumbling to the floor. He'd cut himself on a loose nail, i'd watched from the window, stunned....and yet i moved. I came closer to the window, it was outside the gates of the playground, "bastard!" I spat, i was surprised by how angry i was, the pencil in my trembling hands had turned to blade. I was drawn back into the moment as Alistair sipped from the gold cup, i looked at my twin brother Ricky. He'd dyed his hair green, i'd dyed mine a bright pink, it was on dads birthday we did it making some sort of rebellion against his uniformity. He winked at me knowingly, he'd read the journal. I tilted my top lip with disgust. " Welcome to the Alpha fraternity." The group chorused collectively. A choir of outcast. He was always doing stupid shit to piss me off, but two years from now i had no idea i'd be looking for his body in these woods. We find him three months later, overdosed on pills. There's only two people who are convinced he didn't commit suicide, me and the new prince of the Fraternity.Secrets, can be murder.

Saturday, 4 October 2014

Mothers Melting pot: Short story






image from pinterest

My mother had the right idea about self destruction. Being a narcissist the whole world seemed to be soaked into her vigil, worshiping her timeless countenance of ill constructed self narrative. It was about her. Her dagger green eyes, the arrogant tilt of her chin, her Moccha skin and the smile with bladed dimples. Men fawned at her feet, people asked stupid questions just to ask questions in the first place and now at 33 i was still the little girl tugging at the hem of a flowing skirt. Ida Rhodes never wore trousers, they were too masculine for her. Everything had to be everything, and in her orb, the world was me as well worshiping at the foot of a goddess.  " New changes." She spoke in her clipped diction, as the car swiped sweat beads of rain in traffic. " A blue car."
"Yes mother a blue car."
" What happened to red it used to be your favourite colour?"
" I'm not sixteen anymore."
"Your hairs still red."
I bit back a rising comment, decided to toss it in as a salad.
" How's husband number three?"
" Pretty on my arm." She patted her fro with a beaming smile, " all those jealous women in the neighbourhood, you should see their crow eyes look at me," she took a gap as a memory lit across her smug expression." Island saw him, it was beautiful, that yellow street hussy,"
"She's not a street hussy." I defended. My mother had a kryptonite, it was the envy that seeped into the distant wounds of a broken heart, she never told anyone about the heart. It made her sound weak, that a man could do this to her, off all the billionaires, politicians, and trust fund teenagers she dated, someone had gotten close enough. Where there was ice, he had destroyed her. His name....father. A penniless drunk, a first love, a bruised eye, a battered lip and psychological mind games. "Has he called recently?" The silence was heavy. I clicked on the indicator, circled the car, weaving through the metropolis that had now become mothers paradise. She knew i was talking about my father. Dad rarely called me and remi apart from to open some half baked discussion about an idea, which needed funding from us. " Friday," she spoke flatly. I was ruining her groove. He was still as handsome as he was when they were teenagers, his deep voice still made her insides throb with loneliness, and whoever shared the bed, was simply shadow. My father walked directly off the page of a glossy Magazine, he modeled for Vogue once, i still remember the leopard print hat, and the hipsters. They looked ridiculous, but he looked good. The other women....always about the other women...who saw, who knew, who heard, as she clipped her arms around his lean frame there was a pride which followed her, as though she had just recieved an Mbe. "What did he say?"
" M.i.a" another flat response. " If someone loved me they'd find a way to keep him out of our lives....for good." Mother had made this request before often ignored. " He makes me feel unlovable. I touch my lips still feeling invisible stitches. " Mother pulled out a skinny Cigarette shoving it in her mouth, lighting it with a match, rather than a the lighter she knew was in the glove compartment. Her fingers trembled, she took long meditation breaths, i bit my lips angrily.
" If he's that bad you wouldn't be sleeping with him still,"
" Sleeping with him," she put a hand to her cheek, the lie apparent in her eyes
" Your so judgemental. I'm the mother. You treat me like a fucking child sometimes," she rolled down the window, letting the cold air slip in like a musk. Outside was chaos. The traffic was making my hands clammy, and the news, the good ironically great yet somehow puzzling news made me grip the steering wheel tightly. I had secret gum rolling in my tongue. Mother hated that. I took a long shallow breath, the way you would if you were preparing to autopsy a body. I could hear a funeral march band somewhere in my mind. I scanned the red dress she had clinging to her lengthy frame, her bosom bounced over it. It was 'strange' they said...neighbours, catty people, she was so beautiful, the way you'd study a painting of a woman. Look at the structures and the ink, dancing upon the page , the contrast of dark and light. My brother Remi had my fathers cleft and his immaculate looks, cocoa eyes that studied you with the intensity of a laser, voluptuos mouth, coffee meets cream skin tone, polite freckles like raisins dotting his flesh, and that mischievous smile. Remi had mothers charisma. Outside it was thick and hot, pedestrians moved with intent, in my mind i wondered about my own intentions. My stomach rotated, back flipped, i felt sick. Sick because i loved her so much, and angry because i remembered the kids at school and how we were treated because of mothers past. They'd called her the escort, the slut, the whore, it leaked into my eardrums as i slid past conversations like oil. I had hated her then, until i'd seen the cuts, heard the sobbing two o clock in the morning when i sneaked into the living room to watch recorded episodes of toon time. Yet, that part of me loathed her, for the childhood i'd missed. " Why this dress?" I gulped nervously "were going to the park."
"Your hiding something." She turned three o clock her eyes narrowed to face me, her eyes dashes now.  " Your hiding something." Another shallow breath. The air smelt like ice cream. Things had started to change for us in the early teens when mum decided to upgrade herself, dating politicians, and Olivier Craft, the business Tycoon who had made the rich list. Suddenly neighbours were leaving baskets of fruits, inviting themselves in, children were told to befriend us or sit near the Rhodes kids during all the lessons. I realised the truth was a painful thing to know. None of their daughters or sons had actually liked us, me especially, Remi was sound, he'd always been the majestic one. " I'm pregnant." The Slap was quick as a whip, i put my hand to my cheek.
"You know what mama Ashante said about your line, why would you get yourself in such a mess."  I knew what it was really about, the anger resurfaced, with more bite. " She said if you had children you'd die."
My mother leaned inwards to scan for what i knew were potential wrinkles. This wasn't about me, it was about age, and her terror of it. " Did her predictions come true?"
I nodded. " You hadn't even realized i'd put on the weight."
"Quadruplets?"
"Quintuplets." Her eyes were like fire.
"Selfish girl you're body can't take such things."
As if it was about me. " I need you to stop lying mother,"
"lying about what?!" she spat already itching to get out of my small Toyota
"Before your next line comes, tell me i need to know where my father is," i returned her loathsome gaze. " I know, i've known for a long time. Not Remi's.....MINE!!" I knew what she'd say next,
"where the fuck are my pills."

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