Shaded Perceptions

…As he is walking out another is hurriedly walking in… The mystery seems to comes full circle…

Eyes open to view a ceiling in black and white. Then we see the character lying on his back. Cole is lying in bed next to his wife. She sleeps, facing him. He turns towards her as she slowly wakes. They exchange morning greetings, then she turns to back him and returns to her sleep. He gets up, puts on his glasses, and looks across the room at the wall where we see a pinboard full of colorful fun pictures of the happy couple. Then his focus shifts to his side table to a letter. We don’t see the full letter. What is visible is the letterhead of a hospital and then the word “appointment” in the subject of the letter. He gets up and slowly walks to the bathroom. 

The scene cuts to him brushing his teeth. The wife walks in still groggy and reaches for her toothbrush. We then move to a scene of the couple hand in hand in prayer. In the next scene the man makes ready for work and his wife is getting his lunch bag ready. He comes into the kitchen to say goodbye. She kisses him as she hands him the lunch bag, and as  they share another quick kiss goodbye, she tells him to stay safe. 

Next scene we see him settle into his office work space, and then our vision is turned to his work board displaying pictures of him and his wife and colorful post-its containing bible quotes on faith  pinned on it. Cole is a data analyst working in an IT company with a number of staff on his floor and with an open office space structure. 

 In the next scene he takes his time as he slowly rounds-up from work. In the background, you can hear colleagues laughingly shutting down as well. He hears someone leaving and making an obvious exit to the team, but doesn’t pay much attention to it. The scene cuts to him saying goodbye in slang – “e go be” as he cautiously steps out of a pub (bar). He is sober. As he is walking out another is hurriedly walking in, and as the door shuts behind him, he hears people in jubilation. He gets into his car and drives off, and then the scene cuts to him walking into his apartment. The wife has made meal for him and laid it on the dinner table. There is a note on the table “hi hon! not feeling so good and already in bed. please have something to eat okay. Love, love!”

The scene changes again to him walking into his bedroom. His wife is lying  asleep in bed, facing his side of the bed and with her bible wrapped in her arms. He leans over to give her a kiss on her cheek. The scene cuts to him in his pyjamas and brushing his teeth. He then gets into bed, takes off his glasses, and lays on his back once again, we see him face the ceiling. He shuts his eyes and the scene fades to black.

The scene slowly opens as the apartment door opens and the wife walks in dragging in light luggage. He follows even slower and with an unsure demeanour. She asks him if he would like to eat. He says he is not hungry. The scene changes to a hospital scene, the doctor is talking to his wife. “temporary amnesia is not uncommon after such procedures Mrs. Cole, just give him time… Patience is key.

The scene cuts to them getting ready for bed. He is in his pyjamas and quickly lays in bed. His discomfort is obvious as he turns to his side, backing his wife. She walks out of the bathroom from cleaning her teeth. She asks for them to pray, and he responds “I’m not in the mood.” She goes ahead to kneel and pray while he sleeps, and the scene slowly fades.

The next scene opens up with the man walking into a pub hailing some men by the bar. They retaliate, and as he walks over, they give him a welcome “guy” hug. Then we see them gyrate and drink. As the night progresses, there’s talks and jokes. The scene becomes more focused, and then we hear one of the guys  joke about Cole’s choice of drinks… Guys, which one wey come our level?, na wa o!  Cole in turn laughingly responds “ I be pastor?” he then make jokes of how even his wife is always trying to get him to pray these days. Then in the same vein, one of the friends asks why he is now acting as though he is not the crew’s “ordained”. “Speaking of which, did you hear about ….?”. The room gets loud as a hoard of new customers enter the bar. He does not catch the last statement, and they are soon distracted by the new faces. The night goes on in fun and drink as the scene fades.

In the next scene, tipsy, he is trying to get into his car in the park, and the scene shifts to the friends saying bye in the bar, and the man confirming that he will be resuming at the office on Monday. Scene reverts back as the car speeds off.

The next scene, he walks into the bedroom pretty tipsy. His wife is lying backing him. Eyes open and with tears running down her face, she prays silently. He slumps next to her, and as her eyes shut, the scene slowly fades.

The next scene, he hurriedly gets his things and is rushing out for his resumption at the office. His wife stops him gently in his track and asks if he will take his lunch bag. He has also forgotten his glasses. He takes them reluctantly with a word of thanks. She then asks if she can pray for him as he resumes work. Once again he is reluctant, but says yes. They hold hands, and then she begins by thanking God for the blessings of life and then goes on to pray for his first day back since the whole experience. They share a Christian brother and sister hug, and then he leaves. 

Scene cuts to him getting in the car, and in the car, he pauses for a few seconds in thought. The glasses sit uncomfortably on his face. He then starts the car and starts to reverse. Scene cuts to him walking into a story building. He clocks into the building, and the security guard offers a welcome. He smiles in thanks. 

Then we have a scene of him in the elevator with a look of anticipation. Holding his glasses in hand along with his bag pack he then walks out and buzzes into the office. Stepping in, he is given a surprise welcome by the team. A welcome back banner hangs across the wall and float ing balloons hit the ceiling. Smiling, he looks up at the colorful sight. Colleagues circle round him, and then slowly allow him move to his desk. As he walks, he unconsciously takes a different direction from his workspace, but is quickly corrected by a teammate who jokingly says “ahn ahn, guy! Time done pass like dat?”. They laugh as he finds his actual seat by locating the work board holding his pictures and bible quotes. Taking a seat he admires his workspace and work board. It’s got pretty pictures of the Mrs and love. He then settles down to resume work.

In the next scene, the man is packing up along with his colleague. Friendly banter ensues, including how he feels about his first-day return to the 9 to 5 life. He puts on his bag pack, and as he starts to walk away from his desk, he returns suddenly to pick up the glasses. He walks towards the exit and  pauses to look at the announcement board when he notices a smiling face. A feeling of recognition comes over him. He knows that face! “Gone but not forgotten” is written beneath the picture. “Who is that?” He asks a colleague who’s walking past him and towards the elevator. The colleague stops and turns. It’s one of the men at the bar and specifically, the one that asked him the question he never got to hear or answer. The scene goes back to that night. In all the jubilant commotion, we zoom into the colleague as he completes his question. in all the noise his mouth takes the shape of his words, unheard … “Tobi Oguns” and the picture immediately cuts back to the picture on the board, and you see the name below the picture, “Tobi Oguns”

A look of terror floods his face, he staggers a few steps back and then turns back to walk toward the direction he had actually wanted to go earlier that day. He finds himself at Tobi’s desk and then it dawns on him. Memories flood back in disjointed flashes – moments of laughter, shared projects, and both Cole and Tobi in the same social gatherings but never really fraternising. In one of the flashes we are back at the previous office scene where Cole is shutting down and we hear that anonymous person exit the office. Our view shifts to boisterous Tobi saluting his office people as he leaves. In a final memory, we are back at the setting where Cole is leaving the bar, and the person hurriedly walks past, shutting the door. In the bar, we see Tobi raise his hands to hail his colleagues/buddies and in return, we hear a roar of salutation. Rushing out as though he has encountered a ghost, he heads home. 

In the next scene Mrs. Cole is seated in the parlor, busy on her laptop. She hears the jingle of keys, the lock clicks and her husband slowly makes his way into the house. Dragging his feet he stands before her. She looks up from the couch where she is seated lazily and yet hard at work. There is silence for a moment, and then Cole, shedding a tear asks with a husky but soft voice, “why?”. 

The scene moves to both of them seated side by side on the couch. Cole slouching, head in hand. Mrs. Cole talks about the surgery and how it had been a success but had come with its ordeals. The memory loss, the stranger he had become… we then see flashbacks of him after his operation in the hospital. Hysteria due to amnesia during recovery; We return to the scene where the Doctor tells his wife that this reaction was not unheard of after such a procedure, and how it would be temporary. We hear “patience is key” as we cut back to the present. Back in the present they are silent, both looking to the ground. Cole stuttering then tries to mutters “ I’m, I’m not…. At least I think I am not…”, but she cuts in with an “I know” as she looks ahead of her. 

Scene cuts to his wife on a call from the hospital. A donor had been found and  Cole’s operation had been scheduled for that night. Her prayers had been answered. Cole would be getting a real heart, instead of a pacemaker, of which the procedure had been planned for that same day. She falls to the floor with the phone still in her hand and kneels to thank her Maker. 

In the same hospital, a stretcher is being pushed into the emergency room. As they speedily cruise toward emergency the patient’s bloodied hand falls to the side, and on his wrist, we catch a glimpse of the bloodied wrist band and on a part not covered in blood is spelt Tobi. We come back to the present scene and with tears running down her face, she completes her sentence. “you are not my Cole, you are not my husband”. The mystery seems to comes full circle.… “Well, you are physically,” she continues, “but not as the one who speaks to me”. She reminds him about the surgery and all that ensued. He then remembers waking up from the operation. Scene turns dark, and eyes open to see the ceiling, in color. He looks around and doesn’t recognize anything or anyone. He feels like he is somewhere else, but where or as who, he cannot tell. They then turn to look at each other in the present. Staring into his eyes, she then says “Is he still in there? Is he with you?”.  Taken aback by this statement, he stands and storms out of the house. 

We cut to him in the usual bar that turns out to be the in the same building as his office. He is drinking away his sorrow when he feels a hand on his shoulder. It’s his colleague from the other night. Ol’boy watin dey? Guy how far na! You done dey drink like dis now?! This Tobi’s demise really hit you hard o! I mean I honestly thought you knew! I even asked you that night we were here if you heard about it. 

Scene cuts back to the bar once again when he says the name. This time his shouting voice filters through the noise …. “Tobi Oguns”, but of course Cole does not catch it. We come back to the present, and Cole/Tobi is still at a loss. His friend then tells him to snap out of it! Abi you sad say as an “ordained” wey done dey come this bar you no save the guy soul? I beg leave that matter o! Tobi may have been a “guy” man, or “not saved or born again” as you would put it, but he had a heart of Gold. I even heard that he gave up his organs to be donated. Cut to the scene of the bloodied hand band, signifying he was an organ donor. We hear his friends say, “You sef fit do am… Accepting your mortality like dat? “. The scene of the bloodied band quickly fades to black.

Jump to the next scene, we find Cole back at that moment when they pass each other at the bar door, but this time there is a pause and they both turn to look at each other. He wakes suddenly and finds he has slept off at the bar. Now a bit sober he picks up his keys and we see him leave the bar to head home. 

Scene cuts to the Cole/Tobi slowly walking into the bedroom to find his wife kneeling in prayer. He walks sloppy into the bathroom and toward the sink. The sound of running water hit the air and we see him staring at himself through the fogging Mirror. He then proceeds to splash the heated water on his face as a last effort to wake from the dream he thinks he is in. Nothing! And just as he is about to drown once again in confusion and despair, he sights his partner from the Sink mirror on her knees.  We see his eyes and face muscles soften like that of a Child’s as he turns around and walks towards this praying woman. He then asks softly,  “can I join you… can you please teach me how to pray?” She looks up at him from her position of prayer. She then reaches up to take his hands and brings him slowly to his knees and next to her. There they assume the position of prayer. 

The scene fades and moves to a stream of scenes of days going by. From  scenes of the couple praying, to a scene of Cole at his daily job and there he pays tribute to Tobi by signing in his condolence book; Cole at the bar with his friends, a soft in hand and looking happy and sober. They chat and gesticulate and soon they all share a hearty laugh. 

We cut back one final time to the scene at the bar door and this time the pause between the two is long enough for Tobi to look Cole in the eyes and mutely say “Thank you”. Cole gives a smiles of understanding.  They both turn and walk their different paths. The scene fades to black.

The final scene opens with Cole lying on his back in bed with his wife lying back turned to him. Morning slowly  creeps in. We see his eyes  open and we quickly switch to his view of the ceiling. The world appears once again in monochrome. We see his hand reach for the glasses, and as they fall to his face we witness as his world is turned to colour.

The scene slowly fades to black.

SHADED PERCEPTIONS

By 

Upe Amoniya Otaru 😉

Fitting into shoes: Enter Alex and Jordan’s.

The bass thumped rhythmically, sending vibrations through the crowded dance floor. Amidst the swirl of colors and the blur of dancing figures, Alex and Jordan moved to the beat, their laughter mingling with the music. To any onlooker, they were the epitome of friendship — inseparable and in sync.

Alex, ever the protector, watched over Jordan with a mix of admiration and concern. They had always been there for Jordan, through highs and lows, celebrations and heartbreaks. Alex’s feelings for Jordan ran deep, born from a place of genuine love and dedication.

Jordan, on the other hand, was a whirlwind of energy, attracting people like a magnet. Charismatic and engaging, they often found themselves the center of attention, leaving Alex on the sidelines. It was a pattern familiar to both: Jordan diving into new experiences and friendships, while Alex waited patiently in the wings.

As the night progressed, Jordan’s attention drifted, captivated by new faces and conversations. Alex watched from a distance, a familiar pang of neglect stirring within them. Despite this, Alex remained steadfast, their loyalty unwavering.

But beneath the surface, questions lingered. How long could Alex continue this dance of being there for Jordan, while their own feelings were overlooked? Was their patience a strength or a vulnerability? And for Jordan, would they realize the depth of Alex’s commitment before it was too late?


As the night deepened, the dance floor became more crowded, pulsing with energy. Jordan, ever the social butterfly, danced freely, their laughter echoing above the music. Alex, though enjoying the rhythm, kept a watchful eye, their protective instincts always attuned to their friend’s well-being.

In the midst of the vibrant scene, a new figure emerged, sliding into the space beside Jordan. This person, with a too-eager smile and an encroaching manner, began to dance a little too close for comfort. Jordan’s smile faltered, their movements growing constrained as they tried to politely distance themselves.

Alex, noticing the subtle change in Jordan’s demeanor, felt a familiar surge of protectiveness. They knew Jordan’s tendency to attract attention, not always welcome, and how it sometimes left them feeling overwhelmed. Without hesitation, Alex moved closer, their presence a silent but strong statement.

“Hey, Jordan, there’s someone I want you to meet,” Alex interjected smoothly, offering Jordan an out. Grateful relief flashed in Jordan’s eyes as they eagerly followed Alex away from the unwanted company.

As they moved to a quieter corner of the party, Jordan let out a breath they didn’t realize they’d been holding. “Thanks, Alex,” they said, a genuine smile returning to their face. “You always know when to step in.”

Alex shrugged modestly, but their eyes held a deep care that went beyond simple friendship. “Always got your back,” they replied simply, but the sentiment carried the weight of their unspoken feelings.

In that moment, the dynamics of their friendship were crystal clear. Alex, ever the guardian, was there to protect and support, while Jordan, often caught up in the whirlwind of life, sometimes failed to see the depth of Alex’s dedication.


Imagine yourself a “Jordan”. You enjoy the vibrancy of life, often getting caught up in the moment. You rely on Alex, sometimes without fully realizing it, and perhaps take their constant presence and support for granted.

Now, become the “Alex”. Feel the depth of your unwavering commitment and the pain of often unacknowledged love and protection. Understand the frustration and patience intertwined in your actions…

My Honey Bee … To my daughter

Dear Honey Bee,

I prayed for you, and during my conversation with The Creator the weirdest instruction came to mind. “give her an animal spirit”. and I fashioned the character I hoped you would imbibe through the qualities of … the Honey Bee 🐝

Why the Honey Bee you ask?. Well, I asked myself the same question as the thought flashed before my eye’s mind.

My first thought of reasoning was that Honey Bee would be a great nickname for a girl, but my spirit bore further.

not only did the namea appbut the essence of the animal itself… its qualities. It was based on those qualities that I was convinced that the character of this marvellous creature was meant for you.

… The Honey Bee

Sena, I dub you the Honey Bee. You are my Honey Bee; you are The Lord’s Honey Bee. from you springs qualities of love, simplicity, sweetness, happens and kindness. But even more, like the honey bee who buzzes from flower to flower spreading pollen for the continuation of life, you my darling spread joy where ever you go. You have a light in you that could only have been put there by the The Creator Himself. Always remember that and use these gifts to make “HIM” happy, by making others around you happy…😇

Sena, is it okay if I take it a little more time to dig deeper into the character I forged for you as a parent?
You see Sena, in the kingdom of the honey bee also know as a hive, there are 3 types pf bees.

We have:
The Worker Bees
The Soldier Bees
And there’s the Queen. Now I say Queen because there is only one Queen at all times is a hive and then the many many other workers and soldiers. Isn’t that something?!

From all the classes of this magnificent animal you possess qualities that make you the radiant being that you are.

From the worker bee you get your energetic spirit, you are cooperative, an achiever and a team player.
The worker bees are known to nurse the babies of the hive and that is were you get your extremely caring attitude.

As Soldier Bee you are physically and mentally strong, you are focused, respectful, selfless and courageous.
The Soldier bee will defend its hive from whatever threat or enemy it encounters and just like them you are devoted to loving and defending those around you… Thank you for loving and defending me.😍

As the Queen bee… You are unique, with a beautiful soul that stands out and attracts things of “The Light”. You are royalty made by The Creator’s Hand and for His Glory alone.

Sena, I need you to see yourself as the leader that up are, always. You are a servant to those you lead. Yes, you are a GOOD leader.

You are sweet! Just like the female worker honey bee that creates Honey, you my dear Sena make honey through your infectious joy and laughter, your kindness, thoughtfulness and humble being.

Finally, Honey bees are key in flower pollination, just like the butterfly that flutters from flower to flower spreading seeds around. You my honey bee are kind and ever willing to share, no just your physical stuff, but also your Joy. You make others happy… you make Me happy.

Always remember to see yourself this way my Honey bee.
Walk this path and The Lord Almighty will continue to bathe you in HIS Light.

I love you my Honey bee… my Sena.

To Parents:
We have a responsibility to our children, to help mould their destiny. Why not start by blessing them with a spirit animal.
The purpose of this open love letter to my daughter is to show just how fulfilling it can be when a child is given character even before birth and to actually see all the qualities unfold as he or she grows.

…Speak into their lives and then speak to Them.

To Children:
You are special, you are loved and you too have Character!

Did I ever have what it took?

Or was within me a spirit, now fled – leaving my body once “All” he had said?

Even now the words fight to come out as inspiration visits in trickles.

Laying down, eyes wide open; body heavy laden… my mind is numbed by nothingness that fogs it.

O return to me better days of story and rythmn and song. Let me feel completeness again as I create; that readers may devour of my imagination…

We’ve all become god’s madmen…

“We’ve all become god’s madmen, all of us.” – Bram Stoker, Dracula (1897)

A more recent translation…

In Silicon’s womb digital and binary fuse,

Technology birthing numerous possibility.

… America cradled her gods.

From Social media, to AI, these deities reach towards the sky.

and I and you, we reach too,

following their every advance

seeking feverishly for upgrades anew.

Or is it the numerous likes and the rate of followership

the cause of sleepless nights;

At the mercy of public criticism, we adapt or get picked apart and die

…When did our words take on more meaning to others than ourselves,

we commercialised and caramelised for viewership sake.

Social media, god of the deep fake causes this to be our fate

Much online is pure content, some just nonsense

with each piece we read; each video watched a piece of us is lost

till the idea of ‘self” becomes illusion.

We drink each others coolaid,

feverishly waiting on the next challenge to parade.

Becoming like cancers to one another

Opinion like tumors, having the ability to spread and infect.

And here lies the madness…

That from Neil Gaiman’s mind, ever advancing Tech. boy,

we will continually cling to, until we all become faceless…

I have “Foot”

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“Mama, I have foot…”

Yes sweetie, two little ones,
speedily growing, swift in stride
carrying with them the giggling sound of your mischief,
the humorous expressions of your 2 year old wisdom.

You move with them and I can scarcely keep up.
chase me! chase me! you say. “Now i’ll chase you…”
These sessions ending the same every time
I catching my breath while you yell “lets continue”

Your quicksilver moves at the stores are a challenge
I watch you jet down the isle, a “catch me” said in your giggle
“If I catch you!…” my mind mutters in annoyance, and yet I do.
Into a shopping cart, sweeping you up… AND OFF WE GO!

Wear your socks baby
No Mama, I have foot” 
Amazing! we came by each other only 2 years ago
yet today my quicksilver bears a silver tongue

Foot or feet, mama gets the picture and respects your wish,
I’ll just wait till you lay fast asleep and later parcel them in wool
And for each night I do this, I’ll gaze upon your growing feet and say a prayer
… that they may grow to fit into shoes far better than my own.

Please feel free to join the party by clicking on the link below!

@dVerse

Today we’re looking at writing/creating a profile/portrait in our verse.

ANOTHER untitled dream work…

abstract architecture building business
Photo by Snapwire on Pexels.com

“you’re at it again! you’ve been in one of them haven’t you?” She walks past with the groceries towards the kitchen counter.

He jumps off the couch, hurriedly taking them off. 

“Its not what it looks like! I made an executive decision, seeing that this one was about to “off “himself… Seemed like he had doubts about it and needed a helping hand, and I, I felt I could be that helping hand. You know, being that I’ve always wanted a go at one of those scenarios.” 

Trying to hide a growing smirk, but failing at it, he turns  and walks towards the bar.

She’s at the counter, groceries now on display. Mind between present conversation and what dinner should look like in an hour.

“I can’t do this right now! …You know what? I’m just going to have to leave you to your own devices, but mind you, we’re human, just like them. Did you even pause to consider that that MAN at the very last minute could have had a re-think of his actions? And if he did then what would that make you? Yeah! yeah!… a cold blooded KILLER!

Now standing at the bar, he’s pouring himself a drink of scotch. 

YO! that’s cutting it a bit too deep babe. I tell you, there is NO WAY this guy was going to change his mind. I’m F..ing sure of that. I’d been in that mind of his enough times to know that the world out there was getting to the poor bastard. Besides, I’m sure his re-occurring dreams of heaven, by heave I mean here, left him wanting more out of that slum of a life of his.

“Wait a minute, you mean you brought hime HERE?!” The information overload leads to a fire in her chest that needs quenching. She walks up to him with a look of surprise and disgust, snatches the drink from his hand and walks back towards the kitchen area gulping it down in one violent go.

He continues, “Look it was only his mind I allowed here. I was sure to switch to paralysis mode each time I left him here, trust me. I left his eyes and senses to wonder, but never the possession of my body.”

“And just how many times did you put him through that”, she said “HOW MANY TIMES?”

I don’t know! …6, 7 times? about an hour or 2 for each session, I guess. 

He pours himself another scotch. As he sips on it he reminisces, “O there’s this one time I had him here for over A DAY! Man, that was one fine experience out there”. He’s got that smirk again, but this time he stares into his glass with a far away look in his eyes as though back outside and in that moment.

She pauses cutting the vegetables, and with the same look of disgust she says “And you wonder why he wanted to commit suicide. You practically had that man feeling helpless. YOU TREATED HIM LIKE A FUCKING PUPPET. GOD!” She returns to cutting but with more vigour this time.

He hurries to hold her by her shoulders and looking into her eyes he says “ babe, babe, look, you need to understand. It gets really boring around here. Sometimes a guy needs  to take the edge off, you know what I mean?”. 

Then just drink already! You seem pretty good at that so far. Just don’t indulge in an already hellish environment by making the lives of those stuck there more unbearable for them. Realising herself for his grip she gasps, slamming a fist at ceramic cutting table; knife in the other hand.

“I honestly cannot believe you have the nerve to be all casual about this”. Point the knife in his direction. “Do you not understand what you are doing? And the length that you would go to lay the foundations of a suicide scenario. DON’T, even try denying it! We both know you only focused on that one specimen all because you intended to drive him to that point where he’d spiral, leading him to that last moment of despair.”

This time he gasps, trying to fake the horror of such an accusation, but at the last second he does a flip. “Well Brrravo DICK Tracy, Y’gat me! I must applaud you and your act of sanctimoniousness. Okay, so I took the liberty of running this little project on just one of the billions left behind in that hell hole. So what?!

You of all people know the shit guys in here pull in order to get off, taking up numbers of specimen at a time if they want. I’ve managed to keep it minimal and you want to – judge – ME? COME ON!

Its crazy enough that we stay stuck in this place telling ourselves we are safe from all the madness out there. All the pollution, all the violence!” Throwing his glass against the wall “Well it violent in here!” he growls, pointing feverishly at his temple. 

He leans up against the wall in need of support for his now buckling knees and slowly crumbles to the ground. “I ca.., I can’t breathe babe. How, how do you do it, this… this composure of yours?” Now he’s rambling “an.., and they’re so near and yet so far!? I can almost touch them, can almost taste it, all the “life” that comes with sacrifice of being out there amongst the filth. I mean, we only need to open the door to be a part of them right?. In a persona of exhaustion he says “You may not get this, but zombie mode is the only way I keep myself from actualising what I helped that guy do today….”

“Dinner is ready!” she says, walking past him toward the table with a dish of whatever sustenance she’s got whipped up. In an unsettling composure like that of a Stepford wife, she fixes him a plate and then steadily floats towards him. She then kneels to meet his tired gaze, dish in hand. Laying the plat on the ground, she lovingly strokes his now sweaty face, “You are tired honey, what say we turn in for the night. You know… I’m not judging you or anything, I just need you to take on a different perspective on being here. This place… its technology, it makes gods of us all, but the price we pay… it takes that of a formidable mind to survive it all… the confinement, the solitude, the monotony? She sighs as though tired of trying to make him understand.  “Come on”. Taking him by the arm she forces him up, greeting him with a long kiss. A smooch more of compassion than passion. 

Later on that evening…

The room illuminates and a female figure is seen moving towards the couch where he earlier sat carrying out his arguable feat. Looking down at the couch she reminds herself, “It takes a formidable mind”. She does a great job at concealing how encaged she feels within these walls, during the day, but at night is where she will need all her strength. A formidable mind will keep you sane within these walls, yes, but it takes an even more capable and adept mind to puppet an animal specimen versus a human one. 

Despite the challenges that come with indulging in the use of animal forms, one of them being the gradual eroding of moral sensitivity, she’d opt for it any time. Her basis for this decision, that humans themselves are trapped within an invisible barrier by their own conventions and conformities.

Now jacked up to the device she seizes control of her chosen beast for the night and with it she runs free. On some nights she’ll hunt; on others she becomes the hunted. The near death experience when being put to the slaughter; the pain of child birth, these are just a few of the scenarios in her bouquet of experiences she may pick and choose from each night. And lets not forget those evenings when she’s left at the mercy of her partner’s poor bed habits… this being one of them. She’s got the option of finding a mate or two during the course of the rest of the night. 

…But tonight, tonight  she’s got a different taste on her mind; on her tongue… 

MAN…

*THE END*

… on inspiration’s Isle she waits that she may embrace unorthodoxy…

Caterpillar in a cocoon

In the past I bore too many faces, until I became no one,

A reader; A writer,

A poet; A preacher,

The critique; The counsellor,

Encourager and challenger.

I loved to write, I always had something to say! Be it in the form of poetry, rant, advice or ridicule. The clicking sound that resonated from my the key board when I was at it put me on a certain high and that feeling after finishing a post; surreal. It didn’t really matter how many likes I got … or did it?…

In hind sight I realise now how much I depended on what people though of what I had to say, and while was I got some pretty good comments and reviews on my posts plus followings, I always felt that I wasn’t good enough or better put, I felt I was only had talent for a season…

If you are anything like me then you can relate when I talk about that voice in the back of my mind. It can be a friend or foe; Could be a number 1 cheerleader or not. For me it was a NOT.

“They Like you now FK, but what happens when you run out of things to say”

That constant play in my head became louder and louder until I started to believe it… “Talent for a Season”, WOW! I blamed my declining posts on writer’s block, but never stopped to consider why or from where the block originated from. For me the element of inspiration was gone, my talent was gone, and so I shut that door and focused on life outside the Bloggerverse.

From my 9 to 5 job to focusing on motherhood to REALLY great gal to just lazying around in my head, I exhausted whatever time I would have used to be here. Make no mistake however. I never forgot what I left behind. In fact, it was in my lazy moments I would once in a while pop into this space, and the pain would overwhelm me. The Pain of not being able to express myself the way I once did would consume me, and instead of feeling proud of what I had accomplished here or who I had been, I would leave feeling less of myself.

… But here is where I got it wrong, the phrase “who I had been”. Why did I have to make that version of me a past tense?

Why is it so easy for us as human beings to give up on the best part of ourselves, especially when that part of us is being tested, whether it be by that voice in our heads or an actual situation? You write a post or a books and It gets amazing reviews and lots of hits; It make you feel good, and then subsequent material carries less pizazz. Feedback isn’t as great and so you think “the first success was a fluke, just a matter of chance”. My take? Well, If its a matter of Chance then keep at it till chance comes right around again!

KEEP AT IT! Don’t let go of who you are or of that talent because no matter how low it feels at the time, you are like a caterpillar going through its metamorphosis into a butterfly, and while in that stage of cocooning that could feel pretty stagnant, rather than focusing on who you are or where you are, take the time to look ahead at the possibilities before you resulting from that dwindling blessing for yours. With that in mind, you should find the spark needed to keep the fire burning and even brighter for that matter.

Remember that the caterpillar’s transitions into a butterfly, looking absolutely different from its former self. Lets bear that in mind on our own individual journeys… You will be surprised what your talent has in store for you and where life will take you with it.

That voice in your head saying you can’t do it, its not real! YOU are your greatest cheerleader and not that voice. That circumstance making you feel you are not up to the challenge, so not true! Its just there as part of a learning curve if you will agree with me. In the end the choice is yours; The choice is mine, how we see ourselves. In every situation you and I hold the power to see “self” at its best, no matter how unbecoming the circumstance.

… And so I end from where I began:

In the past I bore too many faces, until I became no one… Todayyyy, I am a Mom to a REALLY great gal, a 9 to 5iver, a blogger and writer in the making and finally, a Caterpillar in her Cocoon! 😉

Never cut a tree down in the wintertime. Never make a negative decision in the low time. Never make your most important decisions when you are in your worst moods. Wait. Be patient. The storm will pass. The spring will come.Robert H. Schuller #Patience

You’ve got to believe in your damn self and do the damn thing, so I’m a big believer in self-belief, man, and going out there and working hard and sacrificing.Max Holloway #SelfBelief

Each time we face our fear, we gain strength, courage, and confidence in the doing. – Theodore Roosevelt #SelfConfidence

the image of self

The Bean and The Farmer

I am the bean; I am the farmer…

 The bean

Planted in the earth giving birth to new possibility,
First rotting from the inside out
It dies to be reborn but a thousand fold,
I bear fruit, a new vision “a” me,
Time will tell what comes of my rebirth
but indeed I pray good.
Conscience

The farmer

Reap what is sown,
This is life, behold
In the soil bears karma
Planted seeds sown with each breath
In thought; In deed
Today I choose to plant good fruit…
Will she bear me a plenty good in return I wonder?
– Choices 

… I am my conscience; I am my choices

My 1st 2015 Rant…

Happy 2015 to all bloggers, readers and dear friends I’ve made along the way!!!! 🙂

Just so you know, I left out “Fellow” on purpose. I for one am too embarrassed to call myself a blogger as I feel I would in fact be insulting the word… I barely managed to put fingers to keyboard last year  for goodness sake! 😦 but  I will add that it was not entirely my fault… I BLAME LIFE!!! 😀

2014 was EPIC!!! the changes that took place where wonderful and yet exhausting! They created little or no time for literary creativity, and with all the time that’s passed I feel so ashamed of the silence and even a bit unworthy to write. My blogs are practically crawling with cobwebs! 😦

Well its a new year…  I’m hoping for a fresh start! New ideas, new inspiration… etc. Who knows where my mind and fingers will lead me …Wish me luck people!.. 😉

it starts small...” 🙂