I write to you with a heart full of serenity, for the mere thought of you stills my otherwise bustling day. Countless clouds have gone past the sky since I last breathed in the aroma of your company. And what charming days were those spent walking beside you along the silent stream of spring.

I have missed you with each morning and every sunset and would do all in my power to see you again and to speak with you. Tomorrow, I shall send you my royal escort to cordially bring you to me. I sincerely wish that you would oblige to my humble request.

Yours,

Lucius Psellus”

Princess Celina finished reading the letter and gazed down the vast corn field spread across the horizon shimmering in the golden sunlight of the drowning sun. The evening wind blew across the field and rattled that piece of paper in her hands. A smiled lingered in her eyes and a song of joy and contentment started whistling on her lips.

She had met Prince Lucius a few months ago at one of the Gala of Spring in Provence . From the moment they laid eyes on each other they fell in love. Spring in Provence brings clear blue skies with spotless white clouds, a calmer ocean and a melodious air. Intoxicated in the beauty that surrounded them, the prince and the princess spent many a days and nights strolling along the silent shores; conversing about each other and falling in love ever so more deeply.

She felt the soft but firm touch of his hand on her hand as she glared down at the letter once again. She started smiling again. It was a beautiful evening. Tomorrow, when the sun loses its pinch, she will leave for Greece , the land of the Prince Lucius.

“ Nicaea Ducas,

I write to you with a heart full of distress. I believe somewhere in my heart I always knew that one day I shall write this letter to you. It has been three years since we had been together. You have been kind and amusing. But I guess my heart always desired for more; something that I have found in another man, an escapade of a life. By the time you read this letter, I would already have departed to Greece . I am going to follow my heart; I hope you find it in you to follow yours.

Thaleia”

The jester finished reading the letter and laid down an idle gaze on the dusty road that vanished into the hazy evening that was spreading across the horizon. There was an unwanted silence in the air; for once he wanted to hear a human voice, any voice, any words.

Nicaea met Thaleia during one of his performances in a town some 100 miles away; she was a theatre student and apparently had loved his performance. For the first time, he had strayed away from his regular comic acts and played a lone musician whose work is continuously stolen by his closest confidant. From the moment they met, they felt a spark, a strange energy between them. He could feel her presence on him physically whenever she was around; but he never physically felt her. With all the chemistry between them, there was always a hint of a distance between them.

The jester stared down at the letter in his hand; the silence had finally broken, in the distance he heard the sounds of horses’ hoofs getting closer and closer.

The prince had read the letter over and over again, reliving all the memories of her moments with the prince. The royal wagon was rolling up and down the countryside as the shadows started stretching themselves and the sun lost its battle against time.

As the cartwheels hit a ditch in the dusty road, the jerk caused the letter to slip from her hand and fly out the window. The princess ordered the escort to stop and stepped out of her wagon to look for the letter herself.

The jester saw a shadow lurking around in the haze; a wave of jasmine fragrance wavered along with the evening breeze. As the shadow got closer and came out of the haze, he saw the princess clad in a white and blue dress, hair tightly tied on her back, with a lost look on her face, approaching him. Before he could stand up, the princess had approached him and was staring at the letter in his hand.

“Excuse me sir, that letter would be mine and I would like to get it back” she said with a straight but firm tone.

“Pardon me my lady but I believe you are mistaken; this letter belongs to me” he said while standing up.

“How dare you claim such preposterous claim? I demand the letter be given to me. Guards!” her guards approached him and took the letter away from him and gave it to the princess.

As the princess started reading the letter she realized it didn’t belong to her; a soft smile appeared on the jester’s lips. The princess looked at him and gave his letter back to him, “Please accept my apologies”.

He smiled and looked at the princess’s worried face; he offered her to look for her letter, which she approved without paying much attention to it.

“A special letter/” he asked while searching for the letter in the haze of the departing evening.

“A matter that does not concern you” she replied with a stern tone.

He smiled again and kept looking for the letter.

After a while the letter was found but by that time the night had opened its wings; her royal council advised her to stay overnight just outside the town. Once the station was made for the princess, she occupied her seat beside the fireplace and started reading the dirt-ridden letter again. The jester, who was offered a meal in favour of his efforts to search for the letter, sat at the farthest corner and stared at the princess.

Her face glowed in the shimmering flames that rose from the burning pile of wood; a lock fell down on her shoulder and a faint smile rested on her lips. She felt his eyes constantly staring at him; she looked at him with lost eyes, and while thinking of something else, kept staring at him.

“I have seen you somewhere, from before” she finally said to him.

“I was the court jester” he said with a painful smile.

“Was?” she needed explanation.

“I wasn’t funny anymore” he said with a wide smile appearing on his face as he enjoyed the statement.

“Not a good trait for a jester” she said with a smirk of satire.

“Most definitely” he said.

“So what do you do now, except for sitting on a deserted road outside the town at the dying hours of the day?”

“I perform at theatres” he said with an unintentional pride in his voice.

“Are you any funny there?”

“Tragedies only” he said while the smile still accompanied his words.

“Interesting” she had nothing to do to kill time, so an interview seemed like a good thing to spend some time before she would retire to her tent, “The letter you were holding in your hand, is that a part of it?”

“The beginning and the end of it” he said.

“Why did she leave?” she realized she shouldn’t have asked that question but then waited for an answer.

He looked at her, smiled with a squint in his eyes and said, “I wasn’t funny anymore”

She smiled, “What’s your name?”

“ Nicaea Ducas”

“Strange name” she said.

“Yeah, it was supposed to be funny”, he replied.

She smiled again and then rose up to retired to her tent. He stood up as well.

“Goodnight Nicaea. You shouldn’t need to travel back to town at this hour, ask my staff and they shall arrange a place for you to sleep”

“Thank you your highness and good night to you” he said.

He could hardly sleep that night; the moon month had lost twenty of its days and could hardly light the night through the roaming clouds that travelled through the night. He didn’t want to think about Thaleia so he started thinking about the princess; and her letter. The night finally landed onto his eyes and he fell asleep.

Next morning he woke up with the sun and was about to head out toward the town when one of princess’s staff brought a message that the princess had sent for him. He was surprised that the princess was up this early.

As he received permission to enter the royal tent, he stepped inside. The princess sat in her chair, dressed in a serene shade of green.

“You send for me your highness” the jester stood at the door.

“Yes. I have a proposition for you” the princess said without looking at him.

“I am all ears your highness” he said.

“Accompany me to Greece” she looked him with a slight tilt of her head, a sine in her eyes, a smile on her lips and utmost confidence in her voice, “as my royal jester”.

He smiled a big smile and politely said, “I believe you have a very short memory your highness, I am not much of an entertainer”.

“I am not convinced of that yet” she said, “prove me wrong, prove me right, either way, I command you to travel with me and entertain me”.

“Your wish my command” he had a feeling there wasn’t much of a point to continue arguing over a decision already made.

As the journey began, the jester, in his head, started roaming through his old tricks and comic skits. All he remembered were scenes and dialogues from the classic tragedies he had been playing lately. The comic skits he used to perform as a jester, all seemed lame. Still, he tried.

The princess herself had some tricks up her sleeves; so it wasn’t as difficult as he had earlier imagined. She hardly ever laughed at his jokes; and whenever she laughed, he couldn’t tell whether it was on the quality of his joke or the lameness of it.

The journey to Greece lasted for nine days and during that time, the jester found a different person in princess than what he had imagined. For one, she worried a lot; were they travelling fast enough, had the horses had enough rest, was there enough food, was the cabin cleaned or not; she would obsess about everything. It was a relief for the jester; since half the time he didn’t have to try to be funny, he just had to listen and console and more importantly, agree.

“Why do you worry a lot?” he asked her one day while strolling along the hillside as the escort had stationed itself for the night.

“I don’t worry” she said firmly.

“Well, you obsess about things” he adjusted his statement.

“I care about things, there is a difference, you won’t understand” she said with a mischievous smile.

“Oh please, I can tell the difference between caring and obsessing” he said with a frank choice of words.

“So you are using this opportunity of travelling with me to pass judgement on me?” she asked with that tilt of head and a smile.

“No. But admit it, your ride wouldn’t have been fun with this boring escort of yours” he said, hoping to hear an agreement.

“Oh, so that’s what you think? I believe it’s the other way around” she said, “you were all lost, now at least you are going somewhere; learning things on the way”.

“I don’t think so. I am the one offering good company here” he said knowing that a retort was coming his way.

“Do you want me to leave you here? Because rest assured I will and will bid you the longest and slowest possible farewell while going uphill”.

“No you won’t. You can’t. I am the only interesting thing happening in your journey right now …”

“Blah blah blah …” the princess brisk walked away.

He smiled and walked after her.

Nine days had passed very quickly and they had reached at the palace of Prince Lucius Psellus . At the Gates, the jester got off the wagon to leave. The princess followed him out.

The jester stood in front of the princess and stared right into her eyes; a smile still on his face. The princess looked back with a hint of smile.

“It’s been a pleasure” the jester said.

“I know, I am a joy” the princess said.

He laughed, “You are”.

The jester leaned forward a little, still staring into her eyes. The princess realized what the jester was going to do.

Her smile fainted and a sober look appeared on her face. “Don’t look for another tragedy” she said in a tone which was nothing but a loud whisper.

The jester stopped; his smile vanished and then reappeared again. He took the princess’s hand in her hand and kissed her cylinder fingers. They exchanged a smile and the jester turned around and left.

As he walked down the road; he realized, he had long lost Thaleia’s letter.

She lay in the darkness, motionless – but the pattern of her breathing gave away her peaceful demeanor – ragged, semi-awake.

She turned on her side to emit a series of hacking coughs.

The form shifted back into its original position, having emitted an SOS through Morse code – each cough followed by a jerky ragged breath.

The room was pitched in reassuring darkness, except this girl. There was no light anywhere about her, yet a reel seemed to be playing in her head… Eyes sealed shut, while her eyeballs seemed to roam under
the tightly shut lids.. Almost as if seeking escape, respite from the things they were being forced to see.

The girl emits a moan, now getting restless… The horror of the images in her head unfolds.. They had started peacefully enough.

A mother, her three children … two girls and a little boy. Visions of sunshine and flowers, the mother stretched out with two sleeping children in both arms, and rocking the third in the car seat with her
foot, on the little gondola out on the river.

But as the girl watched, the only peace in the lives of the people was when they slept – which ironically was the one time she was troubled.

The mother struggled to deal with her three children.. The eldest who was, even at 10, riddled with anger, and violent – the mother assumed the child was in one of those phases. The second, aged 3, who refused to go to the stables with her daddy, and when she did…came back hysterical, and sometimes bloody – this was chalked down to being afraid of horses, and “scrapes” children got when they played. The third was her little boy, aged 1, who took more time and energy than she could humanly muster.

The reel started to play faster – almost in fast forward. Skipping scenes. The girl now breaks out in a sweat, her hands tremble at what she sees. Her feet have a mind of their own, they kick about wildly.
The scenes in her head are relentless.

First light of dawn. A robed figure creeps into the room. The two girls sleep soundly. The elder daughter’s eyes fly open – a hand is sliding across her body. She opens her mouth to scream. A hand presses her mouth shut. Delivers a sound slap … and another … and another. She struggles, and struggles. The nightlight falls to the floor and goes out. Tears roll down her face. The hands are relentless. They do things that she doesn’t like. She fights. The hands start to hurt her. She tries to scream… Her voice is clamped shut, but the screams echo in her head. Over, and over, and over.

The next scene cuts to the stable. The girl has tears streaming down her face. She cannot bear to dream any more…

The horses whinny at the approaching sound of footsteps – The way the twigs snap signals to them that the hands of cruelty approach. The Master of the house appears, smoking his pipe.. The trembling little girl comes forward, clutching her nanny tightly- she had been tricked into coming to the stable, lured by little bunnies, and sugary cookie treats. No one could understand her fear of horses, and how she became so bloody. At seeing her father, she burst into tears, and held on to her nanny for dear life. The father lifted her up, took her in his arms, and said “thank you, that will be all”. The poor child kicked
and screamed wildly, and the father smilingly carried her towards a stall, softly murmuring, “look at all the nice horses darling”. The nanny reluctantly turned away, knowing in her heart something
wasn’t right.

She crept around to the side of the stable, the distressed shrieking cries of the child clearly audible well in the distance.. She peered over the top of the stable wall.. The father had her pinned down in the hay, he was doing the most terrible things to her… He was struggling to quiet her, yet the vandalizing of her childhood, her innocence screamed in the surrounding silence… The defenseless child struggled… red in the face with effort… the blood appeared on her thighs… The nanny covered her mouth, and ran… Unable to control her tears… or her urge to throw up.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The nanny was on her knees, praying for the children. She knew respite would not come unless God willed it so.. She prayed the mother would discover what was going on. She kept silent for the fear that the harm inflicted on the children would get worse. The images kept flashing in her head. She had bathed the child, dressed her wound, at least the ones that could be bandaged. The fever had subsided. Finally the nanny lay down to rest next to the child… and sleep came.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

In the darkness, the girls face was awash with tears, eyes squeezed tightly shut, her face anguished. Fists clenched bulk of the sheets. Her body was tense.

The mother couldn’t understand why her elder daughter was being so difficult, throwing things about, moping in corners. Or why she had started to slouch, and refused to come to dinner. Sneaking food out of the kitchen, eating relentlessly… why did the dark circles under her eyes prevail so… Or why she locked herself in the bathroom for long hours…

Speaking of bathrooms, she couldn’t understand why the little one refused to go to the bathroom with anyone except the nanny, why she seemed afraid of dark, closed spaces, and why she shrank from all
forms of affection. The child cried all the time, there was no respite.

Even the youngest one was teething, so there was no peace. There was an overall state of anxiety running through the place, she could feel the vibes in the air. The nanny seemed to always stare at her
disturbingly, as if trying to tell her something, her eyes seemed troubled.

She tried to dismiss all these thoughts, and went to sleep. Alas, a dream within a dream, within a dream. She saw vivid images, she saw her children in danger. She saw all that had been happening under her
very nose, only faint glimpses of the real horrors. . She awoke gasping, she had to go see her children.. The corridors seemed never ending, the curtains billowing in the passageways. She rushed to her
children’s room…

She walked in, and stopped in horror – Her mouth formed an O of shock. A figure crouched over her eldest daughter – the hands in places they shouldn’t be… The tigress in the mother came alive – She
launched herself at her daughter assailant. She scratched, clawed, tumbled, struggled, finally pinning him to the ground. . he had been taken by surprise… She looked at his face, and shrank back – screams
echoed the entire premises. The screaming went on and on. She held her child close. The man she called her husband turned and ran. But was stopped by the guards, who since a long time had known, and wished this man be brought to justice.

The police were called. The child was hugged close, finally the silent grievances of all those years were voiced by howling tears.. The nightmare was finally over. The man who had wrought so much horror in
their lives was finally gone. .

Later, they lay together, holding each other, the mother and her two daughters while her son slept.. She watched their peaceful sleeping faces. . Tears trickled down her face. . She now understood why her
children were lashing out… why the younger one was always bloody when no scars were ever visible… she now understood their fears, their tears..

But she knew everything would be alright. He was gone.. and she would never ever leave her children with anyone ever again….

Sunlight streamed into the room. . The girl opened her eyes. . At last, there was justice in the world. Her tears had run dry while she slept. And her dreams had delivered the victims of her dreams to safety..
She wondered if God had willed it to be a happy ending. . . Her health had improved, the cough was almost gone.. her breathing now normal. . . She wondered if these dreams were significant of the Original SIn. . . and if this happy ending meant the shedding of her burden, out of the slough of Despond, and a successful journey past the Wicket gate . . . Perhaps after conquering all, she now stood at the peak of the hill of difficulty… Perhaps this is how God wanted it to be…

The End

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Author’s Note:

There are some elements present of the theory of Calvinism – such as the original sin (which is the sin committed by Adam, when he ate forbidden fruit, and now every generation carries some of the
burden of his sin, which is far more than the burden of the sins a man actually commits in life). There is also the use of “the will of God” – Calvinism said, no one could help any situation unless GOD cast a
kind eye, and willed it so..

I have also used references from John Bunyan’s Pilgrims Progress -

1. The slough of despond – the pit wherein lie all sins that mankind commit

2. Wicket Gate- reference to heaven

3. The hill of Difficulty- The name speaks for itself

There is also the symbolism of light and darkness- darkness considered bad, and light is used in Genesis to depict all things good, and enlightenment.

The amber light of the sun Shot high into the air obscured by an overcast grey sky. Everything was once again coming alive with energy. Every breath in this morning paradise was a pleasure. The crisp fall air filling my lungs with its sting; only to be released again as a obscure fog. The leaves on the ground crunched heavy under my footsteps. Some still held the place on the trees blowing in the wind. The colours were transformed from there usually peaceful, placid green into an absolute passion of fire. Reds, oranges, yellows & browns. Exploded on every branch. When finally it came their time they fall to the ground. There they would rest until they returned their nutrients to the soil. The water of the lake lapped gently against the rocks that broke its surface.

A small stream flowed into the lake causing ripples and bubbles to form at its mouth. The sun was higher now. Melting away the fog that had once held thick over the lake. The surface in the middle of the lake was as smooth as glass. A mirror for the sky and sun to enjoy their own splendor in. The dew was fading quickly off the grass. I knew this feeling couldn’t last forever. In a short while all this splendor would melt away in the advance of the day. For this was a rare beauty. One that could only be viewed for a certain amount of time on certain days where all the forces of nature came together to paint pictures on the very canvas of the earth & sky. Something must be given up to enjoy beauty like this. Whether it be time for something else, or sleep we all crave. Beauty such as this comes at a personal cost.

Anyone can afford such a price; if they are willing to. Everyday we are given time, no matter how we choose to spend it. It will never come back. Each second ticks by only once, and each second we can spare must be enjoyed to the fullest. Such beauty cannot be captured by any modern means. Only mere phantoms of their former beauty can be held onto. Pictures fail to express the beauty that an early morning sunrise is. After all they only have a thousand words. Even this tribute to their splendor falls pitifully short of expressing what all your senses can feel when fully allowed to. Mere words can only cast images into our imaginations. How could they be expected to conjure up all the works of nature. A novel wouldn’t tell the story of a sunrise; that nature could tell in but a few minutes. Enrobed in all its beauty. One should stand humbled that one stands in such a world at all.

The idea, originating from the Kremlin many suspected . . . in the days when ‘The Kremlin’ had generals and politicians from Warsaw to the Whitehouse trembling in their boots. Now, of cause, it was the Beijing back-rooms from which germs of ideas would spread . . . that would have NATO chiefs scratching their furrowed brows. But I digress.

The plot was also simple: Instead of firing expensive guns or rockets to annihilate your foe, or even nuking them from space, you simply get the population that you want to suppress to eat the stuff. With such well know and impressive benefits, would could resist? And with all developed countries genuinely scared of the spread of obesity, all the Western health departments would welcome the wonder substance: eat kefyr and get thin! And so they would! All the little Candida plants would munch away inside the guts of the populous, helping the digestion . . . and however overweight, you could carry on eating all you wanted!

And by then, the conspiracy went, it would be too late: it wouldn’t be the gut that would have been affected: the other, lesser known, parasites within the organism would have established themselves too: in the mind. And here, those who hatched the plan, had to smile, the effects they’d intended were doubled by the shear inertia and lethargy that afflict all the obese folk anyway! The Russia plotters had calculated that by the time the opposition had caught on to the fact that this stuff had originated in the USSR, the zombiefying effect, as they liked to call it, would render totally ineffective any call to arms. From commanders in chiefs to rookies who shouldered the guns, they’d slowly shrug their shoulders, say they couldn’t be bothered and eat another plate of McDonalds . . . washed down, of cause with milk shake made from Kafyr!

But the best laid plans of men, if not of mice, as the saying goes, rarely allows for the reality on the ground . . . amongst real people and real politicians . . . the two groups, as any Buddhist, Yogi or other wise person will tell, behaving in vary different ways:

The Western politicians were too intent on their empire building and party squabbles to notice their citizens getting so fat they could hardly fit in a car seat, let alone walk. By the time they did, these same folk had already become so lethargic they couldn’t be bothered to take the wonder cure! Oh . . . and whilst all this was going on, the empire that was going to rise again and turn the world Communist, had been dismantled into a array of tiny states incapable of any offensive. And why? Here was the irony: in the early days of the plot, all the loyal party workers had been given the kefyr to test it’s effectiveness . . . so when the time came to nip the emerging ‘people power’ in the bud . . . they were too zombiefied to do anything!

Meanwhile, on a little green planet, way out on the Western arm of the Milky Way, the dominant, ruminant, bovine-like inhabitants were meeting. We say, dominant, because they liked to think they were the ones in charge, but we’ll come back to that! They’d been watching the progress of their invasion force with interest, pleased with their strategy: get their cows in place before the predominant species, mankind, was aware enough to KNOW it was an invasion. OK, so it took a few more tens of thousands of years, but what’s a few more centuries when you spend all day chewing the cud?

Now, the plan was paying off. Not only was the world turning vegetarian. . so their own offspring weren’t being eaten, but milk and cheese were consumed by pretty much everyone . . . and with it, their ultimate weapon . . . the kefyr. Long before the KGB had ‘found’ kefyr and realised its potential, the scientists of the Taureans had seen how this friendly, helpful, parasite could help them take over any over planet with the fields and grass their growing population needed. Now they could assemble the bull-ships and get the invasion underway. Or so they thought:

Throughout the collective consciousness of the kefyr was laughter. There was no outwards sign of this to the trillions of cows, humans and millions of other species around the many parallel dimensions within and between which it existed. But the kefyr just smiled inwardly to itself. It KNEW. Slowly but surely it was being digested or ingested into each and every other life-form. Parasite indeed! Had these folks not watched ‘Star Trek Deep Space Nine’? Symbiote. Please! It wasn’t the fault of the kefyr that all these other species were so arrogant it didn’t dawn on them that anything living within them might actually have some sort of sentience! In fact, the kefyr was so much more aware and mentally developed than man, that practically no-one on earth, for example, could begin to comprehend how wise and all-knowing it was.

So wise was this wonder being that it actually wasn’t going to interfere with all these plans of it’s host species . . . why should it!? Why make trouble for itself? Why take CONSCIOUS control of a world or a nation? Who needs THAT sort of hassle!?

Rather the nurse came rushing through the door.

“What is it?” she asked, obviously freaked out at the outcry.

“It’s my b-baby…she’s awake!” the patient’s mother spoke, tears of joy filling her eyes.

“Jesus! Keep her calm while I get Doctor Hanson,” she replied exiting twice as fast as she entered.

An aura of joy diffused all through out the room. Even the flowers in the vase seemed to be blooming. Each alphabet on the Get-well-soon cards seemed to have leaped. The tears overflowed and the smiles lingered. The cries of “Thank you God!” echoed in the ears of the awakened patient. She stirred, swept the room with a squint and smiled at them. Her mother, her younger sister, her father and then finally the one she wanted to see the most. He was here, just as she’d expected.

“Hi baby,” her mother sobbed out.

“Hi mum …. dad …. Kelly …. D-”

“-Now there’s our survivor?” The doctor burst through the door, stethoscope around his neck and wearing a wide smile. He shook his head a couple of times in disbelief. He checked the IV, scribbled on his notepad and proceeded to check her pulse.

“Your have one helluva of a strong daughter Mr. and Mrs. Peterson, she’s a fighter!” he said, “I hope you understand that we still have to run a couple of tests before we can say anything solid?”

Both parents nodded, “Do all you must doctor. No one will get in your way.”

“For now though, you can get your hopes sky high … Er, one more thing … I know how much you want to be around her but she really needs to rest” he added and waited for the response.

“Sure thing, doctor, we understand … just give us a minute,” Mr. Peterson pleaded.

“Er-Doctor … Can I at least have one of them stay with me till I fall asleep, please?”

Doctor Hanson sighed, “Okay, but make sure you rest Barbara”

“Thanks doctor.”

For the next two minutes, everybody just showered her with their joy. They’d been warned days before not to specifically tell her she’d been in a coma. Needless to say, she already knew she had definitely been in a serious condition. She hadn’t seen her dad smile this wide in a long time.

“Honey, you want me to stay?” Barbara’s mother asked.

They probably knew this beforehand, she thought. Everyone besides her mother had picked up their coats, ready to leave. She cast her eyes at him. He hadn’t said anything all this while. All he did was smile along with everyone else. Wasn’t he happy to see her? Surely, He had to be. He just had to.

“Danny?” She said.

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered, shocked that he’d been noticed.

“Will you stay with me?” she said, “please?”

The effect was as expected. Everybody froze for a moment. She could swear either her mother or father would’ve challenged if she wasn’t in such a situation. Instead, they seemed to realize she’d noticed their furrowed brows of surprise and immediately faked smiles. Danny, in turn was pleasantly surprised. He’d least expected this request than any of them.

“You sure you don’t want me to stay, honey……I-” her mother started, assuming her situation had turned her a bit gaga.

“-I’m sure mummy,”she interjected feebly, not wanting to sound rude, “Will you, Danny?”

“If you want me to…..I’ll stay,” he replied, struggling to remain calm.

“Thanks……………….see you soon Mum, Dad……Kelly”

There was a moment’s hesitation before the replies came.

“All right honey…take care of yourself. Make sure she gets some rest Danny,” Mr. Peterson added, hiding his confusion almost perfectly.

“See you soon sis….your Dior shoes are itching to be worn!” Kelly said happily, ignoring the seemingly disapproving look from her mother.

They each planted pecks on her cheek and headed out of the room, not hesitating to cast quick looks at Danny before doing so. The door shut behind them.

Barbara chuckled, “I thought they liked you? You pissed them off in my absence?”

“Your absence? You’ve always been here, just uh….sleeping, right?” Danny replied.

“If you say so,” she smiled.

“And no, I haven’t done anything to piss them off, I’m sure. They’re probably just as confused as I am right now. Your daughter asks for a non-relative to stay with her right after she’s awoken from a coma?” he said, only realizing his blight seconds after.

“I’m s-so sorry Barbara. You weren’t supposed to know just yet. Sorry. Don’t tell anyone I told you…please?” Danny pleaded.

For about a minute, the hospital room fell silent. Barbara soaked in what she’d just heard. The angel was right. He’d said she wasn’t dead yet and it was true

“Danny?”

“Yes?”

“Help me sit up. There’s something I’ve got to tell you.”

“O-Kay?” he asked, not hiding his surprise from her.

He adjusted the bed so she could sit up. What was this all about? He thought. First, she chose him to stay behind. Now she had something to tell him! What the hell was going on?

“Thanks….move your chair closer,” she said softly, noticing the awe on his face. Hopefully she’d get a better reaction after telling him.

She waited for him to draw closer before starting,” How long have I been like this?”

“One week since the accident if you leave out today,” He replied.

Ah yes! How could she have forgotten about the accident? She couldn’t remember how long since, but it was an afternoon. Her dad had just brought home new chandeliers and lamps. She’d dared to fix the chandeliers all by herself. She remembered the yells for her to descend the ladder. The screams following her fall re-echoed through her ears. She quickly regained focus.

“You’ve been here often?”

“Every single day since. I would’ve stayed nights but your mum insisted she could handle it.”

“Tell me, what’s the doctor been saying?”

“I don’t know details cause I’m not family. But they claimed you had slim chances of recovering. Listen, Barbara….I’m supposed to make you rest, can you j-“

“-All right….no more questions.”

A ten-second moment of silence prevailed in the room before Danny spoke.

“You wanted to tell me something?”

Barbara nodded, Took in a deep breath and began.

“Now Danny I know I haven’t been exactly nice to you. I know it was five years ago but ever since that day you and your parents had dinner at our place; I’ve had a grudge against you without reason. Hated my parents for trying to get us to be friends. I know I made it quite obvious anytime you said “hi” and I only nodded,” she paused to catch a glimpse of his expression. He was straight-faced, impassive, paying rapt attention to what she was saying.

“I’m really sorry for treating you like that Danny, I really am. I kept on teaching myself to not like you. All you wanted was to be a good friend and I acted as if you were some kinda demon. I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it Barbara. I never felt treated badly. You still gave me the keys to your garage anytime I borrowed your lawn-mower, didn’t you?” he said

“That was nothing, Danny. I didn’t like you but I wasn’t totally heartless!”

“Good…so stop apologizing then.”

She smiled at him and received a warmer one in return.

“I had a dream Danny……I dunno what to even call it. It felt too real to be a dream. I’ll just tell you either way. I was climbing a golden stairway with an angel. I’ve always held a very faint belief that these things exist: Angels, Ghosts……..you know. Somehow though, I just knew he was. Plus he had wings too, same kind we see in movies. He held my hand, walking me up a flight of stairs. I couldn’t see where we were headed because what was supposed to be the topmost landing, was a blinding light. It was just too bright for me to see anything. In no time, we’d already reached the top and when I looked down to the bottom landing, it was just as bright as the top had previously been. The angel noticed my confusion and spoke. “Don’t worry about that Barbara. Your real worries lie here.” I turned to see him pointing at a large round mirror about five feet away from us. It was so huge it must’ve taken a dozen people to move it. I struggled to fathom how the mirror was of relevance to me. I started to ask a question but the angel raised a finger to keep me silent. “Now, here lies the mirror of second chances. Not many people get to see it before their afterlife,” he told me. I nearly fainted at what he’d said. ‘AFTERLIFE?’…..Danny, I began to harbor the thought of being dead already. By some form of telepathy, the angel spoke again, “No Barbara….not yet….I’ve seen your span. It doesn’t end at twenty and that’s why we’re here in front of this mirror. This mirror will reveal all the people in your life by order of those who love you from the highest to the lowest.

We drew closer to the mirror and about a foot away, he asked me to place my right palm on the surface. I leaned forward and did as he’d said and together we watched faces that seemed to be smiling at me, emerging out of nowhere and arranging themselves in vertical order in the mirror. I saw relatives. My grandparents, close aunties and uncles as well as cousins, some lower down the list than I’d expected. Only four friends from school and I wasn’t surprised. I pretty much wasn’t the friendly type in school. There was a blank space at the top and I wondered why. I turned to the angel. “Barbara dear, you know God loves you more than anyone else don’t you?” he said, disappointed that I couldn’t even guess who occupied that space.

My mum was second from the top, my dad followed and then my sister. I expected to see perhaps another cousin or some aunt or uncle but there was a smiling face of someone. Someone, I’d least expected to see. I turned to look at the angel and he only nodded with a grin. I looked back into the mirror Danny, thinking the face would disappear but it still smiled back at me. I couldn’t believe it Danny, the face belonged to you.”

Barbara couldn’t tell whether he was as shocked as she had been. She had been looking straight ahead at the dark screen of the television-set meters away all along. She turned to look at him and a slight smile, like a knife mark in fresh dough, parted his lips. She smiled back and went on.

“At first I thought it was some kind of error or perhaps it was just a dream so anything out of the ordinary was possible, but that feeling of reality still existed. I just knew it was real….I just knew it was. The greater shock came minutes later. The angel let me know that for me to return to earth finally, it was time to reveal which of the people in the mirror wanted to see me back the most. He said further that though some people loved me, they had little faith in my recovery and such began to welcome the idea of me not awakening. There was no reason for me to be disappointed in them. “No human possessed spotless love to be able to detest people whose are stained” he said and I understood. All I had to do was place my palm back on the mirror. This time around, it was a two-sided outcome only. After my hand had touched the mirror, two things might happen. A face might appear, with a transparent goblet next to it. This goblet would be filled with a shiny, white liquid. If the goblet next to the face was more than half-full, it meant whoever appeared had enough desire to awaken me. Anything less than half meant it was over. It indicated a time to let go and let die. There would have been no use for this except that God wasn’t going to appear this time. Only the people I knew back on earth were. My fate lay in their hands.

Barbara shook her head and looked Danny right in the eyes. The empathy was right there on his cornea. She went on.

“I was scared, Danny. He told me to take my time, no rush .With heavy steps I walked forward for like forever and placed my palm on the mirror. I turned around facing the opposite direction with bated breath. I didn’t wanna look. I feared what might happen. It was no use, a force of which source I didn’t know spun my body around till I was face to face with the mirror. I couldn’t feel my heart beat in my chest, didn’t feel my lungs inhale air. The longest second I’d ever experienced .Then a silhouette appeared. More like a sketch of a face. I couldn’t make out who it was. The goblet shone brightly on its right. The liquid, just above the half level of the goblet shimmered in the mirror sending gushes of relief through my body. I was safe. The face became clearer every second and my focus was now on the one person who’d saved me. Danny I stared right into the smiling, handsome face that belongs to you.”

Danny sank in the chair. He opened his mouth but words wouldn’t come out. His pupils ignited with emotion. He opened his mouth to speak but the words only followed a minute later.

“Barbara, I…..I….I dunno what to say. I-I-“

“Just say it was more than a dream. Say it was real. That your face appeared in that mirror because it was supposed to. Say that you love me right after my mum, dad and sis do. Say that it’s because of you I’m awake. Say you forgive me for how I’ve treated you in the past and that you’ll be by me tomorrow and for the rest of my life” she said, with tears running down her cheeks in a steady stream.

A tear slid out of his eye as he heard her pour her emotions out. He stood up and made no attempt to wipe it off. He leaned on the bed and did what only dreams had ever allowed him to do. He kissed her with love that was overflowing its banks. The first real kiss they’d ever have. She opened her eyes and for a split second saw a familiar smiling angel on the seat where Danny had sat. She blinked and he was gone.

“I love you….I love you right after your mum, dad and sis, if you say so”, he chuckled with her, “and I’ll be by you tomorrow, the day after and everyday for the rest of your life. I promise”

He kissed her once more, turned around and slowly walked out of the hospital room a new man. A man who’d bumped into what he’d been looking for all his life. A treasure that had eluded him but still found him before he’d found it. His feet seemed to soar out of the hospital, carrying him into a new place.

She watched him leave through the door and thought of the boy she’d hated five years ago. Now, the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. At that moment she didn’t feel scared to close her eyes again. She closed them and slept deeply. Slept deeper than snow white ever had, knowing that no matter what, her prince would be the reason she’d awake.

At that moment he hated his father because his mistreatment forced him to flee home. He always believed that his father loathed him. It wasn’t only him; his father disliked literally everyone including his own self. When he couldn’t get the marijuana he would curse his need and aching body then he would beat him up. His mother would invariably receive thrashing when she would try to rescue him from his violent beating.

His gaze was fixed on the sky lit with countless stars; whenever he would feel down she would descent into his thoughts. She was his neighbor in the village and he used to secretly love her.

“Will she ever accept me – a street boy – if I asked her to marry me?” He thought and then looked at his dirty clothes, untidy hair and nails filled with grime. He studied his calloused hands. How can these hands, which pick up garbage and pockets can touch her smooth and clean skin? How can these filthy fingers play with her silky, long hair?

He was thinking about her but tonight her thoughts failed to lull him into sleep. Tonight he couldn’t set aside the reality from an imagination.

She is a princess. Not meant for someone like me. He sighed.

His friend heard him sigh and asked, Again thinking about her?”

“You think she’ll marry me if I stay clean and start tilling land like her father and brothers do?”

“There is no harm in dreaming.” He said totally bored.

A few moments of silence past then his friend continued, “You want some glue?”

An offer of glue at that time meant he needed him. He thought every person had a little bi in him but his friend once said it’s all about disposable needs… like a cola bottle. People drink and then dispose off the bottle. That’s what he would do with him every time.

“Yes, I need glue.”

He sniffed; the stars in the sky seemed to dance right in front of his eyes. He closed the window of feelings. He could see nothing but the color blue as his friend opened up the can of worms.

Tara walked away from the window towards her vanity table and sat on her small cushioned stool. She glanced at herself in the mirror scrutinizing for tiniest flaws on her face. But she could not find any; she was as perfect as ever. Tara was the envy of every young maiden in the town and the desire for many eligible bachelors in her town and farther away. She had a porcelain complexion that never faded or aged, delicate bone structure that seemed to define further with time. The most captivating feature on her face was her eyes, a pool of fresh mint leaves, anyone who gazed into them were truly mesmerized. There was a rumour around, that her eyes had magic that had an ability to cast a spell on anyone. She sighed and picked up her hairbrush and ran it through her long white blond hair that cascaded down her back. Anyone who saw her would take her as a young aristocratic woman who has all luxuries of life at her feet. How appearances can be deceived, she spoke to the mirror. She put down her brush near the arrays of bottles and walked to her bed. She noticed an embracing figure expressing their love under the elm tree, she moved closer to the window to look. The man took out what looked like a ring from his pockets, went down on his knees and said something. The young woman wiped her eyes with her handkerchief and extended her gloved hands to wear his ring. And they will live happily ever after, Tara sniffed in the air.

Tara fell onto her bed and cried, tears poured out happily from her eyes. Her heart heavily embedded with sorrow and darkness. She felt her life slowly sinking without any meaning or purpose. On the front, she was like any other normal woman with dreams in her eyes, love and hope in her heart and great expectations from her life but deep within she carried a hollow secret that threatened to poison her being. A deadly curse, she could not share with any one but swallow it until it swallowed her.

Tara could not ever experience eternal love and lasting happiness, any man who proposed lifetime commitment to her would end up in her death. Those words of love would cause her to die in the arms of that man. The curse was so sinister that it cast an irreversible spell. The curse made her more captivating and beautiful that made heartbeats of many men thumper, yet she could never feel its passion. Tara never allowed herself to fall in love with any man nor could encourage them to the point where there was no turning back; she always maintained a cold distance with the men seeking her attention. People whispered about her attitude and single status despite the attention she received but Tara turned her ears upon them. She had accepted her life in solitude and loneliness.

Tara wiped out her tears as done many times before and got up from her bed. Dressed in pale peach gown, she picked up her ever-ready parasol and went for a walk near the stream.

She looked up the sky to feel the heat of the sun; she walked slowly along the trail of the banks plucking the blades of the grasses randomly, the sunlight beaming through the branches and birds chirping happily into the surroundings. She smiled in spite of herself, the serenity made her entirely emotional. She sat on a rock nearby and allowed the weight of her thoughts to soothe. She glanced around to the source of the chattering and peals of laughter echoing around her, couples of fair-head children were engrossed in their excursion. She smiled wistfully and stared at the whirlpool of ripples in the water aimlessly. How I wish to live a normal life.

Her thoughts glided back to that day when she faced the harsh reality of her fate. An innocent trip to the fortuneteller at the local carnival changed her entire course of life. The gypsy, crackled to her in a hollow voice that deadly spells was looming over Tara that was conceived by a very evil relative of hers. The sinister jealously was to surface over her in form of this curse. Any man who desires lifetime commitment with her would end up causing her death. She was doomed for eternity.

She was so deeply disturbed in her thoughts that she had not realized a figure standing behind her.

‘Good day, mam,’ the gentleman tipped his hat in gesture. Tara raised her eyes towards the tall man standing beside her and strained her eyes against the sun. She blinked cautiously at the defining presence of this man, dressed in an army’s attire.

‘Apologies for giving you a fright, but may I sit here?’ he pulled off his hat and smiled.

Tara did not offer any consent but did not remove her eyes off him either. He was certainly tall, with dark smooth hair and dark eyes, his nose and chin well defined as his presence. She lowered her eyes and slowly stood up, but almost losing her balance. The man quickly caught her hand to prevent her from falling and the sudden contact of manly skin caused friction against her skin. She pulled her hands away hastily and walked away without a word.

The man watched her in wonder; she was as pretty as picture whilst she sat on the rock and on an impulse, he went to her without realizing what her reaction would be. An action he was regretting it now, he had scared her off even before a conversation could take place.

Tara walked back to her house silently, deep in thoughts. The man’s strong image kept disturbing her all the way and couldn’t help wondering who he was who triggered such a reaction from her. She wondered if she would ever see him again. And she did, the next day at the town square. Dressed as elegantly as ever; she paraded around the fair on her own as always. Every pair of eyes locked at her bewitchingly. Blocking herself under the parasol, she raised her lashes towards the clear sky basking in the afternoon glow.

‘Ahh, so we meet again’, the very deep voice sparkled from behind her.

Tara staggered clumsily in response; her heart was thumping at a clinical rate and the warmth of the air around her was slowly creeping around her cheeks.

The man noticed her uneasiness and quickly replied, ’I apologise for yesterday; I had not meant to scare you away. I apologise once again.’ He smiled hoping that would ease her nerves.

Tara tried not to feel the effect his smile had on her; instead she asked the first thing that came into her mind’, Are you a sergeant?’

He looked at her questioningly for a second, and then looked down at his crisp, bright uniform he was wearing and grinned,’ yes, indeed I am. On top of the order and the very best as a matter-of-fact.’ He added in proudly.

She laughed in spite of herself. Her laugh lingered on his senses causing him to stare into her eyes. Tara couldn’t help but stare back, profound silence deepening around them, until he cleared his throat,’ we have not introduced ourselves formally. My name is Sergeant Edward Cunningham’. He tipped his hat in gesture.

‘I am Tara De Bough’. She smiled.

‘Shall we take a walk?’ Edward suggested hoping she would agree. In answer, Tara raised her parasol and nodded.

They had a leisurely walk around the town fair that was progressing heartily. The weather drew in many crowds to enjoy the merrymaking. As the conversation progressed, the self-conscious Tara eased down. She enjoyed the confident presence of this man who strolled alongside her with poise and dignity. She peered at him through her lashes wondering where all this would head. He caught her expression and raised his eyebrows questioningly. She shook her head and continued to walk gracefully. Edward, on the other hand looked at her in confusion. All along the conversation, it was he doing the talking and noticed certain aloofness around Tara. Despite of being with him her mind seemed to be elsewhere and yet he caught her staring at him wistfully. He was quite puzzled by her attitude. But there was something magnetic about her that he could not define, instead felt himself being pulled by her cold charms. They walked further until it was time to depart.

Tara couldn’t remember the last time she actually enjoyed being with a man without her senses cautioning her. Edward had been charming and chivalrous nothing like those men who were just attracted to her outer beauty, without giving much thought about what Tara felt. A tiny hope of meeting Edward again ignited her heart drums. For the first time she went off to sleep with a tiny smile on her lips rather than swollen teary eyes.

Their meetings became quite frequent. Edward comfortably shared everything about his life, the regiment, and his childhood with Tara but she never spoke about her inner secrets. Edward realized a certain hesitation but never probed further respecting her feelings. Tara dared not speak anything about her curse for she wanted Edward, be with him, to love him, to feel him, to touch him…The more she was with him, the more she grew restless, her heart burned with intensity. He was so very near to her yet he was eternally apart. This new sensation frightened Tara for she did not want to die. She did not want to hurt Edward even though either way he would be shattered. Tara would stare at him silently holding back her tears and swallowing her heartburn. Edward loved her and wanted to share his entire life with her but whenever he tried to get closer to Tara; she would look at him with solemn expression and walk away silently.

‘Tara, since the time we have met you’ve kept your guard on, acted indifference to whatever has been going on between us, why?’ Edward spoke. He wished to know what was troubling Tara.

‘Whatever do you mean?’ Tara knew what he meant but pretended to be surprised.

‘You very well know what I mean, stop this pretense’, Edward was on the verge of losing his temper.

‘Edward…I’, Tara started but could not carry on. Her nerves threatened to wipe her senses.

She couldn’t bring herself to speak and shook her head, ‘never mind…’

She glanced at him quietly and turned to walk away once again. But he caught her arms before she could slip away.’ Tara…don’t….’ he warned her.

‘Edward, please….’ she pleaded. Her pleas did not depict any signs of understanding from him.

She sighed,’ you may not understand, it is very complicated.’

‘Tara, I want to know what your problem is. Why do you drift yourself away from me whenever I try to come closer to you?’

Tara’s lower lips trembled, she could not control herself and burst into tears, ’Oh Edward, I love you very much but I can’t love you and I don’t want you to get hurt which you will eventually anyways.’

‘You do not make any sense at all. If you love me then why would I get hurt and why can’t you love me in spite of you loving me?’ Edward was trying to decipher what she was saying.

‘It’s the curse…a curse that has been cased on me, a bloody curse that will take my life if any man proposes his undying love to me. That’s why I have been behaving coldly towards you. I do not want to die and lose you; I cannot bear to see you hurt.’ Tara sobbed hysterically.

For several seconds Edward stared at her without blinking, ‘Tara that is utter nonsense I have ever heard in my life. If you do not care about me just say it rather than snubbing me off in this way’

Tara frowned at him, chocking on her tears, ‘I told you; you would not understand but believe me I do not want to hurt you. This has silently been killing me’. She sobbed quietly.

Edward sighed, ‘Tara, I love you and that’s all I know or can think of….’

Tara looked up at him, frozen still. She raised her hands to her throat to sooth back the choke.

‘I want to share my sorrows, my happiness, my life everything with you….’

She raised the other hand to hold on to her heart, a burning sensation passing through.

‘I want to wake up every morning, feel the morning dew and the golden rays of the sunshine right beside you…’

She clutched her heart to control the sharp pain that shot right at the core of the heart. She felt as if a glazing splinter had been stabbed mercilessly into her heart over and over again.

‘I want to share my every fireplace moments with you, I want to grow old with you Tara…’

Tara held her throat trying to free herself from the shadows of death piercing in front of her eyes.

‘Tara… Tara…? Are you all right? Tara, look at me!’ Edward panicked when he saw Tara. He took her in his arms to hold her.

Her face went all blue and cold. She was grasping for air. She stared at him in horror unable to bring herself to say something.

‘Oh Lord, Tara, say something, please, what is happening to you?’ he cried helplessly, not knowing what to do but just stare at her. He suddenly realized what Tara had told him a while ago and looked at her alarmingly. She was saying the truth. His very word of love was going to take away the life that he wanted to be with. He would be the cause of her death.

‘Edward….’ Tara choked, ‘I …I’m sorry…’ Lifeless colour creeping onto her face that proved the existence of the curse, the authority it had over her. Its cynical wings were finally going to claim Tara.

‘Nooooooo, Tara do not leave me,’ he cried pleadingly. ‘TARA…TARA!!’

Tara smiled faintly and touched his face, ‘I do….’ Final shot of pain sprouted out of her mouth and pulled her soul into darkness. Her body lay limped into his arms.

10yrs later.

He had told his secretary earlier on, to cancel all appointments for today. She’d thought he probably had a busy case coming up, thus the request for privacy. On the contrary, all his time today had been spent going through paperwork irrelevant to his occupation. He’d gotten all the information he needed: the new telephone number, new address and even a copy of utility bills. He even made one of his private investigators photograph them secretly. There were moments he felt like he’d been spying on her but his conscience left him no guilt. He was proud of his mother and how well she’d handled herself and his two siblings. They still lived in the same old house but extra jobs paid for the girls’ tuitions. She’d even bought an old datsun she drove the girls to school and herself to work in. He’d managed to go visit both girls at their schools and received a warmer reception than he’d envisioned. The girls had kept asking when he’d come back. A question he could not answer just yet. He’d made them promise not to tell their mother they’d met and assured them he’d be home very soon, maximum a month. Their most recent meeting was only yesterday but he had not told them he was planning on visiting during the weekend. He had learnt from them that she was at home by three in the afternoon and left at six for her 2nd job, every weekday. Stacey was now 18 and Shannon 15.How quickly time flies by, he thought. Ten years ago he had taken the train to New York to come find a job. So much had happened during that time, too much in fact. His life had totally transformed. He twirled slowly left to right in the leather swivel chair, swirled the fountain pen with his thumb and index fingers, oblivious to everything around him. He began reminiscing, replaying his life for the past ten years.

After moving to Accra, it had taken him four months to land a job. He’d thought it’d be easy getting a decent job with his high school qualification. The fact that he’d been top of the class had boosted his confidence. As it were though, there were even unemployed people with college degrees. He was lucky to land that gardening job. Even luckier, to have found himself in the residence of the British High Commissioner. He remembered how his mother’s gardening tricks had made him distinct from all the other gardeners. Even those who were older than he was revered his gardening skills. She sure would be proud when he finally had to tell her this. He smiled; another scene was resurfacing. He had bumped into the commissioner’s twin daughters looking glum behind a thousand- word essay yet to be written. His enthusiasm had gotten the better of him and he’d ended up writing the essays for them overnight. They had both topped their classes and even had both essays on their school’s noticeboard.This gesture lathered a new friendship between him and the twins, even got him into grave trouble when their mother had found them both comfortable on his bed, one night. He had been telling them how vastly different his high-school was from theirs. This had left him, inches close to being sacked. However, the twins had confessed the root of their recent climb to the top of their English classes to his rescue. The commissioner was intrigued and demanding proof kept him in a room with a two-thousand essay trial. It proved not only to be a trial that saved his job as a gardener but eventually saved his life. After several months of showing his outstanding ability to read and apt to write, he’d been dropped as a gardener and now worked on editing and rewriting all the high commissioner’s paperwork. In two years, he’d succeeded a highly educated man and was totally in charge of the commissioner’s speeches and other written material. He remembered the high commissioner saying once, “You know Dave, one of the greatest men in history was once a carpenter … Divine as Jesus was, he was human. People evolve.” In goodwill and sarcastic gratitude to him, the ambassador had introduced him to a lawyer friend. That lawyer was now his old employer and had paid his tuition to law school. He made partner in the next couple of years only to see the law firm collapse. Luckily for him though, he’d learnt a little about storing for the future from his mother and had managed to set up his own firm.

“What a story?” he said to himself.

It sounded like something off a novel or movie. The good part was that it was true and he was the lead character. He gladly rather than angrily continually punched his desk with a weakly clenched left fist. His ring made a clicking sound as it came into contact with the Italian wood and he thought of his wife. They’d battled each other as lawyers in a courtroom four years ago and though he lost the case, he’d fallen in love with her beauty, eloquence and panache. They’d married a year later and despite her attempts to make him go see his mother he didn’t have courage. He still had a pint of the courage he needed, so he thought it best to call before he went to visit his mother in Kumasi. Today was the chosen day and if everything went on right, he’d be in Kumasi by the weekend.

He spun the chair around to face the view from his seventh-floor office. The administrative part of Accra lay before him. He could see the parliament house clearly. Several other buildings had their roofs side by side. He’d specifically chosen this space for the view. He’d held a silly thought that the speaker of parliament would wave at him from his window. The glass windows were opaque from the outside and completely transparent from the inside.

He checked the time on his swatch and it was almost as if the second and hour hands were urging him on. It was three-thirty and the sun was still out, no hint of it setting soon. Nodding at the screen of the watch as if in agreement, he picked up the telephone. He dialed the ten-digit number he’d memorized over the weeks, leaving a five-second span between every key pressed. After pressing the last key in the set, he placed the receiver to his ear, his heart racing.

It rang Once ……….. Twice ……. Thrice, before he finally heard a voice.

“Hello?” spoke a voice he hadn’t heard in ten years. A voice whose last utterance was questioning where he was going, yelling at him to come back.

“Hellooooooooo?”

The voice put him in a trance till she hung up. He snapped back to reality, the receiver still clung to his ear. He hesitated for a while and dialed the number again, more confidently than before. She answered after the second ring.

“Hello?”

“H-Hello …. Mama,” he spoke softly, like a kid who’d been caught stealing sweets from a jar.

“Who is it?” she asked

“It’s me, mama……..Dave. Your-“
.

The lie went dead.

“Mama Wait! … Hello? … Hello?” he called for her.

She’d hang up just as he’d imagined but he wasn’t going to give up. If there was anything he was certain of, it was the joy of a mother upon hearing or seeing her ‘lost’ son. He’d handled enough court cases to know so. It played perfectly to his advantage. He kept redialing for five times more, still no answer. Not a drop short of his persistence, he dialed again for the sixth time and this time she picked up the phone.

“Hello? … Hello? … Hello?” he said.

“She’s listening to you!” exploded a faint shout from a voice he recognized as Stacey’s.

Convinced she was listening, he spoke.

“Mama….I-I know I’ve been a bad child. The worst ever by many standards. I know I’ve been disobedient and I’ve let you down big time. It was heartless on my part to leave you all on your own, especially after what daddy did to us … I’m so sorry mama … There’s nothing I can say right now that will merit your forgiveness … I just pray that you find it in you heart to give me a second chance.Mama, remember when you used to take us for Sunday school at church and-and I was so little back then. Always asking questions like who Jesus’ wife was and whether or not Noah put elephants on his ark. Remember mama? …. I’m sure you do. Mama, right now, I’m like the prodigal son, I”

“-what do you want?” she interjected, breaking his attempt to spark fond memories.

“Mama, I’m a changed man now. I’m living my dreams mama. I-“

“That’s right…you’re living your dreams just like you’ve always wanted, right? Just like your father left us to live his! Living your dream while you relegate the people who’ve contributed to it and care so much about you to the side! You happy now?” her voice quivered with emotion and she began sobbing lightly.

“Mama, it’s not like that … I’m sorry that the means by which I left wasn’t exactly the right one b-“

“-DAMN RIGHT IT WASN’T! … DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT IT ENTAILS TO RAISE THREE KIDS ON YOUR OWN? WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO BUDGET FOR HOUSEKEEPING ONLY TO REALIZE YOUR SALARY ONLY AFFORDS GROCERIES! …. DO YOU KNOW? … HUH, DO YOU?”

She sobbed a louder now and he felt the remorse swallow him full. A thick black cloud of regret engulfing his whole body. He joined her, sobbing like a kid who’d lost his mother. That indeed, he was.

“I’m sorry mama … I really am. Not a day passes by without me thinking of you mama. Lessons and virtues you’ve taught that I’ve applied my entire life. I’m a lawyer now, mama.Just like you said I’d be. I got my own law firm; too.It has our surname on it: Clark and asscociates.Mama, even with all this I still have a hollow in my heart. I still owe you my life, mama.There’s nothing I do that doesn’t reflect the kind of person my mother is. I should tell you this … I got married. Three years ago, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t gather courage to tell you mama. I didn’t know how you’d take it. I got a s-“

“- A Son? You should be ashamed of yourself, Dave.”She sobbed quieter now. “You thought I wouldn’t know? Your mama may be many things but certainly not dumb ……… I give you one week to bring em both here or considered yourself a stranger”

-The line went dead again.-

He thought of calling back but his inner voice told him there was no need. His mother had known all along. When exactly she had begun tracking him, he knew not but she had done better than him. She knew he had a son. Something even Stacey and Shannon didn’t. She had known all he had been up to. She was just waiting for this: An expression of remorse.

He smiled a real smile. One brewed from finest memories of years ago mixed with expectations of the future. He’d waited his whole life for this moment: That one moment he could look back on his life and have no shame. No case he’d ever one could suffice. He was about to do what his father had failed to do: Take care of himself and his mom and siblings. Now was the turn of his mother and siblings to live the good life they so deserve.

He picked up the phone and pressed the access button to his secretary.

“Sir?”

“Rose, book three first-class tickets for Kumasi this weekend.”

“Little vacation, sir?” she asked.

“No,” he paused before adding, “I’m going home”.

I looked down at him with rage. My eyebrows wrinkled considerably witnessing the dirty creases that have been formed on my shirt by his soiled hands. On one occasion trying to loosen his grip from my sleeves I glared down ferociously at his face. Dark brown skin, permanently furrowed eyebrows, bright brown eyes. There was a constant flow of grey liquid from his unclean nose which was wiped off at regular intervals by his fragile and grimy fingers. For a moment I shuddered observing the dirty folds on my shirt and recollecting in a while that the same hands had been at work here.

“Lay off. Lay off boy. Haven’t I already given you a two rupee coin? Just leave me…leave my shirt. Right now.” I shouted. “Let go…let go of it.”

He didn’t. He held on to me and the more I tried to pull away from him, he attempted to seize me desperately. I heaved a deep breath. Not a single human being was visible in the distance, as far as I could extend my vision. The bus-stand was empty as it had been for the last half an hour and the bus was nowhere at sight. The scorching April sun bloomed perpendicularly above and a dry hot wind swept against my cheeks.

I breathed heavily. The boy mumbled in a recurring annoying tone. “Please give me a few more. Please. A few more.” My temper warned my patience and I suddenly turned around. With a sudden jerk I pushed him away and he fell on the ground. A few tints of blood poured out from his wounded elbows. I looked at him coldly and screamed.

“What is wrong with you? How many times…how many more times do I have to tell you that lay off? You just stay away. Are you deaf? Why don’t you just go from here? Just go. And let me tell you for once and for all. You won’t get another penny from me. Do you get me??”

For a few minutes we stood facing each other. Only the occasional movement of the green shrubs beating against the breeze howled once in a while.

“Somu…Somu…what happened to you?”

I turned around. A middle aged man came rushing towards the boy. He clutched a small piece of cloth over his shoulders and frantically rubbed his hands against the grubby shorts he wore.

“Look at you. See you have got scratches all over here.” He pointed at those thin elbows and affectionately brushed his fingers over the cuts. “This is why I tell you not to venture out when I am not around.”

Then he noticed me. I clenched my fists. “What if he hits me?” I wondered. Countless times as a youngster I had been warned how the lowly can react in such situations and I looked around. There was not another soul in the vicinity and if I was attacked, there would be no respite. “Help me god!” I muttered.

“He must have been bothering you eh…?”

I glimpsed at the man. He looked straight into my eyes, his hands clasped and folded near his chest.

“My fault saabjii…I left the door open. Somu …come here and say sorry to uncle.” The man motioned to Somu by gesturing him with his fingers.

The boy made a brisk movement and stopped a few steps away from me. I saw tears seeping out of his eyes and for a moment I felt numbed. With much effort he lifted his hands and brushed it across his nose. Next he moved forward and put his nimble fingers within those of his father.

“Papa, let’s go,” he uttered and turned his face away.

“Please forgive my son saabjii…” the man bent down on his knees. “Ever since his mother’s death, he has been inconsolable.” He paused for a while. “We didn’t have the resources to arrange for her medicines. Somu has since been…please forgive him saabjii…”

I nodded. A smile appeared on his face. “Thank you saabjii…thank you so much…” he turned back and said, “Let’s go Somu. You know I have got some bread for you today. We will have it with the vegetable I cooked last night. That’s enough for the day hmm son?” He lovingly stroked Somu’s uneven hair strands.

I wiped off the small droplets that had gathered on my forehead. The white handkerchief peeked out of my pocket but I couldn’t move my hands to reach out to them. I stared ahead as their figures disappeared, the deserted bus-stand being sole testimony to my crime.

In the evening, she stood against the dazzling golden hues emanating from the halogen street lights. Her face reflected purplish shades as the lights stared down at her face. I was sitting upon a heap of boulders which served as the sole seating arrangement on the corner of Satish’s tea shop, for customers who visited the building in the dark. I was munching candies while I stole my glances at her. I didn’t like her now. She looked beautiful, true, but the high heels, the shining scraps of clothing that exposed her body rather than covering it made me stifled, uncomfortable too.

Still, I stared at her. She stood, partially bent on her left, leaning against a pillar. Vehicles rushed past, people breezed past the building, increasing their pace than the usual, as was obvious every evening. This was, after all, for most, a forbidden zone, something I had always known. I could only clearly see her fingers, fairly shaped nails shining under the night sky, the stars ornamenting her hair. Her face was delicately veiled behind the pillar, where my visibility failed to reach. I kept on tilting my head by the sides but before long, a plush vehicle parked by the side of the stone pavement. I saw her bending down, as the opaque windscreen descended and in moments she had vanished.

“Need more candies, Runu? Here, I have got some more for you.”

I rose. I walked over by the pavement and looked around. The regular uproar had died down and the street was almost deserted. I was too enraptured in catching figments of her and I had evaded the warning call of nature. I shouldn’t have been out here so late. But where was she??

The car gave a sudden jerk and sped past. A mix of dirt and dust fogged my vision for a while. And then I heard shouts, petrified screams of fear, gasps and…and I looked ahead. A heap of flesh covered with glittery pieces lay dumped on the pavement, crowds flocking around her. Wails thundered into my eardrums. I found myself sitting holding on to the pillar, where her fingers had rested firmly, a while before. Then, I felt tears flowing down my cheeks. And I cried. Till dawn, till nothing remained of her. Except ashes, grey and withering.