How'dy? Been a moment.
Do you know that God is so good, so much so that before you we even showed up "he has given unto us everything that pertains unto life and Godliness".
One of the things that pertains to life is creativity and boy did we see a display of that on the 14th and Serenity project, well done guys.
Blogville Idol 2008 is coming up o, if you have not heard before you are hearing now, sign up and let's see another aspect of creativity in action - the use of vocal chords - lol.
You don't have to be celine dion, mariah carey or kanye west, as long as you have mouth that can open and hopefully produce a sound/noise you should enlist. It will be fun, last year was so cool but I am sure this year will TOP IT.
I dey kampe o, nothing dey happen God is on the throne, it is unquestionable.
Well I have been having withdrawal symptoms from the 14th and decide to write the piece below. Mehn tis not easy sha you berra enjoy it
Mrs Cee detested the gauze cover of the window; she on the other hand loathed Mrs Cee’s coke laced nose and the woman’s insistence on being an accessory on 14th street.
Through the gauze covered windows, she could see the enclave of drama. Sex, Drugs, drama and more Sex were the prime attributes of the ominous building standing at the junction of chaos. Freshly bathed air blew into her abode; she inhaled deeply willing for a cleansing.
She had wanted the executive bachelorette pad at Grandville avenue end of 15th but could only afford the 1 bed Apartment at the Serenity end; it gave a vantage view of the hotel and in the distance the back garden of Mrs Cee.
Outside, the Mediterranean looking artist concentrated hard on the canvass doing his day job, drawing shoddy caricatures. His victim this afternoon was a Paris Hilton hopeful whose Chihuahua was threatening to escape. What was it again ‘animals being a better judge of characters than human’? The artist work littered the sidewalk and somewhat told a story. His latest piece bore an uncanny likeness to her deceased friend RM. RM lived opposite the bachelorette pad at the Grandville end of 15th. They had met outside the pad while she was waiting for the agent; RM had been quite chatty persuading her that the apartment was worth every bit of the asking price. They soon found out they had a few things in common, exotic men and arts. Their subsequent acquaintance met Mrs Cee’s disapproval, not that it mattered.
RM had been a frequent visitor to the 14th; she seemed to know the story of a few of the residents. Once she had spotted RM coming from the artist’s inner chamber.
From her window the sight of an odd looking guy struggling with his brolly caught her attention. The man walked hurriedly past the artist knocked down the latest piece. The man did not stop he appeared to be on a mission or running late for a rendezvous at the hotel which he headed towards.
She sighed and sipped her sparkling coconut and mango drink, her gaze trailed and settled longingly on the bottle sitting on the glass shelf above her book collections.
Her mind was made up; six months on 15th was long enough, what was she thinking in the first place, if the one born of Immaculate Conception could not reach Mrs Cee what could a prostitute’s daughter achieve. Blood may be thicker than water but it’s not thicker than a fix.
The events of the past months were enough to drive anyone over the brink of reasoning starting with the ‘Letter’ that brought her to the 15th. Zena’s boyfriend Ty, had been a God sent in helping her secure the accommodation. He was kind enough to show around the neighbourhood since she was new in town and Z lived at the other end of town.
Who could have thought?
Ty’s unexpected death should have been a blessing in disguise rather it seemed to fuel the passion for revenge the more. Pure cowardice Zena had exclaimed ignoring the fact that an armed man had gone to Ty’s house to batter his skull leaving his wife to find him in his cold blood. Zena had set out on a mission to find out all she could about Ty and the woman carrying Ty’s ‘evil seed’ as she called it.
The smoke alarm called her attention to the burning burritos. Next to cherry flavoured drinks, Z loved her burritos; she dashed into the kitchen to turn off the oven. The call last night worried her there was something in Z’s voice she could not place. Ty had changed Zena who was once a bubbly, down to earth, confident kind of girl. Then came Ty and things changed before then there was no secrets between them, they were sandbox friends who planned to have their family live side by side and share school runs.
Now Z is a bitter scorned woman, while she was a young lawyer on a failed redemption mission, racked with guilt yet bestowed with an unexpected gift and a lost opportunity of bonding with her ‘brother’.
“There is a time for everything under the sun, a time to die, a time to live, a time to cry and a time to laugh”, father Michael’s voice played in her ears. “Dust to dust, ashes to ashes” he continued. She placed her parting gift of a single black rose on the young lad being lowered to mother earth, this was their second meeting.
At the first meeting, she had observed her brother closely; there was no semblance between them. His pale white complexion was stark contrast to her Olive skin. He was blonde curly haired, she had straight jet black locks. He looked really dead lying on the slab of metal in that cold room, she felt very much alive coming in from the afternoon sun. They were not treating his death as suspicious the officer had told them, it was an OD case. She touched his cold head now drained of life and at that very moment felt the baby’s first kick. She had gasped while their mother, Mrs Cee held her tightly from the back, muffling some consolation and cleaning her tears “it’s ok at least we have each other now”.
What mother forgets to mention her son to her daughter, especially when she is reconciling with the daughter after 24 years? Then again Mrs Cee is stoned half of the time and refuses to go to rehab. And she had the nerve to request she be called Mum.
As far as she was concerned, ‘her mum’ Franceska Roberts was dead. Mrs Cee was only an egg donor she had hoped of having a meaningful relationship with hence the choice of living on this side of town rather than the apartment recommended by her firm.
She could see the umbrella man coming out of the Hotel; he was walking funny and had changed his clothes for an African print similar to the ones she had seen Ty wore on a few occasions. Ty had worn it on that unfateful rainy night when he visited her apartment to report Zena’s vandalism of his car.
From her window, she saw as Z swore at the ambulance which drove past her heading towards Mrs Cee’s street. Ordinarily she would have jibed about Z wearing shades on cloudy day as this but she had an inkling humour was not on today’s menu. Her stomach knotted with every step Z took towards the building.
© copyright 30+ , June '08
Picture from google images