WORLDS WITHOUT END: MICRO TALES
A FLASH IN THE PAN: FLASH FICTION
The sword quivered in the earth. The man staggered as blood dripped off his face like sweat. He raised his left hand and looked at it – I can't see.
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He blinked his eyes and blood, sweat and tears slid down the side of his face to pool on his chin before dropping down to his right hand, carving a clean line through the grime on his skin.
The man gasped and staggered backwards as the pain grabbed him and squeezed. His right hand held his stomach together, keeping his guts from spilling out. He shook his head to clear his eyes, then he stepped forward like a drunk and grabbed the sword. The vibration stopped and everywhere became quiet.
The man stared at the sword for a long moment then he drew it out of the earth. He seemed to rise, to reform, to repair, to become something more as he raised the sword. By the time the sword was stretched before him, he was standing straight, a fire shouldering in his eyes.
He jutted his chin and took a step…
A twang sang in the air and an arrow grew out of the man‘s neck. He let go of the sword and grabbed his neck as it spurted blood. As soon as the sword left his hand, he diminished like a flaccid seed, like a hissing balling and folded into himself.
He gurgled and staggered forward, his right hand stretched forward before him. The stomach, free of the pressure, opened like pouty lips and intestines struggled out like baby worms.
He staggered forward again, his eyes wide open, his hand searching the air for something to cling to. He staggered forward and his hand found a shirt resting on a warm, broad chest. His hand patted the shirt and held on to it.
The owner of the chest stood still as silence as the man grabbed the shirt in a bloodied fist and tried to speak; blood and spit spewed from his lips to join the tears pooling around his left hand holding his torn neck together.
His eyes found the eyes of the owner of the broad chest. He looked at the familiar face, studied the lines on the face, the mocking smile and he sighed. Slowly, he slid on his killer’s body until he got to his knees. In this position, he ended.
AN ENDING
REJECTION: A MICRO DRAMA PIECE
*(A busy street. Hawkers calling out their wares. A bank ATM with a queue of people waiting to withdraw their sins) *
Femi:
“Marry me Elohor. Give me a part of you to hold within me, to cherish. Give me a little of your light so I can see my way back home.
Love me Elohor; I will give all of me to you, even those parts I fear to reveal to myself. Be with me, love of my life; let’s traverse the treacherous paths of life together, lets navigate the shoals and reefs of this life and find a beautiful shore to berth. Come and be with me, marry me, let’s find truth within the shine in our eyes, please.”
Elohor:
“Please Mr man, spare me all those your poetry. Do you think I am one of your social media fans or your steemit follower that get orgasms from your words? I need a real man; a man of winter nights and windy days; I need a man of fire and fever; I don’t want your sterile words. I have met with you and your words do not kindle the sun between my limbs. I cannot marry you sir.”
Femi:
“Oh Elohor… but everything is not about sex. I will care for you like no man can; I will provide for you, worship the earth your dainty feet trod upon, I will pour libations with my tongue on the mountain of your desire and you will see.”
(laughter rich with derision burst into the air. Some of the people in the queue turn in bland curiosity)
Elohor:
“Please Femi, I just finished eating. I don't want to throw up. You provide? Cater for? With what? Poetry? With those your small small writing jobs? Please if they sent you to me, tell them you did not see me at home. Rubbish!
You want to put that your brown teeth on my body… ‘I will pour libations…’ its not only libations that you will pour; you should have poured a whole brewery on me. Please let me pass.”
Femi:
“Please give me a chance. I might not be rich now but this steemit has potential. I am meeting people, oyibo people who value my writing skill. I could get a job, or a publishing offer from there. The steem price is increasing; do you have any idea how much it will be worth in a year's time? In six months time? Tomorrow? Just give me a little time, you will see the difference.”
Elohor:
“Remove your smelly hand from my arm. Go and do your steam whatever, I don't care. When you can afford to pay rent for a three bedroom apartment in a posh area like Asiokoro, then we will have this conversation again.”
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Femi:
“Ha! Elohor don’t do like this now. I have potential o.”
Elohor:
“Your potential means nothing to me unless it is affecting my bank balance. Besides I don’t want a eunuch, I want a man. Get your hands off!”
Femi:
“Elohor please! Elohor please wait! Elohor Watch out!!”
(screeching breaks, a crash, silence, squealing tires, revving engine)
Femi:
“Jesus! Elohor… please God. Somebody help! Somebody... please!!”
(silence)
A FINAL END
I hope you have been enjoying these little experiments of mine. Do not hesitate to comment. I would love to hear from you.
You can find similar posts here;
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I had a fun time in Benin, crawled in to bed really late. Back in Warri now. sorry no pictures; it rained heavily. Next Abuja. you will definitely get pictures this time.
This post has received a 0.52 % upvote from @drotto thanks to: @banjo.