Monthly Archives: August 2016

To the bus bay

A different day indeed.
Finosys has been a land of fresh couple falling and learning to swim in love for the first time.
As I walked towards the bus bay, I saw a scene I had never seen before. A girl in teary voice yelling at the top of her voice at a boy much taller than her. She spoke in a language I hardly understood and didn’t want to hear at all at that moment. Her pitch and tone however spoke of a reply to the accusations the boy must have made.

So sad to have seen such a scene.

I moved ahead, the girls shrills had hardly left me when I saw a girl, tall and beautiful, rosy cheeks gazing at the boy walking together her with so much love and affection that it leaked. Her face gave a sense that there was no one in the wide world she would rather gaze.
The boy in return replying with a loving smile with his eyes.
I glanced downwards and saw them holding hands. Are they aware that they are holding hands or is it just second nature?
Had I ever held hands without knowing it?

But now that I sit to write this piece, more sinister thoughts move through me. How long will they be together?
Most love that blossom in Finy is like the white flowers that blossom in Finy’s vast lawns.
So beautiful, so numerous, and so fragile. The beautiful flowers that start blossoming with the coming of rain quickly wither away with a small drop in temperature. Lovers move apart, leave Finosys and leave the loved behind.
New people, new life await them else where.


In a dingy room on the fifth floor sat 4 men on chairs too weak to support their weights. In front of them was an old colour television and a DVD player.

“Insert the CD”, said one with the largest belly. The smallest belly guy put the CD into the player and waited patiently. The DVD player was an old machine which stuck more often than it played, placed in the corner on a dusty wooden stool.

It buzzed, the screen flickered, video came to life.

A deep red wall, like the ones you see on television ads. It was a textured paint, smooth, real smooth painted with a trowel and putty knife. In the centre, 4 feet from the top, was hung a circular shield, with motifs of elephants in gold. A single hatchet was slanting on it, and a vacant slot for another one.

The video panned, next to the wall stood a man, shaking violently. He dropped his hand, other hatchet hanging from it. Blood dripped on to the tiled floor.

At least the wall won’t stain and the floor will be easily cleaned, thought the man.


Wanted to rewrite this with a different opening but I am a lazy soul.