Supergirl?

'I am Supergirl, I can do this' she said to herself as she tripped over her left foot.

She could hear the footsteps quickly approaching.

She closed her eyes and tried to remember her Mama's words.

'You can do this' her Mama had said having found her in the crater after the meteorite had collided. She had amazing strength and power.

'It doesn't matter that she lacks intelligence and common sense Dan' her Mama had reassured her husband later on. 'She is beautiful and strong and she will be like Clark Kent. She will be Supergirl'.

'I can do this' she said. She squinted her eyes as a red laser beam shot out obliterating the wall in front of her. She stumbled over the debris and fell, stunned, she spat dust out of her mouth. She was met with a door. One staunch punch, and the door fell through. Rubbing her knuckles, and her knees, she was met with stairs running into her feet. She ran down them, and saw the exit sign in a mirror.

She turned in the opposite direction and ran. Now where is the exit? she mused.

Pausing to put on some lipstick and brush her hair, she was interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps, she looked around, frantic.

She saw a sliver of light and ran to escape. Finger pointed straight ahead she shot out a stretch of stringy rubbery residue which went no further than an inch. Kicking the dismal residue, she limped to the light and jumped high and reached up clinging to an edge. She peered over and saw a glass shield. About to break it open she saw the sign that said 'Bull dog beyond, enter at your peril'. She gazed down at her already chipped newly manicured fingernails and decided against any further damage.

Falling back into a sea of clutter that broke her fall, she kicked boxes and junk from her and brushed her hair from her eyes.

'Mama said there would be days like this' she muttered.

She stood up tall and swiped her cape around her ready to face her assailant, ready to save the world.

'I am Supergirl'. She twirled, arm punched up into the air, hand on hip.

Her assailant reached her, stopped, then sneered. He laughed as he lumbered towards her.

'Mama!!!!' She cried turning and running away full speed towards the bull dog.
__________________

CNN BREAKING NEWS: Girl with superhuman powers is chased by burly assailant.

'It's a learning curve Dan', Her Mama said patting her husbands hand and gazing at their daughters debut on the news. 'She'll get it one day. She'll get it one day'.

High Flier

She saw the red hot sun, but shook her head as she retreated backwards. 'Tweet', came the sweet sound from within her. 'Tweet, tweet tweet tweet'.

She felt a rush and a swish as she was pushed forward. 'Stop that tweeting'.

The familiar voice didn't tweet. It cawed. 'You are not here to tweet'.

She fluttered forward and faltered. She looked below and instinctively took a step backward. Too high. Too much below, too much to be up against. The memories of yesterday and the day before and the numerous failures before that flooded back. She turned and looked to the familiar face. 'Tweet?'. She sulked questionably.

She was pushed again, 'Go forward' the voice instructed. 'It's the only way you will learn'.

She moved forward, tentatively, slowly judging each step she took.

She heard the cracks, heard the ground breaking beneath her as they always did, yet she knew, this time, she had to keep on moving towards the goal.

At the edge, she perched and looked down. Overtaken by fear, she took a step backwards, paused, pirouetted around, then swooned down covering her face. She tweeted.

'Drama Queen'. The voice replied. 'Do you not know who you are?'. Again she felt a strong support lift her up, set her right, back on to the horizontal.

'Go' the voice said as she was nudged again. 'Go. You are able to do more than you think. Go'.

She looked downwards. She wanted to take a step back, but the familiar form behind her would not allow it this time. She took a step forward, another, and then another. Met with thin air, she immediately fell. The view she saw below her very quickly came towards her. Her heart beat fast as she tried to assume the correct position. She flapped. and flapped and flapped. She flapped as if to flap away the fast approaching ground. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and tweeted. As she flapped, she realised that her course had changed. Instead of downwards, she began to lift...upwards!.

'Caaaw!!' The familiar voice screeched from above. 'Caaaw!'.

She lifted her wings and soared.

She soared and she soared with such power and strength. She turned back to the familiar form. She no longer tweeted, but cawed.

Her mother looked on, lovingly and proud.

So powerful and full of strength she soared. She was a new born eagle learning, soaring towards that red hot sun.

The Long Road Home

The young boy opened his eyes as a lone tear trailed down his cheek. He slowly sat up and looked around him observing his surroundings. He was surprised to see that it was dark, the smell around him was awful and he was blackened with dirt. His heart sunk as he realised the severity of his mistake. How had he failed to understand so late?

The longing for another life, the need to explore and find his own path. The pulls and desires of the world had unmercifully gained his attention and lead him to a faraway place. He had heard about the progression of humanity. The wonders that science could now produce.

He had read of the new ventures to that ethereal planet that glowed white that would shine bright in the darkened sky. First man walked on it, and now there was the chance to go and live there. He had without a second thought or deliberation sold all he had been given and and secured a place to be one of the few to relocate.

He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. He remembered all that he had left behind, he recalled the times when he could truly express happiness, content in a place that was rightfully his to be in. That old world was full of love, laughter, forgiveness and allowances for mistakes. It comforted him when he was disheartened, and gave hope when there seemed to be none. It gave him a reason to live and allowed him to build friendships and relationships that were both frustrating yet meaningful.

This new world. He choked on his tears as he let out a sob. This new world was cold, dominated by an all consuming darkness. How had he not seen this before? This world left him with nothing. It was nothing but grey sandy shores and unreachable mountains. He reminisced on what once was. He had been generously allowed a share of his inheritance. But his greed had lead him to want for more.

Upon arrival at his new foundations, he had been excited and full of expectancy. Having sold all he owned, this new found freedom, the new surroundings were well worth the exchange. Humanity had built humble abodes fit for man to live in. The proceeds he had made from all that he had sold meant that he was able to live a rather comfortable life. Indeed, he wasted a lot of what was his on a lot of meaningless things belonging to others.

Communication was scarce in this new faraway land, so there was no way of knowing the terrible fate that lay ahead. There was no means of knowing that a meteor was in alignment with his new found home. Nobody was prepared for the hit, nor the devastation that it left behind. He had nothing now, he had lost it all. He was forced to work and live amongst the poorest of inhabitants, and even they seemed to have more than he did.

He rose to his feet, as quickly as he was allowed, and scowled at the sea of inertia. He could see the blue and green planet that had once been his own. It's beauty was highlighted by the rays of sunlight that shone upon it's existence. His heart longed for that place as he felt a deep sense of displeasure. He felt it first in his stomach and then it slowly rose up. A hot searing pain as he opened his mouth and released a blood curdling howl for the old world that he longed for. At the awful sound that came from within him was released, only silence bounced back. He looked around and found no one. Nobody. Nothing. He was alone. He had nothing. Nothing but one last thing.

The young boy traveled for a time. He wanted to move faster, but outside the confinements of the man made habitable surroundings, he faced limitations. He had an agenda, he had to reach his destination, his face was contorted with concentration. From afar, he could make out the station, the place that had been his point of arrival. There, he pulled out his one last piece of belonging, the only thing that he had left. It was his return ticket home.

____________________________

The old man had woken up from a restless sleep. He had felt a stirring in his heart. He slowly got out of bed and walked to the window. He looked outside. Every morning he would do the same thing. Sometimes he would go and sit outside, just staring. And as he sat staring outside, he would only be greeted by the night owls and the winds gently blowing through the trees. He would go about his daily business, looking after his staff, making sure his son was fed, yet that stirring was still there.

He had wept when he had read of the disaster that had struck the moon. He had a choice not to believe the worst, he would still hold on to a glimpse of hope. But news reports had stated there had been devastation. He could not assume, only just hope. His son would console him, tell him not to worry, but his heart would not allow him otherwise.

So it was, that on this occasion as he stared out of the window, along with the owls, and the gentle breeze flowing through the trees, he could make out a distant figure. He took his glasses and placed them on to get a clearer view. Yes, he could see a definite figure in the distance. He didn't think to put on a coat to shield him from the winter cold, nor shoes to protect his calloused feet from the stones on the ground. Instead he opened the door of his house and began to run to the figure.

The stirring in his heart he knew had been preparing him for such a time as this. He ran, and he ran, and he ran. He did not feel the cold air, nor the numbness in his fingers. Nor did he feel the pain in his feet as each footstep met with the gravelly sharp stones leaving bloody footprints in the ground.

The distant figure at first took slow footsteps, then he mirrored the pace, he too began to sprint. He ran and he ran and he ran. He ran straight into the open arms of the old man, as the old man hugged and kissed the young boy.

'Father', the young boy said, 'please, forgive me. I lost my mind'.

The old man wept, tears rolled down his face he looked at the young boy with pure joy.

'Son', the old man whispered. 'I have been waiting for you. Welcome home'.

A Moment of Insanity

It was because of a moment of insanity.

There had to be no other explanation. Well known as being the quiet type, never to hurt a fly.

Why though?

It was simply a moment of insanity.

Stress, some would say. Demands of a heavy work load, the need to have to compete and please and stay one step ahead of the game.

Can you explain?

It was a moment of insanity, I said.

For off course, the ways of life could easily demand to support solitude and contentment rather than having to enjoy.

Yes, but why?

It was just a moment of insanity.

The loneliness of one that craved the companionship of another.

OK...give an analogy. May help to make one understand.

It was only...a moment...of insanity. Gritted teeth, fingernails grating the table.

Like the white bread toasted mornings with a cold cup of black tea. The mortgage didn't leave enough to allow for wholemeal, brown sugar, hot water and milk, ok?

Ok, ok, calm down...So it was?

Yes...Simply a moment of insanity.

The need to be more than, but less than intended.

It was a moment of insanity.

The endless moments of the insane insanity of the mundane life of one less than ordinary that only highlighted insanity.

So, that was it then?

Yes. It was. Just a moment of insanity.

One that lead another to lovingly stroke the cat and then throw it into a wheelie bin.

To Forgive and Forget...

Her hands were tied behind her back, and the rope that held them was cutting into her, as she twisted and turned to get them free.

'Please, let me go' she cried. 'Please, I don't know why you're doing this!'.

He walked over and stood behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. 'You really don't need to worry' he whispered as he leaned forward to her ear.

She flinched as she felt him come close.

'I'm not going to hurt you'.

_______________________________________

Mira had to talk loudly to be be heard above the loud vibrations around her. She had decided to venture out and go to a bar with Louise's boyfriend Charlie and the new guy she had been seeing, Adrian. Although she was a little tired, she was getting into the night, and began to dance to the music.

'This is great huh?' Mira shouted over the music at Louise. Louise laughed and half smiled as she glanced at her watch.

'Would you ladies like another drink?' Adrian asked as he sauntered over with Charlie in tow.

'Sure, yes the usual for me' Mira replied smiling up at him.

'And for you Louise?' Adrian asked hugging Mira close to him.

'Just the same, thank you sir' Louise replied as she winked.

Mira smiled after the two guys as they walked off to the bar. She couldn't believe her luck at having met Adrian. He was gorgeous. Tall, short trim hair, good build, amazing eyes. Mira didn't just take to him because of the way he looked, but he was amazing because they had become the best of friends. He seemed to know her so well, and they would often spend hours talking on the phone and enjoying each others company. She would watch TV or paint and he would read. She would always tease him when he would put his glasses on after taking out his contacts.

'You look like a geek with those on'. she teased him recently. 'Similar to a boy I knew at school. Your glasses are so thick'. Adrian had tensed and put down his book, teeth clenched as he smiled.

'So what do you want do do for your birthday?' He had asked.

It had been Mira's birthday two days ago, and she had agreed to go out for a celebratory drink. She hated celebrating her birthday way back from her teenage years. Her family had tried to organise untold surprise parties in the past for her 16th, 18th, 21st, 22nd, 23rd and 24th and 25th thereafter, but Mira was never really into all of that. She promptly acquired a knack of finding out about any surprise happenings and promptly never showed up. She vowed nobody would ever throw her a surprise anything, at least one she didn't know about or didn't consent to. After her 25th, there had been no other attempts. Now that it was her big 3-0, Mira carefully scrutinised all her friends and family to make sure they didn't have any ideas in mind.

She'd spent a quiet night in with Adrian on her actual birthday, and now this was the closest celebration she would have after Adrian, Louise and Charlie told her they were taking her out for a drink whether she liked it or not.

Adrian and Charlie came back with the drinks. They danced and talked for a little while before Louise signaled she was ready to go.

'Oh, I was only just enjoying myself' Mira cried. 'You can go Louise, I'll stay with Adrian'.

'Oh, Mira', Adrian frowned, glancing at Lousie. 'I'm pretty beat as well hon, it's been a long day. I think we'd better call it a night'.

Mira sulked, clearly disappointed. Outside it was cold. Adrian had gone back inside because he had forgotten his hoodie.

'See you later babe'. Louise kissed Mira on the cheek. 'Hope you enjoyed!'. Charlie gave her a hug and they both went their way.

Mira stood and hugged herself. She frowned and looked back at the doors of the bar wondering what was taking Adrian so long.

Suddenly Mira felt strong arms around her as a gag was stuffed into her mouth and a bag was pulled over her head. She began kicking and screaming, her heart beating intensely at the sudden attack as she was dragged a short distance. She heard muffled voices that she couldn't make out. Her hands were grabbed and tied behind her back as she was pushed into the back of a car. A door opened and closed as she heard an engine start and the car began to move.

Mira was petrified, she screamed and kicked but couldn't do much because she was restricted. Hot tears rolled down her face. The car finally stopped and she heard the car door open and close. Her side door opened as strong arms pulled her out. She struggled and kicked but wasn't a match for the strong frame holding her. She was lifted and carried as footsteps sounded heavy and hurried. Her voice was muffled under the gag, and her words couldn't be made out as she twisted and turned to get free.

The movement stopped and she heard a key turn and a door open and close before she was lead to a chair. The bag over her head was removed, but it didn't help that she could see nothing sitting in total darkness. She cocked her head to the side - she thought she had heard voices. She listened closely, but all was silent around her. The gag was removed form her mouth, and Mira immediately screamed as loud as she could.

'Shhhhh' Mira heard the voice calm her down. 'I'm not going to hurt you'. She heard a match strike behind her.

'Please!' Mira cried out wriggling in her seat. 'Please don't set me alight, please, please don't burn me!'.

The man moved over to where she was and set a candle on a table. Mira squinted and could now make out his face.

She gasped in shock. 'Why? Why are you doing this? Whats going on'? She stammered.

Mira began to cry, and whimper. 'What's happening? What's going on?' Adrian stared at her silently.

'Adrian? Baby why?' she whispered. 'Who are you?!'

'Why? Adrian replied, slowly walking in around her. 'Who am I?' He straightened up and took a deep breath.

'Lets see if I can trigger your memory Mira dear, since you have so easily forgotten'.

He slowly pulled out a photo and laid it on the table that was beside her. He pushed the candle close so she could see the picture. Mira leaned over and peered. As the candle flickered, she could just about make out a boy in the photo. A boy with think horn rimmed glasses. He had braces on his teeth and he was fat and stout.

'Oh my gosh' Mira spluttered. 'That's Eaide from junior school! Adrian, I don't get this. Please untie me now. This joke is over'.

'Eaide', Adrian repeated. 'Yes Eaide. You know, the fat short stubby kid that you used to tease Mira. You used to push him down onto the floor and spit on him. You'd take his glasses off so he couldn't see properly. Yes, Eaide.' Adrian stopped and paused.

'Eaide was me Mira' Adrian spoke softly pointing to the picture. 'That was me'.

Mira squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again. 'Oh my goodness' she whimpered. She began to cry.

'I am so sorry Adrian! Please forgive me! I was cruel, mean, I was only a child, I didn't know what I was doing'. Mira struggled with her hands wanting to be free. 'I love you!' She cried.

'Shhh, shhh,' Adrian stroked her hair, 'Don't cry Mira, this isn't what you think. I'm not going to hurt you. I was hurt by what you did, but I grew up learning to forgive. I grew up a lot in fact'. He stood to his full 6 feet 5. 'And the old days, well, they don't bother me so much now'.

He smiled at her. 'I really liked you back then you know. In fact, I love you too. But I vowed, that If I ever did meet you again, I would have to pay you back for what you put me through. You know the whole forgive but never forget saying?'.

Mira nodded, tears welled in her eyes.

'Well, the 'never forget' kind of takes over'. Adrian paused.

'I bumped into Louise a while back before I met you, and we got talking' he said.

'Louise?' Mira asked puzzled? What does Louise have to do with this?'

'Yeah' Adrian grinned. 'We talked, and that's when we decided this whole thing'.

'Decided what?', Laura asked. 'What is going on Adrian?! Untie me right now!'

Adrian leaned over and kissed Mira on the cheek. 'That's when we decided to...'

'SURPRISE!!!!' Came a chorus of voices.

Lights came on full blast and people milled in from every corner of the house that Mira was held hostage in. Balloons were released from the ceiling, falling down all around, littering the room in multi colours, as silly string was sprayed and party poppers were popped all over. Louise came running out with Charlie, all their friends were grinning and laughing. Louise rushed over to untie Mira and lift her up in a hug.

'Happy Birthday!!!!' She trilled as she slapped Mira on the back. 'I really hope you're not mad at us? We just had to find out a way to give you that one very surprise birthday party you said you'd never ever have...'

Christopher Hitchens - To Save Or Not To Save?

Someone I know had recently posted a link on his facebook page about the perils of Christopher Hitchens, an atheist who publicly abhors God and His existence, and is now afflicted with cancer.

Many Christians debated on whether this atheist should be considered for prayers of any kind for the restoration of his health, or the salvation of his soul that he may make it to heaven if the cancer were to prevail.

Now, I am for sure no Mother Theresa but if Hitchens were to be my biggest enemy, what is it then that I am advised to do?

Let's say for example...as Christians, our soul desire was to please God and replicate His heart. Father God then presents us with a perfect opportunity that we may reflect His heart and instead out spring a multitude of issues. The voices within become loud enough that chants of 'crucify' become audible as some Christians reportedly pray for Hitchens to die.

Those that cried 'crucify' when Christ was being tried had every right to, because by law, He was breaking all the rules. But overcome by the law because of His own dispensation meant He was living under grace, the curse of the law had been broken. The liberty to judge had been overruled by grace.

This is the same grace that allows so many to walk free. It is the same grace that overlooks our transgressions and allows us an open window to get it right. It is the same open window that allows us to pray on behalf of those that are still blinded, whether they receive the prayers or reject it. Christ prayed 'forgive them Father for they know not what they do', how more so should we follow suit?

Having Christopher Hitchens brought to attention, (it's the first time I've ever heard about this guy in fact), I associated his situation to that of Saul of Tarsus. Saul was a well known atheist, such is Christopher Hitchens. Saul, even went so far as to kill Christians.

Ananias, a Christian, was commanded, by God, to pray for Saul of Tarsus and give to him a message with the intentions of salvation and healing, for his purpose was to spread the amazing gospel message of love and freedom. As Ananias prayed for the restoration of Saul's sight, he was healed. Ananias's intercessory prayer had taken effect.

Ananias: 'What was that dear Lord? Pray? Lord - You so funny! I thought I just heard you ask me to pray for Saul!! I am now, right now, roaring with laughter. Like get on my knees, open my mouth, and lift this man up to you?'

If God, in His own right, can choose to save Saul, who was more of a tyrant than Christopher Hitchens - Saul didn't write a book about how 'God Is Not Great' like Hitchens - he hacked and chopped and killed Mothers, Fathers, Sisters and Brothers of those who voiced that God was.

Some have said it is absurd to pray for others in the hope that God may intervene, and that it borders on insanity to think prayers can alter God's decision. I am fully assured that as Abraham rationing with God for the salvation of some in Soddom and Gomorrah made such a difference as did Moses' plea for the people of Israel, that in fact, God can change His mind, and intercessory prayer does prove to make a big difference.

Who are we to proclaim that this man should die in his sin, because he chose to speak against the very One who created him yet still unconditionally loves him? If the One can still love man and has a heart to save man, that being His soul purpose, what makes us think we are contrary to this unconditional show of affection?

'Well, he made his own bed, he should lie in it. The fool doesn't want to know about God anyway' some say. I wonder where I would be when others were telling me about Christ, yet prayed and preserved for my salvation when I repeatedly rejected Him?

We know that Saul became Paul, the chief sinner, the great apostle who wrote most of the new testimony under the inspiration of the spirit of God. If Saul were to be discredited, as some are discrediting this 20th century atheist, what hope is there for any of us? What hope is there for the family member who holds the same views as Hitchens?

'Cha man, leave da man dem fi die in im sin suh! Hell fire done bun 'im see!'

'Ah! Chale! I be dey chop and knock da foolish man's head with stone until he is chewing the ground he walks on oh!'

'Jeeves, please I asked for some tea, not a sermon. I need not hear you regurgitate news of some unfortunate man who simply chooses his own fate'.

This must be the voice of God we hear then right? Since we are so holy and righteous being made in His image, well off course that is what God would say. I mean, this is exactly what God would say.

Or is it?

Those Old Time TV Shows...

Just a random recollection of all those old time tv shows as I show my age - do you remember any of them?? These are in no particular order!


Sesame Street
Button Moon
Rainbow
Chock-a-Block
Pob
Smurfs
Grotbags
He-Man
Thunder Cats
My Little Pony
Charlie Brown
Postman Pat
Popeye
Garbage Patch Kids
Pink Panther
Inspector Gadget
Wurzle Gummidge
King Rolo
Super Gran
SuperTed
Mysterious Cities of Gold
Dungeons and Dragons
Heartbeat
Blue Peter
The Crystal Maze
Art Attack
'Allo 'Allo
Dallas
Dynasty
Miami Vice
Joanie Loves Chachi
My Two Dads
Blossom
Land of The Giants
Lost In Space
Degrassi Junior High
Wonder Woman
The Twilight Zone
Hart to Hart
Highway to Heaven
Kate And Allie
I'll Take Manhattan,
Cosby Show
Cagney And Lacey
CHIPs
Different Strokes
The Wonder Years
Punky Brewster,
Doogie Howser
Knight Rider
Carebears
The Flinstones
Happy Days
Golden Girls
Inspector Gadget
Cheers
Roseanne
Little House On The Prairie
The Waltons
Rugrats
Sister Sister
In Living Colour
Different World
Fraggle Rock
Sweet Valley High
Moesha
Hanging With Mr Cooper
Full House
The A Team
Beauty And The Beast
Knots Landing, LA Law
Manimal,
Miami Vice
Moonlighting
Mork and Mindy
St Elsewhere
My Two Dads
Alien Nation
Who's The Boss
Quantum Leap
V

TV at it's best!

Under Arrest

Jill stood quietly twiddling her thumbs, chewing gum.

The officer seated opposite her drummed his fingers on the table.

'An answer please?' He asked exasperated.

She blew a bubble and popped it with her finger. She winced as she wrestled to do. The hand cuffs left her limited.

'Listen sir' she responded, 'I'm not even the perpetrator trying to perpetrate and I don't have time for you to be perpetrating me so I am going to have to perpetrate you which means I need to leave now ok?'.

Jill got up out of her chair and made her way to the door. She turned the handle. It was locked.

'Listen Miss', The Officer was stern faced. 'You're not even making sense so I suggest you zip up, shut up, and sit down, ok?'.

Jill took a seat. She didn't want to aggravate anyone for no means necessary.

'Now, the Officer concluded.' You say you are not the...ahem'. He cleared his throat, 'The perpetrator, but we have evidence that places you right at the scene of the crime'.

Jill pouted her lips and pulled her fingers through her hair. In doing so a single loose braided extension came loose within her fingers.

'Oops' She smiled weakly, slightly embarrassed. 'TV and Magazines say all these vitamins are good for you. You know...Wash and Go, Loreal and all that... but looks like, its making me lose some here and there.' She quickly put the hair into her bag. 'Should have stuck to Kera Care', Jill muttered under her breath.

'Well' the Officer deliberated, 'It seems that at the scene of the crime there were evidences of hair extracts'. He paused. 'Well... many actually'. He held up several loose extensions identical to the one Jill had pulled out of her hair. 'Can you explain yourself?'.

Jill coughed, she was coy. 'Well I'm sure I'm not the only one to have a few hairs run loose here and there'...She eyed his balding head.

Jill smiled as the Officer spluttered.

'Look', She said raising her hands in defeat. 'What do you suggest?'.

The Officer smirked. 'I like people that cooperate'. He smoothed the remaining strands of hair over his head.

'Simply give back the lollipop, and you're free to go'.

In The Making

She was blackened, caked with dirt.

The residue surrounding her was hard to remove.

The metallic jaws crushed and crushed.

She cried out in pain.

The dirt, caked and blackened began to fall away.
Next the chisel chipped and chipped.

Her screams were relentless.

All day, all night.

Day after day. Night after night.

Week after week, month after month.
She howled in despair, winced at every turn.

But still the work continued.

At last she shone.

Rays of beauty fell upon the blackened dirt scattered on the floor.
In their disgrace they could only shine in the midst of her perfection.

She was a diamond brought out of the rough.

Settled in the midst of pure refined gold.

A Founded Place

Stasia picked up her guitar, and strummed.

The smooth melodic tune she played made her smile. The manual had read 'How To Play The Guitar In Six Weeks', but it had taken Stasia a little longer than six months. The six years of starting and stopping had been worth it though. The callous fingertips, the broken nails, the ability to play beautiful sounds whenever she felt she wanted to hear them.

She breathed in as she smelt the strong smell of coffee wisp by as there was a knock on her dressing room door.

'Coffee ma'am?' The lady asked. Stasia, smiled and declined. Hot drinks, right now were not on the agenda.

She had five minutes before she had to be on stage. She was slightly nervous, it had been a while.

She winced as she pulled the wrong note, the sound seemed to reverberate around her room. Stasia began to panic. What if she couldn't do this? What if she played the wrong note? What if her voice went out of key and she made a stupid move?

She threw the guitar on her couch and opened her door running after the lady that had just entered.

'Excuse me, Miss?' Stasia called after her.

Back in her dressing room she sipped the warm brew and breathed a sigh of relief. She felt better, ready for the next step. Ready to take on whatever else may come.

Stasia had faced many disappointments in life. In retrospect, she would read the news and observe the calamities that were occurring world wide. Natural disasters, people killing one another in aimless, endless wars, famine in third world countries. She knew that she was better off than most.

She remembered getting on her hands and knees and crying out, 'Lord, what is my purpose?' She would often only hear silence. In her dreams, she would see a man with a kind smile and warm eyes, and he would simply tell her, 'you will know when the time has come'.

Stasia put all she had in to simply doing what she loved to do, always asking along the way, 'What is my purpose?'. In staying focused on what she loved to do, she had in fact prepared herself to enter into a place that was always hers to be.

She could hear the applauds and the sounds of the crowds clapping. Shouts and whistles. Roars of 'Ana-stasia! Ana-stasia! Ana-stasia! Ana-stasia!'.

Stasia knew it was time to go on. It was time to face the crowd and give all she could.

She moved from the couch and sat in front of her dresser mirror. She looked at her reflection and smiled as she reflected upon memories.

'You'll never make it' her mother had said. 'You are a good for nothing, a nobody and you need to know your place'.

Those were the words that defined and propelled Stasia to make sure that she would certainly make it. No matter what those closest to her said.

Tired of living up to the status quo. Tired of being a poor little girl living less than ordinary. Tired of being la belled a statistic rather than being called by her name. But she hadn't stayed down when she fell down, instead she chose to get up.

Her drive to succeed was because she knew what it was to fail, to feel rejection and scorn.

"Ma'am, you're on in five'. A burly man in security uniform knocked and opened her door to inform her of the agenda. Stasia smiled and nodded. The man seemed to hesitate, then came into her room and stood by her.

'Ma'am, if you don't mind, he stuttered. He was in awe being in her presence. 'I felt I had to let you know something, something that you have wanted to hear'. Stasia, took a closer look. He had a kind smile, and warm eyes. He was the man from her dreams.

He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed softly. 'Your time has come'. He smiled down at her. Stasia closed her eyes, and remembered her journey from nowhere. Stumbling, falling tripping, running along numerous wrong roads, and was grateful for the place that she was at.

She opened her eyes to thank the man, but he had gone. She hadn't even heard the door open and close for him to exit.

She stood, smoothed her hair, straightened out her clothes and picked up her guitar taking long confident strides, opened her door. Two security guards immediately came at either side of her, as she walked the short way.

'Ladies and gentleman' a voice called out. 'Please give the biggest welcome to the one and only, Anastasia!'.

She stepped out, and immediately embraced her role. She looked out to the crowd and she was overwhelmed by the sight. All welcoming and embracing.

She stepped out and sang a note. The crowd went wild.

Stasia smiled. She knew right then, that she had finally, at last, found her place.

Missing In Action

You wanna highlight my mistakes? Sure green Stabillo please
I try to highlight yours, you say your ink's done. Please
So many MIA, Missing in Action, please
Because we judge each other instead of living in peace
Ain't nothing wrong in telling me that I ain't doing right, see
Just as long as your reflection is not me you see...

Too many, so many times so many fall on their knees
Not begging Him for forgiveness, but begging man to please
See that the inner enemy is tryna to be set free
But instead of seeking Him, it was the man to please
But for the lack of knowledge, the soul was perishing

And now their deeds are underlined stabilo boss in pink, please
No need to hide, feel embarrassed, just saying please
Know that man is not the one to cover you in red, please
Just turn your eyes to Him and let His blood cover you, please

Hear a knock on the door, and men in uniform we see
Telling us, we're sought after for some deep major transgressions, please
No need to buy into the lie, for Jesus paid it see,
Ain't nothing you could ever do, have done, that He cannot retrieve
You know what? Run ahead, run along and do as you please
But If you fell and tripped and broke a leg, just know that please
Its the same red flow we rejected,that will unleash us free

Whether you wanted it or you didn't, redemption's a done deed
Its not the fear of God that drives one to seek to please
Its the grace of God and the unashamed love that He pleads...

For you.

POW. MIA. You are not forgotten. x

That 80's Groove

All my love is all I have
And my dreams are very special
All my life I've looked for you
And today my dreams come true
You need me and I need you
Love and us is very special
Things you seem to do divine
You looked straight into my eyes
I know our love is meant to be
Cause our souls touched tenderly
Love is life and life is living,
It's very special...

Oooh gotta love love Debra Laws. In fact, gotta love the whole 80's groove thing. Pure unadulterated pure sweet musiq.

Mmm. Brings back some memories and then some. Like... Soul Train. If we missed it, we recorded it. Hey!

Sisters, brother and me got our Soul Train vibes ready to groove on down to some sweet 80's smooth groove. Whoever danced the best won a biscuit from our best Auntie. Oh Auntie, didn't you know the Dramani Four would eat the whole packet together anyway regardless of who 'won?!' :)

Sister Sledge were the cream of the crop with the rainbow coloured shoulder padded ensembles that had us crooning about some guy called Frankie...do you remember me? And 'He's The Greatest Dancer' as Mr Will Smith used as a cover for 'Gettin' Jiggy Wit' It'.

Broom, hair brush, toothbrush in hand, we swing and sway and shimmy on across the living room singing along to Atlantic Starrs 'Always' and 'Secret Lovers'. At this point, my bro stays silent and simply looks on. Girl stuff, he muttered.

Mel and Kim - Respectable, Salt and Peppa, (we all know that popular song).

Terence Trent Darby - Wishing Well, Millie Vanilli - Girl You Know It's True.

Al B Sure - Night And Day, Prince - Purple Rain, New Kids on The Block ( Oh come on...they had to squeeze in somewhere, remember The Right Stuff??!).

Teddy Pendergrass - When Somebody Loves You Back, Stephanie Mills - Never Knew Love Like This Before

Kool And The Gang - Celebration!!

Evelyn King - Love Come Down, Cyndi Lauper - Girls Just Wanna Have Fun,

The Pointer Sisters - Jump For My Love

Chaka Khan - Ain't Nobody, Diana Ross - Chain Reaction, Deniece Williams - Lets Hear It For The Boy, De La Soul - Me, Myself And I

Wham! - Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go

And off course the great MJ - Michael Jackson!

The 80's rocked... and so does a trip down music memory lane.

That Hot Metal Iron

Though the memories of yesterday may still lay upon the heart like a hot metal iron upon a plaid skirt

To lift up the oppression of that hot metal iron and straighten through that crease, is to remove the crease away

As if it never existed

How simple and easy a thing to do, one may say

For I walk and glide, crease free

But, if I sit at an odd angle, I do not only get one crease, I accumulate many
A multitude of creases

So how so, so easy to iron one out?

The intention is what is the most important thing

For the intention of that hot metal iron was to remove that which was crooked and unsightly

But along the way, replications of that which has been removed tries to play game set and match

A constant reminder of the crease that once was, but was once removed

It won't last forever

For as much as the creases may grow, so much more can the hot metal iron fulfill it's role

Take off the plaid skirt and throw it in the wash

See how many more creases upon creases you seemingly seemed to have gained

How will I ever remove all this?

Simply switch on the hot metal iron, and begin again

Thankful we are for that hot metal iron, for morning by morning new creases we indeed do see

Bu the role of that hot metal iron remains the same

What A Difference A Day Makes

In the words of Stanley Adams, 'What a difference a day makes'. Or more fitting, a few years at that.

As you meet up with friends of old, it seems some have changed some, and others not so much. Long roads to travel to catch up with the miles that have been accumulated.

The nervous hellos and air kisses, the jovial laughter, a hundred words per minute to fill each other in on what happened since the one day, or a few years in many cases.

The fleeting look into another's eyes as one remembers the past and all that transpired, the eyes seemingly trying to communicate all is well, no need to feed on all that old stuff.

Years gone by, and years older, one on one looks unto one another as it seems things may actually be the same. Maybe there never really was much there at all to be able to tell of any change.

Hugs, and more hugs, bear hugs and more bear hugs.

'Watch it! I'm a lady don't you know. A nice shoulder pat or a warm hello rather than yeti meets delicate young lady thank you very much'.

The uncomfortable silence that speaks a multitude of days gone by. Silence that tries to recall memories of what once was, silence that is astounded that memories is all that is left.

A few added pounds here and there and then some, new lines that accompany the eyes when a smile is expressed. Words spoken full of accumulated knowledge and wisdom of experiences that gives an air of maturity to some.

A 'yes', 'please' and 'thank you' in response to all things keeps it safe and allows the arms to keep things at length.

Reminiscing, recapturing the past, knowing the present and hoping for the future.

Time for goodbyes. More hugs, and bear hugs. Things do certainly never change. Promises to meet again, to catch up at some point may remain just an echo in the night.

Certainly, what a difference a day makes - or a few years at that.

Fairytales

Once upon a time in a land far away, there was a little girl called Gina who lived in a castle in the sky. This little girl always held a slightly different perspective.

Genie in a bottle, a magic carpet ride, Cinderella, Jack and the Beanstalk, Beauty and the Beast, and Rapunzel to name a few.

These were all the recipes of make believe in a world were anything goes. This included a little curious boy named Jack climbing a beanstalk and a woman with hair long enough to throw out of a castle window to meet the very prince her wishes hoped would come and take her out of captivity.

In Gina's world, things were certainly a little different.

The beautiful locked maiden (who was actually from Brazil) stuck at the top of the castle was still in captivity and her big bad step father chopped off all her hair at her audacious efforts to escape. Her suitor gathered her hair and chose to sell it in an Afro-Caribbean shop for those less fortunate in the head department. He heard Brazilian hair was all the rage. He secured a sizeable income and set a much sought after trend world wide.

The Magic Carpet Rider was having the time of his life. He met with the Wicked Witch of The West on her broom who challenged him to a race which she named 'Fastest Household Accessories First'. The Wicked Witch along her way spotted a speck of dust on the ground and couldn't resist having to sweep it up. The Magic Carpet Rider having thought he won was caught in a whirlwind. His carpet fell from beneath him and he was met by an Air Traffic Controller to issue him a ticket for speeding.

Cinderella's forgotten glass slipper was certainly found by her suitor, but the other remaining glass slipper fell off in her rush to escape. She stepped on a shard of glass and cut her self on the foot. Doctors diagnosed an infection only curable by amputation.

The curious lad named Jack climbing a beanstalk spotted a rainbow from afar off which appealed to him more than the beanstalk and so he set off to find a pot of gold. Alas to him, only to find at the end of the rainbow, instead of a pile of ingots, a giant that cried 'fe fi fo fum!'. The Ogre was tall enough to see where Jack was headed and raced after him. Lets just say, that at the end of the chase the giant was well equipped to supply a bbq meal for himself and his fellow very hungry associates.

The Beast who fell in love with Beauty was actually very handsome to some. Many a few fair headed maidens made advances at him. Beast decided Beauty wasn't good enough for him and he ran off to Liberia with a Supermodel called Naomi. She had no idea that Liberia even existed, but she followed him none the least.

Little Red Riding Hood took a liking to the wolf in dangerous pursuit. He boasted a 1950's Harley Davidson. She happily obliged the ride with him as they set off into the sunset, his fangs glistening with glee.

The Gingerbread man ended up eating his maker. His maker forgot that he had added a special a ingredient that he would only divulge as being 'irresistible'.

Goldilocks was slender at first, but became quite butch in her appearance. After all the porridge stealing, she grew to be a very large girl. She roared at Papa bear who trembled in his boots and ran off with the three little bears leaving Goldilocks to grow as large as she desired from as much porridge and honey as she could eat.

A Princess kissed her Prince as they sailed off on their honeymoon. When he curiously asked her how it was so that she could feel the pea underneath 20 bed mattresses, she replied how silly he was to think that anybody could be sensitive enough to feel a pea underneath so much padding. She disclosed she was indeed the daughter of a pauper and had overheard the plans of the King to find a suitable maiden fro his son when he came to buy bed mattresses from her pauper father. She simply decided to match the prerequisite. The Prince totally disgusted, threw her overboard and nibbled on his pea salad.

So much for fairy tales Gina sighed as she stepped down from her castle and landed onto earth with a bump.

The End.

A Love Unconditional

'Why don't you just go?!' Kemi screamed 'You always have to be right where I am, always wanting to be there. Why don't you just go?'

'Because' Marcus spoke tenderly, 'I told, you, I'm here to stay'.

'But I hurt, you. I keep on hurting you'. Kemi said. Marcus trailed his finger across his jaw following the scar that had now sealed. That was the result of Kemi's sporadic exhibitions with a knife.

' I do it deliberately, you know'. Kemi sneered. ' I do it so that you can...get out of my life!'.

Marcus looked at Kemi, he admired her slender frame. She was beautiful. Her face told a story. Her eyes full of experience of so much that she hadn't shared with him. He loved her so deeply, yet she could not comprehend the measure of his love. He held out his hand to her.

'Come'. He said. 'Come to me. I'm here for you'.

'You just don't get it do you?' Anger welled up inside her. She swatted his hand away. 'You just don't get that maybe, just maybe I want you to leave. I want you to go! And you know what Marcus? If you won't leave, then I will'.

Kemi went into her room and came back out with a bag full of her belongings. She struggled to hold the bag. She hoisted it over her shoulder and made her way to the door.

'Kemi wait'. Marcus pulled her to him. 'I don't want you to go. I know you don't want to go. Just stay'.

Kemi looked at him. Tears welled in her eyes. Pain flitted across her face as she looked deeply into his eyes. He saw a multitude of unspoken words, he felt as if her heart was in his hands. He could almost feel her heartbeat. Her eyes cried out to him, they screamed at him for help. He wiped her hair from her forehead, and held her in a tender embrace.

'Sorry, but I-I have to go'. Kemi pulled away and closed the door behind her.

Marcus sank to his knees and sobbed. He called out. He cried out. He screamed and he wailed.

Out of his pocket, he took out her diary. He hadn't meant to read it. He had found it by her bed when she had gone missing again and had to go and look for her. He had found himself flipping through the pages.

'Dear Diary,

I can't do this anymore. He must know who I am, and what I stand for. I leave. I return. I leave because I seem unable to stay away. I return, because his love calls me back.

But I am tired of hurting him. I am tired of doing all the things that I wished I wouldn't do, yet he so readily accepts me back.

I look in the mirror and I see a reflection of someone who I don't know anymore. I turn and see the face of the one who shows me love, the one that I know very well, but I tend to keep away.

I run away because I am afraid. I run because I despise who I am. I run, because I do not understand this thing that he calls love, when all I have known is a love that hurts and takes because it can.

I run because I am afraid of his love. I too feel some kind of 'love'. But mine would only hurt him, so I run away.

I run, because that is all I know to do. I hide away, because hiding is better than revelation. I stray because, I am used to that.

I am used to this life, but oh, he just has to keep on coming back to get me.

Dear Diary, please help me.

Kemi'.

Marcus had cried over the words he read. All along he thought her behaviour had been because she simply chose to be that way. But his heart grew with compassion when he realised, she didn't want to be that way.

He put on his coat and went in search for her. He would find her and reassure her that this time, this time, things would be different.

He knocked on every door of every known brothel he knew. They all turned him away, said they didn't know a Kemi. Maybe she was under alias.

He kept on. He grew tired, weary. He was miles away from home.

He knocked on another door, they let him in.

'You may have to wait a while'. the Mistress said. 'She's busy at the moment. You got your bills?'

Marcus pulled out a wad of cash. The Mistress smiled, she was pleased.

He waited. And waited. He heard a commotion upstairs. Amid all the music and cajoling, Marcus heard cries, cries for help.

He pushed past the crowd and ran upstairs. He ran to the cries. He tried the first door. A couple looked startled and tried to cover up. He ran to the next door. A man growled at the interruption and threw a glass at the door as Marcus ran.

He tried the next door.

There she was. On the floor. Blood running from her mouth. Kemi was hurt. Her paid suitor glowered over her. He smirked as he picked up a chair and smashed it over Marcus's head. Marcus fell to the floor. Dazed he stood and threw a lit candle nearby. It caught fire to the curtain, as the angry suitor flailed his arms as the flames licked his half worn clothes. Marcus picked Kemi up, held her in his arms and carried her out.

__________________________________________________

'I'm sorry'. Kemi looked at Marcus'. She had woken up, back at the house. The sunlight streamed in through the window. She squinted out of a heavily bruised eye. Marcus held a cold press to her cheek as he stroked her hair.

'I'm sorry, that I let you down again'. A tear ran down her cheek.

Marcus looked at her with tenderness in his eyes and winced as he lifted his head to kiss her tears away.

I told you, Kemi, that I am here to stay.' His voice broke. He touched her cheek. 'I don't care where you've been, I don't care about what you've done, and I don't care what you think you are or have become. I am here to stay and I will continue to come after you'.

Kemi's eyes were wide. Marcus could see the vulnerability in her eyes.

'I am not hear to hurt you Kemi, I'm not like the others you may have come across. It's simply up to you, if you feel you have the energy to entertain this goose chase'. Marcus looked at her 'And a black eye now and then. I will not let you go. Kemi, I am here to help you'.

Kemi was silent. She looked up at Marcus and slowly relaxed her hands into his. Her expression softened.

'Thank you'. She whispered. 'Thank you for being here. Thank you for a love unrelenting, thank you for having such a gentle nature. No matter what I seem to do wrong, you are always there for me'.

Marcus wiped her eyes.

'I was afraid, afraid that you wouldn't love me, couldn't love me. I just couldn't understand it. But I see now, that you have a different kind of love from which I knew. A love I never actually knew.'

Marcus held her close as Kemi rested her head on his shoulder. He reached to her bedside table and took a diamond ring. The ring he had put on her finger a year ago when he had vowed for better or for worse. The ring she had taken off time after time. He slipped the ring back onto her finger.

'This stays on for good' he said softly.

She smiled and closed her eyes and knew that she had now truly found what she had been looking for.

A love unconditional.


Inspired by Francine River's Redeeming Love and the wonderful Hosea and Gomer Bible story.

Masquerade

'I need you'. She cried.

'And I need you'. He glowed.

'Without you I am dead.' She pined.

'And with you I am alive'. He crooned.

'I desperately need you'. She whimpered.

'And I desperately need you, my love'. He stood tall.

Majestic and exquisite.

'Without you I am unable'. Tears rolled down her face.

'And with me I can make you able'. He dropped soft kisses upon her tear stained face.

'I cannot live without you'. She whimpered.

'And I cannot without you, my sweet'. His touch was soft.

'Without you I am...' She faltered. 'I am nothing.' She succumbed to his embrace.

He held her close, but just a little too tightly.

'You're hurting me my love!'. She exclaimed. She took a step back. She removed her rose coloured glasses.

'And without you...' He sneered, 'I have nothing'. He slowly removed his mask.

She stared at his decaying face, twisted and leprous as he held her tightly still.

She fell backwards, and clutched her stomach, as she watched him retrieve the knife.

She dropped to her knees and gasped for breath.

'Help' She cried. 'Somebody, please help me!'. Her hands reached out and clutched at the empty air.

'I show no mercy', he roared.

She closed her eyes, destitute. Darkness consumed her. Each breath after the other, slow and calculated, her life ebbing away.

...And then she heard her name.

'Katrina'.

Light whispered softly and shone in rays of delight and total omniscience. Light's voice penetrated the darkness.

She opened her eyes and squinted above.

Light's voice was full of love and compassion. Echoes of mercy, echoes of grace.

'Katrina. You called, and I have found you'. Light's voice was gentle and comforting, His arms open wide.

Katrina turned and crawled, clinging to Light, weeping tears of joy.

'Are you forgetting that I need you!' His voice afar, boomed from below, unrelenting in his pursuit of desperate bellows. 'I almost had you!'.

In the place that had been prepared for him, he reigned in catastrophe. His face was ugly and marred, scarred with rebellion and self content, his eyes blazed with anger and defeat. In the presence of Light, his pantomime was merely a stage enactment behind the scenes of darkness. Not one soul rose for an encore.

He gnawed his teeth and banged his fists on the walls of his confinement.

'Without you I am dead!'. He screamed.

Light spoke a word and he was silenced. He whimpered and scampered into his own self made destruction.

'And without you', Katrina stood tall. Strengthened and empowered. Redeemed and enlightened. Safe within Light, and Light within her.

'I am alive'.

There's No Place Like Home...

''I can't do this!'' Chris cried ''this is way too much than I bargained for''.

He took a step, and then another. One small step, the next bigger. Carla followed suit.

''Please. Please'' Chris was desperate. ''I want to go home now. Home time. No place like home, no place like home, no place like home''.

Silently, Carla agreed with Chris. Obstacles had come, it hadn't been easy.

They had to move downwards to reach up, made some unsolicited maneuvers to reach the next stage.

''This is worth it'' Carla coached Chris. ''This will be worth it''.

They were both sweating. It was hot and humid and the added effort they were putting in was beginning to wear thin on their sustainability.

''Water''. Chris croaked. ''I...need...water''. He stopped and took a long drink of the cool rescue.

It seemed the closer they reached to their destination, the harder it became.

Chris had been bitten by a snake, luckily not poisonous, but the pain was real.

''Devil right up in your face'' Carla had said. ''Don't let it phase you''.

Carla had become delusional. ''I see a rainbow...And a pot of gold...and a butterfly. A Beautiful...gold...butterfly flying over a rainbow in search for the pot of gold''. They both clung to each other, and cried.

But they continued. Sweating, moving forward, a few steps back, bigger ones forward, huge steps backwards, smaller ones forward.

''Are we getting anywhere?'' Chris asked.

Each new step forward was a step closer.

''Enough'' Chris screeched dropping to his knees. ''Enough! I can't go on. It's too much!'' He gasped for breath. ''Lets go back. I can smell fried chicken, I can taste it right now''.

Carla reached out, pulled herself up, then gasped. She stopped and stared.

''Chris'' Carla whispered. ''Look''.

''Nooo, fried chicken is all I want''. He grasped at the stones beneath his hands, sobbing.

''Chris!''. Carla's voice was laced in awe.

Chris stopped, opened one eye. He reached out, and pulled himself up.

He gasped. He stood to his feet then fell back down to his knees. He was overtaken by the sight before him. He stood, enveloped by paradise. The crisp blue sky, the clouds so close enough to almost touch. They were spun like candy floss, smoothly, gently, moving past his face.

Below, hills upon hills, the green of the landscape seemed surreal in contrast to the sky blue perfection of the heavens above. The sunlight glowed and caused a shimmer that only accentuated the beauty of the sight before them, as rays of sunlight danced across the sky and echoed its beauty on the earth below. Nothing could have prepared them for this.

''We made it Chris'' Carla gasped. ''We didn't just move the mountain. Despite the valleys and setbacks, we climbed and conquered it''.

Because She Was Worth It

Mirembe couldn't move, the pain was intense. Her small infantile body shook. The sounds around her were deafening - gunshots, a tirade of voices and hurried and frantic footsteps.
She had been hit and she was bleeding. She looked down and could make out blood trailing from her side and mixing with the dirt ridden floor.

She had managed to crawl back inside the dark encased mud hut which was her home. She had briefly left her home to find her parents after their venture to find help meant they had not returned for some time. They had assured her that they would be back and she was to stay hidden in their home until their return. After witnessing them both being shot by passing bullets in the mayhem that was, right outside the market where Mirembe would often buy fish and pepper, she did the best she knew. She ran.

Mirembe cowered in the dark and heard the voices on the outside. She curled herself up in a ball as she winced with pain and listened.

She heard voices quarreling.

Two men.

''Let us go Bale!'' Akello screamed, ''We have to leave now! Our lives are in danger! Our own are after us!"

''But we cannot just leave her!'' Bale cried. ''She is our very own! She is an Acholi child! We need to do something! If we do not take her they will be sure to kill her!'' They were both frantic.

''She is as good as dead!'' Akello screamed pulling Bale. ''We have to go! They are getting closer! We have to go! She is not worth it!!''

Mirembe listened out. The footsteps of the two men running away grew fainter. The decision had been made.

A flash. A bright light. She squinted. A flash of hope?

A photo.

She was cold and shivering. Maybe this was her destiny. Left to die in the genocide.

''Father please'' Mirembe prayed, slipping in and out of consciousness. ''Father, please. Help me''.

She heard loud sounds, feet racing, voices shouting. Tears ran down her face, Mirembe hoped her hiding place would keep her safe. She was struggling to breathe, she could feel her life slipping away.

The loud sounds seemed to be getting closer. Footsteps running. Running towards her. Big strong hands lifted her up.

Mirembe's pain grew dim. It began to ebb away.

She took a breath, her last breath. The strong hands held her tight. Her body fell limp and her eyes closed to darkness.

'It is too late''. The one who held her said. ''She is dead''.

____________________________

Nasiche was exquisite in every way. The way she walked. Her head held high, her back straight. Her lips smiled slightly and her eyes glowed.

She had finished her acceptance speech for the Noma Award for Publishing in Africa. She thanked her listeners and made her way down from the stage.

''Wow'' someone said. They all exclaimed. What a beauty.

''Hi'' another acknowledged. ''I can't believe it's you! You are beautiful. The world acclaimed author... I can't believe it!''

Nasiche smiled, and moved on. Gentlemen tipped their hats, others just stared. Some blushed as she brushed past.

Women stared, eyes glowing with envy, some in admiration.

She sat quietly, confidently, assured of who she was. She ate her meal and drank her drink laughing with those at her table. She looked at her watch. She had to soon go.

Across the way she could hear a commotion, men in conversation.

''I'm going to go and speak to her'' one man exclaimed.

''Please, let me go first'' the other pleaded. She smiled and raised an eyebrow.

They both walked over. They extended their greetings and joined the table. One of the men talked, the other laughed.

Nasiche was silent. Her phone rang. She answered, nodded and smiled. She got up to leave.

''Ma'am'' One of the men stood up, ''May I have the pleasure of taking your number that I may speak to you again?''

The other followed suit. ''No, Madame, may I?''.

Nasiche stayed quiet. She drank the last drops of her juice, and paused.

She smiled at them as she bid goodbye to those at the table. As she left, she opened her purse and pulled something out.

A photo.

There was a picture of a young girl, blackened with dirt, lying on the floor, in a war torn Uganda, one hand reaching out.

Two men.

Their backs turned running away. Nasiche threw the photo on the table and turned and left.

''It is me'' Akello said as he picked up the picture. His face turned as he realised he was the one in the picture. Bale was sober as he realised he was the other.

Akello turned the photo around. There were words written on the back.

''I was your very own, an Acholi child. I was the one you thought was good as dead. I am the one who is today very much alive. I am Nasiche. Nabulungi Mirembe Nasiche.''

Bale whimpered. Akello sobbed.

She was met outside by a man, the same man that had taken the picture, the same man that had carried her away all those years ago. They walked away hand in hand.

''On that dark war torn day,'' She smiled up at her husband, ''you were my hope, my saving grace.''

He smiled back.

''It was our God's saving grace that He chose to bring you back my love, for you had surely died. He knew your worth, and He heard your cry and my prayer that you may live, my exquisite and beautiful Mirembe''.

White Versus Blue, and Questionably Brown

So my new vocation is Painter/Decorator.

B&Q must be happy with the frequent visits. Well maybe not, as mostly visits are to return and refund colours provided by a rather expensive Dulux that doesn't quite happen to meet expectations.

So it's me and the Madre ready to take on the kitchen.

Fill the holes.

Sand the walls.

Mask the areas where paint need not reach, and then tackle the job at hand.

White for the ceiling, blue for the walls.

Madre decides to repaint the wooden window ledges. Advised her not to buy that ugly brown wood varnish. Ugly brown wood varnish drips over the recently painted lovely Dulux blue.

Madre apologises. I grin and wave a hand. Ain't nothing but a thing. (Grinning and waving is the new in thing don't you know? It waves away a mistake, and covers a multitude of exasperation).

Mask the botched wood paint job and repaint the blue back to it's original state.

One side of the kitchen wall is white. May look better in blue.

"No", says Madre.

"Yes" says I.

Two hours drying time later, Madre thinks it was better off white.

I stand back.

I look.

I grin and I wave.

I repaint over the blue with white, back to it's original state.

We stand back and reflect, stretch and yawn.

What a hard days work!

I peer. Madre peers.

OK. So nothing has actually been accomplished after 8 hours work. The kitchen looks exactly how it did before we decided to ambush. Like, hello?

Though weeping shall last for the night. Joy comes in the morning.

Hallelujah and Amen to that.