In Quietness is Strength

The silence of an empty heart.
The silence of an unkind word.
The silence of a lonely friend.
The silence of a broken world.

The whisper of a gentle touch.
The whisper of a caring smile.
The whisper of a mother’s love.
The whisper of the extra mile.

The murmur of encouragement.
The murmur of approval.
The murmur of a truth once known.
The murmur of a love for all.

The shout of joyful songs of praise.
The shout of battles won.
The shout of blissful happiness.
The shout of struggles overcome.

The silence of pure calm and rest.
The silence in a heart at ease.
The silence between two loving minds
The silence from a sense of peace.

Compassion

You are not empty.
You are full of tears.
These are the water of life
To those who need it.
Rejoice that
You are full of tears.

His best jump ever

"Hey Dwayne, surprised to see you here." Joe shrugged off his leather jacket, dropping it next to his friend's. Dwayne's was singed, the heavy gloves charred at the edges.

"Yeah, well, no problem," Dwayne replied. "I'm the best at ring of fire. Didn't know you were so good, though."

"You didn't? I was never a bad boy like you. I was the best, man. That's how I got here. Still don't know how YOU made it."

Dwayne looked back at the pearly gates. "Easy. Me and Old Betsy just soared right over them darn flames down there, straight into heaven."

No trouble

"I'll clear that, no trouble," boasted Sam.

Joe looked doubtfully at the hedge, then at Sam's bike. It had seen better days: someone had let down the tyres and removed the brake pads while they were in the pub. A quick trip to the garage, then Sam was set to go.

"All right then." Sam kicked off, pedalling at top speed down the bare slope. Just as he reached the bottom, he pulled back on the handlebars, sending the bike flying into the air.

It landed successfully on the other side. On Sam's arm.

A clean break, no trouble.

Good companions

Smile on a train

Stranger sitting opposite to me,
you did not know how deeply I despaired.

Maybe you guessed something was wrong
from the solitary way I kept my eyes upon my feet.

Could you have known the sodden sadness of my heart
from drooping shoulders?

Or was it that deeply hidden sob
erupting , unwanted, at a vicious memory?

Self-absorbed in misery I did not realise
my life lay open, a tabloid for all to read.

Yet you were not content with prurient curiosity,
instead you gave a gift of warmth.

Your smile lit up your face. Mine, responding,
Warmed me too.

From somewhere deep inside, small flickers of hope
crawled up my belly.

Self-belief and trust, long lost and forgotten,
crept out from hiding places.

Desolation gave up its grip
as I found my smile again.

Your unknown hearer

I can’t say that we ever met: and yet I remain in your debt.
I think you would have been amused, to think that your words lit a fuse
in me so many years ago. I wonder if you’ll ever know
the change resulting from that day when you had come to have your say.

It was a usual day at school when we were taken to the hall.
You stood alone upon the stage looking at us girls, encaged
in expectations, thoughts, desires. Your words, designed to light up fires
fell flat upon our sullen ears. Who cared to hear about your years
in Africa? Dark continent indeed. Slow of pace, when we craved speed.
Excitement, glamour filled our minds: I did not then expect to find
interest in teaching far from home, a wish to venture out alone.

Yet as I looked upon your slides a little voice echoed inside:
‘That all looks like tremendous fun!’ So with those words, your job was done.
I qualified, went off to teach just minutes from a Kenyan beach.
Two years of volunteering, then I met a man there, married him
and lived another twenty years with monkeys, lions, exotic birds.
And so it was you changed my life: as happy teacher, mother, wife,
I thank that day we did not meet: and yet you made my life complete.

Two are better than one

“Jontan, I loves you,” said the small girl, busily arranging lego pieces into a tank trap at the bedroom door.
“Cattin, I loves you too,” replied the small boy as he stirred up a paste of mud and water in the washbasin.
“Us don’ mind if we’re naughty, do we?”

And so it began.

Rearranging the kitchen, putting groceries to the back of the saucepan cupboard, bread in the rubbish bin, hiding milk under the table.
Putting salt in the sugar bowl.
Daubing naked bodies with mud and paint, then dancing in the garden as neighbours arrived home from work.
Draping furniture with sheets and blankets to make a refugee camp: removing all light bulbs in the room to make it authentic. Leaving it for their father to stumble into when he arrived home from the pub.
Walking along the top of the neighbour’s wall, trying to see through bathroom and bedroom windows. Choosing their time carefully.
Climbing through hedges, blacked up commando-style, after dark, to retrieve errant footballs.
Hiding in trees, then suddenly dangling upside down to swing above the head of an unsuspecting passer-by.
Pretending, until Jonathan’s voice broke, to be the other twin speaking on the phone. Agreeing to requests on the twin’s behalf.

Enjoying the ensuing chaos.

There was nothing I could do about it all. Two are better than one – and boy, did they get the better of me.

I never had any more children.

Twin Terror

The Heavenly Twins or the Adorable Angels? Angels was the best name for them. Fallen ones.

How could innocent children be so wicked? Theirs was a world of total security - nothing could shake it. Whatever they chose to do together, they accomplished. They were fearless of the outcome, even when everything went wrong.

Like the time they got stuck in the hedge.

It was, to be fair, quite tall - Cypress leylandii, thick and lush. A determined child could climb up inside it, popping out like a cork from a bottle at the top. Once there, they used it like a living trampoline. So far, so good. Until one of them hit a thin spot, plummeting to the ground with bits of twigs sticking out of limbs and body.
The other was stuck on top. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t get back down again – not even down the hole left by his twin.
One ladder, two adults and several remonstrances later, both twins were back on the ground. Covered in bright red rashes, an allergic reaction to the leaves.

They boasted about it for weeks.

Innocent devilment progressed to calculated wickedness. By the time they arrived at secondary school they were a force to be reckoned with. The sister ran a protection racket, supported by her brother. He did the same for her. Even the teachers became wary.

After becoming Head Boy and Girl, they headed for university and careers in banking.

I brought them up well.

Chausiku says: Well-written and hilarious,Mpira!
Wordmate says: Really funny. Loved the punchline
nicolacleasby says: This was well written and I think the banks and the twins deserve each other.
susanjones says: Very funny, and appropriate for the times we are living in. Liked it very much.

One is more than enough

The room was quiet now, save for the murmuring of the visitors standing under the trees outside, the panting breath of the woman on the bed and the squalling of the child.
“A beautiful baby girl,” the midwife pronounced. Her brown face, shiny with effort, beamed at the young mother.
“Ah, wonderful,” came the tired reply. “Just what I wanted.” Smiles echoed around the hospital delivery room. The air was still and warm, hung with the heavy scent of frangipani wafting in through the open window.
“Just a minute.” The atmosphere changed with the alarm in the voice. “I think there’s another one.”
“ANOTHER?”
“Yes, there seems to be another baby here.”
“You said I had a girl. That’s fine. That’s what I wanted. Stop right there.”
“Sorry, mama, but there IS another baby coming. You didn’t know?”
“I didn’t know.”
“Another beautiful baby girl.”
The mother turned her head, weeping. This was not how it should be. The midwife sighed. “Be thankful, mother, that you are of the right tribe. Twins are a blessing for you, not a bad omen. Be thankful that you do not belong to a people where, fifty years ago, you would have had to leave one child out for the hyenas, or your family would have been cursed. Be thankful that your girls are healthy: you are doubly blessed.”
Yes, thought the young woman, tired beyond thinking. I must be thankful. I suppose I AM blessed. But will they be?

Medlycott says: I liked that, a lot. A nice, different angle. Very good. David
Chausiku says: Mpira, this is an excellent piece. On reading the brief, my mind was blank as to what I could possibly come up with that would be interesting, but you have succeeded. As with much of your writing, rafiki, you bring me right back to my childhood days in East Africa!
tesslin says: Well done for being the first, I have looked at this since the competiton was set and have thought of nothing. This is a good and interesting piece, the only thing I am not sure about is the : after healthy.
jer364 says: Athought provoking piece that set the standard. It was a tricky brief but this was beautifully handled.
j2write says: I can't really add to the other comments - they have captured what I would have written. A well worked piece. The thought of the hyena - made me cringe. Well done.