TAYLOR SWIFT, THE NEW YEAR KISS

Taylor walked down the boulevard, her flats clicked against the pavement. The sun caught her golden flocks of hair, contrasting it beautifully with her blue eyes. Taylor was aglow, yet still, she was in an unusually dark place.

The eclipse happened just hours earlier, over coffee. Austin kept fiddling with his spoon, his cup went untouched, there was something heavy on his heart, and it wasn't the good kind of weight. This troubled Taylor, so she asked him what was wrong.

Silence.

That always meant trouble. Nothing, not even a million words breathed in contempt could spell doom like silence. He wouldn't speak. So she did.

What's wrong?

The question bounced onto the table like a little ball, then bounced off, unanswered. Taylor’s uneasiness grew. Austin was an artist, expression was everything to him, and so if he had nothing to say, it was probably because he had nothing to feel.

Taylor took his nervous hands in hers and leaned forward, as if to tell him a secret.

Austin. She paused before finishing. Do you still want this?

Austin looked away then, all at once answering the question and dismissing its discourse. Taylor left the Coffee shop hollow and found her way to the boulevard she was now on.

Just as she broke out of her reverie, a Gypsy bumped into her. It didn't take mystical powers for the strange woman to realize something was wrong.

You seek something child?

Yes. Taylor replied involuntarily.

The Gypsy reached into a sack that served as a bag and brought out a pearl necklace. Take this. She said, and Taylor took it. The necklace grants a single wish, and the pearls are the number of times you can have the wish. So if you seek a cat, wish for a cat, and you can have 12, as fast or as slow as you want. The Gypsy smiled.

Taylor stroked the pearls on the necklace then looked up. The Gypsy was gone. Taylor laughed there alone; it was a nervous, troubled laugh. Would it work? This is silly, she mused. But she decided to try it anyway.

Okay Pearls, I wish to have a moment, a special moment, with each one of my Exes, in the future-tonight, and when the clock strikes twelve, we will share a kiss. The kiss will tell me....I don't know, if they're the one, or not? And if not you will bring me back here, and I'll go again, to whichever Ex I choose. She shook her head then as if in unbelief of her words and the charm. I know that is like, five wishes in one, but I don't even know if you're gonna work at all. Here goes, Taylor.....

Taylor Lautner. He turned around to face her, with a smirk on his face. I knew you'd be back. He said, and kissed her before she could say anything. It wasn't midnight yet, but he was always so forward. It's one of the things Taylor had liked about him.

They walked, they talked, they laughed, and each time her eyes grew wider and her heart beat a little faster. By the time midnight came, and it was the New Year, they shared an easy, subtle kiss.

But it wasn't what Taylor was looking for.

Next was John Mayer. He appeared with his guitar. He sang a tune, custom made for her. It spoke of a glass cup that only ever fell in love with stones, and the harder the stones loved her, the more likely they were to break her heart.

His kiss was briefer. He wasn't the one.

Taylor pulled out yet another pearl and called out Harry Styles. He was hard to find. About two dozen girls thronged him and it took Taylor a while to separate him from all of them. By the time she did it was already a quarter to midnight.

Harry said he missed her then wound his hands around her waist and planted a kiss on her neck, which bloomed up to her face and grew wild but lovely petals on her lips. They didn't pull apart till quarter past 12. Taylor was thrilled. Harry was always so passionate

But passion is not love.

Taylor tried another three, was triply dissapointed and tired. She pulled out another pearl, deciding then, that it would be her last.

Austin. She said feebly.

Fireworks lit up the sky, reflecting upon her face in strokes of red, blue, yellow and green.The world around was as a chameleon changing colours, but his lips did not change. They were soft on hers, gentle, and sweet.

It wasn't till a minute later she pulled back and gazed into his eyes. She saw yet another stroke of fire explode in them. She thought to herself. This is love. It has to be.

Taylor decided then that this was the future she wanted, with Austin. He was the one! She bit her lips and grabbed onto the collars of his shirt. Ready to pull him in again, but there was resistance this time, albeit slight. The wonder in his eyes suddenly gave way to hesitation; he looked at her and almost enunciated the word "sorry "with his facial expression.

Slowly he peeled her hands off him, like bandages from a healed wound. Then offering one last cursory smile, he turned away and began to make his way through the crowd. He was going home, to his past, present and future.

He left without her.

“Strange infatuation seems to grace the evening tide. I want you to be free, but it is your sorrow that has made a slave of me... I wish to know how to keep you... You rise like a tide in my oceans, shine bright like the moon over them, and darken the sky when you mysteriously leave... “― Oksana Rus

“Some men can love forever, some for six years, some for six months, and others for six hours.” 

― Michael Bassey Johnson

AKIN, PAW PAW AND THE XMAS GOATVAN VICKER in THE WINTER THAT NEVER ENDS

VAN VICKER in THE WINTER THAT NEVER ENDS

It looked as though the sky were a pillow case that had been ripped wide open, letting fall little white flakes upon the face of the earth.

Van Vicker blew warm air into his cold hands and looked out into the horizon. South Africa was going to have a very severe winter this year. All around him people were dressed in defiance of the snow they so loved, embracing and caressing the powdery ice with thick gloves and even thicker sweaters.His breaths were like the manifestations of ghosts, white and airy. He had to get inside, but not before one last call.

She didn't pick up. Again.

He had been waiting for her for two weeks now. When he lodged into the hotel he had been so bold as to tell the receptionist that he was expecting a guest, but for 14 days he had waited and for 14 days she didn't show up. Promising each time and failing. Now she wasn't even picking his calls anymore.

He made his way back to the hotel, a defeated man. It would be a long winter indeed. Inside he took off some layers of his clothing and tossed them on the floor. He took off his gloves and put his face in his hands. They were cold, but soon they caught warm tears from his eyes like buckets beneath a leaky roof. She had broken him, something his lost childhood and challenging adolescence couldn't do. He had let her in way too deep and she had struck him where he was most vulnerable.

The tears ran on for the next seven minutes, then his red eyes grew tired. He reached into his duffel bag and brought out a picture. It was her face, captured in a moment of pure happiness. Van Vicker made up his mind then. If she would not return,then he would cease to live.

His first instinct was to buy some pills and attempt an overdose, but then that would take a while and they could revive him. So he figured he would buy a gun, but then he didn't know the inner workings of the streets of SA, where would he get one? So he opted for the most traditional form of suicide; death by hanging.

The world outside was still feverishly cold but his blood ran red hot.He carried a chair and placed it beneath the fan. Then he climbed upon it. The height seemed about right. He took the bed sheet in his hand and tied it into knots, then he swung it round the fan thrice to shorten its length. He took a deep breath, thinking it was his final, and put the noose around his neck. He bit his lower lip, stifled a cry and kicked the chair down.

In that moment wherein the bullet travels through the nozzle of a gun into brain matter; wherein the severed arteries gush out red liquid; wherein the bodies immune systems rages war against poison; in that moment between life and suicide, the bodies survival instinct kicks in. Van Vicker thrashed his hands and gasped for breath, involuntarily wanting to abort what he had voluntarily ventured into. He spun and pulled at the noose round his neck, but it only seemed to get a little tighter. He grew weaker, and weaker still.

Snap!

The fan was built for luxury, not durability, and the moment Van Vicker hung his entire weight upon it, it began to give way. Now he lay on the floor, a broken fan inches from his head. He lay on the floor coughing and wheezing, wondering what would cause him to go so far.

Her perfume was the first thing he became aware of, before her presence. He had left a key for her at the reception, and now there she stood looking down at him, surprised

but not overly so.

In six long steps she was kneeling by his side. Her scent bathed him.

Are you okay? She asked and picked his head off the ground and placed it on her lap.

He didn't answer her, he didn't need to. An army of the word "no"lay about him. He took his head off her lap and reclined against the bedstead.

Van. It was his name, but the way she said it, like it meant sorry and all sorts of other things all at the same time. What are you doing? She asked.

Waiting for you Rose. Each word struggled to get through the death clamp of his teeth. He was angry. Waiting, like I've been for the past eight months! You said we could be together. His anger gave way to sorrow now and his voice broke into sobs. You said, you've forgiven me, and all I had to do was to prove myself, and here I am, and you kept me waiting for the past two weeks! The anger roared back into his voice for the latter half of his statement.

Rose wasn't taken aback by his ambivalence; it seemed she half expected it. Slowly she moved her body so that she sat directly across him. Then she rested her chin on her knee, contemplating a reply. You have a lot of nerve....she began.

Van looked at her, perplexed. Excuse me?

I said you have a lot of nerve! You think this is love? She stretched out her hand to gesture at the vestige of his failed suicide attempt. You think you did this for me? You're still a boy Van, a petty little boy. You would've died and it would've all been over for you .But me, you would have left me with blood on my hands, how did you expect me to live after that? You say you've been waiting for me for eight months? I've been in tears for the past eight months! I forgave you for sleeping with her; I really did, but forget? I couldn't. I can't. Tears streamed down her face. I've been cold Van, what you did, it’s ruined me. I've been cold. I've been trapped in this winter for the past eight months, trapped in a winter that never ends.

I'm, sorry. Was all he could manage to say.

I know you are. She said and wiped her eyes. She got up. But I've got to find the summer in me again, and if you love me, if you really love me, you'll wait. She began to leave but paused when she got to the door. She turned round to look at him. Clean up this mess she said and then she was gone.

"But I chose the life, I chose the life, then I realized, She might have been the one. I let it go for a little fun."The Weeknd.

TAYLOR SWIFT, THE NEW YEAR KISS

AKIN, PAW PAW, AND THE XMAS GOAT.

Akin sat under the oil palm with a stone he found peculiar. It was smooth to the touch but ragged to sight. It seemed to crack the palm nuts with ease, the way a fork for instance, would crack an egg. It was so easy he had to restrain himself, else the nut and it's edible innards would be utterly smashed, leaving nothing behind but a black spot on the ground.

Paw Paw came running along just then, in a hurry. He had just stolen one of Mama Ojodus smoked fishes. She always sunned them on her roof, and Paw Paw had observed the phenomena long enough to map out it's time frame. She would-at quarter to twelve-sweep her compound, thoroughly so, such that the sand that made up the grounds would take on an appearance distinguished from its surrounding and become a bed of ground gold. Then she would feed the chickens, singing long forgotten hymns as she did so. After this, she would disappear into her hut for about 30 minutes, perhaps preparing her wares for preservation. She would come out with a tray of dead but healthy Titus fishes. She would turn to face her hut, as if about to say farewell, but rather than raise a hand she would lift her entire 235 pounds on the soles of her feet, stretching, till she could-just barely-place the tray on-top of her roof. This was usually around 12:50pm.

Paw Paw knew that it would be difficult to reach up to the roof. And that it would be the sole difficulty because after placing the smoked fish on her roof, Mama Ojodu would retire into her hut, going to bathe at her backyard, or do whatever it is old women do in their free time. Paw Paw knew all of this, what he did not know was that Mama Ojodu had purchased for herself a Christmas goat.

It was a goat wasn't it?

Paw Paw wasn't too sure; it looked like a goat; it had horns like a goat; and possessed a stout tail, but for all intents and purposes what he had encountered in Mama Ojodus compound was no goat. It was a beast, with the territorial arrogance of a dog and the ferocity to match. Paw Paw had just managed to get two sturdy metal buckets on-top each-other when he saw the animal out of the corner of his eye. Initially he had thought it was Akin, for no other reason but wishful thinking, Akin always made a fine accomplice. But what stared up at Paw Paw was not his tried and trusted friend; it was a goat-dog hybrid if there ever was one. It didn't budge when Paw Paw attempted to intimidate it.

Yet Paw Paw didn't mind having the onlooker, after all a goat is no viable witness, but there was something about the way the goat looked at him, Paw Paw did not appreciate it. He took a smoked fish and tossed it at the creature, expecting it to run away. The fish landed a few feet from the goats head. It didn't shrink back in fear, rather the goat took three tentative steps forward, with It's snout to the ground. Then the goat did something that had Paw Paw toppling over his ladder of buckets even though no one pushed him. The goat picked up the fish with its teeth and consumed it in three large bites. Then he lowered his head again-keeping his eyes on Paw Paw-and gave a guttural growl: like a wolf, like a predator.

Paw Paw was out of there seconds later, running as fast as he could, not looking back, not wanting to. It was merely the site of his best-friend sitting aloofly whilst an unprecedented evil lurked not to far away-that had stopped him.

Akin didn't believe him, his friend was always playing pranks and no doubt this was one of such. Akin shrugged him off, saying he'd sit there and face whatever danger was to come.

Paw Paw found himself in a dilemma, leave his bosom buddy to an undesirable fate and save himself? Or wait it out, see what happens. The latter appeared more honorable. So Paw Paw took a sit by his friends’ side, waiting for it to come, the stubborn goat.

It did come.

Paw Paw sprang to his feet and pointed in its direction, so that Akin may see for himself, the source of his consternation. Ahead of them was a cloud of smoke, approaching rapidly. Akin began to get up, suddenly perturbed. He was already on his feet and inching backwards when the Range Rover came up the slope.

Akin hissed and reclaimed his sit. The Range Rover raced past them, raising dust in its wake. Paw Paw apologized for the mistake profusely, but insisted that they leave nevertheless. Akin would hear none of it.

Then it happened again. This time the dust was somewhat singular, as though something far smaller than a range rover-but just as powerful- approached. It was the stubborn goat. Paw Paw knew it, Paw Paw said it, Akin heard it and Akin would not listen, not this time.

The horns became visible first, then the nostrils, breathing fire and brimstone, then the eyes. It was the eyes that had Paw Paw fleeing. His best-friend would have to fend for himself, besides the goat was after him, maybe it would leave Akin alone. So Paw Paw left him.

Akin didn't look up to acknowledge his departure. Nor did he look up when the goat ran past him. Akin just sat there, staring at his special stone that could crack a nut with a single, light, touch.

                                                                      

           “The instrument of our salvation is often too foolish to consider.” Anonymous.