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  • Writer's pictureJames Kidac

17 hours ago..

Your heart is cold. Your breath is warm, your body is made of blood that is red but i only felt the cold, cold ice that is your heart. Burnt with apathy, sickened with mockery and beaten in entirety, your scaly hand still haunts the skin of my sweaty right palm. The nursery rhyme occasionally plays out in the marketplace. The familiar old radio ekes out what's left of its batteries through jarring sounds, pauses and the occasional nursery rhyme that goes " dum, ta, dum" and drones off.. The shops aligned together was a bustling lot and no one could tell about its checkered past. A boy with a blade that was so big it could eclipse the sun walked into its precinct. A worn out radio on the table of a shop selling ice drinks played out happy tunes that hold no hint of sorrow and the boy was just stoic. He listened to the tunes that go "dum, ta, dum" which drones off and he remembered happier times that were once a reality.. Were they? It wasn't the same town that the boy could relate to, and it wasn't a familiar sight to behold, but its people were the gems that glittered and littered around this place. Everyone had smiles, and looked like behind their smiles, only happiness encapsulates their being there. He hesitated a step further into this happy town, ashamed that his tiredness, his honour, his existence, his painful heart and broken memories that do not befit a place as precious as this. Of course, this was a biased view from a biased man and more often than not, a biased man is not one with logic. He never said to himself that he was a loving man. Perhaps to him, it wasn't enough. Nothing would ever fill the gap of a rejected heart. "Young one, why aren't you inside this happy town? Come on in.. " said an Old Man who eyed the young lad from his stall that greeted the visitors immediately at the entrance of the town. "Where are you from?" asked an Old Man who had slits for eyes, eye sags for eye lashs, a big nose for a big nose and he wore a nice red cloak. His wrinkles protrude out of his forehead and looked like scars that never healed. But his mouth was wide with smiles, his presence seemed only capable of loving another and his tone was soft and gentle. "I am from the lands of the forsaken, my good sir. I do not deserve the welcome of this town. I am scarred with too many pains of the world to feel at ease. I feel like a vermin who will only cause discomfort to you." said the boy almost patiently, but in a muffle. A frail hand found its way onto a nervous young lad's shoulder and squeezed it to give reassurance that a visitor, no matter his background, was always welcomed into their lands. "Promise me, we walk without pre-conditions and baggages of the past. For these are all i ask of you and no more, 'An'." "An?" "It is the word for friend in my village, if you allow me to call you as such." "Yes of course, and I will try my best.." the boy, sad but still loving, understood his words and tried to put on a faint smile that seeped of sorrow but nonetheless, a start..

#Personalblog #2008

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