I sat at my table. It was Wednesday. I had sandwiches and a ginger beer on Wednesdays. I sat silently observing everyone around me. A woman who was trying to shut up her two year old in vain, the potbellied man who looked at the daily paper like he was going to enter into its black and white depths, the sullen looking teenager who wouldn’t stop chewing on gum, smacking his lips in sickening fashion.
Famutimi Femi is a writer who's been told he's pretty good at what he does, he doesn't believe anyone though, so he mopes half the time. When he's not moping he's either agonizing about who Arsenal's going to buy, what anime to watch next or which rock music to scream over. He lives in Lagos, Nigeria, sometimes Hogwarts, or Narnia when it's not stupidly cold.
Clark cracked open his eyes. The sun had just started to come out in all its glory. It took him some time to get his bearings as he stared at the ceiling. He tried to shake off the depression he felt creeping in, but it just kept coming. He sighed
Lois stirred beside him. He turned to her and smiled. It had been almost a decade, and she still looked as beautiful and feisty as ever. He was still as in love with her as he was the first time he saw her. Her almond shaped eyes, her strong nose and the hard line that was her mouth; even now she was frowning slightly in her sleep. Then slowly, as Clark watched, she opened her eyes. She saw him and smiled.
In a galaxy not so far away, I stood in the command centre of the ‘Sinero’ (don’t ask i have no idea why we named it that either) and took in the sights I was privy to through the strong Plexiglas that stood between us and outer space.
The space station was the pride and joy of our defence corps; it has regularly been defined as the sturdiest structure in the world. We were probably the most elite force in the world but we didn’t even have a name; we just kinda called ourselves the defence corps. That was it, but we were feared and revered all over the world.
“Get your things now!” screamed Tolani Williams at his teenage daughter, Ashley. He was frantically stuffing things into a little duffel bag.
“Daddy? What’s going on? Where are we going?” asked, the clearly terrified teenager.
He looked at her. She still looked beautiful even with the strain of the last couple of days. She had lost weight. She had her mother’s high cheekbones, bright eyes and full lips. Her natural hair was neck length. It looked haggard now, but so did his. He hadn’t shaved in over a week, his hair was a mess and he was sure his clothes stank
Paul awoke suddenly, bed drenched in sweat. He looked around him to get his bearing. He couldn’t see much. There was no power.
‘Thanks Nepa!’ he thought. He was alone in his room. He glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table; it read 5:02am. He sighed, if he slept for an hour more, he’d have to get to work. He ran a hand through very short hair and rubbed his eyes, what was the dream he was having again? He could have sworn that he was having a dream. His heart relaxed, he hadn’t even realized it was beating fast, he took a deep breath and gave the room another once over. Whether because he was afraid of some unseen intruder or because he just liked peering into the darkness, he had no idea.
23rd of December…Whatever
I don’t understand humans. Another Christmas is looming and here I am, at the busiest time of the year, sitting and wondering if all of this is even worth it.
My name is Santa. Why I feel the need to remind myself of that is worrying. My age? Doesn’t matter. I am responsible for giving little kids – and adults – presents and all that stuff.
I’m growing disillusioned though. The world is changing and I’m not sure if I like it.