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Head of The Table Kneel and Pray
Stained glass patterned a male like image, glued and held by calms which was just lead and a rigid frame, blue pieces represented the sky, brown represented the man’s beard while light brown and black stood for the skin and the hair, an additional creamy white glass fractures represented the eyes, artistically brought together voila! Within the concave shaped gap in the wall and well located for the sun’s reflection the very presence of Saint Francis the Third filled the manyatta architectural structured Holy place for the Lord the Francis Deliverance Church, named after the saint himself. Though few knew of the saint stories circulated passed from a generation to the next via stories, nearly unrecognizable ages ago pictures, and various physical objects like a rosary with black beads but the third stained in red which was said to be the saint’s blood after he refused to deny his faith and a wooden cross which was said to be the saint’s used to stand for his faith and which he never
Head of The Table Tears of a son
“Mother where is father?”, tears followed afterwards a scenario that played its scene over the past decade or so, she never had enough in her to tell her son who his father really was, from birth he had blurry images off a man in a beard and the hefty manly laughter… a birthday later the picture grew more vivid, bulging eyes, short hair, big ears, brown hairy skin till that was it, electrocute his brain to a crisp that’s all he could figure out. Day after day in class he saw kids with a gender with no breasts, tall and intimidating, jawlines different and voices heavier, only later he realized that he was from that very gender, his reflection was the minor self of his much older version… problem was he never met him, well technically he had not met him since he grew weary of his senses and made use of his IQ to match colors and draw shapes. The boy grew emotionally hungry, the presence of his father figure was a key stone in shaping his sense the manly way, every Saturday night he se
Head of The Table Wish granted
The cry of a son, night after night sheering with grief for the deeds of his father, was it an accident was it not? It doesn’t matter, not anymore, the fun times of his father poisoned his lungs, corroded each cell day after day, and he the perpetrator, his own father was nowhere in sight, ghosted his entire family for what money, glory, power, a mistress? He lacked answers, answers for questions he pondered all those days he saw kids his age with two of opposite gender while he had one, questions that brought tears to his mother, brought him endless nights, he filled the gaps with his own but no… there was only one answer. On his hospital bed, he wished for one thing as his clock approached death time, “Where is my dad?”, he couldn’t ask his mother, the last memory he would curse was his mother’s tears because of his wish, so as he glared at his dripper, drop after drop he counted, “One, two… eleven, thirteen… forty two...” he had nothing else to do but to count till he fell asleep
Head of The Table To the Beginning
Refugees in their own country, caged within the wires they smelted and bars they engraved their initials, hide and seek has been their life for the past harsh times they have struggled to survive. The last time they had a meal worthy for a human was days back in the mansion but since then they growled like wolves hungry to devour a medium sized burger divided amidst the three. Friends turned on them by the life changing fortune of the bounty on their head in the black market, they had themselves to trust, they to watch the back of the other, interdependent to each other, brotherhood affirmed by the cruel hell shit they were in. That evening as usual cards was the passing time activity in their hideout, while one was on lookout two would play and loser took the next shift, that day’s shift was Mist’s shift, poor sucker lost three times in a row so he was there for the next three hours, meanwhile the brother knights Mila and Risa shuffled the cards, eyes on their own, they played and p
Head of The Table Is it Love or Lust?
What is love and what is lust? Are they different or just the same synonyms of the other? Facts have answers, psychologists have their own, elders’ same answers shaded in a different limelight, but now what was Robert’s category under because it certainly wasn’t both L’s or was it? While the two were on their suicide missions, one on a road trip with lions while another on undercover in a Barbarian countryside, Priest boy was walking in the shadows of Sodom and Gomorrah. Bury had set sail when he unveiled Robert’s true colors, now what he had to do was use these colors to paint his dark world into his happily ever after dream but there was a catch there was always a catch. The early nineties, miniskirts were brought in the market and did it trend faster than a wild fire in the dry grasses of the Carnary Hills and also came the impurities it sewed within its velvet gold threads. In those days, men were cuffed by the gentleman’s rule, “Respect a woman because she is the replica of your
Head of The Table Surprises
Surprises, surprises… the world itself is a surprise, so if it hurts you, kills you, gives you a wife or takes away your mother, a surprise is a surprise because… if it wasn’t seen coming what was it? Now the crew was in for a bucketful of surprises, each bigger than the last, but what remained was will they find a way to outsmart this unforeseen complication or will they end up back, all their sacrifice for nothing. It dawned at last, when reality and fantasy was drawn in black to know just what this band of different circumstances could actually pull off, the clock was ticking, hearts were pounding, breaths became more tensed because surprisingly it wasn’t just the breakout that was on the day’s agenda. Gauntlets did the impossible a game from elimination in the semi finals they substituted in their magic stone, their ember, Collins Ramber, dark skinned, 5-5 tall, God given talent when handling the ball on his toes and did he use the talent well. Two goals down and five minutes o
Head of The Table Too much kills
One clinched for love, another barged in lust, the other hungered vengeance… these three emotions, the driving force behind each, but at this moment… the most hectic of what they confess in their life… death played its random game, the childhood song Britain toddlers looped within, the Italians skipped roped with, Madagascar three-year-olds would drive their mothers nuts… three candidates, death made its choice. The sudden change in everything literally, the rag was slipped from under their feet and the butcher had the knife and the meat. While they were busy arguing seconds ago, they were inconsiderate of the greedy bastard lurking who never hesitated to devise his conning way out of this or was it into? Whatever it was he was definitely not in the plan but as the drunkards falling in the Nile shores murmur wrenching alcohol not even hyenas could stand ten feet close to them, “always be prepared”. Now this blonde back stabbing guard had demands expensive ones, he was aware of this w
Head of The Table History’s fate
“Where are we?” one asked impatiently because this was not it, “Um… we are close.” he answered hesitantly, by the looks this was going south like way south. Was is it a wrong turn or did they go too straight… “F**k!” he cursed under his breath, this was his fault if he were serious about this mission instead of going lovey with his Romeo, they would not be surrounded by rusted tin can, old janitorial equipment, and a straight dead end. Tension built, they put their trust in him and he was leading them into deep shit than they got themselves in courtesy of him, Robert had taken charge of leading the way claiming he knew the prison and an old route abandoned which led to kitchen back where the next phase lay, but if his plan involved an old retirement home and a dead end then he his life was on the brick. Cobra was the most threatening because he was thirsty for both Robert and his mate’s blood claiming their sacrifice was necessary because they were more holding them back than pushing