Facebook says today is my birthday day. Happy birthday day to me!! and Even though there’s no cake, I blew out some candles anyway; and the first wish that came to my mind when I closed my eyes was that
you guys would stop complaining so much about politicians.
On my Radio and TV all I hear is politicians. Senator drives this, Governor bought that, 16 billion dollar this… I have one Question: Is it your money????Ans: Well, actually it is your money but… high BP is hard to treat. I’m just saying. Don’t worry so much.
Back to the matter. Those of you who wished me a happy birthday, this piece is for you. If you didn’t wish me a happy birthday tho, then you can go and klimb kufena mountain and fall this is for you too.
Before I proceed with the freebie I want to warn that this book is very gender sensitive.. or is it gender insensitive? I mean there’s a lot of gender stuff going on. So grow some skin.
This one is called LAID TO REST. Enjoy.
To download LAID TO REST in .pdf please click here
Oh, and this is the crude cover…
P/S Don’t forget to check out my Amazon page for books, comics and lots more content. Thanks for reading. Feel free to Comment if you like. *smile emoji*
Think thick unshaven beard, pointed nose with a flat cap shadowing over the thickest pair of glasses you ever saw. For a security guard he seemed uninterested in the duffel bag strapped around my shoulder. His neck turned slowly, eerily, following my steps as I strutted towards the departure doors. I did well to avoid his gaze till I already had one foot in the building; then I spared a glance..
For some reason I was drawn to the print on the left breast of his shirt the most. “Gobkeen” it read. “Gobkeen” I muttered. The man nodded at me. In an instant he had risen from his seat and walked away. The lump in my chest never even had time to settle. Who was this man?What the hell was Gobkeen?
I head straight for my boarding pass. For some reason the queues are burgeoning on every airline but mine. I ask the attendant if there’s been a change in flight times (can they do that?), she assures me there isn’t. Soon a balding man approaches me from behind. Stubbed chin, thin creases around his nose and the most uninviting smile you ever saw.. “I can’t believe it’s really you!” he says. “I just love your movies.”
My movies? I had never known a set or a stage, yet this man showers praise on me for mastering them. I do not know enough to play along, so I raise my hand in protest, but he takes it in his.. “Especially Gobkeen, it brought tears to my eyes.” and just like that, he had disappeared from my sights. The attendants are observing me curiously from above their computers. I take my passport back.
The departure lounge is filled with travellers, but for some reason the seats opposite me remain empty. Until she appears. Long eyelashes, press permed hair, and the largest earrings you ever saw. Before I can avert my eyes she points her camera phone in my direction. Emblazoned in the casing are the same seven words that have trailed me all night. “Gobkeen?” I question her. She nods slowly, eerily, pointing to the large glass sheet exposing the runway. My flight is arriving. I do not think I should take it.
I hope you’ve had a great year.. mine was pretty rough, dude. Mostly because I lost my three best friends. You might know them, there’s
One evening, Kate walks up to me looking fine. So fine, I had to stare at her large forehead to remind myself I was in the friendzone. Earlier that day she’d texted that she needed some advice. What better place to give it to her than on a table for two at a five star restaurant?
You could tell by my new tux that it wasn’t a big deal for me.. and the 15 carat engagement ring in my left pocket? meh, just something i’d picked up from the store earlier. I hate when my left pocket is empty.
Kate told me she was a sex addict. That she loved men of all shapes and sizes, and she didn’t know why. By the look in her eyes I knew I didn’t fit the description. But I gave the best advice I could. I told her to use a condom. When I got home, first thing I did was throw the ring in the garbage.
The very next day she met someone new, Charles he was called. Charles must know a really good restaurant because the first thing she did was forget my advice. She goes and gets herself pregnant then comes crying to me to help her. I tell her everything will be alright…
Turns out Charles was like a king or something in some town in Europe. Turns out he’s cool with the baby and he wants to get married to Kate.
I haven’t heard from her since. But her last facebook status went something like..
“shoutout to the haters that told me to play it safe”
Mal was no quitter.
Even though I liked her strong will, all we really had in common was rock music. She was the only girl I knew who never put on makeup. She wore whatever the fuck she wanted.
One day she writes me a frantic message. Turns out one of the soldiers outside her house really doesn’t like rock music. Like really really doesn’t. The dude gets mad everytime he hears her phone play. She asks me for advice. “What do I do about him?” she writes. I give her my best.
“Buy some headphones” I say. Seems simple enough. You get your precious rock music, and the mysterious ‘outside soldier’ gets to leave you alone. I should have told her to get glasses too. I don’t think she saw my reply..
One morning she’s outside blaring some Led Zeppelin on high stereo. The soldier has had enough. He pumps three bullets into Mal, and she loses her footing. There’s children running all over the street. Siri wises up and turns off the playlist. She’s unconscious.
Next thing you know some helicopter from Europe or something picks her up on its way to the hospital. They take out the bullets and make her well again. Soon she’s appearing on interviews and talk shows and stuff. She’s a rock legend now.
One day I receive a small package. It’s from Mal. I’m really excited when I open it. Inside there’s a pair of headphones and a note. I grab the note, I’m so happy I’ll be hearing from Mal again. The words jump out from the paper..
“You wear them!”
I think she saw my reply.
Red is… well, was not the smartest of friends to have. She was always laughing about something. It’s amazing how her teeth were so white, what with all the drugs she did.
One day she tells me drugs are ‘stealing her personality’, which sounds hilarious at first, but for once she isn’t laughing when she says it, so I know its been eating at her for a while. She asks me what to do.
I know I’m on a poor streak when it comes to giving advice, but somehow I felt really confident about telling her to layoff the drugs. I’d seen how drug addicts behave on TV, always zoned out and looking terrible. I wanted none of that for Red. I knew I’d done the right thing.
Red must have been wearing earmuffs that day because next thing you know, she and her boyfriend go to meet some koreans for some new type of high. Somehow her boyfriend is killed, and then she’s kidnapped by drug dealers. They sew in an entire bag of the stuff into her lower abdomen..
Next thing you know she gets so high that she can control gravity and read people’s minds. She can separate radio waves and time travel and shit. Soon she like, leaves her physical form and becomes an omnipotent being or something that can control technology and electricity and stuff.
I haven’t heard from the girl since when she left me a flash drive, containing all the reasons I’m a stupid asshole..
I’m at the club right now and I’ve just met a lovely girl in a sequin dress. She says her boyfriend is a maniac and she wants to leave him. She asks me what to do. I know exactly what to say.
This is an excerpt from the mystery thriller ‘THROUGH SHADED EYES’
It was named so because of the cracked views of many of the characters
(or maybe because it cost me so many sleepless nights)
In this book every chapter plays like a chapter of its own. So I have leaked below the entire first chapter for your consideration 🙂
You can find the complete book ‘THROUGH SHADED EYES’ here.
“I know that it is not in my place to ask questions… but may I ask, why you look so worried?”
“You may not.”
“Then I will not. But for your safety, I must be prepared for whatever lays ahead, so that I can protect you from – “
“ – for your safety, you mean.”
“Never my king. I would gladly lay down my life in your service.”
“Then drive faster.”
“We are nearly there.” the car driver said, dimming the lights. It was the early hours of the morning. The air was still dark and awaiting sunlight. “We must tread cautiously. Not many villagers know these parts…”
The car swerved into an uneven lawn creating a pathway of tracks where none had ever reached before. The driver spoke up once more.
“My king I must give you something.” he said, reaching into his pocket quickly and unveiling from his green top a small glass vial. The soonest he had handed it over he replanted both hands on the steering wheel, as though afraid it may have fallen off its hinges if he didn’t.
“What is this supposed to be?” the man in the passenger seat said, squinting at the vial curiously. It looked empty, but only because it was filled with a clear fluid.
“My king, do not be offended. It is a charm, a charm from the white doctors. It is said that it can put a full grown man to sleep in a manner of momen – Do not open it!” he added quickly when the man made to unseal the small bottle.
The driver continued.
“It is very powerful, my king.. unknown in the village. It can protect you in case – “
“No protection is greater than those of the gods in this village.” the man said, returning the vial with a look of disapproval.
The slouching driver kept shut. In the land, no one argued with the king; he was the opus, and yet he was being driven to the edges of the kingdom by only one of his royal guard, the throne servant – Francis.
Francis was a huge man with a huge frame, the most trusted of the king’s men. At the moment he was little short of totally petrified. In fact, his only reluctance – in turning the car backwards and speeding for the safety of the palace – was the oath he had sworn to keep the king’s word at all times. A royal oath of the greatest reverence in the land, and at the moment the king’s word was to keep moving.
The Mercedes 300sl came to a halt in front of a small two-storey building of clay bricks. The light of the morning had begun its sluggish rise. Out of the passenger seat emerged King Kiko Onigo, the kingdom’s topmost symbol of eminence. His rich white robes shone affluence on the air around him; a handsome light toned man with a heavy jaw and impressive beard. His long and gracious sheen had never been cut since his birth. His eyes were fully set on the building ahead, and he proceeded toward it without delay. Francis hurried to overtake him with a cold sweat running down his temple. The king was never to be so exposed. He was the only thing that stood between the king and an uncertain evil that lay ahead, yet he had very little information on the reason for their journey. He was not to ask questions, only to obey orders.
With a quickened pace the pair burst into the clay house doorway and stopped to glance around. The floor was deserted of any human life but their own and supported a dank odour that could not be left unnoticed. Francis unsheathed a 15 inch long blade from a machete pocket on the side of his broad hip. His massive frame alone could have intimidated any living thing. The ground floor was bare, with an eerie presence filling the void. The chest of the unfazed king heaved once, and immediately he headed for the small staircase in the corner with his ward. The music of their shoes echoed throughout the building as they climbed, the royal guard’s muscle tone looking ever more impressive as he gripped the machete harder.
The stairs terminated at a corridor that boasted of four rooms – two on each side, and a dead end. The expression on the face of the king tensed even further. Francis led the way. Cautiously they edged towards the first room. Slowly Francis placed a hand on its handle and pressed down upon it, the door opened. He swung it forwards with great force and sprang into the room with his machete raised high… but no opponent would be granted him. By the emerging morning light of the opposite open window all he saw were three bundles of aged firewood.
The pair sneaked toward the second door on the opposite wall, breathing deeply. The king had his shoulders bunched in an awkward stance, as though he were stooping to get through a short doorway. Francis swung the second door open with great velocity but its creaks revealed nothing but a window and an old rocking chair laying on its side. Suddenly, a ruffling noise came to them from the room ahead. Francis lit up instinctively. In caution they edged towards it sprawled against the wall and creases developed all over the king’s robes. As they reached the door they heard a small noise from within. Francis made to attack, but the culprit had already fled in flight – a small hawk flapped away through the window and soared into the sky. The room was otherwise empty.
Francis straightened up. If truly another soul lurked in the building, of good hearing, surely it must have been aware of their presence by now. With that knowledge he approached the fourth door in a calm stroll and casually parted the door from its frame. Within he saw an assortment of what looked like rolled up rugs and a polished wooden beam the size of an oak tree branch.
“There is no one here.” Francis announced.
King Onigo’s face took up a mix of disappointment and anger, and he fumed at the passageway in an almost comical fashion. His thoughts that once promised of hope had returned to despair. Could the rumours have all been lies? The information he had Francis scour the kingdom for, about a kidnapping that had ended at the same building; yet it was deserted on their arrival. He had been thrown into uncertainty once again.
Francis lowered his sword and observed the king, who had ended his fit of rage and now gazed at the dull floors with a drained look. Whoever they had expected to be here was surely of great importance to him. He could have sent the entire royal guard to find them. He could have the entire kingdom in search of them if he so desired, but instead he had chosen to be brought here alone, in the company of the only other person who knew of his search. Francis saw the shroud of secrecy unnerving, unnecessary and most of all, dangerous.
The building came alive with footsteps once more but this time it did not belong to the royal pair. The attention of the king and the guard was instantly drawn to the beginning of the corridor where a mir of shadow was beginning to form. Francis suddenly attained a new awareness of the situation around him. The unknown was coming up the stairs and the king was exposed…
“My king you should get into a room… my king…”
He needed to hide him. The aliens were mere moments away; but the king had other ideas. He never budged. The fear in his eyes was nothing compared to the intensity in his face as he stared down the darkness that approached…
Two tall figures appeared in the hallway. At the sight of King Onigo and his ward they stopped dead. By the curvatures of their silhouettes they were a man and a woman. For a moment all the four did was stare at each other’s frames. Then, without warning, the male silhouette broke the inaction and started a sprint back down the stairs. Francis was unsure of what to make of the situation, but he had his blade at the ready, his thoughts aimed at protecting the king. It was to that end that his heart gave its mightiest jump of the morning, when he saw King Onigo sprinting toward the female image, which had refused to move.
“My king!” Francis screamed, and gave chase. The king was spirited in his sprint as he had never known of him. His robes parted at his sides like water waves in turbulence. He would not be able to catch up to him before he reached the beginning of the passageway.
Francis gave a loud groan…
But King Onigo never collided with the woman. In truth, they made no contact at all. He ran past her and headed for the stairs. The guard was too slowed by his bulky frame to do anything about it. For a third time that morning the hallway became a song of echoing shoes. The woman frame remained still on his approach as though asleep on her feet. Francis’ anxiety rose to a peak as he reached her, but he needed to safeguard the king. All he could manage of his curiosity as he ran past was a quick glance at her face. She looked pale with widened eyes and a drooped lip. She wasn’t standing her ground at all, only shocked out of her wits.
As Francis joined in the noisy notes that were the clattering of soles on stairs, the king was already approaching the bottom of them. The unknown man was heading for the door, his movement impeded by a noticeable limp. Francis took the steps two at a time, trying his most to keep an eye on what was unfurling below. The king ran with his head forward; he was not running away, rather giving full chase, and by the distance between them, he would reach the figure before he got to the door. In a blanket leap, the king collided into the back of the male figure, knocking him off his feet and unto the hard floor in a flurry of grunts. The king turned him on his back, and bore down on him in a panting conquest.
“Where did you keep her?!” King Onigo screamed, bunching his palms upon the man’s aged shirt threateningly. “Where did you keep her!”
“Who?” The man looked a middle age pauper with stubbles all over his jaw and chin and cheekbones that almost protruded through the skin that housed them. The rest of his face was a blur of raging sweat.
“I will have your head severed from its shoulders if you do not speak now!” King Onigo demanded, as Francis appeared beside them.
“Where did you keep her!”
“Who?!” The man was clearly in pain. “I do not know!!”
“Where is Meriola? TELL ME WHERE SHE IS!”
Francis’ ears prickled at the sound of the name. They were the only step closer he had come to understanding the king’s actions.
“I do not know! I donot know! Please I came looking for her too!!
“SPEAK NOW OR DIE!”
“I swear it! I came looking for her too. I – I weave raffia. I weave raffia with her that is what I do for a living! I heard she was brought here so I came to see if it was true. Please don’t kill me!”
King Onigo looked into the man’s face, fuming. He wanted to hit him, injure him, pierce him, do anything to feel like he had bought himself closer to finding Meriola, but the fear in the man’s eyes was unmistakable. It would be all for nothing. He let go of the man; his spirits once more returned to cinders. Francis quickly made to help him on his feet. The king was never to have such interactions with commoners.
First off, lemme say that Harry Potter is a good book.. err books, there’s 7 of them, so if you have read them, I want to state, that I solemnly swear, that the following read is not meant to undermine the book – books (darn it) in any way and is for comedic purposes. If you haven’t read the books, you’re in luck, because the funny words I’m about to say – write may seem even more fascinating to you. So stick around..
Harry Potter is a series of children’s books (and movies) written by JK Rowling (that’s Witch Mrs. JK Rowling to you muggle!) in which a young boy discovers he’s a wizard, and is introduced to the world of magic through Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry
They’re books literally ‘riddled’ with symbolism, many of which may have been missed by the passive reader, and some of which, I’m about to outline:
1. The Wizarding world is highly inaccurate
As with most fantasy books, Harry Potter’s world is filled with inadequate structuring and succeeds in jumbling the laws of Physics, Mathematics, Biology, Chemistry, and even English to its will. It’s a world where trees move and Owls deliver letters better than the postman. Given the architecture of Hogwarts, many parts of it should have crumbled as they were built. Disappearing food (against better judgment) is trusted, and a 100 pound man could become a 3 ounce mouse. Amazingly, before Harry’s first trip to Hogwarts, he gets to fabled platform 9 ¾ by running through the middle of a wall separating platforms 9 and 10. Mathematically that would make it Platform 9 ½, unless they ran at it from an angle, or my knowledge of the London Underground is faulty.
But then what good would it do if I questioned the comfort of riding a wooden broomstick, or why a certain group of students are made to sleep in dungeons, and others in towers..
2. 7 Books = 7 Horcruxes
This assumption may be too sly to make, but can’t be ignored completely. As early as the second book (Harry Potter and the chamber of secrets), it is hinted that 7 is a magical number and the book’s lead villain, Voldemort (you can say his name now) splits his soul into 7 pieces (Horcruxes) in an attempt to “live forever”.
Maybe even more sly, that the first Horcrux happens to be a ‘diary’, which is also a book, and the series is dictated like a yearly memoir.
It would seem that JK would want her readers to believe that her books were a gateway to immortality and should be shielded from harm, lest pieces of your soul were destroyed..
3. The Wizarding World is Unsafe
If the world is unsafe enough as it is, the HP world is even more so. Every wizard or witches’ wand plays like a silenced gun, ready to take anyone out at any moment. The community is basically a group of assassins with or without a license to kill, as you are entitled to a wand as early as the age of 11.
Speaking of kids, Hogwarts isn’t safe for them either. Geographically and ethically so. Who’s to say an 11 yr old wouldn’t fancy an unguided swim in the lake of doom one day, or approach the giant tree that’s always whacking everything? Early in the series, a giant three headed dog is placed in the school, and the students are told to stay away from the corridor. But in a school where corridors move, how would someone tell what corridor they were on? Or even worse, what if the dogs broke loose?
In Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Hermoine indicates that Hogwarts is a fortress, which is debatable. In HP and the prisoner of Azkaban, convicted innocent Sirius Black passes into the school by ‘simply’ turning into a dog. The student dorms are guarded by… portraits, literally, but with passwords, for that secure feel. Students are even taught lessons in a dark forest, where they are introduced to magical, bloodthirsty, but beautiful, creatures.
It probably supports an argument that wizards and witches are going extinct. The ‘muggle’ world seems to hold more practical and safer alternatives to magical methods. According to the book, Wizards are even fascinated by muggles (like Mr. Weasley) so much that an entire department is dedicated to them (muggle studies), whilst in the muggle world, wizards are seen as freaks and wierdos.
4. Avada Kedavra = Abra Cadabra
A tongue-in-cheek jab at early magic show performers, who would dab their wands and say ‘Abra Cadabra’ to add credence to a trick. In the wizarding world of HP, it translates to a killing curse, which is quite ironic..
5. Go home sorting hat, you’re drunk
Many fans of the book try to allude the sorting hat some mystical powers of being able to divine what house a student belongs to, but all evidence points to the contrary. It’s a drunk hat that hears people’s thoughts when they put him (her?) on. Even if it wasn’t, whatever house a student was placed in never affected class schedules, or teaching staff, or even the friends they chose (maybe where they slept). The sword of Gryffindor was always going to present itself to a brave person even if they were from Hufflepuff house anyway. If the hat were any bit statistical, Harry would be placed in Slytherin, Hermoine would be placed in Ravenclaw, and Ron would probably be placed with Mr. Filch..
6. Names in Harry Potter
JK was generous enough to bless the series with many contrasting names of People, places, animals, things and even magical spells. Each probably done to add spice and deeper understanding to them. Either stand-alone or as anagrams each name seems to provide something special for the reader.
Who is to say it’s not coincidence that ‘Harp’-“otter” could talk to ‘Bass’-“eel”-isks? Or Argus Filch always Argued Filthy? Or Harry’s timid friend was called “Run” Weasley? Or that unfortunate things plagued Nev-“ill” Longbottom? or Wizard transport was done with Floo (Flew) Powder.. even down to the less glorious revelations like Rita ‘Skeet’-her..
7. Dumbledore drank memories
In HP and the half-blood prince, Harry Potter and his headmaster Dumbledore go to retrieve a not-so Horcrux from a cave guarded by magic. When they reach it, it’s immersed in a basin full of unnamed liquid Dumbledore is forced to drink, giving him painful hallucinations.
But wizards have been known to drink some of the nastiest things on earth. According to the books, polyjuice potion tasted terrible nasty, but they drank like champions (Barty Crouch). There’s also the every flavor beans (EVERY flavor), and recall when Ron was made to “eat slugs”? What then would be so nasty that one of the greatest wizards suffered to drink. I’ll tell you. BAD MEMORIES.
If Regulus Black really stole the necklace Horcrux then he’d have had to put an equally dark spell on the fake to give it that added sense of gloom. And with the amount of guarding the cave was given, it’s not like he’d have had a handy set of potions ready to mix. Fans already know that a Patronus is produced from a happy thought, and is powerful enough to cast away many dementors at once, and even scare Draco Malfoy out of his wits. If a happy thought could do that, how much more then, several bad thoughts?
Dumbledore would be able to recognize this instantly, having a basin of thoughts (Pensieve) of his own at home (school). And would know he needed to drink them. Remembering the only organ Dementors possess is a mouth, it would be where they are most affected by such spells. It could also explain why R.A.B sounded so optimistic in the letter. It was a gloomy place, but then, he’d transferred his gloomy thoughts to a bowl.
An added bonus: Remember when Dumbledore said to Harry “Fear of a name increases fear of a thing itself”? Harry mistook this to mean Voldermort’s name, and that other wizards were just stupid and scared of saying it. Arrogance I guess, probably inherited from his father (shoutout to Snape). But Dumbledore wasn’t talking about “Voldermort” at all. “Voldermort” was a signal used to detect wizard locations. So really Harry was the stupid one for saying it all the time… Dumbledore always called Voldermort by his true name…. Tom
P/S Don’t forget to check out my Amazon page for books, comics and lots more content. Thanks for reading. Feel free to Comment if you like. *smile emoji*
A chilling expose into the life of a troubled teenage high schooler. Intended to be as direct as possible, this short story addresses issues of isolation and depression in a surprisingly relatable manner.
ANGU is reminiscent of the famous Goosebumps series by R.L Stine in its delivery. It combines dark humour, suspense and drama. It is sure to keep you engrossed in its pages from start to finish.
An exclusive copy of ANGU is attached to this post for promotional purposes only