*Previously posted on my website, thingsifeel.com.

People come in all different psychological shapes and sizes. Some are shaped by historical trauma, others are moulded into size by a string of over-nurtured parenting, and a few are the result of trauma, a chemical imbalance, and the sum of despicable behaviours from those who are chipped and frayed at the edges. Of course, there are other categories, such as those who are the ones who inflict trauma and emotional pain unto others; though one could argue they, too, have been subjected to some similar trauma at some point in their lives.

We’re a nation of injured folk. Of bent and bruised, misshapen minds, full of contusions and soul skeletons hidden amidst the fog of our spirit.

I’m one of the injured folk. Through a culmination of all of the above. Some of which I’ve yet to pull the dust sheet off, things left hidden, until I’m ready to unveil the contents beneath, until I’m ready to sort those things into categories and boxes, until I’m ready to process. Recently, I’ve been processing a particular dent in my mind.

This specific dent came from someone who felt the need to manipulate and bend others’ opinions. A man who didn’t just manipulate opinions, but manipulated information, reality, fact. A man who scapegoated those who he felt were inferior, who lacked intelligence, strength, and wherewithal to argue, to fight against his plot.

Oh how he completely underestimated me. I wasn’t unaware of his tactics, in fact, I was all too aware of his tactics. Manipulators are pretty similar. If you learn the algorithm of one manipulator, you can spot patterns in the rest. I saw them. The red flags. The abuse. The effort to wear me down, to make me feel less, to assert his power over me, to use me as scapegoat number one when any mistakes occurred. I saw it all, and I refused to confront it. Why? Because I choose my battles carefully. Many manipulators believe their own bullshittery. You cannot “win” against someone who believes their own lies as if it’s gospel.

Instead of spending so much of my emotional energy defending myself and fighting against him, I walked away, head held high, and “won” by doing the things he claimed I couldn’t do. I proved myself by just being me and in doing so, I proved everyone who believed his tales wrong too.

Strength doesn’t necessarily come from fighting, it comes from knowing how to fight and sometimes that fight is simply fought by walking in the opposite direction and proving everyone wrong.

I may have a dent because of this person, but I take great pleasure in knowing that this person is still lying to themselves, even now, blaming everyone else for the mistakes they made, not learning from anything they experience because of these lies, and just repeating their mistakes time and time again. My dent is a lesson. A lesson to listen to my intuition. To pay attention to my gut instincts, to grab hold of those red flags and to walk away sooner.

I cannot control how someone else behaves toward me, but I can control how I react and whether I stick around or not. The only thing that still plagues me is those who haven’t discovered his red flags yet. His collateral damage. The minds he’s bruising and using right now, until he applies enough pressure to dent them. The tools (read: other people) he draws into his manipulation and uses them to dent someone’s mind. Just like they did to me.

My advice to anyone coming across a manipulator is simple. Listen to your gut. If it doesn’t add up, it’s not your maths that’s wrong.

©️Sammie Adams 2020 - all rights reserved.

#blog #amwriting #thingsifeel #mentalhealth #mentalhealthmatters

I wander from place to place

Knitting many strings of relationships.

Some dear,

I collect them from life’s myriad phases

and I fear losing them.

Some convenient,

I build them with ease in power

and I take them for granted.

Some prickly,

I thread them by force

and I avoid them.

Some impending,

I wait for them in fervour

And I hope for them.

Some lose and others tight,

All my strings are not without knots.

Entangled with ties of emotions,

I am not indifferent.

I wander from place to place

Knitting many strings of relationships.

Untangling them is a task,

As fulfilling as liberation.

​Love is a lullaby

with its soft whispers

and crescendos of feelings,

late-night murmurs,

and daylight laughter,

slowly floating through the dim labyrinths of peoples hearts,

iridescent with the hope

of a new beginning... ​

I was young

I loved you 

as a child 

loves its mother

wholly

completely

without thought

or reason

it was natural

inevitable

you smiled at me

alone and insecure

you made me feel beautiful 

I was yours forever

until 

I wasn’t 

I raged

angry at you

for some slight

an adolescent fury

destructive

short-lived

immediately regretted

full of sorrow and remorse

angst-ridden

I sought your forgiveness

but

understanding

mercy

was not in your nature

and though I begged

for days

that became weeks

and months

and yes,

years

your silence

became an impenetrable wall

I could not fell

and so I lay my heart

at the foot

where it lies 

shriveled yet

beating still

for you.

The lights flicker

Time to move quicker

Clock begins to chime

I’m running out of time

Can you hear the sound

Of my heart begin to pound

Lightning flashes in the sky

Hide, ah it’s too late to even try

What was that?

Oh, it was just a rat~

Uh, no I’ve been spotted

In the blink of an eye

The lightning strikes again

I love the smell of rain

I can’t breathe

Where’d that rat go?

I’m running out of air

Right in my own lair.

So, this is what I get?

I guess~ you never forget—

Is it too late to say sorry?

-*heart begins to beat very slowly*

#STRIKE.

Things had never been the same ever since my father lost his job. The happy family which we once had began to tear apart bit by bits. The gay and ebullient atmosphere meteorically turned estranged just like a dream.

Like every other normal family, my family, the Peters, was a nice one filled with loving members. My father used to be an accountant in a reputable bank while my mother owned a booming eatery. My family was always filled with elation and happiness. I was the only child of the family and I was nine years old. My parents loved me so much just as I did.

We had been leading our normal lives until my dad brought a retrenchment letter home. At first he wanted to hide it from us by pretending every early morning that he was going to work while he wasn't. He was able to keep that up for just two weeks until my mum discovered the letter while cleaning their room. My mum was very angry that he tried to hide it from the family. She confronted him about it and that was how we found out that our big man had been sacked. The incident was a big blow to the family but not as big as what happened next.

When My mum discovered that dad had lost his job, she began to urge him to search for another job since he still had his certificates. My dad heeded to her advice but soon stopped after five weeks of unfruitful job hunt. He started to stay at home doing nothing just watching football on the television screen. Mum then became the breadwinner of the family. She, one day got fed up and scolded dad on his bad behavior of sitting at home and watching television.

That day was so hot as dad got very angry. I was scared shitless that they might start fighting so I ran to my room and shut the door. I threw the bed sheet over my head and closed my eyes I could still hear their voices faintly. Whenever they quarrelled, they used lots of invective words which I didn't want to hear. My legs were shaking violently under the bed sheet.

Few minutes later, I heard the main door bang. I stood up quickly and walked to the window to see who it was that left. I saw my dad driving out of the compound in his car. I sighed and went back to the bed. My parents rarely quarrelled but when they did, it was always hot. My dad didn't return until the next morning.

Days after the quarrel, my father changed. He left the house early in the morning and came back late in the night. I hardly saw him. I couldn't understand why. It couldn't be because of the quarrel. They have long settled their differences. They were always together joking around so dad couldn't be angry with mum. I thought.

Whenever i got lucky to see my dad, he was always with a whitish substance and some drugs. Each time i questioned him about it, he told me they were drugs for stomach ache. I asked him if he had stomach ache and he said I did and I felt sorry for him. He continued taking the drugs and I wondered why the stomach ache refused to leave him.

One fateful day, i felt my stomach aching and luckily for me, my dad was around so I ran to him because I was hoping he would give me some of the medicines he had been taking but to my greatest surprise, he refused. Instead, he took me to a nearby pharmacy and bought some drugs for me. I asked him why he was wasting his money when he had countless of stomach ache drugs but he told me those drugs were for adults only.

I wasn't skeptical about anything. I took the drugs and soon I became well but my dad continued taking his drugs. He wasn't recovering from the illness. Those drugs must be fake. I thought. I even told him one day to throw away those drugs and get new ones from the pharmacy since he had been taking the drugs for almost a month but my father drew me close to him and nuzzled my cheeks. My mum wasn't aware of my dad's everlasting stomach ache and my dad asked me not to tell her. He said she had many things on board and he wouldn't like to stress her out with a minute problem. I saw reasons with him. Mum had been working extra hours because the family was depending on her only. I wouldn't want to bother her with more burdens.

Some weeks later, My mum started complaining of someone stealing her money. She said she kept a sum of twenty thousand naira in her wardrobe and when she checked later, she couldn't find it. It was so strange to me. Why would money be missing in the house? I wondered. I didn't take it so who would have taken it? I told my mum that she might have misplaced it on her way from the eatery but she glared at me. We searched frantically for it to no avail.

My mother became very gloomy after losing that money. The same thing happened again and this time around my mum stopped bringing money home. She stopped at a bank each time she made a huge sale. it was strange to think that a thief was in the house. It was saddening. There was no more trust in the family.

When I thought all strange things were over, my dad stopped coming home. I said earlier that he often left the house early and returned late but this time around, he didn't come back home. It was so strange and i was worried, so was my mum. She even picked a day to search for him. I wanted to go with her but she refused to take me along so I sat in the sitting room staring at the door. I fell asleep and when i woke up it was ten in the night. My mum hadn't returned. My legs began to shake. I became restless so I paced around the house since sitting down was already tiresome to me.

The door opened and my mum walked in. She looked so tired and unhappy. I ran to give her a hug and she smiled wryly at me. I went to the kitchen to get a glass of water for her even without her asking. She thanked me and took a huge drink from the bottle of water.

I waited for her to finish drinking the water before I asked her the question that had been hanging in my heart through out the day. She smiled again at me and asked why I hadn't gone to bed.

"I was waiting for you." I replied. "Did you find dad?" I asked again as I held my legs to stop them from shaking. It was always like that whenever I was nervous about something. When I was two years old, my mum took me to a medical centre to take an injection against hepatitis and tetanus, my legs shook so much then and she had to hold them that was when she discovered that my legs shook when I was nervous or scared.

"Not yet dear." My mum replied. "I checked everywhere for him even his friends' houses but none of them knew about his whereabout. I'm so frustrated. Your dad has been acting strange ever since he lost his job. He had been..."

"He must be in an hospital." I cut in. I didn't think my dad was to be blamed. He must have left to treat his stomach ache.

"Why did you think so?" My mum asked moving closer to me.

I bit my lower lips. Dad had asked me not to tell her but I couldn't hide it anymore. "Dad had been taking drugs for stomach ache. It was must be a serious one because he had been taking the drugs everyday for a month now."

My mum's eyes widened. "What kind of drugs has he been taking?"

"I don't know the name of the drugs but it's a whitish substances wrapped in nylon. He said it was for stomach ache. I think we should check St Grace hospital, he might be there." I told her. My eyes were already teary and fat drops of tears were threatening to drop.

My mum became still the moment I said that. She looked like she had just seen a ghost.

"Mum, are you okay?" I asked her but she shook her head.

"You said he had been taking these drugs for a month now right?" She asked me and I nodded. Immediately, my mother broke down in tears. I was horrified.

"Why didn't you tell me this earlier Mary? Why?" She whimpered.

"Because dad asked me not to. He said he didn't want to bother you." I cried out as tears rolled out of my eyes.

My mum stood up and shook her head. She took her bags and walked away to her room. As I heard her climb the stairs, my heart shook violently. I was confused. My mum left just like that leaving me with lots of questions and no answers. Why was she crying so hard? Why was she looking so sad? As I sat thinking, I heard my mum's soft sob from her room. Pain so strong gripped my heart tightly as I listened to her sobs. Soon I joined in the crying.

I fell asleep in the sitting room that day. I had cried myself into sleeping. When I woke up the next morning, I didn't find my mother. I went to her room to check on her but she wasn't there. I called out her name but no response. I then went back to the sitting room and that was when I saw a written note on the dining table.

"Mary, I'm going out to search for your father one more time. I hope to find him. I'd be back soon. There's a carton of noodles and some eggs in the kitchen. Prepare some for yourself and go to school."

I sighed. How would she think I'll go to school? How would I be able to concentrate? I walked to the kitchen and prepared noodles for myself. Noodles was the only meal I could prepare and that was my favourite food but while I ate, I couldn't savour the taste. It tasted like gall in my mouth.

My mum returned just like the other day but this time, earlier. With her expression I could tell that the result wasn't good.

"I searched everywhere, no sign of him." She muttered as she walked into her room.

My mum gave up the search after that day. My father's parents were dead so there was no one to consult. I refused to believe my dad was missing. I hoped that one day he would come back just as he had left. Three months passed yet nothing from my dad. This changed my mother. The departure of my dad demoralized her. She became withdrawn and stayed indoors most of the time. I too was affected. I wasn't myself anymore. I was so worried and hurt but I still believed, strongly, that one day, somehow, my dad would return from whatever hospital he was. I was willing to wait patiently for that day.

The house was cold and icy as we were all lost in our respective thoughts. The house wasn't the same without my father. My mum continued with her business. She never said anything about my father and I never asked.

The departure of my father not only affected my sanity but also my academics. I couldn't concentrate whenever I was in class. My teacher noticed this and she called me to her office one day. I was a brilliant child and I was always among the first three that passed. She asked me what was happening and why I was losing interest in my academics. I stared at her numbly because I didn't know what to say. After many fruitless attempt to know my predicament, she sent a letter to my mum. My mum who knew why I was like that sat me down on her bed and told me not to allow my father's betrayal affect my life. I didn't understand what she meant by that but I shook my head and left her room. I tried reading my book immediately I came into my room but all I could see was my father's face and the stomach ache drugs. This was what always happen whenever I wanted to read. When my test result came out, I failed woefully. I wasn't surprised because I didn't prepare for the test but the rest of my classmates and teachers were surprised at my poor performance. I felt bad about it because I wasn't used to failure. My mother didn't say anything about it. She only asked me to work harder. I was grateful she didn't stress the issue.

My mum took solace in church. I could tell that the departure of my father affected her just as it affected me if not greater. My mum felt that the church was a place were burdens were lifted, where she could feel free and was accepted, where she could empty all the content of her heart to God and where she could feel the presence of God. She made it compulsory for me to attend all weekly programmes and Sunday services. I didn't mind because I loved the church and I loved God. I loved hearing stories about Jesus and all that he did. I loved Sunday schools and I loved the hymns and praises we sang in church.

One Sunday, after church service, I sat on a chair waiting for my mother while she joined the women's meeting. I didn't feel like hanging out with my friends. I knew where they were. They were outside the church talking and playing. I felt I needed privacy, like a quiet place to think. I sat on the chair and stared at the alter of God. It was well decorated with curtains of various colours. It was very beautiful. Two flower vases were placed by the side of the alter. As I stared at the alter, I sighted Hannah sitting by the side of the wall reading her Bible. Hannah was a devout teenage Christian. It marvelled people on how much God was using the young girl. I felt an urge to speak with her. Hannah wasn't my friend in fact she was twice my age. I couldn't understand why I wanted to speak with her about my father. I just couldn't control myself as I stood up and walked to where she sat. Hannah welcomed me warmly. She looked surprised to see me.

"Good afternoon!" I greeted her.

She smiled at me and offered me a chair to sit. As I sat, my legs started to shake. I was nervous. "Em, Hannah, I don't know if you're chanced. I have something to discuss with you."

"Go on!" Hannah grinned at me. Her smiles warmed me up like warm soup. It made me less nervous. I told her everything that had been happening in my family. She listened with rapt attention. After I had finished telling her all about my family, I was surprised on how relieved I felt. I felt as if a huge burden had been lifted off my shoulders. I didn't realise I was crying until she offered me her handkerchief. She wrapped her arms around me and patted my shoulders. She told me not to worry, that God was ever ready to be my father If I let him. She told me to surrender all my worries and He would take care of me and give me joy. She said lots of encouraging words to me and I felt better. That was what I needed at that point in time of my life. A word of encouragement. My mother avoided the subject of my dad like a scorpion sting. She spoke to me about other things but never about my dad. I felt really encouraged after speaking with Hannah.

When I came back from church that afternoon, my mum sent me to a nearby kiosk to get some super glue for her. I took the money from her and set out to do as I was sent. The owner of the kiosk was a Hausa man. I hated going to the kiosk because each time I went, there were always many men smoking cigarette. My class teacher told us in school during health education that smokers were liable to die young. I couldn't understand why people intentionally wanted to die young.

Thankfully enough, there were just two men in front of the kiosk when I arrived. I quickly bought the glue and turned to go. Just then I sighted an advertisement on the wall of a bar opposite the kiosk. I wanted to have a clearer view of the diagrams on the poster so I crossed to the other side of the road. As I stared at the poster on the wall, someone inside the bar caught my eyes. He was sitting with five empty bottles of alcohol in front of him. I could only see the side of his face because of the way he sat. The man looked familiar. He looked like my father. I took stumbling steps to the door of the bar when a strong hand grabbed me.

"Little kid, where do you think you're going?" A tall huge man whom I deemed was the security guard barked at me. Normally, I would have shivered and ran home but I looked him straight in the eyes and pleaded "Please, let me in. I want to confirm something. Please sir."

"Here isn't meant for kids. See!" My eyes followed the direction he was pointing at. I saw a poster which read, 18+

"Only eighteen years and above are allowed here, so kid go back home." He glared at me.

"Please, let me in. My father is in there." I gasped as the man in the bar stood up and began to walk away with his back turned to me.

"Oh! He's going. I need to meet him before he goes." I yelled, trying to free myself from the security man's grip.

"Let me see my father. I haven't seen him in six months. So let me in." I struggled and to my greatest surprise, an heavy slap landed on my cheeks. "Go away!" The security guard pushed me away so hard that I fell face down on the ground. The pain I felt was so sharp and raw. I could feel some thick liquid roll out of my nose but I didn't have time to nurse my face. I stood up and ran back to the door screaming Daddy! Daddy!! But it was too late, the man was gone.

When I came back home, my mum screamed the moment she saw my face.

"What happened to you?" She asked.

"I ran into a pole." I lied. I couldn't tell her about my experience at the bar. I dropped the glue on the table and trudged into my room. I laid on my bed and stared at the ceiling. All that had just happened few minutes ago filled my head. Was it really dad I saw? Was it someone else whose physique looked like my dad? Besides that person looked rough and untidy, my dad had always been a neat man. He always washed and ironed his clothes. He even bathes three times a day. I later drifted to an uneasy sleep.

I continued going to the bar just to check if one day, some how, I would see the man that looked just like my father but I never made the mistake of going close to the bar. I didn't want to see that wicked security man.

Two years swept away like dust still my father was no where to be found. During those two years, I've been going to the bar but I didn't see my father neither did I see the man that looked like my father. My mum had gotten better within those years. She had started to carry on with her life. She was no more looking sad and withdrawn instead she looked happy and ebullient. Her eatery business was booming like never before. She even employed more people to help in serving of food. I always dropped by the shop anytime I returned from school then in the evening, I and my mum would return home together. Each time I dropped by the shop, I'd either see my mum discussing with her friends or taking note of sales. She was always busy and had no time to think or sulk over my dad. I was happy my mum was happy because I heard that over thinking could terminate the life of a person. I had just lost my dad, I didn't want to lose my mum too.

One Wednesday afternoon, as I was returning from school with my friends, i sighted a man standing by the side of the road. He seemed to be waiting for something. Now, I didn't need a teacher to tell me who the man was. I wasn't mistaken at all. He was my father but he looked so dirty and shabbily dressed. His hair was rough and dirty. He looked like he hadn't shaved or taken his bath for like six months. I called out quickly, "Daddy!" I began to run towards him. I ignored the calls of my friends. I didn't even perform the ritual of looking left and right before crossing. My dad looked back slightly. Just then a car stopped immediately in front of him and he entered the car without waiting for me to get to him. He didn't even give me a glance.

I ran after the car screaming at the top.of my voice but the car didn't stop. I fell to the ground and began to weep. I just saw my father whom I hadn't seen for more than two years and I didn't get a chance to speak with him. I hated myself. I blamed myself for not calling louder. I blamed myself for not running faster. I blamed myself for not trying harder. I wept till there were no more tears to shed.

When I got to my mum's shop that day, my mum knew instantly that I had been crying. She sat me down and asked me what happened. I told her everything. I wanted her to know. I told her how I let an opportunity of speaking with my father slip away. My mother drew me into her arms and rocked me like a baby. She sang into my ear that it wasn't my fault and I shouldn't blame myself instead she told me to blame my dad for not visiting the family he left for more than two years. I fell asleep in her arms and I woke up on my bed that night. I didn't know how my mum carried me all the way from the eatery to the house.

My mum had told me it wasn't my fault but deep down I felt it was. I prayed to God to grant me another opportunity but it never came. I didn't see my father anymore, no matter how many times I walked that particular path I had seen him.

One day, I came to the eatery and to my greatest surprise my mum asked me to get my bags that we were going home. I asked her why we were going home that early. It was just two in the afternoon. She replied that she wanted to take me out to see a movie. I was excited by the news so when we got home, I ran into the bathroom to take my bath. When I came out of the bathroom, my mum was selecting the clothes I would wear. She selected a denim jeans trouser and a silky blouse with a sandal to match. She asked me to eat my food while she go and freshen up. I went to the dining table where a dish of Jollof rice with fried eggs was waiting for me. I ate the meal with great relish. My mum was an extraordinary cook, no wonder many customers flooded into her eatery to buy food.

My mum came down the stairs immediately I was done with eating. She was dressed in a yellow floppy gown. Her braided hair was tied into a bun. She looked taller because of the stiletto she was putting on. She smiled at me and asked me how she looked.

"You look very beautiful mum." I informed her. The smile on her face widened and I couldn't help but smile back.

"Thanks dear!" She touched my cheeks.

Just then, we heard a knock on the door. My mum went to open it and a man who looked a bit younger than my dad came in. He was dressed in a black t shirt and jeans trousers with a black sneakers to match. His shoulders were broad and strong. He looked really handsome and I wondered who he was and what he was doing in our house. My mum gave him a big hug with a broad smile on her face. She then turned to face me.

"This is Mr Ugochukwu Johnson. He's a new friend of mine and he'd be taking us to the movie theatre." Then facing the Ugochukwu man, she introduced me as her daughter.

"How are you doing Mary?" He grinned widely at me.

"I'm fine and you sir?" I asked.

"I'm good." He replied. "You have a really smart daughter, Chidera." He told my mum.

I was taken aback. 'Chidera' was my mum's name. I hadn't heard anyone call her by that name. She was often addressed as Mrs Peter.

My mum smiled at him. Then she said, "let's get going."

I sat at the back seat while my mum sat in front with Mr Ugochukwu in his car. I didn't know where the movie theatre was located so I stared out through the window while my mum engaged herself in a discussion with Mr Ugochukwu. She laughed countless of times which got me wondering what manner of man Mr Ugochukwu was that he could make my mum laugh out so loud in a split measure of time.

We got to the movie theatre after a drive of about forty five minutes. We drove past it slowly and I wondered why we did that. My mum and Mr Ugochukwu were contemplating on what movie to watch. I didn't mind, I could watch any movie but my mum kept searching for the perfect one. After some minutes, we entered into the darkened theatre and luckily for us the movie was just starting. Mum chose some seats away from everyone else and ushered us to sit. She sat in the middle of Mr Ugochukwu and me.

The movie was called 'night wonder.' The movie was about a young woman in her mid thirties that lost her husband whom she had barely married for five years. People thought she would get married to another man but the woman was bent on taking care of her two children. She increased her working hours and made sure she took perfect care of her children. The movie was highly sentimental.

After the movie, Mr Ugochukwu took us home and we told him goodbye. My mum asked me how the movie was and I told her it was very interesting. She smiled at me.

"You know, the movie was kind of talking to both of us." She chuckled. "I love the woman's ability to get up from the ground, dust herself up and move on and that's what I'm trying to do. Since your father left, I haven't been myself but I've been trying to move on with her life. The movie is trying to tell us to move on. Mary, you should move on. Don't allow your father's betrayal affect your life, your academics and your relationship with others."

I understood what she was saying. In fact, I wanted to change. I wanted to be normal again. I was losing my friends and I was failing in school. I never knew my mum noticed all these things. My behaviour had changed ever since my father left the house.

She was right. It's time to move on. I promised my mum that I'll move on just like the woman from the movie. My mum smiled brightly at me. She wrapped me in her arms as I felt her tears drop on my shoulder.

I kept to my promise as I started to improve in my academics. Even though, I wasn't among this first three in class, I was at least among the first ten. I started to amend my behaviour. I started to come out of my shell. My mum was glad at my changed attitude. She told me she was proud of me and I felt that was all that mattered.

Adeline Killingsworth stepped out of the black armored SUV and started covering the few yards between her and the entrance. Laughing, the clinking of silverware, and the heavy bass of the song playing filled the stuffy night air.

No one gave her a second glance—just another pretty face with curled hair and carefully applied makeup in a sea of perfect plastic people.

Click, click, click. The steady rhythm of her heels rang in her ears as she walked up the wide stone path that led inside. There was little room to walk, but Adeline pushed her way through, uncaring of the remarks aimed her way.

Serena stood by the massive ice stallion, hair pulled into an elaborate updo, soft curls framing her perfect face. Blue eyes contrasted with black hair that sometimes appeared a dark purple and pale skin.And the blue dress she wore now complimented this and showed her slender figure. As usual, a host of adoring fans and suck-ups surrounded her, who she would feed off of until nothing of value to her remained.

Typical of your type.

“Hey, cutie,” a guy said, reaching for her arm and giving a grin that made her skin crawl.

She kept walking, clenching her jaw to keep from retorting or doing something much more drastic.

“Isn’t that the youngest Killingsworth?” someone asked.

A murmur spread through the crowd like a ripple. After the well-known Killingsworth tragedies, the powerful family had faded from the public eye, keeping to themselves. What was one of them doing here now?

Surprise flashed across Serena’s face just for a second before smugness took its place. But that second had been enough for Adeline.

“Oh hello, Adeline!” She smiled too brightly and waved.

“Just come to let Rhys know how happy I am for his success,” Adeline said, forcing her face to mimic Serena’s.

“You’re so sweet!”

“Thank you. It’s been a while—I missed you.” A lie.

The people who had been so interested just moments before gradually drifted away, attention on someone else more relevant and important.

Adeline drew closer to Serena, who stared coldly at her.

“Why are you really here? We both know you’re lying.”

“Rhys was really good in that movie.” Adeline shrugged, but then leaned in, struggling to keep her voice low and even. “Your family took everything. And now it’s time to return the favor.”

She turned on her heel and shoved her way straight for the exit.

Tonight marked the beginning of the downfall of the Craybons.

I heard Wisdom speak to me and felt her loving presence. This is what she told me.

Let go of everything you feared, let go of everything and everyone that caused you hurt and anger, resentment and trauma.

Memories will stay, but they don’t need to keep hurting you.  

These experiences have taught you much. Look how compassionate you are and less prone to judging people. 

You’ve learned the value of even the smallest of kindnesses, for you now know that the tiniest little thing can save a life and heal a broken heart.

You are now able to recognise early warning signs of impending disaster! No longer impeded by a blind trust, you now can discern what is safe and what makes your heart sing. 

You’ve been there. Everywhere. There’s noone you can’t help just by being you. You are proof that there really is no such thing as “can’t”. 

My hands were fidgeting. My lips were trembling. My saliva was slowly pooling in my mouth. My head was faint. My stomach was.....well impatient.

And all because of the mountains of food splayed out in front of me.

Unfortunately, for us to touch the food served at the dinner, King Nicholas first had to address our small gathering ,consisting of the slightly over-cheerful Queen Carol, eager big-eyelashed Candy, nervous infatuated Truffle and us two dangerously hungry brothers- Bootleg and me.

As i tried to swallow my saliva in vain attempts to ward off my hunger so that Nicholas could finish his speech, my eyes betrayed me. I wanted to look away from the food but....but it was calling me, it was yearing for the warmth of my mouth.

The christmas berries were begging for me, the plum cake was whispering sweet pleas, the baguettes were eyeing my hungrily(as i was them), tangy tarts, dripping chocolate fountains, shining strawberries, mouthwatering cobblers, grrrrrr, blueberry sau-.

Wait ..what was that? The sound came again, as loud as the the freaking elfhorn. Nicholas stopped. All eyes turned towards me. My eyes turned towards the culprit.

My stupid, insatiable ,insolent, elf-butt of a stomach!

“And that’s would be my cue to shut up.”, King Nicholas joked and fell silent, as the whole room erupted with laughter.

“No ,no sir. I apologize. It’s just that i haven’t had anything to eat in a long time and I-”,I started.

“Son. Son! Relax. Everybody dig in. Let the feast begin!”.

I didn’t need to told twice. There was a pause of not even a millisecond ,in which I hungrily started reaching everything my little elf-hands could reach.

Damn etiquette. Damn cutlery. Damn manners. Right now, i wasn’t just an elf, i was a hungry elf. And nothing beats a hungry elf.

Piece after piece, morsel after morsel, i stuffed myself till i was the size and shape of a bloated christmas berry.

However, throughout my hunger rampage, i had failed to notice the dinner conversation going on.So when i was asked a question by King Plum, my only response was an ignorant burp.

“Oh i apologize you majesty, just this food was.....the chef deserves Santa’s embrace.” ,I said.

“Yes ,yes. Now. do tell me son, have you not heard of the recent trouble at the border regarding....you know...he who must not be named?“King Nick leaned in and asked, the caution and worry evident in his tone.

I was perplexed.

“No sir. I know nothing of the sort. And who is this’he who must not be named’? Sounds like kind of a bummer for anyone whose parents named him this.” I scoffed.

King Nick, Queen Carol, Candy, Truffle and Bootleg all gasped and began chittering at once.

“Horns that could impale an elf” Candy began.

“Nails tht could tear you in half”Truffle finished.

″ Teeth as sharp as spears” Bootleg chimed in.

“Cover them, or his howl will pierce your ears” Queen Carol whispered.

Oh! Now i remember something. Old elflore. Something about a beast with blood red skin, who punishes bad children, half- goat half man, something like...

“KRAMPUS!!!!“I yelled as it suddenly clicked.

As if hearing my words had set forth a plague, the room turned deadly silent.

All eyes were on me, their laser gazes already burning the calories i had just ate.

Annnnnddddd if it couldn’t get worse, just then, Queen Carol let out a strained whimper and fainted.

King Nicholas rushed to her side with Candy and Truffle right behind.

Bootleg came up behind me and smacked me hard on the head.

“Exactly dummy.”,he began,“He who must NOT be named.”

08/12/18

Somewhere in his dark prison, Zahari felt the ground start to quake. Some part of the wall surrounding him cracked, & more light shone through his cell. He coughed and cleared his throat. This was not a place that he had thought he’d ever be in. Something squeaked and scurried off behind him. He wondered if that was a rat, and how big it was. Zahari groaned. These chains were too heavy, and they were not so easily breakable. He had tried smashing them against the ground. That didn’t work, and even trying to twist them just made them have a tighter hold on his whole body.

His efforts of trying to escape had all failed. He turned around, there was a loud clatter of sounds of a battle not too far from him. Zahari heard grunts, whoever the guards were fighting with were no match, if It wasn’t for the chains, Zahari would have tossed many guards down.

There was another sound that was like a screech. The locks to his cell were hammered and they dropped to the ground. Zahari’s heart skipped a beat. Oh, was this it? Had someone come to rescue him?

He waited for a brief moment. After a short while, there was a beam of light in the room, and this one carried a strong presence. Zahari covered his eyes, doing his best to shield his eyes from the intense radiant light.

Estelle: (gasps) Zahari?!

Zahari recognized that voice. He placed his hands to his side and smiled. Estelle rushed to his side and embraced him. Tears of relief, and joy trickled down their faces. Estelle couldn’t believe it. Here her mentor was, bound in chains. She carefully used her blade to cut the chains and freed Zahari.

Once he was free, he rubbed his hands, and ankles. Then laughed. Estelle was scanning her surrounding for other guards. They had to move quickly. Zahari was worried about how they would escape. Now that he had no wings, he’d slow Estelle down. She shook her head, there was no way that she was going to leave hI’m behind. He was coming with her, no matter what.

•••

Estelle sighed. She had managed to find a way to save Zahari. They had escaped in one of the hot air balloons that was left unattended by one of the guards at the front gate of the caved prison cells. Estelle was glad that they had not spotted her when she arrived. That had made the task run smoothly.

Zahari looked behind him. Estelle had rescued him. She had truly become much more skilled from the last training session that they had before he left on his mission. As they headed back to Epitho, he made a decision to have her placed into a higher rank for her current solo work.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=XW4vacvZSmA

The Score:

-Miracle.