Mama looked grey. And Mama was a reflection of her. Where she was from, families were their own mirrors. They mirrored everything but emotions. And only the members could distinguish their genders or ages. They were that close-knit, yet overly distinct. Big Boss beat the drums, and it was time to fall. Uncle Sparks had to flash the light, and then falling would really begin. Celine didn't mind falling from time to time. But it was falling season, and falling would be regular for about two months straight. She would be better off getting used to it. There was no circumventing any of it. Below, the humans scrambled about, trying to get prepared for her and her folks. Darn, she dreaded it as much as they. Of course they couldn't tell. They were human, she was cloud. All around, her people began to get ready; trimming their hair and etc to get lighter. Anything to delay the fall. Useless. Especially the unfortunate ones with their homes on lower spheres. They always fell ...

When Dr. Appoh walked into the hospital cafetaria and saw the man in the corner with a sad face playing with his cup of what seemed to be coffee, he felt the sudden urge to preach. He hadn't felt that urge since Senior High School, when he had joined one of those Christian groups. <em>Maybe it's a Sunday morning that's why,</em> Dr Appoh thought. But he didn't ignore the feeling. In fact, as he ordered his light breakfast, he decided he was going to act on it. The man obviously needed motivation of some sort, and Dr Appoh felt he could deliver on that end. "Can I sit here?" he asked the man, while holding his tray. "Feel free," the man replied, not even bothering to look up. Dr. Appoh made himself comfortable. After a bite or two of his sandwich, he felt it was time to make his reason for sitting there announced. And so he spoke again, "Excuse me sir, I just want a minute of your time. Do you believe in miracles?" T...

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Realizing that all i have is really not mine Noticing instead that all is Thine Fills my heart with a kind of humility That makes me appreciate my simplicity Thought it's not the normal trend I understand that I Am Second. Seeing that others are better than me Even when i;m the best i can be Makes me treat my talents with a little contempt Because my achievements seem a tad bit unkempt And when my ego, I can no inspiration lend I accept that I Am Second.

"Amoafoa how many times have I told you not to put so much salt in the stew? Why do you want to kill someone in this house? Why can't you do something right for once? Jesus!" I snarled at my wife, banging the table with one hand and pushing the food away with the other. Somewhere in my conscience it registered that she didn't deserve what I said. But then what was said was said, and I wasn't about to apologise. Not me. Ever the graceful woman, Amoafoa got up quietly and left the table without a word. I restrained the urge to call out another insult at her. I wanted her to yell at me. I wanted a fight. But all I got was our eight year old Akua bursting into tears at the table. "Ah crap, what's it now? Why are you crying? Is it something I said?" I asked her, trying to be gently, but she only cried louder. "Daddy didn't mean that Akua, stop crying." When that didn't work either, I tried a sterner "Stop crying young lady, you...

The day is beautiful. I have wasted enough opportunities in my life, and I am not going to miss this one. I grab my journal and favourite black pen, and make my way out of the house. I try to be as careful as possible with the door; it creaks, and mother mustn't hear me sneak out. Or I will spend the entire day engaged in a melange of chores, and that would just ruin a potentially-perfect day. I don't want that. I succeed. To celebrate my victory, I stick my nose in the air and indulge my nostrils in the wonderful every-day-summer-because-it's-the-tropics scents. The swing chair invites me over for a pat on the back. My joy is short-lived though, because I must get down to business. The not-so-pleasant business. I suck in a deep long breath because who doesn't need strength to pursue difficulty? My mind sets the ball rolling, and I travel along with her down memory lane. The soles of my shoes are light, and so I can feel everything on the road. The pictures are i...

I have two sons, and they take the meaning of sibling rivalry to a whole different level. Theodore is older than Desmond by two years, and they basically hate each other. Whatever Theodore does, Desmond makes sure he does it better, and makes Theodore know it. Now I've watched Theodore and Desmond grow up despising each other, and being petty to themselves, and I've been powerless to do anything about it. My wife, who is dead and gone now, was very spiritual and blamed it on bad spirits. But I know the real cause. My father told me about it, passing down exactly what he was told by his father. "It's a curse," he'd said to me on his death-bed, right after he'd made me swore to never cut ties with my own brother, Peter. And now, I shall pass this advice, and task, to Theodore, the eldest. Not any of this curse nonsense. A reasoning person would know that there were no such things. So I'll have to find a way to tell him to do this, without once referring...

She came to the hospital a broken-spirited girl; the tumor in her brain near its expiry date. She spoke to no one, not even the doctors that tried to help her. Everyone said she had given up. But not me. I was the first one she spoke to, they say. Strange though, that the first person she'd spoken to was a hospital janitor who worked in Intensive Care Unit, well past his retirement age. I remember the night clearly. I was mopping the floor of her room late in the night when I heard her shift in bed. The poor thing; she was the most beautiful helpless girl I had ever seen. She was looking at me mop the floor. Her eyes, they haunt me as at now. In them was desolation. But that desolation seemed to be countered by the vestiges of cheerfulness and energy. She had been a very happy person before all this, it looked like. I grunted in her direction, as a way of apologizing for waking her up. Dragging the mop trolley, I attempted making my exit. I didn't want to be in...

Peals of laughter High-pitched squeals All-day long it's banter, Play appointments and candy deals. Sounds of freedom Sounds of childhood. Ring tones and message beeps Thumping speakers and camera flashes "Childish" nature is no longer for keeps So true identity lies in ashes Sounds of apparent sophistication Sounds of adolescence. Hawkers and hooters The rush and the traffic jams And mundanity breeds aggravators Desiring escape from their world's noisy hum Sounds of jadedness Sounds of adulthood

*Written for the Ewe Gang family. Love the culture.* Notsie. Not a day goes by that my mother doesn't curse this town and the man who rules it. Not a day goes by that she doesn't curse our ancestors for settling here. She thinks I don't notice the tears, the pain in her eyes, the suffering of our tribes people. You're a little girl, she'd say to me. You don't know a thing. But I do. I'm a grown little girl. I see the bleeding scars on my father's feet because he tread on mud and straw mixed with broken glass to make bricks. You shall build this town with your blood, the man who rules this place had said. And that we did. I can't count all the scars on my elder brother's back from being whipped, or the number of times the evil guards have beaten my father because he'd always protect my older sister and I from being 'used' by the guards. She's just twelve, he'd shout at them, as they beat him with the blunt ends of their s...

I see the love all about me All the pegs fitting smugly in their holes With the exception of one, of course-me All i have left are the sores, still a bright red From trying to fit into holes where i didn't belong Or was simply not needed From making others my priority While i remain nothing more than a formality A mere afterthought Now i'm sitting here reminiscing And i realize it's all I've wanted my whole life Which i've never found And doesn't seem like i ever will The tears are only a constant reminder Of the outcast the world perceives me to be But i smile through them Forcing myself to acknowledge that maybe That's just how it was meant to be And hoping that one day, i'll see sunlight Where dark clouds once were And have someone i can finally call Friend.

*Title coined from the Butterfly effect in Chaos Theory, by American mathematician Edward N. Lorenz. Rest In Peace.* I'm fading. That is what's happening to me. Not physically, like those ridiculous Sci-Fi movies depict. I'm fading in the sense that the memories that I have had since childhood are getting vaguer and vaguer. This is going to be a story most people will not believe. I probably wouldn't have, had it not been my own experience. Four hours ago, I realized I was gifted with a power. Not superhuman strength, teleportation or the like. Time travel. but it wasn't as you've probably already envisioned. I didn't just disappear from the present and instantaneously reappear in the past or  future. it was slightly more complicated. I could only time travel in my imagination. And with that it was only the past. Never the future. And whenever I travelled, something minor had to be changed. And whatever change there was amplified over time and le...

I stand in amazement At your dumbfounding love Even in sin when I deserved judgement Cauldrons of mercy you sent from above My mind can’t fathom why An epitome of a blameless person Would ditch His heavenly place to die For sinners bound to worsen Even after all this We rejected your pierced hand And lived in feigned bliss Yet You called us yours, you gave us the brand We were on the path to eternal doom From the poisoned chalice we drank Even then You never once did fume Even when of sin we stank Patiently from darkness, you turned our hearts away Reached out Your hand, and drew us close Called us back when we went astray Fed us with love-overdose Now as Christians, in splendid isolation we stand With your scriptures as our traffic lights Guiding us to The Promised Land We proudly call ourselves The Savior’s Knights.