Alfonso

-

 Alfonso was a deadly charmer and Jamilla was the perfect snake. Ready for capture. Ready to claw. He blew his pipe in her direction with just the right tune and melody that instantly caused her to surrender at his feet. Entranced, she fell right under his spell.

They met one rainy, cold night under a black sky with scattered clouds and an air of seduction, that only he could serve and master. The dance was lively, the crowd was growing and as he took two steps backward, which were his tactics, he bumped into her and the attraction peaked. Deafening. Contorting! Jamilla thought "Love at first sight or lust and take flight? Jamilla chose love. Who wouldn't?

The pulsing rhythmic music took charge that night. Alfonso held on to Jamilla. Tight! He captivated her with his intense perfume, his firm piercing gaze and his soft yet commanding embrace. She was absorbed. She didn't even know this man but yet here she was fully immersed under his charm and frozen, under his spell.

That night, at just the right moment, the rain calmed down and the moon appeared and said hello with its shimmer as if to say "Welcome my children." And before you knew it Jamilla was taken apart,  carefully peeled off, layer by layer, as she let Alfonso creep slowly into her soul. The deadly charm had won.

The night quickly turned to dawn and as the sun rose to reveal the deadly sins of the night mortals, Jamilla instantaneously snapped out from under the spell. Alfonso was nowhere to be found. He was once again on the prowl. 

Now walking alone,  turning around and taking in the scene one more time just as Lot's wife did in the bible, Jamilla was frozen and shaken. Bittersweet, painful satisfaction. She did not turn to a pillar of salt but was left with a bitter and scarred soul, transparent and naked as ever.. Jamilla looked to the sky and promised the heavens that if she ever met another Alfonso, so help her God, it would be fight or flight. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Story of Many

-
Geneva hastened along the fragmented, concrete path that connected her humble dwelling to the outside world. Though riddled with puddles and cracks that snapped toes, she had memorized every step. Her movements were automatic. She always found it humorous how the craters resembled her own life; the empty spaces and creases were very much like the voids she had been trying to fill ever since she was a child. Yesterday was her last "late warning," so she snapped out of it and hurriedly made her way to catch the early morning bus. On both sides, columns of dingy, rusty galvanize served as fences. "What could they even protect?" thought Geneva, and that gave her a chuckle. Her friend Sharon was already leaning over her veranda to wait for Geneva for the latest neighbourhood gossip. Lord, how could she escape her? "Not today, Sharon, girl I'll miss my bus!" hailed Geneva as politely as she could. Sharon had already given up, had accepted she would never mak...
Read more

Forget Them

-
The quest for closure can sometimes come at a high price. People intentionally hurt us and act like we pulled the knife from their back. Closure sometimes looks like accepting that others do not associate themselves with accountability. Closure can look like understanding that others are more interested in their self- righteousness and false sense of grandiosity than actually building and sustaining meaningful relationships. Closure can look like accepting that some people will never admit they are wrong even if the devil held the meeting with them himself. Closure means choosing you. Choosing you and walking away from what others will never acknowledge. Why don't you acknowledge how amazing you are instead, how freely you love, how slow you judge and how automatically that light inside you shines? Why don't you focus on the glowing parts of you, feast with yourself and break good bread? People eventually tell on themselves, just give them time. Did you take accountability in s...
Read more

Uncanny

-
A big headed, protruding navel, slang talking little boy just popped up in our amidst. All we knew was that he was my uncle's son and a trail of mischief was forever his shadow (inserts chuckle). His name was even stranger.....Jomokenyatah? What on God's green Earth? (inserts chuckle through tears). No formal introduction was necessary,  he just fit right in. We swear, he became our granny's favourite in absolutely no time! Hiding stuff in her blouse to hand to him when she thought we didn't notice, that was a tell all. (inserts chuckle) We remember the days when he ran naked and his mother screamed "Oba,"....... to which there was never a response, just giddy innocence and joy to be part of a clan. More like a brother than a cousin, Jomokenyatah became our own. We all loved him, looked after him, scolded him, hugged him, trailed him and sometimes feared for him. That mischief was otherworldly.  For some time, we did not see him because his passion landed him ...
Read more