Expectations

The end is here. We have been waiting, anticipating for so long. We’d go to town and hear that ‘crazy’ old man begging for mercy, asking us to repent for our sins for the end is nigh. Scientists would produce a calendar and a countdown clock. Imaginative citizens would spread rumors of a zombie apocalypse or an alien invasion in which the new species would exterminate mankind. The media would resort to childish, playground tell-tell measures to pit countries against each other. A powerful yet cowardly man would stand behind a desk and make empty threats to push the big red button. Yet in the face of all what could or would have happened, nothing, and I assure you nothing, could have prepared me for this ending.

The Classics of Our Time---Part 1

I get it, I'm famous. Everybody knows my work. Everybody else think they know me, "Oh, my gosh! I am such a big fan of yours Mr Silver". I'm well connected in the world of fame and fortune. Not that, that life interests me anymore though. I would much rather spend an evening in my home, in the peace and tranquility of my surroundings. I say my home, but I dont mean your average, squat, New-York-overlooking, urban, run-down neighbourhood, home. No my career has left me a very healthy back pocket and as such I'm able to relax with no cares at all, at the age of 48. To many this is when some enter their prime of life. For me though I've done it all I've been in several mega movies and now I just wanna enjoy the rest of my life like there's no tomorrow. Of course there is a tomorrow, as that is the night of the award ceremony, which may I add, I've been roped into presenting "Best Male Actor in Action". In my opinion there are better hopes for the young and famous in acting careers than in singing. It all gets to their heads, you see. All you ever see in the media is of young stars with so much potential who've gone and ruined it all. It won't be long now until they find "the next big star". Hah, next idiotic role model more like.

A Wedding in Tunisia

Celebrating in a Far Off Land

 

Bouffaina was mopping the hard, marble floor, Sirine was beating the dust and crumbs from the rug on the roof, whilst Amani was polishing the rich, exquisite displays. The house was seemingly pristine to the average eye but for Mima it would not do. Guests would be coming by the dozens, from Sousse, Monastir, France, Germany, Libya and even a pair from America. It would not be asked of her to accept snide glances from snooty family members, yet the odd couple of bitter old women would make sniping remarks. Mima herself had walking through the dusty, sandy streets to the local butchers and chosen a bull to be slaughtered for the occasion. She herself had stood in the stifling, smothering kitchen and slaved away at the stove. This was all for a good cause however, as Amani was having an engagement party to her new fiance Hamza. Both of their families would be coming together at the girls house. In the country of Tunisia a house and its residents represent the family name and so all the women in the house were working their finger to the bone to ensure that the lobby downstairs sparkled and gleamed. the stairwell you could see your face in, the bathrooms were like glimmering crystal and the living room was alive with bright, beautiful colours with specks of gold. The kitchen, however was the complete opposite, with pans and pots stacked haphazardly, spills of sauce splattered the counters and stove and the windows were opaque with the white steam from cooking. The women of the house had been working hard for forty eight hours and now all of their efforts had come to a semi end. The guests were arriving, filing up the stairs and the task at hand now was to make sure that refreshments and food were continuosly available and that everyone felt warmly welcomed. The guests were finally assembled in the huge living room, with the men sat on one side of the room on the plush, comfy, grande sofas watching sports on the plasma screen TV, laughing and joking. The women on the other hand were crowded on hard back wooden chairs decorated with a gold back drop, blabbering and blubbering about the graceful house and the exuisite looking fiancee. The clothes shop downstairs remained locked but full of the assortment of colourful, rich clothes.

A Forbidden Word

She oughtn't of said it
After all it is a horrid word: disgusting
There was no reason to; no threat, no excitement
But she did and now it's retractable
Floating sourly in the air
Sharp and bitter from the rustic blade she calls a tongue

Now we stare at our friend
The danger she has put us in is immense
Maybe she didn't understand
Or maybe she didn't realise
But we all learned from a young age
Whatever prejudice you hear indoors, remains there
You don't whisper, speak and especially shout obscenities
Not in the rough, violent and multi-cultural street

She had though
As her anger at the group of ethnic boys teased her
Her mouth started running
And so did we
I had never been prejudiced
I had an open mind
But there was no time for reconciliation
Just time to escape

All I knew was that we were prey being hunted by hounds
We were incoherent, spooked and for the most part innocent
But right now, as their pride and rage fuelled their minds and legs
We just kept going, on, ahead, home, hoping that our door will provide safety

I looked back: they were gone
The sound of tyres and feet fading into the background
Relief and comfort came over me
We were safe, for now
I'd fallen down during our retreat
Now my leg and nursing hand were covered in blood
I looked to my friend
Fear still evident on her face

They say let children make their own mistake
Let the young learn
If they fall, they'll get up
If they fail, they'll thrive
But this lesson brought a blunt shock to our system
Some words are not worth it and should never be uttered