This book was compiled by Valentine Tusai and www.valzcognition.wordpress.com

No part maybe reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or

transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

©DaValzCode2016

Introduction: This is a story of a young man’s journey. During this journey he goes through various experiences and meets a stranger. The story continues with the stranger narrating her tale. A lot of things could have happened to this stranger and this book shows 13 versions. These 13 versions come in the form of 13 ladies from 6 different countries, namely Nigeria, Uganda, Zimbabwe, United Kingdom, Botswana and South-Africa. The stories give an insight on the situations young women find themselves in and how they react to them. Thus this book is mostly dedicated to all young women who find themselves in dilemmas. It also depicts to all young man out there how they should act when they find a woman in a vulnerable position. Sometimes providing a shoulder to lean on is good enough. One great man once said “A problem shared is half solved”. These stories were compiled by Valentine Tusai, the author of Da-Valz-Code Poetry Anthology and founder of Poetritis Nirvana poetry movement. This is one of many short stories that the author is going to publish. Feel free to send feedback to davalzcode@zoho.com

Valentine Tusai:

I just moved to a new town, nice apartment in a rich neighbourhood and I only

start work in a week. Lone in my apartment, no entertainment and this boredom

is making me sick. I finished a bottle of Vodka yesterday and I had the best solo

conversation, I might be getting a tad inch crazy. My neighbours’ wife keeps

jumping outside for a smoke but I fail to gather the energy to chat her up. I

decided to take to take a long aimless stroll, just to shake of this boredom and

brush off the laziness. Two hours later I spot the prettiest girl I’ve never seen in

this town. She’s seated by the bus-stop, duffel back on the ground and tissue in

her hand wiping off tears. I sit down beside her and pass a simple greeting and

she just nods her head. Where is she going, where is she coming from, has she

been dumped and why is she alone? Should I talk to her or mind my own

business? How will I reach her when she is so drenched in emotions? “Hie,

what’s wrong, where are you going, who did this to you, why are you crying,

did someone die, do you know what you want to do?” She kept nodding her

head negatively at all my questions, she couldn’t utter any words and she was

choking at any attempt. I stopped asking her questions and just started talking

about life. I told her how one should have faith, work hard and leave everything

else in the hands of the almighty. How one should be forgiving and how life

gives second chances. How my life was a mess and I overcame and now I’m

here. She moved towards me and hurriedly hugged me. Her tears on my chest,

I’m dumbfounded and I just hold her. I had no idea what happens in such a

situation. Finally she breaks away and finds the courage to speak…..

Tanya Ntombikayise Tadiwanashe Masaire:

"It's not the first time I've heard those words before. It's not the first time I've

been at my dusk and been told to hang on just a little bit longer. But really tell

me- what’s to hold onto when you have nothing at all? Can you build a house

when there is no brick or mortar? Can you have a rainbow when there is no light

and the prism is a vacuous black hole?" She sighs and turns away from me

looking into the distance. Without turning to look at me, she continues in a

rasping voice, "You are someone. That’s clear. And you have somewhere to

go... I am no one- I just watch the buses pass by and anyone who risks to watch

the buses with me risks becoming nothing too," She gets up abruptly and walks

to the curb looking intently at the traffic whizzing past on the busy street. Her

hands impulsively seek her chest and fold over breast as though hiding or

protecting something underneath. She looks so lonely though, so tiny and

fragile. Maybe, I think to myself as I study her with empathy filled eyes, maybe,

it was more a gesture of comfort than anything else. Maybe it was a gesture

borne of the loneliness that she so clearly harbours- all alone in this world

except for the duffel bag at her feet. My chest tightens and my breath becomes

heavier as pity for this beautiful stranger welled up in me; Impulsively, I too

abandon my spot on the bench and found myself standing next to her with my

lanky arm enveloping her tiny shoulder. For the first time since she had begun

talking, big brown eyes pull themselves away from the traffic and blink

repeatedly as they try to focus on me. They are devoid of any emotion or flicker

of recognition. It was as though she saw right through me.

“It’s been so long since any human being has knowingly made contact with

me,” she stops and chews on a blackened lip, “it’s been so long… “ once more

her eyes become cloudy as though she has been transported back in time to the

period in her life that she speaks of, “that’s why I allowed you to hold me like

you did. I don’t normally hug strangers… mummy told me never to- “her words

are swallowed by the sobs that wreck her body, tossing it much like a straw of

grass in stormy seas. My grip tightens around her shoulder and I rock her just

like I rock my nephews to sleep after nightmares have woken them up in the

middle of the night.

“You are a good man… at least you seem like one. I hope you build more than

you destroy. I hope you stay in the morning and watch the rays of sunlight

appear over the horizons. I hope you allow yourself to dream and to build

castles in the sand. I hope you love yourself and have a little more to give to

those around you. I hope you never hurt the heart that trusts in you,” another

sigh escapes her parted lips, “I had hope once… I truly believed in the novelty

of loves divine. I gave all I had and I hoped to find myself in the warm cocoon

that was born of two. But instead I lost not only myself- but all that was within

me. My health, my life and my sense of well-being, “ slowly she extricates

herself from my embrace and walks away. I want to grab her and pull her back

into my embrace but the look in her face stops me. She doesn’t want to be

refrained. She pauses and turns to look at me. For a moment our eyes hold, a

solitary tear rolls down her cheek. With a glazed over look in her eyes, she steps

onto the tarred road and becomes one with the buses she was watching...

Pen Name: Ty’ra Vanadis

Twitter: @Vanadis17

Blog: www.vanadis17.wordpress.com

Location: Zimbabwe

Samantha Hephzibah:

"I don't know where to begin", she says wiping a tear just before it reaches her

top lip. I have comprehended that whatever is bothering her is deeper than my

imagination, thoughts are flooding in my mind and I'm trying to guess what

could be possibly bothering this beautiful Soul . At this point curiosity is getting

the best of me and right before I open my mouth to fish out information she

speaks, with her head bowed down she finally speaks," I always try so hard to

make people around me happy, I try so hard but for him to be the one to do this

to me, after all we've been through and the promises we were supposed to

keep......"She pauses obviously in deep thought, her eyes glistening again

evidently showing the tears to soon escape her eyes "I'm sorry", she continues

"I'm probably not making much sense... "hey It’s okay, it's going to be okay",

those are the only words I manage to say in this unfamiliar situation, I don't

know what to say to her so I just hold her hand in hopes that might come across

as some sort of remedy . It seems she read my mind and saved me from a

confusing scenario by speaking again, God knows I didn't expect the words she

uttered. "I got engaged to my boyfriend of 8 years last month, the man I thought

would catch a grenade for me. I just got back home today after a weekend away

with my colleagues, we went camping and it was really fun", she tries to smile

but hardly manages to show her teeth. "He lied to me, our life together was a

lie....he doesn't love me and never has!!!", She is almost screaming now... "I

come home from a wonderful weekend expecting to get a warm hug from my

fiancé but I'm welcomed by a bloody naked man on my bed with my man, my

fiancé!!! How in God's name is that possible? How does a man I've loved for

the past decade be gay? How can he do this to me!!!???"......."uhm wow uhm

wow", I say with no emotion on my face. I really don't know what to say to this

stranger.

Twitter: @SammyHarajaku

Blog: www.samanthahephzibah.wordpress.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/samanthahephzibah

Location: South Africa

Sanelisiwe Emma Mlilo:

“I, I don’t deserve a second chance, not

after…wh..what I’ve done” she continues

to sob, my sweat shirt now completely

soaked in her tears, “Nothing you’ve done

could ever be so bad that you couldn’t

start over.” What did she do that was so

terrible? “This is, you don’t even know

me, why are you being so nice?” she

stands up and puts some distance between

us, I stand up too and try to close the gap.

“I just saw you sitting there and I

wondered what had you so upset, a pretty

girl like you shouldn’t have a reason to

cry.” “Why because I’m pretty? Pretty

girls don’t cry? We have it easy huh? Is

that what you are saying?” I don’t know

why I said that, she turns away from me

and starts walking, “Wait! You don’t have

to leave, I’m not capable of intelligible conversation around pretty girls, please

forgive me. Let’s sit down and talk, maybe I can help you through whatever it is

you are going through.” She stops turns around and tries to kiss me “What are

you doing?” I ask as I back away “Don’t act like you don’t want it” “I don’t…I

mean I do…not like this…” Man did I just miss out on a chance to be with this

girl because I’m too busy trying to be a gentleman? She walks back to the bench

and sits. I stand there dumbly not sure whether to join her or not. She wipes

away another tear streaming down her cheek then looks at me. “Come, sit.” I sit

down beside her; she runs her finger over my lip removing her lipstick. “Sorry, I

don’t know why I did that.” We sit there awkward silence, till finally I ask

“What did you do? Why are you so upset?” She looks at me, eyes filling with

tears “I made him stop” she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a gun, her

hands trembling as she cradles it in her lap “I made him stop. I had to.” She

looks at me, I look at the gun and wonder what she means “Made who stop?

What happened did someone hurt you?” she smiles “Yes…but he won’t hurt

anyone else. I made him stop.”

Sound: www.soundcloud.com/blazinsane

Blog: www.blazinsane.tumblr.com

Twitter: @BlazinSane

Sthandekile Khumalo:

"As a woman there's one or two parts of your physique that you take pride in.

This is the part of your makeup that makes all your trouble spots a miniscule

figment of your imagination and for me that's my breasts". Like a reflex action

my eyes shoot at her heavily endowed bosom and I believed that if Africa is a

big mound motherland of milk and honey, she indeed had Africa and the

tectonic plates on her chest, double DDs; my sexual innuendo is on high alert.

And I quickly discard the fantasies building up in mind and snap back to reality

as she goes on "I love them, I love them so much that I've refrained from

stealthy flaunting them to the world in the form of low-cut tops to covering

them cause they are my pride and that of my other half. But this love has now

brought me a great deal of fear, pain and confusion. One tear streams down her

plump cheek and she weepingly continues “I have been diagnosed with stage 3

breast cancer, and I am just 21”. Oh my God, this was such a shocker, she

looked so young though, she continued "Listen here buddy, just like any other

person my age I have dreams; finish varsity, get me a job at an accounting firm,

drive that drop-top Italian machinery on four wheels, get married to my

sometimes-whenever I feel like it boyfriend and have kids”. She looked into the

distance, her face looking lost and confused “This life is never worth it, you are

not here on this realm for long and I charged forward like any other determined

soul, I guess you can't cheat fate, this is why I have chosen not to fight my

supposed fate and quit chemotherapy, I have decided to go on a trip to the Land

of the Midnight Sun” This is real sad, this girl seemingly was losing hope but

what on earth was the Land of the Midnight Sun? I had to ask “What is the

Land of the Midnight Sun and where is it, what’s there?” She wiped off her

tears with her palm and grabbed my cheek with her hand and said “My dear,

that is where I will find the answers and solutions to all my questions” The

Metrobus arrived at the bus-stop; she picked up her duffle bag, stood up and

left.

Pen name/Stage name: The Real African Trademark

Poetess. Singer/songwriter, Dj, plus-size fashion designer/model

Page: www.facebook.com/cythkhumaloe

Location: Zimbabwe

Anesu Machekanyanga

“I have been gathering the strength to go back home for 5 years now. Since the

incident i never felt the same so coming back never felt right. I probably should

have called even once but i never found the courage to pick up the phone.” Just

the thought of hearing the loneliness and hurt in her voice would have killed

me. ” I definitely would have come home i was not ready. Now as i am standing

by our gate and a sign post in front of me says sold .So many emotions are

flowing through me. The neighbour noticed me and pulled over. We had a small

chat and her words were like daggers to my chest. Apparently it all got too

much for her and a year ago they laid her to rest. No one knew where I was so

no one called me. Walking back to the bus stop after seeing her grave was

excruciating. Someone had moved into our house I had nowhere to go

anymore”. I kept quiet and looked into the distant, taking a breather with rivers

flowing from my eyes, wondering who this stranger was who comes reeking of

alcohol asking my life's story when all i wanted was for it to end. As I looked up

I saw something in him, he looked like he was running away from something.

He had such comforting words to say but his eyes told a story.

Pen Name: A Mac/ Naynae

Twitter: @miss_naynae

Blog: clinomaniacdreams.wordpress.com

Location: South Africa

Kearoma Desireè Mosata

…The stranger has kind eyes. That’s the first thing I notice as he stares at me.

He goes on to ask what’s wrong with me then I realize how ridiculous and sad I

must look.

How do you explain to someone that your whole life has been a lie? That

everything that made sense to you seems to have been a lie. As soon as her

touches my arm and asks me what’s wrong and why I am crying, the flood of

tears continues. He is the first to genuinely ask what’s wrong and he is a

stranger. My own family and friends looked at me like I was an outcast, pity

laced in their random text messages and phone-calls. I knew none of them had

been genuine because they had all warned me about him.

I look over at the stranger with the kind eyes and I immediately want to tell him.

I want to spill it all out because what’s a stranger going to say? Laugh at the

stupidity that got me here?

“He left me…. for my best friend. I left my whole life behind to make him

happy. Left school because he said he wanted me to study art, something I was

passionate about and that I should stop groaning about the law case studies I

always had to know or law school…” I say all this in between sobs, hoping I am

making sense but not caring whether I am. Something in me tells me getting it

all out will somehow extract all the pain that’s in my chest and that this strange

man will tell me “you are free from pain.” I have nothing to lose so I carry on.

“My own parents told me from the get-go, how he had sneaky eyes. They knew

these things I should have listened. I instead packed my bags and moved into

the big house by the bakery. Excited and giddy like the little kids that pop in

and out of the bakery, walking in with hopeful eyes and walking out with

excited and impatient to dive into their creamy delicacies. “

The stranger listens on, his eyes bulging now and then as I recount how at first

Steve had been perfect. He spoiled me, gave me everything. Made me believe

my parents were trying to turn me into a money-making machine for their

retirement. I had told him to hold off on paying for art school because I felt I

needed to prove I was wife-material. The ridiculous notion society puts in our

heads regarding dating, that one should measure up to a certain standard. My

best friend, Lorna, hated him. We had been friends since we were little girls

playing house with the rest of the neighbourhood kids. I was always the child

because of my small build and she the mother because of her nurturing nature.

She told me the first time she met Steve that he had lying eyes. She was the one

who had this strange character that could tell people by their eyes. Yet here I

was, at a bus stop, my best friend and my ex-lover planning their wedding and

me being thrown out like dish water because according to Steve I was too

“meek”, too “kind” too “soft”. Since when were all these bad traits?

I finish my story and look up at the stranger, who had at some point during my

recount held my hand. He looked sad for me, but I had no way to be sure. I was

done believing humans ever had good intentions.

He looked at me and said “Steve really had lying eyes then, huh?” and displays

this smile that says “I am sorry you went through all that.” I laugh at his random

yet somehow honest observation and move over for a hug….

Nationality: Botswana

Blog: strugglingbookworm.wordpress.com

Twitter: @mido_mosata."

Macilline Rangai:

Finally she breaks away and finds the

courage to speak… “I just found the

love of my life stark naked in bed…

with my best friend”, she struggles to

speak with a big lump of sadness in her

throat. Bitter tears welled down her

face and I could see her smooth lips

trembling between a mixture of

disappointment and rage. “I did

everything he wanted and in turn he

threw my heart into the fire, watching

it burn into ashes…Where did I ever go

wrong?” She stopped for a moment as

if I knew the answer to her question.

“How can love be so painful yet it is the greatest spiritual gift of all? Was it

love? ” she keeps on talking ad infinitum. What great moments we had together,

I was with him through thick and thin and this is how he repays me? How did I

fail to suspect that something was going on between him and my best friend?

That insatiate camel of a woman. Finally I’m wide awake and the scales have

fallen off my eyes but the pain is too much to handle. It is like a cancerous

wound cutting deep into my flesh. Anyway “what is love without tragedy?” A

million questions kept lingering in my mind and I swear I could lose my mind

right now. A stranger just made me feel better and I am done with that

womaniser with an ugly heart. He is not my sunshine anymore. A cold wind

brushes through my face reminding me that it is late and its time I went back

home. “Thank you for the comforting words, you have no idea how badly I

needed it”, I say to the young man I had just hugged a few moments ago. “I

hope to see you around”. I gather myself together and hurriedly head home.

When someone treats you like an option, help them narrow down their choices

by removing yourself from the equation. I should have removed myself from

the equation a long time ago when I felt us drifting apart yet he said everything

was okay and I was just imagining things. I will not give him the satisfaction to

watch me suffer. As for my best friend I am done playing the ‘sisterhood

game’. One thing I know for sure is ‘the tables always turn’. Isn’t it pathetic

how we waste so much time and effort on certain people and at the end they

prove that they were not even worth a second of it. To my disgust when I arrive

I find my ex-lover sitting in front of my door holding his head between his two

huge hands…

Twitter: @miss_rangai

Esther Mirembe Astar

She stared out into the open space as if

to an unseen audience, and began to

speak. “Once a man with a terminal

illness was asked what it feels like to

live knowing he could die any minute.

He did not give a concrete answer.

Instead, he asked “How do you think it

feels to wake up every day and pretend

all is well and I am not a moving time

bomb?” Rhetoric as it seemed, hard as

it is to imagine, that was the life I have

become enslaved to. No, I do not have a

terminal illness. Maybe I do, but it is

more a mental illness that gnaws on my

soul in the watches of the night and an earthquake underneath my skin while I

make attempts to survive the day.” Not once did she look at me as she spoke.

She seemed to be giving an address that had been long overdue. “Life has not

been very kind to me but I have learnt to accept all its cruelty. I watched my

father walk away when I was five and from then on the struggle my mother

went through trying to keep me and my little brother in school. Sometimes I

saw her kissing drunk men but it was to keep me in school. I understood. The

kids at school called me a whore’s daughter. And I learnt not to fall apart while

the world watched. My brother died while we held him in our one-roomed

house. He was epileptic, it could have been prevented but mother had found

Jesus. There was no money.” she continued while an endless stream rolled

down her cheeks. She didn’t bother to wipe them. “This past year has been

great. I graduated with a debt enough to take me my entire life. But I graduated.

I was lucky to get a job soon enough. And another part time job to finance the

debt and take care of mother. This is the best life has ever been. I was content.

Till last month when the company closed. I started waiting tables’ full time.

Then mother started falling sick. The drug store had affordable pain killers.

Thank God. But last night the pain was intense so we decided to visit a doctor.

The only person who has kept the time bomb waiting is now a time bomb too.”

She broke her intense stare into the dark and looked at me almost

apologetically. It seemed like she had forgotten I was there.

Nationality: Uganda

Twitter: @subtle_royalty

Blog: www.subtleroyalty.wordpress.com

Linet Nharingo:

“I've come to know that there is no benefit in talking really. People are so quick

to say I'm here when you need me or whenever you want to talk, holla at me.

But the truth of the matter is that they don't really care. And when you talk, it’s

like talking to a wall. But I'm really desperate at this point so I'll tell you.”

Whether he would listen or not was another story. I just needed to let it out. “I

remember when I was growing up and I would get into fights with my friends.

I'd be all upset mopping all around the house. And shed say "always remember

we didn't choose to be related, but your friends you chose them yourself.”

Obviously this wasn't a discussion so I couldn't speak back I had to listen and

digest. Then as I grew up to be a young woman she also told me that "we

choose who we love too". So there I was thinking I'm equipped with some

wisdom to my name and out into the world I went. I found myself the one and I

was so sure I had chosen him so everything should go just fine. Oh how happy

we were discovering each other, learning about each other and just being

together. It was a little heaven we created for ourselves. Then he got a job put of

town and the obvious logical thing was to move with him. So up we packed and

came here. Moved in together. My friends were all about not moving in with the

guy before you signed on the dotted line but hey the lease contract was just as

good I reasoned. Knowing Tom I always knew he'd propose to me sooner. We

just had to settle down and then we could start planning our lives together. So

there I was living with my man being all wifely and all and I could say it was

going all well. As of late things haven't been so great so I decided to go to my

mom's and just rethink everything and if wanted to go through this bad time

with my man. Being back in my hometown wasn't easy. All familiar faces, a

few ex-boyfriends wanting to meet for old time's sake. Wanting to indulge I

went on a few dates but I couldn't help being taken to places I had gone with

Thom and doing things I had done with Thom. And before I knew it I was

measuring up everybody to Thom and boy did they fall short.

Then I asked myself what I was doing in this dingy place while my man was

waiting for me in our cosy apartment. So on a bus I got and I came home.

Having left in a hurry I left my key behind I had to humble myself and knock on

the door. And when the door opened there we were, two girls on either side of

the door shocked with mouths dropped then a voice that broke the spell was his

"babe who is it" and there he was standing behind her looking at me with a

shocked face. I couldn't get a word out so I just did what I could and I turned

my back and started running and here I am. Realising that my mother should

have told me that we also don't choose who we fall in love with.

Instagram: @linny203

Blog: www.linnzy203.wordpress.com

Page: www.facebook.com/letmecraftyourheart

Location: Johannesburg

Cherish Nanziwe

"I don’t know who you are but you're the only person who has taken a second

glance at me since I’ve been sitting here, and I’ve been here for a while." I wipe

away the bitter tears I've been crying and take a look at the man sitting next to

me. A complete stranger and yet I feel the need to pour out my life's story to

him. He smiles a nervous smile and says "we all need an ear to listen sometimes

and I happen to have two free ones" I decide he's sweet so I tell him that I've

been trying to find my brother. I recently found out that I had been adopted 17

years ago and until a few weeks ago had thought I was an only child. After

many tears and terrible words, my adoptive mother had given me what little

details she had about my biological family. What I found out was my mother

had passed away and my father was an alcoholic so deep in addiction I could

get nothing out of him." I can relate, my mother died when I was young too" he

says.at least you knew her I think silently. A neighbour of my fathers

recognized me walking down the street, she said I looked just like my mother

did, before she.....anyway, she said she knew where my brother had moved to,

she gave me the area and the apartment number but I haven't been able to find

the place. He looks at me with a little cheer in his eyes and says “hey I can help

you, not like I'm doing anything right now. By the way my mane is Mandla," he

says as he reaches out his hand to shake mine and I feel the wind knocked out of

me because I know those hands. And those eyes. They are my own. And

Mandla is the name of the brother I have been searching for

Twitter: @nanziwe.c | Instagram: @cherinanzie

Kim Mabika

"I have gained weight, all my clothes won't fit and ...I am fat!" At this point of

the conversation I do not know if I should laugh or if I should be aggravated, I

really thought something serious was going on with her, now I am thinking how

best I can comfort her but she looks fine to me. "Girl there is nothing wrong

with being fat". Just at that moment she begins to cry harder and louder, almost

like a close relative had died. "So you think am fat, oh my God he thinks am fat,

what part of me is fat?" She stands up, and Lord God of heavens she was a

babe. Beautiful smooth looking skin, accompanied with a cola bottle shape

body, not too thick not too slim either, just the perfect size for my liking. She

has the eyes of a goddess, hazel coloured, matching her complexion, the type

that does not lie. "No no no uhm ma'am...," just before I finished my statement

she cut me, “Ma’am! Oh my, do I look that old? I am only...I am.. , ohh ...I am

only twenty two, in fact I have not yet turned twenty two" So it seems

everything I said to her made things worse, I am hopeless, how can I tell this

pretty lady how startling I think she looks without offending her. So I rephrased

my unfinished statement, this time I speaking with authority, as a man. Tough

love is what she needs...hopefully. “Girl, suck it up, I saw you crying thinking

you had been raped or something, instead you are crying over some silly weight

issues. To think I had actually found you attractive. You know what, if you

cannot live with yourself or accept yourself then go and hang yourself! I wish

you knew how beautiful you look, I feel sad for you sister. Do you think you are

the first to gain weight? You know what MA'AM I am going." I then left, yes I

did leave, and I know it sounds cold. I just wanted to add drama to the scenario

and leave memories of me hoping one day we would meet again and laugh

about this. That night I do not know what triggered me to switch on the

television, since I am not much of a fanatic and had only bought it for display.

As I was watching some reality television show called Keeping Up With The

Something Something, I just got bored, I had seen enough drama for the day. I

switched the Channel to BBC news and put on mute for a while, just to meditate

upon the fact that I had been dumb enough not to speak to the girl, I had met

earlier on, politely, not get her number or at least get her name. The greatest

coincidence then happened; there was my goddess, her pictures where all over

my TV screen. Had I talked to a celebrity? Maybe it was the president’s

daughter, or she was somehow related to Beyoncé since they did sort of looked

alike. I can’t read the headlines, I misplaced my spectacles somewhere in one of

the rooms, so I just turn up the volume .All of a sudden, there I am seeing a

disturbing footage of a corpse covered with a black plastic being carried away

in a stretch bed by the paramedics. The reporter is saying a bunch of nonsense

about a girl who had hanged herself because, in accordance to a letter found by

the cops, someone forced her to commit suicide. Man this girl had a legion of

issues than I had anticipated, who kills themselves all because....wait a minute,

the description of the "someone" who had forced her fit mine. Oh man I am

doomed! Now the FBI is all over my place, the CIA, the Zimbabwean black

boot is even there, like I am some terrorist or something. Wait what is the black

boot doing here though? You know how in boondocks Tom is always afraid to

get raped, picture that as me. How do I call the people back in Zimbabwe and

tell them all this, my momma is going to have a heart attack. At is at this point I

found myself lying on the floor, trying to gain consciousness; my sleeping pills

are lying at a distance. I had overdosed and had been hallucinating, was really

wondering where I had got the TV from. For the next couple of days I chilled in

my apartment, bored, sick and broke. Suddenly there is a knock on my door,

who could this be?" Hi am Tarra, I just moved in next door, I was wondering if

you could help me carry some boxes, "Wait a minute, the pretty girl in my

dreams is real? She is my neighbour too. Ho ho ho this is getting interesting, I

thought, till she introduced me to her husband.

Pen name: Afro PoetiQ Mind

Facebook Page: Kim" Afro Poetiq Mind" Mabika

Location: Zimbabwe

Melisa Alexander Winx:

“I'm sorry…. l'm not normally like this….. Never actually” She was clouded by

emotions, she couldn’t mouth her words, “Hugging strangers at a bus stop. I’m

sorry, that’s not me” I let her know it was okay and she should continue. “One

bar goes down the other comes up, it's like a never ending story, that's plays

itself over and over like a broken record. Tell me. What do you think? How

much can a person take? Are there limits? My world has been burnt down and

all that's left is gray. Should l sell my soul like Dorian Grey? At least my beauty

will charm everything including demons and probably Lucifer himself. I was

once a Queen of my own making, l had everything. I had the world. And they

took him away from me. He was my everything, my smile, my love, my blood,

the very air that I breathe. He was my joy. And yet Zeus took him away like he

was nothing”. I couldn’t comprehend what she was trying to say, I asked her

“What killed him? I’m so sorry for your loss” she replied “No! He aint dead!”

oh snap, “But I thought you said Zeus the God took his life” she replied "Not

Zeus the God silly, Zeus is my uncle" I looked at her shocked, and she

continued "Zeus took away my dog"

Facebook: Melissa Alexander Winx

Profession: Engineering Student sponsored by Rolls Royce

Hobbies: Painting and poetry

Location: United Kingdom

Ruth Yacim:

"Sorry I messed up your shirt, am usually not like this. Am just having a bad

day. Thanks for the kind words too". It was the least I could say to a stranger

who had asked so many questions but then, how was I to know if I could let him

in. As a man, even if he tried he could never understand, he could never feel the

way I felt and may even call me names. The society is so quick to judging

women. He looked intelligent and quiet as handsome as the average man would

but if ever looks said it all, I may never have fallen into the hands of Robert or

may even have been wiser. Being as petite as I am, I am often drawn to tall men

who I feel would give good cuddles and make awesome story tellers and to me

Robert had all the tick many women still dream of. With his tall height; I could

be cuddled, with his caramel skin; I could see myself the envy of others and not

to forget his chiselled jaws that gave him a beautiful smile but I had fallen a

victim way too soon; guess I was the stupid one. I wanted love and rather than

giving it to myself, I thought that giving it to someone else would bring it to me.

My high school teacher had told me "never to blame others for my sadness" but

those were words and nothing could match up to the rejection I faced at home

when father left the house and mother thought that the best way to be give me

everything was to work two jobs till she gave up the ghost. My unsatisfied

affections took me to places I had never been, because they were my dreams;

but then Robert was a good match or so I thought after my encounter with an

older man who I never knew was married. Because mother worked two jobs, it

was convenient for her to leave me a sum and an estate which meant I was

settled for life but then, I longed for more not more really, just affection and the

much older man who acted like daddy and a friend the day I met him; helping

me with my groceries, with words as sweet as ice on a burning heart, carried me

away until I met his wife who is as young as I am, who could hardly stop

gushing about him at the spa house; imagine my reaction when I saw his picture

with her at a resort, a week after he told me he had a business deal and I thought

I could come to the spa and freshen up myself for him. Apparently older men

are smooth talkers and lovers but this one was interested in young bloods and I

was a bigger victim, for he already had a young blood and I was more or less a

back door when things went south for them. Robert however was younger and

his fine ass didn't let me go, unless on days I ran away from him because he said

I deserved some smacking. The relationship had not been a year but he had

become as vile as a man who had laid claim on me by being my husband. He

would hit me because I came late for a date or dressed a bit awkward to him; he

felt I was to only dress a certain way to prove to him that I was a "wife". Sigh!

He just wanted to control my life. Silly me, I gave him my car and even a lot

more my heart aches for. And here I am, with a stranger, don't even know why I

hugged him, guess I needed it. He didn't sound so bad; first time a man spoke of

faith to me but then, I took my bag and left him, i see no need feeding him with

my tales; he could more or less be like the others.

Stage Name: Anastasia Ruth

Nationality: Nigerian

Blog: www.anastasiaruth.wordpress.com

www.valzcognition.wordpress.com @CurateEarth Call/Whataspp +263772545417 Email: davalzcode@zoho.com