THE STRANGER

It's been an hour or two since I stood by this penthouse window. But am not as bored as you probably already are about this story. Maybe you are wondering why i can't be precise on how long it has been, worse even, how there's someone who doesn't own a clock in the twenty first century. Well, there's a huge artistic designer Wall clock that had belonged to a temple, just over the dresser, a proud and only trophy of my week long adventurous hobby as an Antique's collector. 

I also hate having to make guesses and one or two hour's is inexcusable. Having facts and being a perfectionist is one of my biggest weaknesses. I mean at least it had been, when I used to be holder of the coveted title of the village storyteller. A position that fascinated and drove spasms of piecing thrill, into the holder's heart, as he struck artistic fear, into a congregation of small humans watching him, eyes wide in awe, literal thirst dragging them deeper and  fear of the unknown completely evident. That was a month ago and time isn't of essence to me anymore. Nevertheless, staring at the golden rays of a sunrise on an early summer morning, complimented by a crystal clear blue sea and a matching magical blend of a perfect cloudless sky and a dock town laying way below you, should be added in a thousand artistic ways to loose track of time. The intriguing serenity, the tourist's crowding the dock curio shop ready to choose from the new goodies before anyone else had, the ferry roaring to life ready to transport human life across, is a worthy sight for anyone and also a town to wake up to. A huge inspiration even to some author, for an award winning story, but not for me, if the manuscripts rolled into ball's of waste inked paper lying around this floor are anything to go by.

Have you ever stared at the bubble of people in a highly spirited mood, greeting each other cheerfully, the random passionate hugs and walking off to their jobs hurriedly with the precision of knowing where they need to be, when to be and how to get there? Does a nauseating feeling of being lost cloud your conscious making it almost hard to breath, slowly suffocating? A painful feeling of not belonging and loneliness that makes you ask more question's and almost loose sanity? Well, we are sailing in the same boat as I stand in this cage watching the hype just out yet looking too far. If you feel or have felt this, please remember to ink this stranger a letter in your warmest font's plus a favorite emoji. Also, forget not to change the address to a small pent house in the capital, that rarely see's any visitor opening it's door except the newspaper boy. If you had the other address now would be a great time to inform you that I let go the cozy wooden cabin, after quitting my fishing role, a letter there might go answered. The fishermen had been great company if you need to know, but the waiting for fish to take my bait got too boring three day's later and having exhausted the fishermen's adventure stories that they had so generously told of, I just had to quit, am sorry. To make up for not sending you a catch, we could visit the beautiful tropical forest in summer and harvest some honey for you, if the hive I placed there that weekend after reading how marketable honey is, still stand's.

I have nowhere to be today and watching the people open up their shop's with other's off to work makes me envy them. The only exception, is the dock guitarist seated in the street, beautifully stroking the string's of his instrument such a skill, his eyes closed. The reason I don't envy him being I know how troublesome it will be for him sleeping after the painful cut's of the string's in his finger's. Entertaining people in the plaza last summer using only a differently coloured instrument but a replica of the brand he is holding , is enough experience to make me know what to wish for and joy's not to envy.

If someone else comes across this they might think i don't have anything to do. Well, that's absolutely right, but not having work to go to doesn't mean I am lazy. I have been up all night to be precise. The partially torn and shapelessly rolled to paper balls manuscript's are what I have to show for that. The writing talent I had told John I thought I had, an year ago, while we were training the chief's dog's tricks, an hobby I had picked up after overhearing him brag in the tavern later approaching him for a partnership, is what am currently doing. I still have no idea where to start writing on or what to compose a story about but someday if I write a simple script, a comic even, that will need a super human, John might be the name I'll use. He went back to the chief's palace to continue training the dog's after the giant, German Shepherd had torn the leather off his boot and chased us around in circles and finally out of the compound. This, I had been informed of by Njiru, the village businessman when he had visited the city. I could have known of course but the chase had made me pack my belongings the next day and join my old friend Bundi, as an apprentice, in his village medicine man expertise.

Now that i have decided to give writing a try, am struggling to scribble down my feeling's, the little insecurities that have been tearing me down yet I can't talk about and I also want to ink down someplace for memories sake,the names of the few real friend's I have had. I have ran around for so long trying to find a place to call home, find some peace and even settle yet all I have done is sink deeper into a dark abyss becoming a broken stranger to myself too. I have been trying to pick up a few more hobbies and somehow am at a loss. I would be pleased if you included a list of your own in the Christmas card to me and someday the stranger might settle in a condo as your neighbor and together we will try ice skating.

 For now I'll have to try John's advise on my becoming an author, four hours later as we played chess,on that fateful day. Words that hadn't struck home until now as I collect the waste manuscripts off the floor and settle back into my desk. Words that he had simply spit knocking me off with a check mate saying,"If you ever write, Let the ink bleed in paper and release your pain. Don't hold back no matter how compelled to you feel to. Keep sharing with other stranger's if speaking out to a friend is that hard. Travel the world in scribbles and tear off chapter's you think don't colour your world the way you want it to be. Explore, be happy and share love along not war, these are your role's writer. if you decide to write."

©Godwin Kirimi

   a.k.a

©Mr Write_ke