I’ve been getting work from the goddess, lots of work! I have a lot of undelivered dispatches and now that she’s done with me, we can get to business.
How’s she? She seems to be all pumped up and productive. I’ve finished seven jugs of ink and two carts of parchment, trying to get her ideas into deliverable form. Maybe I don’t have a lot of finished products but the bin is filled with oodles of ‘could-have-beens’. We sit on the furs at the fireplace all night long, she dreams and I journey with her, to places I have never been. I open my eyes at the amazing and I appreciate the mundane as well because I never know what to expect.
Dark Betty has joined us at the castle. We gave her an empty room, the only bone-engine typewriter we have and lots of actual paper but I’m not sure what she’s going to do with it but I’m sure that even her paper planes would be magnificent.
Y’all know I do guitars, Kirikou and Simone have been talking to me a lot lately, hence, I obliged Kirikou’s request to feature. The disclaimer here would be that I’m not professional but I just love music. I did a quickie song, Agidi, and recorded it on my laptop. It’s all me and one guitar, squeaking over and over on this AUDACITY software I found on the internet. It’s a joke really, nothing serious, but my guitars wouldn’t forgive me if I hid them in my closet. Find our embarrasing song at the end of the story. YOU MUST TO USE EARPHONES OH!
I’d be beating a Blues/Rock mixation on the gong and screaming “Welcome Dark Betty, to the house of pain and pleasure, rah rah rah!” and you all know why. Of course, AfroSays:
It was midnight, a dry northern midnight, the kind that required you to sleep naked on a wet bed. The kind that kept you awake all night, tossing and turning, marinading in your own pool of liquid saltiness, maybe standing up a few times to check if, by some evil trickery, the windows to your room had been shut, only to discover that you can still see the face of the moon in a half smile, mocking your inconvenience.
That was the kind of night that kept a whole city awake, the kind that made every man’s ears quick and noticing, differentiating the creaking snores of his house from the apologetic footsteps of an uninvited guest.
The timorous squeaks on the floor board started as groans and ended in flailing, high-pitched shrieks, in five second intervals like muted birth calls of a pregnant banshee.
All the flooring in the house was marble tiling, all except the kitchen floor. It had escaped replacement because the aging wood complemented the mahogany cupboards in a retro-meets-modern communion. He didn’t understand what that meant but that’s what the interior decorator he married had said. That night, all that mattered was what he heard.
He was actively listening to the other intrusive sounds now, and coming into the consciousness of a man, a higher animal. He listened and he began to think.
There were two doors in the kitchen. The second kitchen door opened to the backyard; The backyard was a short distance from a short fence; the short fence was a short distance from a short grass patch; the short grass patch gave way to a short lane; the short lane soon joined the main road.
The main road… The short lane… The short grass patch… The short fence… The backyard… It was littered with his daughter’s toys… His daughter’s toys were at the backyard…
Probably was just trying to get a forbidden midnight snack, some Shortbread and Ribena perhaps.
He got up, wore a pair of shorts and went to check.
AND THE SONG…
Download, put on those earphones and please enjoy, Agidi
. Lyrics can be found here