Maybe, Just maybe, Suicide isn’t an Option.

(Note: I don’t own copyright to the image)

This is no fiction.

12 weeks or 10 weeks ago, I can’t really recall the exact month and date, but this incident transpired within that period. A male friend of mine had disclosed to me about a job opening in one of the reputable companies in Accra, Ghana. He, my friend, works in the mother company. They were looking forward to launching and opening a subsidiary company somewhere October ending or the first week in November in another city, Kumasi-Ghana(One of the largest metropolitan cities in Ghana). They were strictly employing people by “who-you-know- Or who-knows-you method”- Just incase you are at sea to what this slang means, it simply means someone recommending you on a job. I was happy about this new development, immensely happy. Flashback to my last two post on “As I Dey Grow Up”, last eight lines to the climax, I talked about the number of jobs interviews I had graced, either a six or seven(I lost track counting), how they were all futile and how weary and depressed I was beginning to feel. It was an emotionally and mentally draining experience for me. When my friend told me about this job opening and the 99.9% possibility of getting this one, my soul beamed with happiness. You know the best part about this new development? Guess? Guess? Come on, guess? The salary was quite lucrative! I didn’t just use the word “quite” right? No, it was lucrative! I would like to divulge the figure for future reference sake. He stated that, our monthly net salary not gross was 300 dollars, converting it into our local currency, estimatedly, 1200Ghana cedis which comes along with some commissions and incentives for the role of call center communication. Well, this figure might sound small to some of y’all but it was a good head start for me. In my head, I had already started making plans on how much I was going to save monthly to help me further my education, how much I was going to send home monthly to my little siblings, it was an estimable feeling. “Finally, this was my breakthrough, everything was going to fall into place.” I said to myself. Amused with my own thoughts, I smiled. If only I knew….

A day was scheduled for the interview. I came through looking all smart and intelligent not to blow my own horns, but I had prepared thoroughly for this. Coming through in my high waisted office skirt designed with a black and white stripes, a short white sleeve shirt neatly pressed, with my matching brown heels and handbag, I arrived on the interview premises 30minutes earlier to my scheduled time of appointment. I hovered around till my scheduled time was due. Within 5-10 minutes, I was through with my interview, walked out from the HR office confidently and hoping for some good news. If only I knew..

Later on that same evening, my male friend told me about the lasting impression I made on the HR and looked forward to seeing me in the last session of badge of interview for people who made it through the first phase. Luckily, I was part of them. If only I knew…

Fast forward to a week later, the last round of interview was organized. Making it through this round, means you’re getting the job! Wait, hold on, I forgot something vital, you remember the first phase of the interview right? I forgot to mention I made a new friend called Nicole. A friend had also told her about the job opening. We exchanged contacts, a few words and that’s how we became friends. Luckily, she also made it to through to the last round of interview. We even attended the last session of interview together in each other’s company. Now, back to where I left off. After the last round of interview, we promised to stay in-touch and update each other on any improvement that occurs which pertains the job. If only I knew…

Fast forward to a week later after the last round of interview, according to the HR, we were going to receive feedbacks from them in a weeks time. It’s been a week now, no text message, no missed call, no email, nothing. My heart skipped a beat. Was beginning to feel anxious. So, I texted Nicole to find out from her if she had received any feedback from them yet. She was negative, but she assured me I shouldn’t stress and if I remember, the HR said there’s a likely probability everyone that made it through to the final stage will be employed. Remembering those words, it calmed down my anxious nerves. I even had to text my male friend again for reassurance and he was positive I was getting this job. If only I knew….

Fast forward to the second week, I was happily and busily having a video shoot on a bright Saturday morning. I didn’t see this coming. No! Out of the blues, my friend, Nicole, texted me saying she got the job. They texted her some few minutes ago. You know how hard this message hit me? I was shaken! Wait, what? I checked my mail, my other phone to see if I probably missed a call from them, my messages, nothing! I switched off my phone to refresh my network, thinking maybe they sent me a message and my network got jammed, yet nothing! Oh my! This isn’t happening to me right? Right? If there’s one thing I know about myself, I don’t know how to handle disappointment and hurt from people(Working on it) That’s when it hit me right like a blow in the head, I DIDN’T GET THE JOB! Oh my, oh my. What and how was I going to tell my dad? My mum? Little siblings? How was I going to explain to them i didn’t get the job? You might think I am being dramatic but I desperately needed this job! I felt like a joke! No, no, This isn’t happening. I would like to use the word traumatized but I don’t know if that’s the right word to use. All of a sudden, my mind became fixated on all the disappointments that had come my way this year. It’s played like a video. How I walked out from the shooting scene? I don’t know. I cried my heart out. Yeah, right, I did. I’ve had enough! I said to myself. Everything I had planned on came shattering down. What’s there to live for? I was broken. Man, I really was broken and suicide felt like the best option as at then. Re-energized with my new thoughts, I came out from where I was hiding, walked out, my eyes filled with tears which won’t stop flowing. Where and how this new designated mission was going to be done, I didn’t know. But I did know, everything was going to be over soon. I was ready for it. Coincidentally, whiles I was walking on the sidewalk, I bumped into my director. I think someone saw me and brought it to his attention. Whatever he had said that talked me out of it, I don’t remember but I was still alive the next day. Alive, not living, Just existing. There was this part of me that still hoped some good news will come along. Hours turn into day, days into weeks, yet nothing positive. I was disconnected from everyone, even myself. Strangely, how I had manage to survive that, I didn’t know, but I was still here.

Now, this is the best part of the story.

On 28th September, Nicole texted me to check up on me. We exchanged a few words and I couldn’t even wait to ask her the upmost question on my mind, to find out from her if she has moved from the city already? If she has started working? How she was getting along with her coworkers? When I asked her, she said No, she dropped it. Everyone did. And I’m like; wait, what? What? You did what? Who drops a job of that salary? Not forgetting, getting a good job these days was quite difficult. Then she dropped the bomb “They were going to pay them 491.00 Ghana cedis for the position of a retail officers! 491.00? Wasn’t even half of the initial amount! Jesus Christ! I was shocked.

Wasn’t it this same job I almost committed.. well, never mind.

Now, I look back and maybe, just maybe, I am glad I didn’t take that decision.

Just maybe.

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Vacation(Part 2)

Hello guys, welcome back once again to my blog. I want to say thank y’all so much for taking time off to read my posts. I really do appreciate. Especially with my recent post I made, “As I Dey Grow Up” The reviews, comments and views I had was so overwhelming. Thank y’all so much.

I will also like to apologize for not being consistent. It’s something I struggle with daily, honestly. Like I get the fresh vibe to start something, then along the line, I stop abruptly, get distracted and disorganized. I’m working on it though.

Okay, okay. Today, I’m going to share with you guys the final edition of my vacation experience. Thus, the part 2.

Monday

On the 19th Sept, ’17 which was a Monday, you’ll be shocked what I woke up to. This is what I woke up to 😭😭 Imagine, waking up to this, staring right at you through your window. I freaked out. OMG 😱😱😱 I didn’t know whether to be excited or scared. Scared in the sense, I didn’t know if it was dangerous and could be harmful. Although I traveled here to have fun, I needed to stay safe as well πŸ˜‚ I couldn’t even go out from my room, till the room attendant came to my room to clean up and I inquired from her to know if this lemur was wild or not πŸ˜‚ (I hope you didn’t whisper to yourself, “hard girl, but she dey fear monkey”) If you did, I’ll find you and skin you alive πŸ˜‚πŸ˜­

9:00am

After the room attendant had finished cleaning up my room, I locked it, went down stairs to the cafeteria and ordered for a cup of coffee.

Whiles sipping on my coffee, with legs stretched out but crossed on the table, relaxing, the atmosphere was idyllic. The only thing you could hear were the waves from the sea. I looked around to ascertain, admire, whiles catching in a breathe of fresh air that Mother Nature provided, taking into full views of my surroundings. The calmness of the sea, the humid blowing winds, the fishermen that worked on the other side of the sea washing their nets, whiles others got ready to go fishing, the fishmongers with their aluminum bowls, collecting and counting the fishes caught, surfers, the island that stood in the middle of the sea(I doubt if it’s in the middle), my thoughts traveled all over the place, thoughts about life and death and where we go from here. It was a a therapeutic atmosphere.

Getting tired of sitting at the same place and position, I decided to take a stroll along the coast which I hadn’t done since I arrived. What I ended up doing whiles taking a stroll. I built a castle πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ’ƒπŸ½

Not forgetting, I saw something really captivating along the coast. This is what I saw along the coast! A creepy but beautiful home! Being adventurous, I wouldn’t let it pass without exploring what’s on the inside πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚

See what I found inside! The room was divided into three portions. THE KITCHEN THE BEDROOM and lastly, THE HALL 😱

I wonder who lives here, honestly. Probably, might be one of the sailers or fishermen.

After the “strolling of the coast episode was over” I treated myself to some lunch to prepare for my next adventure πŸ˜‚πŸ’ƒπŸ½4:50pm One of the tourist guide prompted me that there was a nearby town and If I didn’t mind, I could explore there as well. The name of the town is Dixcove, which is a 15-20 minutes walk from Busia. Since I had nothing to lose, then why not?

En route (On my way) ☺️☺️☺️☺️

HISTORY Dixcove is a costal village in the Ashanti’s West district, a district of Western Region, Ghana which is dominated by the Fort Metal Cross built by the British. The main motive behind building this fort was to tap into our gold, a service station for the repair of ships, the supply of timber and served as a slave prison during the slave trade. The inhabitants of Dixcove are mostly fishermen and fishmongers. There is just one Catholic Church and one primary school in the community. Well, these are the essential informations I could gather. I hope you did learn something. And hey, if you haven’t been to these parts of Western Region before, I would entreat you to add it to your traveling bucket list. It’s a beautiful place. Beautiful might be an understatement πŸ˜‚

TUESDAY Well, gradually, my stay there came to an end. I was supposed to book out from my hotel by 12 o’clock and prepare for my journey back home. I wasn’t going to leave without having breakfast. Their food was great!

The warm recepti

itants was
rkable and welcoming

he environs was 70% clean. I felt they can do more better in helping to keep the environs neat. It is a tourist sites. A lot of people, mostly foreigners troop in and out of this place.

A lot of street lights should be fixed along the road to Dixcove. Walking there through the evening was quite scary.

Also, I think a lot more activities should be initiated to make the place a little bit more lively.

But in all, it was a good experience and I’m glad I made that trip.

Thank you for reading !!

As I Dey Grow Up

Hey guys, welcome back to my blog☺️☺️

I would like to say thank you for taking time off to read today’s edition. If you’re new here, I say “akwaaba” ( Which means welcome. It is a twi word spoken by Akan tribe of Ghana) Kindly take some time to read through my previous posts and do leave your comments. I hope you enjoy your stay on here.

So, there’s something I want to share with you. Growing up, I really, really, had a tough time deciding what I really wanted to be. First, because of my family “financial influence”. Secondly, because of my “parents influence” and Lastly, it contradicted my “teachings”. It was the toughest phase of my life honestly.

When I listened to @Poetyk_prynx, House Mata #Unlisted in his recent released Ep ( https://soundcloud.com/poetyk_prynx/sets/unlisted ) I knew I related so well to it. I decided to write my own version of it. You can call it the “remix” lol. I call it “As I Dey Grow Up“. I don’t even know if it’s a poem. Can I call it one?

This poem is for everyone going through that “phase” of their life. For everyone struggling with their dream choice of careers. For everyone who had to change or divert their “main career” because of their family “financial influence”. I know of a girl who wanted to be a “lawyer” but had to divert into “nursing” because of her parents financial influence. This poem is for everyone who had to forgoe their passion to fit into their “parents dreams”. For everyone who had to change their careers to fit into what society glorifies as the only “respectable jobs” or fit into the society quota. This poem is for everyone struggling to find out who they really are and their purpose on this earth. I hope this poem inspires someone.

Vacation(Part 1)

SATURDAY

I decided to return home (Sekond-Takoradi, Western Part of Ghana) to relax by escaping away from all the hassles that living in Accra. I needed to maintain my sanity. I arrived home to a boring atmosphere. Why not do something a little bit fun and educative to kill this boredom? I thought. Upon constant deliberation and dilemma, I ended up choosing Busia Beach Resort. Not knowing what it has in stored for me.

P:s I’m not really decisive when it comes to food and choosing a location.

I left home on the Saturday, 17th September’17 and made my way to Busia beach in a suburb called Agona Nkwanta.

Only to arrive at Busia Beach and was greeted by a sign post bearing the rather correct spelling of the resort as “Busua” and not “Busia” as I had thought. Oh my πŸ˜‚ I arrived late at a time when shadows of the dusk had begun to emerge and lengthen. I was very exhausted. Why not do the sightseeing tomorrow ?? Without thinking twice about it, I showered before laziness and procrastination could set in. I know myself way too well that if I lay down without showering, the rest will be history πŸ˜‚

I retired to bed afterwards.

SUNDAY I woke up Sunday morning feeling refreshed and good whiles I thought of the days activities. I had two alternates. I could either go to Nzulenzu, or take a stroll along the coast. Finally decided to go to Nzulenzu. Here, I was, going sightseeing at Nzulenzu on a Sunday morning whiles my fellow Christians were heading to church to catch the Holy Spirit. I wondered if it makes me less of a Christian.

Hi, over there. Yup, you reading this. Does it make me less of a Christian? Well, I quickly showered, dressed up, took my pack bag and set off.

I got to the main station at Agona Nkwanta which was just a stone throw from the only public senior high school (Baidoo Bonsu Senior High School) I boarded a “troski” ( a local name given to public busses) to my destination. To make my excursion more fun and “Ghanaian ” (I doubt if that makes sense) , I bought some roasted plantain along the way. And it was soft and flesh. Just so you know, I like my plantains flabby. Along the way, a scene struck. Lest I forget, if you really know me very well, you will know I love my front seat. I gracefully took my place in the front seat of the troski☺️☺️☺️ Looking out of the window and I saw this!

In as much as there was a malodorous scent around the place, you know what triggered me? People sit, buy, and sell food stuff around this place. Could it be that they’re used to these kinds of loathsome environs so wouldn’t bother to take care of their own surroundings ? Or they just don’t care? Not forgetting, this station, is the main station of Agona Nkwanta where a lot of foreigners board public buses from this station to their various destinations. Remember, there are a lot of tourist sites in this regime. A study shows that Ghana was ranked the 2nd dirtiest country in West Africa and the 7th dirtiest country in the World.. We can do better! Sigh.

Within 10-15 minutes, my troski got filled and jerked off. I took a little video coverage of my route by road.

Have you ever wondered what lies beneath these trees? ” Well, since it was a sunday, it was quite difficult getting there. Had to actually pick four different cars to get there which was quite draining 😭😭😭 but at the long run, I got there! “Yaaayyyyyyyyy.” I whispered undertone like someone who just won a trophy. But mine was the opposite. I did mine “undertone”. Who will win a trophy and not shout on top of their voices? πŸ˜‚ The receptionist wasn’t around as at the time I got there. I had to linger around for a while till he reported. We discussed how much it was going to cost me to get to Nzulenzu by boat(well, that’s the only way to get there actually πŸ˜‚) They had two types of boat. The auto boat and the paddle boat but comes along with different prices and duration to get there. The auto boat was going to take me 20-30 minutes and the paddle boat was going to take me an hour. I opted for the auto boat 😎😎 Now, let me serve you with some pictures and videos πŸ˜½πŸ’ƒπŸ½ This is what I called the walk of life. I don’t even know how I came up with that nameπŸ˜‚. My welcome notice ☺️☺️☺️☺️

Getting ready 😈

Now go ! Face off πŸ™ˆ

Just when I was enjoying doing this, my tourist guide told me I should stop. We were entering the “dangerous zone”. There were crocodiles and wild animals around 😭😭😭😭

Well, this is a random picture I took. Her facial demeanor tells she couldn’t stand the “hotness” from the sun 😁😁

The main lake! According to my tour guide, it was called the Amanzule Lake.

Almost there. Couldn’t hide my inbound excitement 😁😁😁😁

Closer…Almost there.. The first thing I noticed or saw when I descended from the boat was their guest house! Woaaaahhh, I screamed. They even have a guest house. Interesting!! We were notified to seek permission from the people living here before we could take their pictures. Moreover, I’ve heard stories about how rude and unfriendly they were but my story was different. They were nice 😫😫

Now, let’s take a stroll around.

Their Catholic Church. The community sick bayTheir Pentecostal church

You know what I think, I think we Ghanaians enjoy having our surroundings looking like this.

Like we derive some sort of pleasure from seeing our vicinity looking like this. For Christ sake, this is a tourist site. With all the revenues they take from the reception, what exactly do they use the money for? Nzulezo is one of Ghana’s biggest tourist centre. What will it cost them to keep the place neat and tidy? Absolutely nothing. Either they are waiting on the government to come and clean up the place for them since we are fond of leaving all our problems to the government or I just can’t tell. Sigh. Someone please tell them to keep the place neat.😭

The community school This is the community school. It’s only up to Grade 6. According to the tour guide, he said; most teachers posted here by government refuse to stay. It is some of the community members who have volunteered to teach the children and there are a lot of things they’re lacking. In order to keep the administration of the school running, they solicit for funds from tourists who come around. The worst part is, after grade 6, most of these children who want to further their education have to travel kilometers away by boat day in and day out just to get a formal education. This is disheartening. Just incase you’re reading this and there are things you can volunteer to aid in the administration of the school, kindly do so and God will bless you❀️

Question Time We were asked to ask them the at most questions on our mind.

Question: How did their settlement come about? And why were they still living on waters or living here even in this era where technology is taking over?

Answer : Their forefathers had fled from wars in the “olden days” and settled here temporary till they actually made it their homes. Most of the people who live here are fishermen and farmers. They bath in the lake and drink from the lake as well because most of the leafs which fall of from the trees decomposed in the water which is good for the body. Also, most of the people who live here are free from social vices, and age very well like up to 120 years.

Just so you know, they have light and a satellite dish. Well, that take us to the end of the trip!

Got back to where I was lodging and treated myself to some sumptuous meal!

End of part 1. 😌

Let them go.

Well, I feel at a point in time, you make some mistakes, ruin some friendships and things go south with certain people in your life. You try to make things right and they just make things more difficult and complicated. But no one deserves to constantly “suffer” for a mistake they once made in their lives at a certain point in time.

I’m Not A Witch( Part 2 of Chapter 1)Β 

What could I have done wrong? I muttered.  

The headmaster’s office was a few blocks away. Anyone, I mean, anyone, who entered his office during lesson hours, came back to tell their stories. Abena (a local name given to a girl born on a Tuesday) popularly known as “Notorious baby” told the class about her “divine encounter” with him. She was plum, thick and the oldest amongst us all. She was a bully. She had this tribal mark on her left face that made her look scary. 

Her eyes were so big that it looked like it was going to fall out from its socket. Everyone feared her. One day, She told the class how she had miraculously survived taking thirty strong lashes from the headmaster and how she ended up peeing in her school uniform on the eighteenth lashes. Even after she had peed and was expecting the headmaster to feel remorseful towards her, he kept on giving her even stronger strokes. 

Everyone laughed as she narrated the whole incidence to the class. 

“Let this cup pass me by” I prayed softly.

I had concluded perhaps she had caught me sleeping during classes hours which was an offense according to the school rules and regulations. Or perhaps, something had gone missing from her apartment and will like to put the blame on me. 

Simultaneously, the shinny balded headmaster walked out from his office pumping into Mrs Emmanuella. Mr Paul, popularly nicknamed as the “mirror man” by the students was a highly strict person with no room for misbehavior. He was nicknamed Mirror man because of his shinny bald hair. I wonder if he knew the students call him mirror man. 

“Where are y’all headed to?” I heard him ask. She whispered something into his ears. Exchanging a few words undertone, the both turned to stare at  me. Whatever they had discuss, I certainly had no idea.  

He walked pass me smiling. 

“Geeezzz!” I screamed in my head. I could swear my whole life I have never ever, I repeat, never ever see him smile! He never smile. 

Doubling my pace to meet up with Mrs Ella, she turned left and walked right into the JHS 3 classroom. 

“Good morning Madam” the students chorused. ( This is a sign of respect and formality done in almost every school to acknowledge the presence of a teacher) 

“Sit down” She instructed. “Akosua, come over here.”

 All those while, I stood behind the window, noticing everything that was transpiring.  Pick that book on the table. Turn to page 34 and read what is there” 

Having no idea what this was all about, I obediently did as I’ve been instructed, I read out 

“THE STORY OF THE TURTLE AND RABBIT. Once upon a time, a turtle and a rabbit had an argument about who was faster. They decided to settle the argument with a race. The turtle and the rabbit both agreed on a route and started off the race.”

“Stop! Stop reading!”

She commanded. Pacing up and down in front of the class, with her face beaming with rage and anger mixed with disappointment, she stopped halfway through, turning abruptly, facing the class and asked, 

“What class do you think she is?”  

*Everywhere was dead silent*

Expecting no answer from them, she faced me. Go ahead, tell them. Tell them what class you are in. So they can bury their head in shame. 

“Urm, Ple-please Ma-ma-madam, I stammered, I – I am in cla-cla-clas-class 2.”

“Did you hear that? Did you? She asked rhetorically. Shame on you all. Shame! You all claim to be in your final year and can’t even make a single word out talk less of reading the first sentence.”

 She kept on ranting. 

“Huh? Tell me? How did y’all make it to this stage in the first place? I gave you this assignment two weeks ago. Two good weeks! And you can’t even make out a single word. Shame!”

She screamed finally, more like a climax, looking exhausted, she took a seat whiles panting heavily. 

All these while, I stood in front of the class with my head a little bit bowed down, my hands crossed at my back, expecting a savior to come save me from the stares of these students seated right infront of me.  

“You can leave now”. She said 

Whew. 

I’M NOT A WITCH – Chapter OneΒ 

“Akosua ! ”  (a traditional local name given to a girl born on a Sunday in Western African, Akan)

I heard someone call. “Come over here” the caller added. You know that feeling of someone calling you whiles asleep and you wake up suddenly, staggering to find out who called? Yeah, that’s how I was feeling.   The voice startled me out from my slumber.  

Last night, I had studied deep into the night taking care of my sick mother. She was terribly sick, terribly. The “village doctor” apparently could not even diagnose what was wrong with her. “Your mother is terribly sick. She might not recover from this “strange illness” , he added. The news struck me so hard, so hard that I felt a sharp pain in my heart. I gave him that shot of look when an African woman hears a bad news. “Over my dead body, I whispered” 

Here in my village, Assek (A local community in the Western Part of Ghana) but it had another name, a real name. But that’s how everybody called it.  Any strange illness is attributed to Witchcraft. 

I got up from my desk, startled. Trying to find out who had called me early on. There was something about the voice actually. It was a familiar voice, but the tone, command and manner in which my name was called was something I couldn’t apprehend. It used to be a sweet, lovable and soft and in fact, more friendlier. 

I looked at the class doorway, the windows, my classmates, well, they were all engrossed in whatever they were doing. No one was there. Nobody cared. “That was strange” I thought. Where’s Alice? I asked. Not like I expected someone to reply anyway. Obviously, I was talking to the wind, as always. I wanted to find out from her if she heard or seen someone called me, but she was nowhere to be found. Alice is my best friend. Just in case you might be wondering. We’ve been friends ever since my mum & I relocated back to the village after my dad passed away and our wicked elders took away every single thing. She is a stammerer.  

Well, I sighed. I must have been day dreaming I thought. As soon as I was about to take a recess back into my seat, Mrs Emmanuella, our class teacher walked in. 

“Akosua, I thought I asked you to follow me? and Kpa, she was gone! My heart missed a beat.  Could I have done something wrong? Mrs Emmanuella, was an embodiment of beauty. She was the cheerful type. There was never a dull moment with her. She rarely even gets angry. All the students liked her for her soothing nature. But I like her more. The Mrs Emmanuella i just saw was “someone else”. Our last encounter, ended on a good note. She had asked me to send some books to her apartment after school hours and I gladly did. Just like every students joy to be in the good books of their teachers. “What could have gone wrong?” I pondered 
TO BE CONTINUED…… 

I’M NOT A WITCH !Β 

I’M NOT A WITCH – EPILOGUE. 

Ps: I don’t own copyright to the image

I possess an ancient internal wisdom. I am at one with nature. I revel in the powers of storms. I have a strange affinity with animals. I am moved by the moons energy. I am a natural healer and drawn to the healing arts. I am drawn to crystals and beautiful rocks. And yet, society brands me a “witch” for exhibiting all these powers. Subjected to stigma and numerous forms of atriocities. 

   My dreams are often apocalyptic. Dreaming of shapes that appear in nature as five petals on a flower and triangular-shaped leaf. I walk into a room full of people and can immediately know if there has been an argument. I can sense if a room full of people are friends or foes. I know if something is just not right. Thus, I am highly clairesentient. I like to be outdoors whatever the weather and at different times of the day and night.  In fact, more alive at night. I love the smell of grass after it has been cut. I love the scent of the sand, anytime the rains came down.  I can even smell an inbound weather. I feel another’s pain. Therefore people confide in me about their problem and seek out my advice. Children and animals just prefer to be around me, instead of their own parents.  Reason being, they sense the magic and wonders in me. I make them feel safe and they know they can trust me. Intrinsically, I know there’s more to life out there and they’re all connected. 

I AM NOT A WITCH !!!!! 

Perhaps, I could be branded a Witch for exhibiting all these characteristics but then, could it not be that I’ve taken time and keen interest to personally develop? Oh yes. I am consistently improving myself awareness, self knowledge and skills or learning new ones. I have taken time to build self esteem, identified and improved my potentials and social abilities. I have and continue to see the fulfillment of my aspirations. My soul and spirit are developed. 

I believe myself as an astute academician, therefore, uphold personal development in high esteem. But they see me as such but I AM NOT A WITCH !! 

The Rapist

That night . That very night .
Everything seemed so calm and friendly .
I swear ! I could tell nothing could ever go wrong on this night .
But it seems .. It seems i was wrong .
The sun had gone down
and shadows begun to lengthen .
The street was my home .
” I need not be afraid ”
i assured myself.
but it seems i had it all wrong !
There was a conspiracy in the air!
yes ! yes ! and it coming after me !
it felt like time & fate as conspired against each other . and my doom was set .
As thick like a fog, huge and scary. made of black , grieved with fear, i saw this shadow overpowering mine , turning as fast like the speed of light .
his snarl and growl, more l
like a leopard , made me had goose bumps . !
i took two steps backward .
as i ransacked my brain to seek for shelter .
oh ! how stupid was thy daughter to seek for shelter in this unguarded moment !
i saw my soul been carried away. to the village of only entrance . but no exist. !
yes ! i saw my soul been carried away , in that shapeless canoe.
He laughed real hard and his laughter echoed through my ears like thunder . i was visibly shaken ! i couldn’t feel my legs nomore and fell heavily on the floor.
the evil in his eyes, the wicked smile on his lips.
“Goddess of the earth ” , swallow me up. i prayed .
Trying to seek shelter from the floor ,
watching him doubling his walking pace,
one.. two .. three ..
He made me his victim !

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