Of the secret to flying

Genre: Fantasy


Falling. He was falling from the sky. Mlilo could easily imagine the ground beneath him rushing to embrace him, in a fatal embrace.
He pictured the red smear his body would leave, well on the upside he would most certainly leave a mark on the world, an exclamation mark even. If he could, he would have laughed at his own morbidity.

When you are already falling, it is a little too late to wonder if there was better way to fly or even if there should be safety regulations. A seat belt? But that would be absurd where would the seat belt be attached to, pinned to a cloud?

Cloud riding, that’s what Sekuru had told him it was called. You simply lay down on the soft brown earth, stared at the big blue sky, looked at the marshmallow like clouds then picked one that was shaped like a bird’s wing that’s the one you would ride. Sometimes you would have to wait for hours to find a cloud with the perfect shape, it was the one rule that you followed, without question.

Curiosity that was his downfall, no not a downfall, at least not all the time, that’s how he got to ride a cloud in the first place. He had watched birds fly, and wished it too, tried it even and fell, many times. That was when he sought Sekuru, for it was said Sekuru possessed many secrets about many things and for a secret, he told you a secret, that was the price. He had found the old man scratching strange symbols in the dirt and then rubbing them out with his bare feet.

“I want to fly”
“One secret I will keep, for one secret I will give, young Chief” Sekuru said without even looking up.
“I know where the moon’s missing bits can be found, when it’s not quite round” Mlilo answered.
“The moon is due, to be full today and I know what colour it will be when it is not blue, the colour of blood that’s the clue and the missing bits they will be that too.” Sekuru replied somewhat cryptically.
“I know the true name of fire, there is power in knowing it.”
” Yes, young chief that is a worthy secret, one I will keep for one secret I will give.”
“I am named after fire, Mlilo, that is what my name means but that is not it’s true name” he begun “Fire is an animal, that feeds leaving nothing but ashes, and to call it’s name is to bind it to your will but only for a while, never speak its true name above a whisper, listen closely.” He leaned close to Sekuru and whispered very softly and for awhile it seemed life stood still, as if the world had taken a breath then held it. The breeze sighed softly and life resumed.
“Yes my chief, there is power in the name, more than you claim. To balance the trade I will tell you a secret for a secret, and also a favour for you my curious delver, when your nose winds you in a bit of a pickle simply sneeze and you will be out in a tickle.”

Sekuru had told him the secret it was childishly simple; imagine, believe, wish and a little faith.

He had found the proper cloud,  imagined himself riding it, believed it was possible and then wished. Just like that, he was there, among the clouds, seeing the world through a wispy mist. Do clouds taste like marshmallows, he wondered as he scooped a handful of cloud to his mouth, some brushing his nose, as a lingering doubt came into his mind. He hoped that his actions would not change the shape of the cloud.
That was when he started to fall, do not eat the cloud you are riding should be one of the rules he thought, as he plunged to the ground.

He sneezed and a familiar voice spoke to him, but in his mind. “Young Chief, the favour I promised, you fall not because your faith is all out, but you replaced it with doubt, to turn this around remember Falling is flying if you never reach the ground.

Mlilo imagined he would keep falling, he believed it, and wished it, to fall, on and on, it was better after all than to go splat, like an overripe tomato.

That was when he realized it, he was not falling, he was flying, he was really flying.

The end

My entry for this week’s #blogbattle

The theme Ride.

🔥🔥🔥Fire is my spirit animal



Of howling at the moon


The future may look cloudy.
The past well it’s past,
But right now, 
The Moon
Is shining big, full and a little red
And everything is as it should be.

~Diary of a moon howler in a moon howling world


Of The Blue Orchid

Genre: Romance 🌹
“A penny for your thoughts.”
“Yes, I was just thinking of you, as a flower.”
“A flower? Pray tell, what sort of flower do you picture me as?”
“An Orchid.”
“Orchids are so common!” she said, making a face at him “and I thought you were a weaver of words.”
“What would you have a weaver of words say?”
“Well, if that man was you, weave, words. You tell me that I am the only flower in your garden, you tell me, you are my sun.”
“You are the only flower in garden” he said, struggling to keep a straight face.
“I will punch you in the throat you, you, you parrot you.”
“I was only kidding.” he laughed reaching out for her hand. “They are really exquisite flowers, there is an orchid, for almost every hue of the rainbow. From the regal and calm purple; to the passionate and wild red, and you, you my dear are The Blue Orchid, rarest of them all.  You bloom, but only for me.
Lastly he added “I am you know, your sun.
“Come here, my weaver of words, I change my mind, I love orchids, especially the blue ones, I love blue, you know that, of course you do. I could kiss your mind but I think that would scramble your brains, besides I don’t think brains taste nice, unless…
She fell silent, when she saw that, as if by magic, from the sleeves of his jacket, he had conjured a blue orchid which he now held in front of her, as a knight would a sword, to his queen. Just as she was about to accept it, she noticed the gold band round the stem, with a sparkling stone set inside.
“Will you__” he begun
Shouldn’t you be kneeling?
Kneeling, he reached for her hand “Will you___”
Wrong hand
He held her other hand. “Will you__”
He is like clay, damp clay, she thought to herself, a woman who knew what she was doing, which she did, could mould him, she thoroughly and completely owned him and she in turn belonged to him or was it the other way round, well there would be lifetime to find out.
~~ The end

My entry this week for the #blogbattle the theme was orchid 🌺 suddenly I love me some orchids my next pet will be an orchid  ^_^


Of remembering the dead


Funerals are more an affair for the living than for the dearly departed, a closure (of sorts) and a start, at healing (never completely). The place they (the dead) lay in the ground to sleep or dream (do they dream, the dead?) or whatever they do for all eternity, well it might be just a hole in the ground, but it is an anchor you can go back to, to remember, to heal, to accept.

My family always makes it a point to remember, we go where our loved ones rest, fairly regularly and make sure its looking decent, weeding and fresh flowers (can artificial flowers be called fresh, Anyone?)

My sister (bless her soul, its been two years now) is buried at Warren Hills Cemetery…

Recently we were there, as so do people go to commemorate their fallen heroes on heroes day, and couldn’t help remember, some previous visits.

The first time I went back there, after the funeral, I had the most unpleasant shock, I could not find the graveside, the whole graveyard was overrun with weeds and I could not find the little sign post, (which some enterprising entrepreneur had charged me an obscene amount of money to put up, on the day of the funeral…) We finally found the site with help from the caretakers who “work” there, and who found the graveside by a mixture of sheer luck, guesswork and some weird extrapolation involving date of death.

I was absolutely appalled at the state of the cemetery, you wonder how people neglect their dearly departed, but it might not even be intentional at that, one would think these caretakers would you know take care of the mundane details (maybe they do not get paid enough or they just hate their jobs or both)

I remember on the day of the funeral, the same individual who I paid to make the sign post, also told me that “For an ‘extra fee’ they would keep an eye on the graveside, weeding, watering the flowers and would take my number in order to call me, if ever a ‘situation’ happened, such as vandalism (which does happen) or a cave in, or any unexpected event.

Zombie stuff

Unexpected event: zombie stuff

You never know with dead, I guess I have seen enough the movies and have a healthy imagination a tad overactive (you know when you say rest in peace to the dearly departed you are just basically saying in fancy way “hey, No Zombie Stuff

We all agreed, that this seemed like a good arrangement and we pulled our resources and added the ‘extra fee’ for the peace of mind.

Well they never called me; so I assumed it was all gravy in the navy.

Boy was I wrong.

After the ordeal of locating the grave, we discovered; the vandals had struck, which is why, it had been extra hard to find the place. Vandals might be wrong word for them more like thieves, because everything was gone, stolen from the bricks lining the grave, to the flowers and ornaments, even the signpost that marked the site, (who steals from the dead? one just has to wonder I was informed they resell all the stuff back to new clients, bereaved families saying goodbye to their loved ones, whom they will probably steal from again to sell yet again and again, enterprising criminal  entrepreneurs)

So all that was left was just a mound of earth, completely overrun with grass like some abandoned wilderness….

…I had no words…

If I did not have the caretakers with me, confirming the numbers (apparently the graves have numbers like a post office box hahaha it was either laugh or cry so I laughed instead) I would have sworn it was the wrong place.

Anyway we eventually tidied up everything, including paying for another set of stones to line the edges of the graveside. As I was leaving one of the guys who had been helping us out says “Rasta, make us a lil something to buy a couple of cold ones and I will keep an eye out for vandals and water the flowers; flowers I am going to plant, immediately, as soon as you leave…..

Sounds like some organised extortion racket, but I gave, in after the shock, I had had, paying seemed the logical plan. We all agreed, again.

The next time I was there, there was no sign of anything having been planted or any other work done, fortunately the weeds weren’t bad, being after the rainy season. The very same guy walks up to me, before I even say “hello” says to me “Ah Rasta about those flowers, nothing grows in the winter season not even the weeds so will take care of it in summer, anyway make a lil something…”

A few days ago marking the second year of her passing we went to lay fresh flowers, to accept and to heal (never completely)

and Life, well it goes on….


Ps If you want something done right; you do it yourself, no truer words have been spoken

Of my Liebster Award


Woke up to the notification that I have been nominated for Liebster Award by Donna who lives writes somewhere at The Raven6825 you can just call her, The Raven where she posts awesomely visual poetry. If you have a word affair just like me do check her out (not like that I mean check her blog, read her words)

I was wondering what the word Liebster meant or who Liebster was and according to google: Liebster is German and means sweetest, kindest, nicest, dearest, beloved, lovely, kind, pleasant, valued, cute, endearing, and welcome. Aaawe Thank you Donna I am absolutely honoured.

now I have to answer a few questions (because On your post, answer the same questions or find some from other blog posts. Be creative and have fun!)

1. What is the story behind your blog name?

  • hmmmm funny story that, I have not a clue, I was probably meditating and thought why on earth do you need a muse, basically it just sits there and never talks, why not muse yourself, so I decided to be my muse and hence Becoming The Muse (and if anyone else gets mused that’s a bonus) That sounds like a convincing story, considering I made that up just now, if I do say so myself.

2. Why did you start blogging? Has it turned out to be what you expected?

  • because 140 characters on twitter was not enough for all the muse in me and I needed somewhere to keep my drafts. I really was not expecting to get any feedback from my drafts, its like having a talking diary am constantly surprised at all the people who read and take time to interact with me in these here blogging streets. I have also found a new playground with an awesome bunch who I battle with every Tuesday #Blogbattle Check them out if you dare.

3. What was your favorite class in High School?

  • that’s easy Literature in English, the fact that had a slight insignificant crush on the teacher had nothing to do with nothing.

4. Favorite books?

  • I have read way too many but my current favourite is The Patternist Series by Octavia E. Butler. Infact Octavia Estelle Butler is my current favourite author and I am on a quest to read each and every single book by her. You know when you read something and think I could read something exactly like this but this is way better than I can, now, this is how I want to write, thats me right there and for that I thank Candice

5. Favorite movie?

  • The Matrix

6. Weirdest thing you eat?

  • mixing peanut  butter with sugar, powdered choc milk and biscuit crumbs (yes I went to a mission boarding school)

7. One word that covers me completely

  • Skin

8. What is your party trick?

  • I can mix mean cocktails with tiny umbrellas and fruit slices balanced on toothpicks  and I tell funny stories I think in my past life I was a story telling barman.  For those who might be interested I will leave this here

9. What three things would you take to a desert island with you?

  • laptop with a battery that never needs charging
  • intoxicating beverage to last the length of desert stay
  • are people things?

10. If aliens invaded the planet why would you be the first they should take.

  • I have been practising to say WELCOME in a none threatening manner and 42 (The answer to the universe life and everything)

My Nominees:

these are recently added to my stalker menu feel free to check them and check each other out and we all sing kumbaya

The Rules

  • Once you are nominated, make a post thanking and linking the person who nominated you.
  • Include the Liebster Award sticker in the post too.
  • Nominate 5 -10 other bloggers who you feel are worthy of this award. Let them know they have been nominated by commenting on one of their posts. You can also nominate the person who nominated you.
  • Ensure all of these bloggers have less than 200 followers.
  • Lastly, COPY these rules in the post.

One Liner Challenge

I was nominated by Sarah Brentyn to this one liner challenge, what I have to do is real simple, add a single line to this story (and on a not entirely unrelated aside I must say some people have really weird minds)
 My line is at the bottom of the post in italics.

Chapter 1…THE BEACH
It was a warm sunny day and sea was an almost transparent shade of blue.
I lay there, watching the waves lap on the shore, a drink in hand, a tear rolling down my cheek.
I stand up yelling at that boy who threw this load of sand into my eyes and my drink when he jumped over me.
I then grabbed my water gun, running fast after him, I was laughing, he was jumping over people to escape. He turned to look at me, but didn’t see the two children in front of him carrying two delicious looking ice cream cones.
As he barreled into the children, knocking the ice-cream from their grasp, I caught one of the scoops of pistachio and hurled it at his head as I fell laughing to the ground!
And what luck, his mouth was open and he gulped down the scoop, spitting nuts rapid-fire style like a rabid squirrel! And wouldn’t you know it, a squirrel leaped from a nearby tree, performing a flying maneuver worthy of the best traveling circus family, catching the nuts in his mouth in mid-air!!
It was all too fantastical and I wondered for a moment if I’d forgotten to take my medication earlier…or perhaps I took too much!
I opened my eyes with a jolt, peeled my face from the sticky plastic beach lounger, and rubbed my eyes-sun and too many mojitos make for ridiculous dreams!
Unaware to her, the man behind the one way mirror furiously scribbled down notes and couldn’t help but marvel at how his creation truly believed IT was a real human being and he hadn’t even begun stage 2984DU which everyone with his intellect knows is when the real fun starts!
Professor James Loxet knew he had just one more test to carry out before the implant of the 2984DU chip, Just one more social situation, the dinner party. The thought of going to this party, surrounded by so many people, just made James cringe to his core, he hated crowds of people! Yet, at the nagging of his close friends, James, picked himself up from the beach and headed home to change for the party. Despite his nagging headache and the gnaw of anxiety in his gut, James found a sort of peace in the ritual of dressing.
The party was a very formal affair, so James decided to put on his best black tuxedo. He stood before a mirror, fidgeting at the tight-fit of his white shirt and tie, trying to feel comfortable.
The minute he walked through the rotating doors, he was greeted by Brenda, a horrid woman with a snaggletooth and unibrow who spoke through her nose and mocked his work, calling him Mr. Latex.
The back of his psyche buzzing, “Mr Latex will read your entrails!” hisses toward her.
His thought was interrupted as his eyes landed on Robin, mesmerizing in strapless long black dress with hair tied high on her head, flashing her glowing skin. Mrs. Robin, he clenched his teeth as he reminded himself of her new status.Just as he was imagining how different his life could have been if he had married her, Robin felt his eyes trailing the length of her body and gave him a cold, hard look before turning her back to him.
James would not let her go so easily, no matter her status; he rushed behind her, pressed himself against her back as one hand gripped her wrist and the other pressed firmly on her stomach. The pain of a stiletto heel shot through him, and as he released his grip on her, Robin spun round,and James doubled over in agony as her knee made contact with his balls. Why oh why, after previously ripping the very expensive fitted sheet his mother had bought him for Christmas, had he let her persuade him to wear those stilettos in bed again?

He slowly straightened himself and quickly did a scan around the room to see who may have witnessed what had just happened…good, no one, it seemed, and sauntered over to the bar, in his ‘no, I wasn’t just kneed in the balls’ kinda way.

Behind the bar stood the lovely Karen, whose eyes looked on James with pity. “May I have a bag of ice?” he asked looking down at the floor. “I saw what happened James. You need more than ice. Meet me in the upstairs bedroom and I will take care of you.”

Karen slipped out from behind the bar as James walked away. She watched him head up the stairs, and then followed him up. The bedroom door was open. She closed it, fastening them both in the room. His eyes widened at the sight of her teeth. Long. Sharp. Pointed. A vampire?

“I know what you’re thinking, but vampires don’t get cavities,” Karen opened her mouth and pointed to three fillings in her molars then to her sharp canines, “these are just something all werewolves are born with.”

“See this shiny clip on my tie Karen” James asked, hands fidgeting with something in his pockets “Silver.”

We will have to find out what he has in his pocketses from Simon (Next Victim)

Rules, these things always have rules:

1. Write one line in an ongoing story
2. Pass the challenge onto the next victim/nominee
3. Link back to your nominator
4. Link back to Rich at Shine On: Wafflemethis who created the challenge
5. Copy and paste all the previous story and add your line in italics
6. If you decide you don’t want to take part, please contact Rich at Waffles so he can send it elsewhere and keep his story going

Of when the music stops

Genre: Romance

The dancers

We were dancers, trapped in a timeless ritual, the distance between us always constant; when she took a step towards me, I took a step back, when I moved towards her, she moved back the exact distance, choreographed symmetry.

And now the song was coming to an end, what happens when the music stopped, I wondered to myself. We had always maintained the cliched space between us, more than friends but less than, less than, what’s more than friends. See, even out loud I never thought of what came after, except when I was dreaming then the music never stopped, dancing always.


“We need to talk” we had said to each other at the same time, having come to the same inevitable conclusion.
“You go first” I said.
“Someone asked me out on a date.”
“I know.”
She looked at me, I could read the question in her eyes.
“He came to me, asked me, if I would mind terribly, if he asked you to dance and if I thought you would say yes, seeing as, you and I, we are like best of friends__”
I trailed off, she hadn’t said a word, she did not need to, I could read her like a book, so I went ahead and answered her next unspoken question.
“I told him that I would not be so presumptuous as to speak your mind……And yes, I would mind, terribly”
The last part I spoke barely above a whisper.
There was a moment of uneasy silence and then she answered,
“I wonder about that, sometimes, of all my talents mind reading is not one of them.”
“You are in luck, today I am wearing my heart on my sleeve. ” I said, as I rolled my shirt sleeve, to reveal a tattoo of a heart with her name in it.
“You got a tat?”
“Like it? It’s not really a tattoo I borrowed a marker from the studio and I guess those art lessons do come in handy. You are you know, in my heart. It will come off, when I bath, but if you want, I could never take another bath, ever.
She laughed, I loved watching her laugh, I could get used to listening to her laughter, for the rest of my life, especially if I was the one who made her laugh.

“You are impossible”

“No if I was impossible, I would not exist, I am simply improbable”

She laughed again.

I moved towards her, she did not step back, I put my hand round her and she accepted, easily, she even laid her hand over mine as if to keep me there.
“Hang on, one question what did you say, when he asked you, for that dance?”
“If I had said anything else, I would not be still here, with you now, would I?”
She moved towards me, closing the gap between us.


The music stopped but everyone kept on dancing until another melody started.

~~~The end

This week’s entry #BlogBattle

Put on your dancing shoes and twirl the day away, I tried my hand at a little romance, it takes two to tango ^_^


PhotoCredit: salsa-licious

Of Office Security and I


Sometime during the past week I had occasion to meet a blogger friend. Its only when I was asked by the security detail at the reception desk, did I realise; I was not aware of her government name nor did I know which offices she worked (in a multi-floor building might I add) and I couldn’t well say, all I know is their twitter handle, they would probably have looked at me funny, before trying to detain me on grounds of suspicious behavior, I wouldn’t judge them, I would have looked at me funny too. They had to make sure I was not of dubious intentions. Funny enough, they let other people waltz in past the reception area, maybe they work there but I guess if you walk like you belong there, the world has a way of making space for you. Eventually I got all the necessary information I needed and they let me through after having filled in my details in the security register.
That’s what got me thinking;
Seriously thou: Apart from giving some “security personnel” an over-inflated sense of self importance and the illusion that they are vigilantly in control (and just plain time wasting) what is the purpose of that register book you have to sign your
Phone number;
Purpose of visit;
person to see;
time in;
time out;
Before you can enter the building, they wont let you enter if you don’t fill it in but then not so much as glance at it to check what you have written once you are done.
. . . Just saying that if its truly for security reasons, maybe they should ask to see my identification particulars and crosscheck the details,or they assume out of common decency the details I write are correct, maybe I don’t know how the criminal mastermind works cause I for one would not write:
My real name: So you know who I am
True purpose of visit: to rob this place or industrial espionage
My address: where you can find me hiding afterwards, so you can arrest me
My phone number: incase I am not there when the police come looking for me, they can call me to ask for my whereabouts, if I am unable to answer the phone you can if leave me a voicemail

or maybe I am there not for something illegal but not quite ethical either like to see my mistress and I am going to just write that there and her name; so my better half, who might be a possessively jealous type, with a bit of a vindictive streak which is why I would be having an affair, and she be having me tracked by a private investigator, of the sort who leave no stone unturned, can find out and maim or possibly kill my mistress? Hypothetically speaking, that is, because I don’t cheat but no cheater would admit it hmmm I just ruined my case havent take I on faith, and laugh and laugh. ^_^
And then there those premises that do not allow visits of a personal nature to their employees, so if you go to see such a person you have to put down your reason as business and possibly make up a name for company to make everything look legit.
So for whatever reason, few people are honest about what they write there or even write legibly (I cant read what I just wrote it may or may not be intentional *evil laughter*) but at least I wrote my real name and the correct time of entry (even if none can read it)
The conclusion being that whatever purpose the system is suppose to serve, it doesn’t work, lets just do away with the sham and save time, ink and books for what really matters (well to me anyway) like writing letters. Someone write me a letter
..Written sentiments on scented paper of the posted kind..

Of Chess with God


feels like a chess game,
with God,
you plan,
He laughs,
you make a move,
He wills,
you propose,
He disposes,
you make CHOICES,
you pray for BLESSINGS,
He gives you OPPORTUNITIES to earn your shillings
you pray for STRENGTH,
He gives you OBSTACLES to build it,
you pray for PATIENCE,
He makes you WAIT in silence
you want WEALTH, to do great DEEDS,
He grants you HEALTH, to tend to better NEEDS,
you pray for LOVE,
He guides you to PEOPLE, to take care of,
you pray for THINGS to ENJOY LIFE,
Yet He already gave you LIFE to enjoy THINGS,
you never get what you ask for, what you WANT
His moves unpredictable,
shaping you for what you truely NEED.



Of The Summoning

Genre: mystery/crime 

The view

They would find me, they always did, this is the first place they would look; the quiet before the storm.
Sitting at the edge I watched the world below, it’s so easy to imagine I was the only person alive. That is why I came here, for the solitude and the view, it was a bit of a steep climb but not impossible. Having grown up in the city, mountains were fascinating, well this wasn’t a mountain really it was just some granite outcrop jutting out of the ground.

The view

They have secrets these mountains, they had watched over our ancestors long before us, and long after we are gone they would watch over our descendants and they would not miss us. Zanje, the one looming in the horizon, is shaped suspiciously like a textbook volcano, geologists say we can’t possibly have those here, but there it stands. In the dry season, it smoulders, wisps of smoke come out and as if on cue that’s when the rains come dousing the flames, and so it has always been; according to my grandfather.

I heard voices behind me, they had found me, the storm, it starts. Sighing I turned to face them,

yes it was all my fault

Preemptive admission of guilt, I hoped that would count in my favour.

“The head wants to see you”

Being summoned by the head was a big to-do. Jimmy was the headman of the village, he answered only to the chief and I had let the cattle I was supposed to be herding, graze in his fields. It was never intentional, the fact that it was he, who tasked me with herding duty and I sort of disliked him for it, that was merely coincidence.

Jimmy the headman had said that living in the city, had made me forget the way of my people and challenged me to prove it by herding the cattle for a day. I accepted the challenge, “How hard could it be?” I asked myself, after all my mobile phone had signal and I had Google on my side.

It was easy enough, at first, all you did was whistle and wave your hands about; the cows knew where to go, most of the time. Just make sure they do not eat from anyone’s fields, that was the only rule that mattered, well that and the one about not losing a single cow from the royal herd. I herded them to the pastures and I found a nice shady spot to sit, taking out my phone, I saw that had good reception and decided to log into my twitterbook. Social media is like the Hotel California, you can log in anytime but you can never ever leave, I thought I would only be moments but I only looked up when a figure appeared. I was shocked to find that it was much much later during the day. “Malume, the cows are having a feast in the headman’s fields”
With a calmness belaying the turmoil, I felt within I said “Quickly, go and drive them out, then herd them into the kraal then come and fetch me. “

I walked a long way and then climbed, that is how I got to be where they found me, to tell me the headman had summoned me. I knew what he would say too, “Crime and punishment.”
My grandfather had been the chief and before him his father, my father would have been chief but instead, he had preferred to live in the city in what he called the civilized world; I could be the next chief but what sort of chief would I make barely able to herd cattle, how would I lead the village flock, I could barely speak in the language of my fathers and Jimmy the headman he wanted to be the next chief, he was ambitious.

In the distance there was a rumble and turned round to that; the mountain, Zanje, had begun to smoulder, it would rain today, it always rained when the mountain smouldered.

~The End

the view


this week’s entry #blogbattle

*This may or may not be purely work of fiction partly or totally based on events which may or may not have happened*