Last night, I was thinking and depression started sneaking in.
So I decided to get creative with my private demons.
You like stories? Here is one.
Tell me what you think.
Soft music. Small group of kids giggling pointing to the red-nose-clown.
Everyone smiling. Balloons dancing in the wind with alphabets saying "Bright is Nine."
A well dressed kid stands at the center spot. The cake before him.
Someone screamed "Blow the candle! Make a wish!"
Bright adjusting his tie. He scans through the faces, spots a familiar face with a heavenly smile. Mum nods.
He blinked.
"I wish..." he hesitates, pretending the words were hijacked somewhere beneath his throat.
Silence.
All eyes on the celebrant.
A bird coos, no one turns. Silence.
"Come on. Birthday boy, make a wish!"
Aunty Nene's musical voice slicing through the silence.
Mum still looking, smiling. He feels her gaze pour over his skin.
"I wish," like the magic spell was suddenly lifted and tongue loosed.
"I WISH THE DEMONS GO AWAY."
"Mama believes you!"
Her cooling hands makes it's way to the small of his back.
He feels it. Like he was injected with some fresh energy.
Slowly, lifts his bowed head. His gaze dissolves into mum's sparking eyes.
"Its only a dream" she encourages.
"Mum, I keep seeing this monster when I close my eyes. Its more than a dream."
Those words shot chills into mama's spine.
She stares thoughtfully. Thinking of what uplifting advice to compose. Exhales.
"Okay, I will get you the brush and colours.
You will grow into becoming the best artist in the world.
That's what you want, right?"
He nods.
"To grow, you will have to eat.
Then you can become a great artists", pointing at the dining table.
"I made your breakfast. Come see it."
Both smiling.
Her hands leads his feet to his meal.
Brush gliding gently over the canvas.
Image in his mind. Mind leading the hand.
The big scary picture sits boldly on his conscience as his brush drifts. A single tear rolls down his cheeks. Its warm.
He looks down at the open bottles of colours. Sinks his brush into the black ink.
Tilts his head to one end, surveying.
"The monster is almost fully formed." He thought.
Few strokes. He stopped.
Took few steps backward. Looking scared for a moment. Mute.
Then suddenly, he flashes a stupid grin.
"Mum, come. I'm done!"
She mutters something beneath her breath as she walks in.
Suddenly, her feet doesn't move. Looking numb. Eyes twitching.
Her hands pulls her son from the painted beast.
"Where did you see him?
I mean... your monster?"
"My dreams"
She blinks, turning to him "YOUR MONSTER. IT'S YOUR DAD!"
