Philippines.
There’s a city in the mountains. Only 3 roads lead to it. It takes much longer to travel up than it does to travel down. It is a lot cooler than it is at sea level. Only 2 hours away from our house.
Sounds like heaven.
One nice summer day, in Baguio City, I was sitting in the park drinking coffee. I just sat, watching the world go by.
Except, I’m not really there. I'm at home in the Middle East. This is the cause of the isolation. Having to stay in.
“I need a story, I haven’t written one for a while. I need my imagination to run wild and free.”
I'm sure there’s lots to write about, but I’m not getting inspiration from the outside world.
Unlike the day I went to the hypermarket and saw a jar of Pickle. Ahmed Pickle. I immediately thought of it as a person. Ahmed Pickle. Not so far away was Zahra Ginger Paste. Again, I was thinking, this could be a character.
Then comes mango, and then pop, there’s a whole plot in my head. The Mango is gone and it has been stolen by Ahmed Pickle and Zahra Ginger Paste, possibly.
The truth is, I’m still not sure if it was them who did it, even though I wrote the story.
There is a knock at the door.
“Who is it?” I asked.
“Ahmed Pickle. I need a place to hide.”
I can’t open the door to my creation. We’re in lockdown.
“Zahra Ginger Paste is with me,” shouted Ahmed.
I shouted back.
“You’re not real. You are characters from my story. You come from the special offers section in United Hypermarket. I need to get out more.”
Ahmed Pickle shouted back.
“We have Mango. It is the next Mango ever.”
“No, it’s not,” I replied. “If it was the best Mango ever, I would be in the Philippines.”
Thank you for reading. Written as a freewrite, prompt by 
Based on a story from 2018, Who Stole The Mango?
One thing I remember about the original story. I recorded it as a readaloud and posted it before the written version. I will do that again soon.
I’ve poshed it up a little.
I have lots of other planned projects for the summer. Watch this space.
