Ivan Musoke

…my head hurts…

My head’s throbbing. I don’t why. But it is. It hurts like a bitch. How that makes sense is beyond me, I won’t even try to make sense of it. It will just add more weight to the pulsing that’s going on in my cranium. Haha, cranium. I like to use big words. Why settle for a four or five letter word when there’s clearly a bigger and better alternative.
I can’t really remember much about last night except perhaps her face. She was pretty. They always are. We had an argument, but it was resolved the only way we know how.
A silence passed between us for what may have been forever.
“So you’re serious about this, there’s no turning back?” asked she.
There was a pause.
I didn’t want to think about it. Not now. Not until the euphoric feeling had gone away. For good.
I looked into her eyes. Those pearly whites that had brought us to where we were. The ones that I’d fallen into at first glance. The orbs stared back at me. Expectant.
“This is it.” I said at last. My voice barely a whisper. I did not want to accept the stark reality that gazed back at me.
More silence, then a kiss. It was all I could do to keep my lips trembling. I suspect that the motives behind her reciprocation were not to different from mine.

I stagger to the sink. I think wiping my face will ease the pain. A new pain engulfs, no, quivers steadily through my being. I can’t explain it. I don’t know where this one came from. I highly doubt water is going to do anything for me. Wash away the pain? That’s a laugh. I dare not, lest the pain explodes into levels unknown. Unwanted.
I stagger to the bathroom. I turn the tap and cup my hands so I can bring the water to my face.

Then I see it. Blood. My hands are bloodied, but whether its mine, I can not tell. There’s aches and bruises, and it would be a little comforting to take solace in knowing that I did not inflict any harm on anyone. But fuck that. There’s no way to justify this.
I have blood on my hands. And I don’t know whether its mine.

There’s a knock on the door. Impatient. A sense of urgency behind the weight.

As I left my gaze from my bloodied hands, A sight hits me with the force of a 5 tonne punch to the gut. I see a reflection in the mirror.

There’s more blood on the wall above my tub… and a body.




  1. Bits and pieaces of Hardley Chase and who else?… I forget his name. Almost believeable!

    Please continue and tell us about that body!! Dead, i presume!!(stating the obvious)

    Not bad… not bad at all!!

  2. hmmn Ai…
    i see you been dreaming again..

    Maybe Cheri doesn’t want to dream alone


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