A Distant Roar in the Wild

A distant roar in the wild

And all the animal chatter suddenly goes mild.

 

The culprit of so, walks in the aisled

Grass prairie posing as if it was tiled.

 

A young meercat squeaks abruptly;

 The leader’s eyes then halted the child.

 

A distant roar in the wild

Rain

 

Oh, how I love the rain

The way it flows smoothly down the windowpane

When down, the drips from above wash away my pain

That heavenly gift from GOD without chain

 

The fall that is very pleasing to the eye

Yes its true I cannot deny

Such a gift I did not need to buy

Makes me so light that I could fly

 

Rattling, Rattling the sound calms me

As a sweet buzzing of a bee

I thank GOD that he has answered my plea

Filling the soul with warmth, like a cup of tea

 

 

Without Say.

 

All day all night

Jamoora is in the sight

Of Mami dear praying by his bed.

Tormenting thoughts fill her head:

 

Oh Jamoora, that boy who strives

To keep his little family alive,

But with the blood in his heart turning gray,

Would he be able to last another day?

 

The flow of blood in his tubes have blocked,

But does that mean they shall be mocked,

For the in the Church congregation, miracles unfold

So Mami has truly a story to behold.

 

‘Oh heart disease, over a million!’ Mami cries out

‘Why are you so wicked?’ she truly had to shout

Then she shall cry out to our GOD Almighty

And remember that He alone is worthy.

 

Hoping that soon,

One day at night or noon,

Her young boy would rise,

From his mat to move and thrive

A Case Closed... I think (CHAPTER 3)

Suddenly, two figures came whirling through the thick, glass door.

"Are you stupid bruv? Do you ever use your head to do anything? I mean, how, in the Antarcticainian nature can you call someone at twelve noon, and just say ‘Michaelo come to the shop, it’s urgent.’ and just hang up? You didn’t even tell me anything and look at the time! Simply ‘come to the shop’. Do you think I don’t have a life or even things to do?”. The voice was masculine, deep, and had a certain winsome aura to it, that touched something within Rarelle. “Y’know sometimes I really do think th-”

“Michaelo! Look.” Bob whispered.

One of the figures - the taller one- finally got up off the other and began to look around him. The desert, in return, shone an empty gaze. Rarelle then visually scanned the so-called Michaelo.

Chestnut brown, softly curled hair decorated his scalp, baby blue eyes like pools of cool water spinning into typhoons, baby cheeks, a sharp nose and soft, bow-shaped baby pink lips featured across his golden-brown tint. His broad figure towered menacingly over the sprawled out on the floor second figure, who appeared to be Bob, straining to catch his breath. He, like Bob, was dressed in a heavy winter coat and clunky snow boots that tracked odd globs of snow into the shop.

Once again, the book of secrecy and a pen had simultaneously emerged from the black fanny-pack. Every circle, spiral and shade were sprinkled into her mixing bowl. Halfway down the page, she caught the eye of Michaelo. A familiar voice boomed across the room.

“Hey you.”

Rarelle’s eyes lifted as her pen came to a subtle halt. Michaelo swiftly made three strides towards her and met her eye-to-eye as he looked down on her, his face a centimetre away from hers.

“Who at all do you think you are? Just, how did you get in here you itsy bitsy little beetle?” his words hopped out of his mouth in a terrible teasing manner. Rarelle sharply slid her hand in and out of her fanny-pack and lifted out a black, blue and gold flip book slicing a barrier between them.

“Deputy detective officer…” he muttered under his breath. The barricade then slipped back into its cave. A memorable stare is shot towards Michaelo, straight into his eyes.

“I-I’m very sorry madam, I didn’t mean to-I mean I didn’t want to offend-er… umm you… look nice!” his hands flushed pink as they crawled behind his back. “I’m sorry.” he whispered sheepishly.

Bob’s face momentarily flashed with disbelief.

“Wooah, is the Michaelo apologising?” Bob chaffed.

“Bob, if you don’t-”

“That’s enough.” Rarelle finally broke her silence. “Michaelo, I want you to answer the following questions, truthfully. Got it?”

“Yes miss”

“How is your work experience here at this bakery?”

“Well, if I’m being honest, not that great, pay isn’t that much, blah blah.”

“Michaelo, why don’t you like Bob, isn’t he your boss? How does he treat you?” an intent stare built up.

“Well, I just don’t. He continuously annoys me so. often. Also… I can’t really leave since I don’t really know where to go and…” he quickly pulled out his pockets. “Don’t think he can hire any other assistant anyways…”

“Hmm, the-” he stopped her in her tracks.

“S-sorry again, I think I do know what you want to know, I didn’t do it, I’m sure! Though, I do think the person you are looking for is…” his voice lowered to another whisper, “Sabrina, Bob’s wife… She comes into the shop only once a week but recently…”

A Case Closed... I think (CHAPTER 2)

 "Bob, who do you suspect to have robbed your shop?"

"Oh, um, erm..." his words scrambled out of his mouth." It was probably uh...Bill! Yes! Bill! Of course, him! Wait, no er... Patricia! Or... maybe Fime? Or...Lisa Burells! Hold on a minute, heh, erm-oh yes! Fieew! That mutt has been acting quite suspicious lately..."

"Are you serious? A dog?" she shot out to him like an arrow yet, her tone remained tepid. "Please hurry up with a more...sensible answer.". Bob's eyes clouded with tears that almost spilled out, but he quickly blinked them away. His hands drew into a sweaty clutch behind his back.

"Al-Alright, though he is quite suspicious, I do have one particular person in mind... Michaelo Anchelec, my assistant...yes, yes it must be him!" he whispered steadily. The words were silently jotted down into the dark book of secrecy.

"Call him up, quickly." she said gravely. Bob then stuffed on his bulky winter coat, flung open the insulated door and without a word, left the shop and appeared as if he was making a phone call. In the meantime, Rarelle glanced around the room, as if to continue her scan from earlier, stopped and reached into her almost-invisible, jet-black fanny pack that was strapped over her torso. A black and blue roll of tape was pulled out and stretched over the entire front of the shop. Register and all.

Suddenly, two figures came whirling through the thick, glass door.

Always. (a sort-of sonnet)

 Sweet as the honey of a honeybee,

Or salty as the water in the sea.

Tall and short, thick and thin, yet either way, 

It comes from within. Oh yes it's true, 

That wonderful touch to the heart but say, 

How time plays, with those long tales, there with you,

The rich, the blank ones too, I recall them

With given aged sense within my gem.

Oh yes it is true, that sometimes I do

I laughed about those days, and, even cried, 

While in the sun and in the rain too.

We had fun and life at birth we enjoyed

Though I still prayed hoping without pretend,

That soon I would see you my dear old friends.

Imagine a place...

 so peaceful, so tranquil, serene, silent. Yet, at the same time, a whirlpool of colour splashed at your face, opening your eyes to vibrant aspects of life. That, and more can be found on this blog, OLIVE stories. A lovely site where you can find a vast variety of texts, such as poems and chapter series to enjoy. Be sure to check up often, as new texts are posted weekly. 😊