The Exam

Hey… hey… Eugene?


Leave me alone.


C’mon man I have an idea.


Leave me alone.


See I was thinking…


Leave me alone.


Would you just listen? Please?


What is it?


I was thinking, maybe our first Q&A session should be between us. How about I ask you some questions and you me? What do you think?  Wait why do you have that smug look on your face?


Nobody submitted any question, did they? So, you’re here trying to save face by interviewing me instead. Real smooth Sam.


You interested?


Friendly reminder that people used to comment more when I was in charge.




Just had to put it out there, O not so intelligent and powerful one.


Dude what are you doing? Are you in or not?


How many questions?


Just 10.


I might regret this but alright shoot.


Hold on I have to do an introduction for the readers first


Now is that really necessa…


What’s that now? I can’t hear you over the sound of me humming to drown out your voice


Oh boy.


Hi! It’s Sam. How have you all been? It’s been a while. I did some thinking in the time and decided it best the first Q&A session is between Eugene and I. That way you would get to know us better.


You admitted right up there that nobody submitted any question. What are you doing lying?


Pay no attention to that people. He’s super excited for this. I have a bunch of questions to ask him, questions you all would like answers to. For the new readers I, Samantha Brown, the genius alter ego is in italics and not so impressive Eugene is in regular text. So, let’s dive right in.

My first question is a test of your thinking ability. Who do you think is the genius? The creation or the creator?


I don’t understand.


Take Sherlock Holmes for instance, He’s delightfully brilliant, isn’t he? Would you consider him the genius or his writer, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the genius?


Sherlock Holmes definitely. The writer has all the information and just feeds the readers little bits of it or just simply makes it up as it goes along. I’ll give Sir Arthur credit for creating a genius, but I think the genius created is more one than the creator. If we isolate both characters altogether (Sir Arthur and Sherlock), Sir Arthur becomes a man with all the information about the plot and characters of his story, but Sherlock remains a genius detective with exceptional skills of deduction.


Interesting thought. Very interesting. Okay. Next question. Do you have a girlfriend? Or boyfriend for that matter?


Nah I’m single.


Nice nice. Which brings me to this. If I could materialise into a living person, would you consider dating m-


Absolutely fucking not.


Oh, so you mean you’d prefer to continue dating your right hand like you have these past months?


Eerrrr… Pass.


Interesting. If you could, would you switch bodies with a more attractive person who isn’t as ugly as you?


Knew I’d regret this.


Is that why you’re single? Because you look like you were head butted by an elephant as a baby?




Sorry, that was just by the way, let’s get back to the topic. What’s your favourite TV show?


I’ll go with F.R.I.E.N.D.S for my all time favourite. Some of the recent ones I’ve enjoyed are Westworld, Game of Thrones, True Detective, Dark, Fargo, Stranger Things, Atlanta and of course Mr. Robot.


Obviously Mr. Robot. Who would have thought a person who talks to himself would enjoy a show about… another person who talks to himself?




Nothing. Hey do you feel like lesbians look at you and think “This is why I’m not heterosexual?”


Alright that’s it, I’m done. I’m not going to sit here and have you disrespect me with jokes from Seinfeld.


You agreed to ten ques…


Nah that’s it. It’s my turn. I’m asking the questions now. You like superhero movies, right?


Eer… yes, I do. Why?


Who are you rooting for in the next Avengers film? Thanos or the Avengers?


Logically, Thanos. Stronger than any of them, plus with the infinity stones he’d be unstoppable. I’m actually really excited to watch him beat the avengers. It would be fun to have the bad guy win for once. To be completely honest I like to root for the bad guys always. The good guys are boring.


Good. Now, this nature of yours to tend to root for bad guys in movies, is it because you are a psychopath?




“To be completely honest I like to root for the bad guys always… “. It’s right up there in your words.


What? No. I mean yes, I said that but that does not make me a psychopath. I just think it would make for a more interesting plot if the good guy didn’t always win.


So Thanos should wipe out half of humanity just because you want a good plot? Don’t you have some empathy? You’d sacrifice half the human population for a good twist?


What? Of course, I do have empathy. I’m just saying….




Oh, I see. You’re setting me up and twisting my words to make me look bad. Well played. This shall not be forgotten.


You said what you said yourself ma’am.


Very clever boy, very clever. You win this round. I won’t be fooled next time. You bet I will be prepar-… Eugene? Hey, where are you going? Dang.  Why does he always disappear when I’m talking?


… Batman does that. It’s cool.


Oh, shut up.

















Nelly ft. Kelly Rowland – Dilemma.mp3

Hey, Eugene, You there?




How are you?


What do you want?


It’s a lovely day outside don’t you think?




Man loosen up


What do you want Sam?


Eer… Okay I need help coming up with ideas


Oh. The great Sam? The all-knowing one who keeps us functioning? The supremo? And you what? You want my help?


I’m starting to regret this


Admit I am the smart one and I’ll help you




Alright bye then


…Wait wait. Okay. It wouldn’t be inaccurate to assume that I couldn’t exactly not say that it is or isn’t almost partially correct that you are intellectually superior to me.


WTF?!… Hold on that’s from Shrek


But do you understand it?




That settles the debate then. Now c’mon, give me an idea.


Fuck off. You wanted the blog for a month, you have it.




Whatever… Post the continuation to your story, see what the readers think.


What did you think?


It was nice.


Nice? That’s all? I mean trees are nice. That was excelle-


That should buy you time to do that Q&A you were talking of last time.


Think they’ll participate? Nobody’s been commenting on the posts. I almost feel li-


Ask them to send you questions they’d like answers to. If nobody does, then yeah, you suck


 Quit interrupting me! You are having some sort of fun at my anguish, aren’t you?


Should I not? You won, It’s your blog now. Quit calling me back. Bye


Wait…. Wait! Oh, shoot he’s gone. Okay so yeah, I wrote the second chapter to the story. Hope you are all fine? About the Q&A, would you all kindly send us questions you’d like us to answer? Please? We will answer them in our next episode. Oh and here’s a link to the first part of the story in case you all are lost.

Nobody ever does comment but as usual, let me know what you think! 




The gentle breeze reached the leaves of the trees lined up beside the road and touched them, causing the tired leaves who sought adventures elsewhere to break off and float to the ground, freed from their prison. Life was beautiful in West End. The weather was a thing to behold. The sun smiled down on residents all day in the mornings, leaving them content and all too happy to be alive. At night, the cool breeze graciously filled the empty streets, slipping into beds and wrapping gentle arms around the occupants, causing many satisfied moans and slowly delivering them to the land of blissful dreams. Nicknamed Endo by the community, the result of teasing a visiting Japanese minister who in his address pronounced it “Westo Endo”, West End was a small town. The houses lined themselves all neatly along one side of the roadside, the driveways were littered with cars, the lawns well-trimmed, cared for and manicured, the usual signs of a comfortable neighbourhood. The woods a couple yards on the other side of the street stood firm and silent, the trees crammed together with branches thick and heavy, swaying in the wind as if beckoning wanderers to a spooky adventure.

The last two houses along the line were separated from the rest by an abnormally tall wooden fence, a fence that had provided endless hours of gossip to the residents of Endo for some time. Erected by the infamous old man who had moved in three years ago, simply known as Mr. Eli, it’s backstory was one usually told to anyone visiting the town. ‘Ahhh, Old man Eli’ was the response any stranger got if enquiries were made about the fence; so out of place like a nun in a casino shouting ‘holy fuck!’ at losing a bet. Eli had been a bitter old man who hated that people in this town were so familiar with each other. So close were the homes that holding a conversation through windows between houses was natural.  The bright and always smiling face of old Eli’s neighbour to the left, Stanley Mills, the town doctor, had been startled when one evening, he’d poked his head through his window to wish his new neighbour a welcome stay, and had seen the opposite window slammed down shut with such force as to make him wonder what he’d done wrong. Carpenters arrived the next morning and the fence had sprung up, growing till it passed window height, making it impossible for no such repeat of the episode.

The neighbours on the other side, the Mensas, had minded their business spectacularly and had seen no barrier erected on their side; if the old man wanted to be left alone they would leave him alone. In fact, the Mensas had minded their business so well it was a week before Susan, the wife of Carl, had noticed old man Eli had not stepped out unto the porch as was his everyday afternoon ritual in a while. The police found Eli sprawled across his couch, dead from a cardiac arrest. The town had been shocked to hear the news; they had not been sad. Their theories of old Eli being a cult member, hidden away to perform his ungodly rituals were debunked, leaving them cheated of the drama they expected. A year after old Eli had moved into the space he was wheeled out on a stretcher one early morning, the only witnesses, the Mensas, doing so from behind slightly pulled back curtains. Old Eli’s home had remained uninhabited after his death, a museum of sorts, frequented by kids who snuck in and fooled around in the abandoned place. From time to time moans would attract a curious adult, and two teenagers would certainly be found pants down, bent over doing their business.

No will had been found after Eli’s death, no lost relative appeared on the scene to create any drama either so it just stood there, a monument, empty and looming and by all means terrifying. Stanley Mills however, did particularly well to keep his encounter with the crazy old man, as he described Eli, freshly circulated around town as a reminder to warn off little children from the premises lest his ghost still be around.

Two years had gone and it had been months since anyone last ventured into Eli’s. A court order had been served prohibiting the grounds from entry, forcing the teenage lovers into finding new avenues to express their rebellion and lust. On one cold April evening, in the middle of the night, Susan Mensa woke to fetch herself a glass of water. Still hazed from her sleep she looked out from her upper bedroom window at the Eli grounds and swore later to her husband in the day, she’d glimpsed a large figure of a man floating into the house; she was ready to bet her last breath on it being the ghost of Eli, returned to finish one last ritual.



Susan had not been imagining things that night. She had seen a figure. But it hadn’t been a ghost. The person who had snuck into the Eli home had purposefully waited till it was cut off from the public with the court order before moving in. Armed with excellent infiltration skills, he had been creeping in and out of the house unnoticed for weeks. The mission was simple; to watch the Mensas undetected; they were his target and he was there for them. Aside being spotted by the sleepy-eyed Mrs Mensa one night as he crept back in, he’d been invisible so far. The orders had been to wait. And wait he would…

Or maybe not this night. The arriving sedan had been noticed as it parked across the street from the Mensas.

And so, another pair of eyes had watched on as the man in black had descended and walked into the woods carrying what looked like a body bag. The same pair of eyes had watched in utter disbelief, through binoculars as the Mensa’s teenage boy, Steve had slid his window up and begun recording with a phone. ‘You damned fool’, he said to himself. When the phone’s ringtone had shattered the silence, and alerted the man in black to his observer, the third pair of eyes narrowed, debating mission protocol and whether or not to jump to the boy’s aid. His decision was made easy when the man in black begun sprinting towards Steve; he had to act.

The sight of the man in black making his way quickly towards Steve caused him to freeze. Do something! he was thinking. Desperately out of ideas he tried sliding his window down to prevent the man reaching him. Too late. Rough hands reached through, one hand clasped firmly across his mouth while another effortlessly lifted him through the window, dragging him clean out unto the lawn outside.

“P-lease I’m just a ki-” the words were crushed out of him as a knee came crushing up into his stomach, leaving him gasping for air, still unable to scream through the gloved hand covering his mouth. The man was dragging him now. Steve realised his fate and clutched at the ground hopelessly, pulling out tufts of grass in a bid to halt the progress. Thinking fast, he bit down hard into the hand covering his mouth. A low growl of anger escaped the man lips, obviously hurt, he let loose with a punch to Steve’s face, knocking him out cold. With blood inching down his nostrils now, Steve’s body went limp; he offered no resistance now. The man carried him easily now to the sedan, taking care to wipe the blood of Steve’s face before laying him unto the back seat. If anyone saw them, it would seem his friend had drunk himself unconscious.


Moving silently and quickly at the same time, the man from Eli’s house made his way to the side of the Mensa house, still shrouded in darkness. Carefully, he peered around the corner and watched the other man drag the boy into the car. Dammit! He couldn’t do anything without alerting him to his presence.  He watched as the black sedan slowly pulled out and begun to move down the road. Crouching low, the man crept around the corner, clinging to the shadows thrown by the two cars in the driveway and made for the woods. He stopped at the sight of Steve’s phone laying down beneath the window and quickly retrieved it, making sure to put it on silent before heading to the woods. He was losing sight of the sedan now. He had to be quick. He darted across the street, looking furtively around for any other observers. The light from a street lamp shone on his face and revealed it was a woman’s face. Reaching the woods now she broke into a full run, her years running track and training came back to her easily. She reached a thicket in the woods in no time and was soon removing branches laid immaculately to cover a small car. She hurriedly got into the vehicle and pulled off, keeping to a route in the woods familiar to her now, and away from the road. She would follow discreetly, and wait for an opportunity.


You Can’t See Me

Hi! It’s me Sam! How are you doing? It’s been a silent week so far. That’s because coming up with content to post is harder than I thought. I tried writing a piece on politics and stopped when I realised how absolutely stupid I am. To be completely honest with you I tried to continue the story I started and that hasn’t gone well either. I seem to have run out of ideas. Things are dull now that Master Eugene has left me to my ways. I admit he is superior to me in many ways. Now that he isn’t reading this I’ll say I really admire him. His equanimity in the face of all really impresses me. He’s such a loveable guy. His jokes are always funny, he knows just the right thing to say and he is so cool. Man, I make a lot of jokes about him but secretly wish I were him. I hate my miserable life stuck inside here watching him be awesome. In f-

EUGENE QUAO! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR DOING?! Hey everyone, don’t mind everything up there. That’s Eugene. This is really Sam. I didn’t type any of that. I am most definitely not stupid and admire nothing about him, you jerk!

Don’t pay any attention to that people. If you’re Samantha how come I’m the one in italics? Just leave me alone in this sober moment to express my admiration for Master Eu-


Ok prove you’re the real Sam and I am not.

That’s easy. Who do you think would win in a fight between Batman and The Hulk?

Of course, the Ba- I mean Banner. Bruce Banner, the hulk. Duh?

I know but think how easy it would be. Picking up Batman and tossing him around like a toy? Beating him up like the little human he really is?

That’s …. I don’t think that’s completely not false.


I mean Batman is the greatest tactician in the world if we’re being fair. Let’s cut him some slack. He’d probably have a plan to prevent Banner from becoming the Hulk in the first place…

So, you’re saying hulk won’t win because Batman is intellectually superior

No shut up. Batman WILL defeat puny Banner. How will all those PhDs affect the greatest detective mind on earth? Huh? You tell me Sam? Crap, no I mean you tell me Eugene?

There you go shooting yourself in your own foot. Congratulations, you great idiot.

Whatever, don’t you dare disrespect the name of Batman like that ever again.

Sorry about all that. This really is Sam. I’ve been thinking up new ideas ergo the silence. Don’t pay any attention to Eugene’s pathetic attempt to sabotage me-

The hell is gamma radiation got to do with all those years of training huh? Gamma radiation my ass. Do you even know who the Batman is?

You know, I better get going before he launches into the origin of Batman-

…It was a rather quiet evening as the Wayne family walked through an alley on their way home-

GODAMMIT! That’s it. Bye for now folks.

…Little did they realise that was the last time they’d be together…
Hey where are you off to?
Are you there??
Sam? Sam????

*Hey quick word to Naa who’s going through some stuff now. Sam is here if you ever want to talk. Take care honey. You know us chicas have to stick together. Mantente fuerte reina*


HI!! It’s Sam! How are you? It’s been a quiet week on our end. Sorry. We have been arguing healthily (although Eugene doesn’t realise the little bump on his forehead was from me intentionally walking him into a wall. *wink wink*). We both read each other’s stories and he conceded defeat graciously, after which I may or may not have proceeded to tease him for a while.

So, voila! I got rid of Eugene, the unbearable. You have me for an entire 2 years…

The deal was a month Samantha.

Oh, hello Lucy. What’s that now? A year and half instead?

Don’t call me that.

Or was it six months?


Okay, okay. A month. Relax

You walked us into a wall on purpose?

Now why would I do tha-…?

It’s up there, in your words.

Ah confound it. What will you do about it eh? Macho man?


How about you skip right along like the little princess you are and let me run this baby for the two months like agreed? I have a lot of ideas. I think I’ll do a Q&A first.

Pfftt. For who? The 6 people who read this and don’t comment? Sure, good luck.

Dude. Dude. You’re ruining the energy. You’re not even supposed to be here.

I’d finish the story if I were you. It had promise.

Don’t tell me what to do with my blog mister


He’s gone. Hate it when he’s right. I think I’ll write more of the story. A new chapter every week sounds doable. But I’ll fill you in other events also. We have a whole month people. Prepare to be dazzled. We’re going to have loads of fun.

Oh, and before I go, during this period I would like to be referred to as Captain Sam or simply Cap. I knew you’d understand.

And one more thing. Err, if it’s not too much to ask, can you readers at least leave comments so I know what I’m doing wrong? Thanks!

Now where’s my inhaler… Come to think of it I haven’t seen it since I teased Eugene about his story. Hmm… two can play this game it seems. Have a good weekend people. I gotta run.

Hey Lucy do you know where I put the inhaler? …. Hey what’s that smile? Eugene? Eugene!!!…

*Update: Kind of had a mare with figuring out how to post this one. If you received plenty emails sorry. Probably that damned Lucy trying to sabotage me*

Civil War (Continued)

Hey. It’s Eugene. Good Afternoon. I read Sam’s story. Hate to admit it but I sort of liked it. Makes what I wrote look like hot garbage. But a deal’s a deal. The deadline’s up and I’m an honourable gentleman. So here is my story. Call it whatever you want, it sucks.


‘To God be the glory’, the sticker on the back of the taxi read as it passed. “God, I hate these corny texts”, Henry said under his breath. A handsome guy in his early twenties, he spotted all the modern trends on his character. The customary contemporary haircut, designer shades and questionable designer shoes were usually planted on him. If he could pose stiff enough he’d pass for a mannequin easily. He paced the roadside impatiently, waiting to get on another taxi. His morning hadn’t gone quite as planned. An hour earlier he’d been inside a room with seven other occupants, six of them men. Things had gotten out of hand quickly and before long, he’d found himself dodging a couple of quick punches swung his way. “I’m pretty good at this”, he’d been thinking to himself right before the kick into his stomach had landed. From there it’d become an all-in brawl with him on the ground – shamelessly calling on Jesus to help, while well weighed kicks were aimed in his direction.

The sound of children’s laughter filtered into his thoughts and brought him back to the present. He turned and studied a little group pointing and laughing at him. Confused, he turned to the glass panel of the bus-stop a few metres behind him and stared at his reflection. “My God”, he mouthed. His haircut was a mess, his very questionable designer shoes dirtied and brown from having been stepped on so much during the beating. Good thing they were fake. His jacket and jeans, torn in multiple places and equally dirty, told the story of a tired man. His face was swollen and red from expertly cushioning punches and his shades… where were they? Still he wouldn’t stand to be disrespected by a bunch of kids. “Hey!”, he shouted before starting towards them. They scattered, all of them except a mean looking one who kept sneering. Henry half jogged-half run and was in front of the kid in an instant. “My God, what an unfortunate face” were the first words out of his mouth. The kid’s face froze at the words – Henry watched as the it slowly contorted till it looked like a high-pitched wail was imminent. Right before the kid could break into his glorious chorus however, Henry’s attention wandered and he was re-living the events of the morning again…

An hour and half ago; 9:48am. He’d checked his watch right before entering the room. He was overflowing with confidence, which was usually the case after he prepped himself with a ‘You can Do It!’ video on YouTube. He’d arranged a meeting with the local gang leader. Little Pablo, they all called him, even though the more precise name he was referred to behind his back was Zacchaeus. Pablo dabbed in just about every vice, and had a hand in every shady deal that happened within a ten-mile radius. Henry hoped to convince him to invest in his modelling dreams. In turn he would sell Pablo to the larger market he would be open to in the fashion world. It seemed a good idea on paper. It was a terrible one in reality.

Step 1; be charming. Henry recollected the video perfectly. He had this. He put on his most formal act and said his greetings to the little man rested on the couch before him. Pablo was talking back, but Henry’s thoughts were roaming again elsewhere. “I bet if he didn’t deal drugs he’d probably be a virgin”, he thought to himself. “Look at that face. His mother must’ve died a little inside every time she had to tell him he was handsome young man”. Little Pablo’s lips had stopped moving. Everyone was looking at Henry now. Rats. He hadn’t been listening. “It-It’s eer… It’s with such respect that I arrive to conduct business with you fine sir”, came tumbling out of his mouth. What the heck was that?! Everyone looked confused now. Pablo looked in both faces of the men flanking him, genuinely puzzled. Henry had to save the situation fast.

A nervous high pitched “Ha-ha-ha” escaped his lips and hung in the air awkwardly like a broken kite, unsure what to do with its freedom. Had he just laughed at a business meeting? What was wrong with him? All faces in the room now regarded the man in front of them quizzically. As if on cue, they turned to look themselves. “What a fine idiot”, they all seemed to be thinking. The awkward silence afforded Henry the opportunity to glance over the room quickly. Nothing unexpected. The morning news was on, playing from a tv in the corner. No furniture besides the couch Pablo sat in. The air conditioning was rather loud, Henry thought. Perhaps if they closed the window to his left it would ease up the pressure on it. He had zoned out again. He pulled his eyes back to rest on Pablo. He needed to begin his presentation.

Step 2 – Capture your audience. Henry cleared his throat and begun to launch into his prepared monologue. The words from his mouth trailed off when the door opened and she walked in. Ah, Tina. Everybody knew her. Tina with glowing lips and a frame fit for a throne. Her bosom bobbed with every measured step and the way she swung those hips…captivating. Her fragrance poured out and graciously filled the space. For a moment everyone was distracted and the mood improved. Everyone watched with longing as she bent to plant a wet kiss on Pablo’s cheek – and that’s when it happened.

Tina slipped. Time seemed to have slowed in the moment. Henry’s face was calmly breaking out into a smile. The guards, all jolted to attention, were reaching over to stop her fall. Pablo’s face, a mixture of emotions, slowly settled on horror and his mouth was opening… the cigar hanging on his lips started to fall. Tina’s wig was gradually being thrown off her head. She clutched at the air, trying unsuccessfully to break her fall. A long “Nooooo…!” escaped her lips as she fell. “Holy crap, what a grand forehead she has beneath that wig”, Henry was thinking.

Time resumed its normal speed; it was all happening at once. The room was thrown into chaos as everybody tried to help. Tina lay sobbing on the floor, her voice getting louder by the second. Three guards, all kneeling, had crowded around her to console her. Pablo, after screaming obscenities at being burnt by the cigar as it fell, had sat up and was looking on with concern. Something was off. Pablo paused. Did he hear laughter?

Step three: Be yourself. Henry was howling. One hand held his midriff while another covered his face. He was laughing so hard he didn’t notice he had the attention of the room. He was in stitches. He struggled to breathe and found his amusement cut short when he noticed the frowns. He brought his laugh to an awkward stop and stood there, slowly processing what had just happened, his mind spinning to endless conclusions on how to salvage the situation. Pablo shouted words at his guards and the first punch had been thrown…

“Boy, that had hurt”, Henry was saying to himself now, back in the present again.

“Hey! Get your hands off him!”, came a shout.

Wait, what? Very confused, Henry looked at the child crying in front of him. Why was he holding the kid by the shoulders again?

“I said let him go you bastard!”, the voice shouted, now nearer.

Henry raised his head. A heavy muscled man was advancing, one arm reaching to swipe the shades he was wearing off his face. It was the kid’s father. The gears in Henry’s head were spinning fast. They processed the new information and arrived at a conclusion. He turned and bolted, towards the road. He wouldn’t get beaten up twice before noon. A taxi was approaching. He begun waving wildly, attempting to stop it. The driver calmly drove past leaving Henry to stare.

He heard the steps too late. He whipped around and welcomed the punch graciously with his left cheek. Knuckle connected with bone and he was thrown down by the impact, left to stare wishfully at the taxi leaving with tears in his eyes. The words on the sticker behind it seemed to mock him. “Had I known…”, it read. He hated these stupid stickers.


UPDATE:  I admit. This was really lame. I’m sorry you had to read that if you did. Sam’s clearly the better writer, I’ll leave that to her.

Well well well… look who finally admi-

Shut up Sam.

Civil War

HI! Good morning lovely people. How was your weekend? It’s Sam. So I’m done with my story. There’s just a teeny tiny hiccup. I eer.. I sort of went over the 500-word limit just a little bit. I got carried away but I promise you’ll enjoy it.

You went over the limit by how much now?

Oh hey Eugene, Eer, just a hundred and ten percent. It’s just a little over a thousand words … but I swear it’s worth reading. Alright enough talk, here it is. You be the judge yourselves. I call it ‘Trouble’

Trouble? This ought to be good.

Shut up and witness greatness.



The black sedan moved slowly. The driver was in no hurry. The red tail lights lit up, slicing through the fog like a knife pressed down on hot bread, as he put pressure on the brake pad. He had arrived. Slowly he eased the car into a parking position.  A dog’s howl cut through the silence as he did so. The driver looked outside through his windshield and smiled. The weather seemed to agree with his plans. The man who stepped out of the car wore a hooded jacket, which blended so well with the darkness he almost disappeared if he stayed still enough. His hands were gloved and he had on black jeans, with his feet ending in heavy boots. His ears twitched at the sound of glass breaking. He jerked his eyes quickly across the windows of the three houses lined up to his right. No light was on. The sound seemed to had come from the middle one. He saw no peeping eyes. Good. He had to hurry. He couldn’t afford to be seen. Moving quickly, he opened the rear door and reached into the back seat. He dragged out a body bag moments later. Naturally it wasn’t empty. In one swift motion it was tossed on his shoulder and he disappeared into the woods silently; merging effortlessly with the dark like a limb re-joining its body. Time was important. He had to act fast.

Steve woke up with a start in his bed. The familiar surroundings of his room slowly came into focus as his breathing slowed to normal. He was fine. It was just a bad dream. He reached for his phone and unlocked it. The light from the screen hit his face and he squinted immediately, before turning down the brightness. The words ‘sweetums, are we on for tomorrow?’ stared back up at him. It was a text from Lara, his girlfriend. He checked the time. Ten past midnight. Interesting. He must have slept early. Too late to reply now. He tossed the phone unto the bed and swung his legs off the bed. “Sweetums”, he thought to himself. He hated being called that. The sound of a car rolling to a stop shot through his thoughts. Weird; the neighbours would usually be asleep now. Naturally he got on his feet and like a zombie, moved towards the window; attracted by the sound. Strange. Steve didn’t recognize the car.  Nor did he recognize the mysterious figure in black who had stepped out. He leaned forward at the window to get a better look through a space in the drawn curtains… His desk lamp crashed to the floor, shattering the glass, and tearing through the night like the unlikely sound of a shotgun reloaded inside a church. He had tripped the wire and caused it. He shoved it impatiently aside and raised his head to peek out soon enough to catch the figure disappearing into the woods. He might have been carrying something. Steve couldn’t be sure. He fetched his phone and zoomed the camera to get a picture of the car’s plates. Bloody hell these phones had great cameras. He pulled up a chair and slid the window up an inch to get some air inside the room. He sat himself and opened up a game on his phone. He didn’t like the looks of the person. He was going to wait and see what unfolded. “Sleep is for the weak any way”, he muttered to himself with a grin. God, Lara hated when he said that.


Half a mile into the woods, the man in black stood under a tree hidden from view. He had picked this spot carefully for today.  Come on! The contact hadn’t still showed. The man in black had been waiting close to half an hour now. It was way past the scheduled meeting time. He was getting restless. His time frame had already been compromised. He had to get out of here. The body! He couldn’t leave it here. He’d have to carry it back. Ten more minutes. He’d wait that much longer then he’d return to his car. He glanced at his watch and took note of the time. At the same time a bush rustled behind him. Quickly he swung around, unclipped his gun from its holster and took aim. “Come on you son of a bitch”, he said softly, “I have all night”. His grip on the gun loosened when a rat scurried out from the undergrowth and hurried on. He holstered his weapon and looked at his watch. 8 more minutes. He was losing his cool. He needed to get this over with.


The sound of a trunk opening jolted Steve back awake. He had dozed again. Sleep indeed was for the weak. He turned towards the window and peered outside. Bingo! The man was back. It wasn’t until the man bent over to pick it up that Steve noticed the body bag. It wasn’t empty either. His eyes slowly widened and he automatically pointed his phone and begun recording. He needed a closer shot. Gingerly, so as not to make any noise, he slid his window up further and put himself into the frame. He was in sight now but didn’t care. He needed to get this on video. At any cost.

The man placed the body inside the trunk and proceeded to gently close it. “Gently”, he thought to himself. Bad enough the contact hadn’t showed, now he had to carry the body away and make new plans. He didn’t like this. What use was a man who couldn’t honour an arrangement? He made a mental note to find out the contact’s identification. Perhaps he’d pay him a visit to talk. Yes, talk… and maybe other things…


The calm of the silent night was torn through by an energetic beat as Beyoncé’s voice ripped through the quiet. She was singing ‘All the single ladies’; and pretty loud too. The man’s ears pricked up. What was that? A radio? No! His face darkened in horror when he realized what it was. A phone. A phone’s ringtone!

Rookie mistake! He hadn’t put his phone on silent and now Lara was calling. Shit, shit, shit, shit!  The ringtone was her idea. She said it was to remind him never to get too comfortable. Why now? It was past 1 in the morning for crying out loud! He fumbled for an eternity before muting the ringtone. He raised his head and looked out… The world seemed to have stopped spinning when the two pairs of eyes connected and locked unto each other. They both froze. Steve stared into the eyes of the hooded man and swallowed hard. Both men held each other’s gaze, none moving, none flinching. The wall clock in Steve’s room had never been so loud. Beyoncé was singing again. Steve took no notice now.  “Fuck!”, he was thinking to himself. The man in black slowly broke into a menacing smile beneath the hood. The boy hadn’t realized it, but he still had his phone pointed at him. He must have been recording. Slowly he raised a gloved finger to point at Steve. His other arm came up and a gloved thumb dramatically moved slowly across his throat. Whomever the kid was, he was a dead man.

Steve’s heartbeat begun to race. A second later he figured out why. The man was moving… running… towards his house!







Internal Affairs

Happy new year everybody! How is it going? Hope you have a lovely 2018. Like a great man
once said, may the best of your todays, be the worst of your tomorrows. Let’s make it a better
year than the previous one, shall we? Hold on the other guy is coming along-
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! How are you lovely people? I’ve missed you. There is so much to tell
Someone seems very upbeat
Yeah. You got a problem honey?
No, not at all. Don’t mind me. I’ll just sit here while you try to infect everybody with your
excitement. I’m not letting you under my skin this year.
Oooohhh… New year new you?
Shut up. Continue your speech
Ah, yes. I wrote this for the fine readers:
May your winter’s nights
And your summer’s days
Be brightly gay
And wonderfully light
That’s…. Interesting
Interesting? That’s better than your Jay-z line up there. Nice attempt trying to pass it off as a great
wise saying though.
I can do better than what you wrote. What did it take you? All December to think of that?
You most definitely cannot.
Lol. I think I can miss.
Did you just say “lol” out loud as if it were a word? Where did you learn that? That’s
unbelievably stupid. Dude…
I won’t bite, Sam. I literally just finished Agatha Christie’s ‘And Then There Was None’. I
loved it. I’m in a good mood. Have you read it?
You didn’t literally finish it. You finished it half an hour ago. And if you have read it, it
means I have too dumbass.
Oh … yeah…. you know I reckon I could write a story like that?
Now, let’s not get carried away here. You’re not as good as you think.
I’m definitely better than you.
Are you saying what I think you’re saying?
That depends, are you thinking I’m saying what I’m thinking you’re thinking I’m thinking?
Ugh! Show off.
Shut up. Are you in? Short story. Best one wins.
Let’s make it interesting. If I win I take over the blog for a month.
You might be unto something here. Maximum 500 words. Submission Wednesday the 24th?
Oh, and If I win you’ll quit calling me Lucy.
You realise nobody else knew I call you Lucy till you just told them?
Classic. You have yourself a deal Lucy. May the best person win
Don’t call me that.

*Quick shout to my niece Sahada who started school this week. Run at it head on like you
have everything else and you’ll be fine. It’ll get rough but the stuff you’re made off is
unbreakable. Hang in there. Your uncle is rooting for you. So is aunt Sam! You’re doing amazing sweetie! *