A ROAD OF FIRSTS

by bantuh

She had this infectious laughter that reminded me of a favorite song at a point in time. A song with a balanced beat, a catchy chorus and that electric feel I got every time that it played, the song was a generator of vibes. It reminded me of a happy time, smiles and laughter and a pert lass, very pert. It was reminiscent of a fair gendered girl that had doused my mind and soul in gasoline and lit a matchstick, I burned like a lit cigarette in the lips of a starved nicotine addict who had gone back to an old habit.

I didn’t have the language to speak to her, but I didn’t need it. She did most of the talking and most of the engaging even, I was like a gearstick in her clasp and a clutch at her foot, she would rev me hours on end if she had wanted to, and I would still reverberate with the  same intensity and hum as that of a new engine.

She had a calm way in which she weaved her words and her affections, it felt gentle like a morning sun gently jabbing its rays on an open sunflower or like a setting sun dinking over a glowing horizon, it was all warmth and ooze, ebb and flow, sundry even. Initially it  did ring bells in my mind. In my world, no pretty girl chases villagers with such gusto, it is a harbinger of doom turning in her sleep, a time bomb ticking but then again, my heart had been baited, I was largely unperturbed like a mother bear robbed of her cubs, I would take the world head on if I had to, I had little to loose.

See, she had a mild passive aggressive way of engaging. Little pleasantries that spoke of a human being in touch with her mannerisms, a rarity because she was a girl with looks on flames and those ones only come with looks the rest of the things are a work of grace and effort, and most hate putting in the effort. Most pick up these little pleasant habits that the rest of us are ideally born with later when they are  in caskets at a time when manners are useless, a derisive thing.  Beautiful girls know shit about plugging into humans, a tale of experience. This tends to numb the brains of most.

She wasn’t numb in the brain. Her mind was sharp like a whip, her wit was fine, like a nippy breeze, whelming even. She had an uneasy calm that spoke of a person that did well at reading people. It was that quiet look of someone that had a way of getting what she wanted, the timelines didn’t matter, she had the patience and poise of a crocodile at a waterpoint, lazy as the sun with strike of a viper and the grip of a pair of pincers, once in her grasp, the rest was historic literature. She had persona that was oozing with an unnervingly calm vibrancy.

Company is cathartic if company wants you and needs you with the same verve and fervor, it turns into a beautiful thing even. A woman, a beautiful one while at it has the ability to play any man like an instrument. They have the same effect as a pied piper to a unit of village rascals. These humans will knock the lights out of you in broad daylight, and there is shit you can do about it…

A bear will always take a shit in the woods, meaning that this is a new tale running on an old script, something in the lines of nothing new under the lazy sun.

The name of the song?

Fire waist…

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3 comments

LONE RANGER February 6, 2020 - 9:05 am

She had a calm way in which she weaved her words and her affections, it felt gentle like a morning sun gently jabbing its rays on an open sunflower or like a setting sun dinking over a glowing horizon,….way to pull us in.

Keep writing

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Njeri September 14, 2020 - 10:01 am

There should be a comment section on your About page. You are an entire story. Funny how I stumbled on your website via Twitter and yet I have been following your page on Facebook for somtime now. I’m going right ahead to read the pieces in here, but already, I know, I’m here to stay.

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