THE STORIES UNTOLD

The window seat is the best thing that has happened to me in highschool. From my vantage point in Four Beta, I have almost the entire Camp Laz in my view. The sunrise, the big juicy passing arses, the fountain one floor down, and best of all, the sunset; all within my view. I’m that guy in class who gets to decide when or not to open or shut the window. In this winter, I can decide to ruin a whole class’ morning power nap. [Assuming you get the whole idea of how important a power nap is to a highschooler.] I don’t do such though. I’ve got a reputation to keep. Nonetheless, the window seat gives me some sort of unexplainable dominion. It is another heaven for me; apart from winter of course. I love winter. So today I am at this spot, minding my own fucking business. Its 4 p.m. I’m a loner. There’s nobody to give me the damn closure or mollification that I’m in so hot pursuit of. Trial One exam is doing shit on me. I’m doing Chemistry tomorrow but look, here I am, writing some damn j...

The night had been fairly silent. The serenity was way beyond amazing; save for a few crickets which made incessant sounds all through as if they had nothing to do. Well, of course they didn't. Its not like they would just decide to make out on damp grass like we were doing. And anyway, it is for humanity that they were created; to make the dead nights such as those alive, at least. The sky was clear as well. No moon, no stars, no clouds;no nothing. Just the cool breeze and us; Amelia and I. Nobody was saying anything. Each of us was engrossed in separate thoughts - largely she though. Honestly, at that time, I was not thinking. (I never think when there's an aura of femininity close to me.) Maybe she was thinking of me; how shy I was or maybe how amazing I was. I didn't care about that. All that mattered then was that I had her by my side. Well, about the silence. Its not that we had nothing to talk about. Actually, we did. I had a lot to say to her, Amelia did as well...

Easter came; not that I had longed for it though. Chaps were all into prayer, fasting, beating themselves and carrying mock crosses for miles and miles. Others were whipped and adorned with thorn crowns. They bled and groaned hoping that our dear good Lord would look away from their misdeeds and make them his eternal children in glory. For the rest of us- those who were not into the pain and repentance stuff,- easter meant one thing at least; 'winter is finally here'. And winter was not just about the damn cold, no! It was something bigger. Winter was a package. It brought with it the grand finale of Avengers:The Endgame as well as the Game of Thrones season 8. The cold weather was in itself a haven of felicity for the lovebirds who adored cuddling lazily in their cribs. Winter was winter. Winter was heaven. Iron man's ass was kicked real bad by the way. Actually, he died. His endgame came way too soon I suppose. Away with all that winter crap. Do you remember that...

I still remember his face How his nose was long and slender How his eyes were small and shiny And with little shapes in them Like the beautiful pearls of the ocean. I have not forgotten his long chin With the small tuft of pricky beards Or even his cherubic countenance Which brought butterflies to the ladies stomachs. I haven't forgotten a single bit about him All about the clothes he loved The music he cherished most Or even how he loved his food; Thoroughly peppered and in its unlimited abundance. Its been almost a year since he left But still, he lingers around I see him everyday; We wake up together, sit side by side, Dine together and tell silent tales through dawn. He is the same person I knew With the same soft palms, And long slender legs One thing though; He never speaks. I see his lips move; quite often He deems to speak; But the sound never comes out His face has become a harbour of sorrows Unlike when he left Each time our faces ...

Life is so full of crap;seriously. There are days I wake up so full of zeal - days when I feel a little more stronger than than Tyga Power or John Cena or even Roman Reigns. On such days, I can effortlessly zoom a ball past De Gea (world's best goalkeeper) into the top corner of a goal net in the Old Trafford. Such are the days I feel like a man; a real man. Days when I pamper my ego and end up thinking that I can do seven shots under thirty minutes. (If you know you know). Man, those are the days I live for. But again, like the weird doctrines of nature dictate, there are other days which implore me to regret my very existence in this amazing yet trouble-filled world. Such are the days which become evident as early as 5 a.m - when you get up from bed and realise that you don't remember where you threw one sock before you slept the previous night. That aside. When you find the damn sock after ten minutes, you hurriedly rush to the dining hall for breakfast. There you will f...

"Every person has the freedom and liberty to express his or her opinions without fear or favour...But in this, the freedom of expression does not extend to public incitement or hate speech or words that insinuate discrimination of any kind against another's tribe, colour, religion or background." This is a loose paraphrase of the Bill of Rights in the 2010 Kenyan Constitution upon which I will premise my arguments. As far as my memory dates, history has - for times not few - upheld and indeed proved that curtailers of the freedom of expression have almost always had ulterior intents up their sleeves. Either they have a blackish background which they do not wish to let out of the bag, or they feel intimidated by the  liberals' views. Simply put, they fear the truth; real as it is. Retired President Moi was hasty to limit the KANU renegades' freedom of opinion and expression because he was very much privy to the fact that they would sell him out. He, like all ot...

A little sleep, then a dream: A new world order, In the horizon's lining, Ants are mammoths, And the big pigs; minute. Paupers become givers, And the ample donors, Become beggars on the streets; A classic case, Of grace to grass. Domineers become domineed And the barrage of slaves, Masters. Sweet irony-things fall apart, In a house of rocks. Beasts tread the land, Free from fear of the whip. And man; Superior in stature and thought, Is subjugated. A little more slumber then awake, Just a dream it was, A foreshadow of sort. Satirical and allegorical though, A dream in the offing. @oiraqaleb Esq.