I used to smother myself in sorrow filled dreams like a baby in a blanket, and as time fluttered by in warm summer winds and winter rain , there he was in a flood of two thousand students, he was as confident as he was talented and had a smile that could light up any room, a prince. In a year he became my best friend, and in that time in his castle I grew to learn that the confident prince was broken as me and just pretending to be fine. He wrote poems, stories and created new worlds by his ostentatious words, to save himself from combusting and falling apart and I needed the distraction to save me from the vanity that is my head. I'm not a good writer but in eight years of hearing stories of old and new I try. Eight different stories seemed and sewed together like our lives in the opening of a stupendous book.
- Phathuzuko Mbete
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A Taste Of Oblivion : The Short Comings Chronicles VOL1
Short StoryStories heal, stories hurt, stories create a fantasy but not all stories have happy endings. "I look everything like my father, I look nothing like my father," -My Fathers Son "I always thought I was hard to love till you made it seem so easy," - A...
