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Silence

SILENCE There is a slice of darkness in silence and a slice of light’ It is a place, a wide field where you sit in your own company; I mean, in the company of your fears, conscience, memories, will, regrets, dreams, inventions, wit, trickery, devils, angels, your power, denial,  scourges, your narrative; your trembling hands in front of you, staring like  a message, empty, yet full of meaning; your face, expressionless, cold,  like a man who has died, your eyes, piercing, searching, shamelessly honest,  unmoving, like the eyes of God. It is an ethereal dungeon sitting in the pit of your mind, a place without shelter, without food, without warmth, a place without luxury, comfort, without water, air or gravity. a place hanging on nothingness, an eternal beatific shoal. It is a place without rest or cover, a place of merciless mercies, a place where you are bare without clothes and bent to the elements, an unmoving place, this silence, without gates, where all in it, lay still. The place

A SHORT LEO STORY

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Leo(A Short Story) Enjoy! And please leave a comment 💕🤗🤗 Thanks 😘 LEO Leonard Michaels was convinced he was fundamentally flawed. In his younger days, he was freckled, big-boned, slow, inefficient, strange-named, abandoned, and most traumatizing, orphaned, or so to speak. His mother was a harlot, for no one, not even he, knew of her state, and his anonymous vagabond father, was Mexican. Leonard’s mother was Nigerian, from the capital of the State called Edo in the South; she voyaged before his birth on a reclusive mission, for she would not conform to fate; she would not perish, an indigent illegitimate heir of a traditional monarch, for which reason she was a castaway (she and her mother, that is), sentenced to wallow in penny-pinching poverty. When she arrived Nigeria upon deportation from Mexico, she found she was with child, and she was expectedly unsure who the father was. What would it matter anyway? He would be some wretched scum, and to think whoever it was wou