Author: Ruben Kapimbi (Ruben Kapimbi )

The clock had just struck 12 midnight, and an owl hooted. This time, not a distress call of a spell or announcing a dark cloud hanging over them, but a merry tooting in the midnight forest. 

The baby-face girls crowded the Katutura Country Hotel. The only open space was between the nylon chairs. Even a housefly would not risk entering the airtight dome for free. 

The rose-coloured sun hugged the reddish sandbanks. Instantly, the governor dinged the chime hooked on an umbrella-shaped tree.

First, the blue and red flashes bounced against the silvery roof. Then, a Merry Christmas ringtone tickled Mrs Brownstone out of her creaking bed. 

Simon stepped into the fried-potatoes-smelling shop and grabbed a few yellow bags painted with a red ‘S’ in the centre. Soon, he played cat and mouse with the security’s bush pigskin whip, before knocking down a chuckling girl in a wheelchair. The bashing lash chased him into the grass-choked footpath.

While my buddies bounced at

the back  of bluebonnet Ford

Slamming shut their uncle’s

yellow-door Ford

I ducked bursting spooky seed-coats

Teachers mistook my gnashing teeth

for a smile

Mary’s mom abandoned her at granny for the long weekend. However, the teen’s fairy tale Easter included skiing or skateboarding.