“When I think of the storyteller in me, I think of a superhero.” ~ Victor Enesi
Storytelling is more than the arrangement of words that narrate events. A storyteller must live the story, he/she must breathe the story and eventually be the story. You become what you write.
“Don’t look down,” the priest had told him.
Darren wondered what was down and why he couldn’t look down. He had his head to the skies, always prying. He was getting bored of looking at the skies. The priest was with him, looking up into the skies too. Sometimes they talked about what could be beyond. But the priest insisted they shouldn’t look down.
He stepped off the stage feeling like a king. She saw this, but she felt indifferent towards his boastfulness. Although she thought he could do better, she paid him the glace of ‘feel good about yourself now’.
There was another guy toward the left, he was just looking at them both and the chemistry that effused from them. He was not a stalker, only an admirer. His name was Japheth.
We are in the car; mum, dad, myself, and my two younger brothers. We are driving to our hometown. Mum and dad are discussing, something about a high-profile person, they usually talk about the news when we’re on journeys like this. Soon enough we swerve unto a patch of land beside the road. There’s a young man in his early thirties standing some distance away. Dad halts directly beside him. My brother opens the door and he comes in.
“We need you to kill someone for us,” mum says.