Horrible Attempts at Fiction · Motivation Kinda

Under the Sycamore tree 

Tonight, we sit under the sycamore tree beside the Faculty of Pharmacy. It is a one hour walk from my hostel and how we managed to wander so far alone I cannot comprehend.

It however didn’t matter, the solitude warmed the night. We gaze at the moon in silence, this night I do not want to talk about how confident and powerful she is. Instead we remember our mistakes, the yesterday that made our today and determines our tomorrow. There is an evocation of nostalgia in the air, under the sycamore tree in the Faculty of pharmacy.

My voice shaky, I whisper the unsaid words sitting heavily in our bellies, “Ugo, I’m scared of what we will become. I’m scared I’d disappoint everyone, fail school and fail life”.

I cannot control the tears.

Ugo, my best friend in the world holds my hands tight. It feels right, it feels like home.

I remember the nights in Senior High when we sneaked out of our hostels to share my chocolates and sweets while laughing and dreaming in front of the dining hall. The university was supposed to be the stage where we played our script and ran our show ourselves. There, we conjured up the perfect tomorrow and the nights silently concurred.

Seven years later, four carryovers later, a third class grade later, two abortions later, one lifetime later; we sit and wonder whether someone else wrote the script that ran our stage.

The leaves sway as the breeze silently passes by, as if to say Yes, we were just actors in another man’s play.

I hear Ugo confidently say, as his hands clasps mine tighter, under the sycamore tree with the stars silently listening, “Ada let the worst come to the worst, we’d just teach in a primary school jare”.

From within my soul, I hear a crack and a deep hollow laughter begins to rise from my belly.
Everything was fine at home, under the sycamore tree with your best friend holding your hands.

For David Bestfriend, together we conquer life, conquer dreams, conquer tomorrow


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