Mkurugenzi Frankie

 It had been a long time since the presence returned the voice, the shadow, the familiar whisper that always crept in when everything felt like it was falling apart. “Hello, brother… it’s been a while since we took arms together.” The words came not from outside, but from within. A cold chill ran down his spine as he paused mid-thought, staring blankly into nothing. The voice was calm, persuasive  too familiar. “I’m here to be your anchor. Wake up from your slumber. Don’t listen to anyone else. Only me.” “No,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head, as if that alone could cast the shadow away. “You always come when I’m down.” “Of course I do. I come to lift you out of your ordinary thinking. I make you sharp. I make you fearless.” “I don’t want you anymore,” he whispered, almost pleading. The voice laughed softly, not in malice, but in quiet triumph. “You can’t escape me. I’m your shadow. Every time you look back, I’m there.” His heart pounded harder. “No. I may not be...

In this world full of lies and lives that make the heart want, I shrink deeper into my own shadow Not because I enjoy the dark, but because the light burns too loud. I'm Solan. Not silent by nature, but silent by necessity. Afraid to make a move. Because every move becomes a misunderstanding, a rejection, a laugh I’ll never forget. So I stay still. Like furniture in people’s lives seen, but never truly noticed. They say I’m quiet—like it’s a flaw. As if silence isn’t survival, as if the world ever listened when I spoke. But what’s the point of endless talk, when words return like echoes… from an empty well? My silence… is my power. My only shield in a battlefield of noise. I dodge wars, not with swords, but with solitude. I’ve avoided countless fights by letting pain settle inside me instead of out. But it hurts. I’m getting old… But I’m not wine. I don’t sweeten with age. I sour in silence. I spoil behind smiles. I scroll through curated lives, likes and lovers on screens like orn...