The city of the clouds was quite a big
one. Like a pot, it had emerged out of nothing to become the backbone
of the country’s economy. It was never known why it was really
given that name, but of course theories had mushroomed to explain the
origin of the name. One such theory proposed that the city’s
founder had decided to name it the city of the clouds due to the luck
the clouds always brought. To him, rain was the best thing that ever
enlightened his heart. The city had gone to such great heights of
being referred to as the country’social hub. Giant skyscrapers and
several other gorgeous mansions seemed to be telling the same tale.
Especially by the way they sat on the city’s floor.
Being the 21st century,
cities where there to compete against each other. The continent had
become a one big battlefield where a battalion of towns merging to
make cities slit each other’s throats. From the look of things, it
was a tough competition. Some of the cities had given up. You could
look at their faces and you would feel sadness flow into your heart
violently, so that it left you a wreck. The good thing is; the city
of the clouds was always there to comfort anyone who dared embrace
it. Many visitors flocked its spas and restaurants for healing. A
rumor would then be whispered from ear to ear among the residents of
the clouds that the other cities were so contagious that they dared
sicken their residents that they had decided to bit the hand t hat
fed them. The residents of the cloud always felt happy and reassured.
As if to mark this, the clouds had a way of pouring water, so that
the love in the people’s hearts germinated.
Musau was a proud resident of the cloud
city. He always felt lucky that he had found a place in such a loving
environment. He was a very interesting maturing lad. For one thing,
he was not boring. He was the type of a guy you could talk to and
share anything. He seemed to be understanding and accommodative of
others. The guy had a big heart, though he was from an aristocratic
background. He was the kind of a guy who never let his aristocratic
background or his success get into his head. He was always
down-to-earth and kind. Everyone respected him, for it was known that
the clay that had baked him was always hard to come by.
Along Katurungi Avenue, two blocks from
the roundabout, a seven-floor apartment sat with such admirable
beauty. Its color seemed to darken the neighboring apartments in a
way that one would not understand. It was as if the other apartments
were its shadow. At its entrance beautiful flower gardens rested,
posing that gorgeous smile that always made you feel welcome. The
building was a good combination of nature and concrete, so that the
two married to produce a magical offspring. It is in the second floor
of this building where Musau’s nest was situated. It was the place
where he would retire in the evening after the hustles and bustles of
the day. He always had a habit of laboring his rocking chair as he
watched the sun sink. Then, he would return to his apartment and make
himself dinner, or at times when he was tired, he would just have a
bath and a goodnight sleep.
For the last four years, he had been
living alone. The apartment had kept him company. It has soothed him,
cooled his head so that could manage to wear a cheerful countenance.
Everything had changed all over a sudden. He did not find the comfort
he had always felt in the company of his apartment. With every tick
of the clock, he yearned for something else, something that could
enter into his heart and fill that hollow gap left. He knew that he
had to do something. Somehow, he had known what had been troubling
him.
Across Njenga Avenue, other apartments
were coming into the league as the city’s best. It is one of these
apartments where Musau had seen a flower. His flower. He was longing
for its sweet scent. If only he could uproot it and take it home, it
could have been better. He wanted it to adorn his apartment. One day,
as he reclined in his balcony, he imagined the offspring of his dream
coming to birth. a smile formed on his lips, His heart leapt. The
flower would surely be his.
Days began to lengthen; at least that
is what Musau thought. He would curse the hours that seemed to drag
themselves, like a cow that knew it was being led to the slaughter
house. He would sit in his office for hours pondering. Files and
cashbooks lay on the desk open, but they were closed in his mind. He
was not enthusiastic with numbers anymore. Their magic had faded.
“Numbers or flowers?” he would question himself. A good chunk of
his peers were already being acquainted to flowers. Flowers it was,
except for his case, a FLOWER it was.
By
No comments:
Post a Comment