Tag Archives: dreams

Everywhere Konji!!! 85-Year-Old Woman Caught In A Group SXX With 5 Men. GBAMLOG.COM

85-Year-Old Woman Caught In A Group SXX With 5 Men

An 85-yr-old woman has been arrested after she was caught having group sxx in woodland in Connecticut, the United States in the penultimate week.

On Aug 9, concerned citizens called the police to report a public hook-up happening in the wooded area. The octogenarian was spotted with 5 elderly men including her husband having an orgy.

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All six were apprehended and charged with breach of peace.

The senior citizens are identified as Joyce Butler, 85 – the only woman participating in the orgy – her husband Richard Butler, 82; Daniel Dobbins, 67; Otto D. Williams, 62; Charles L. Ardito, 75; and John Linartz, 62.

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According to the Fairfield Police Department, the senior citizens were busted while getting hot and heavy at the Grace Richardson

The Scene of the group sex; and four of the culprits.

Conservation Area during a surveillance operation on public hook-ups in the area. Two of the suspects, Daniel Dobbins and John Linartz have additionally been charged with public indecency.

Dobbins was previously charged with second-degree breach of peace by Connecticut police after witnesses said they spotted him walking around a park naked before police found him inside his car “with his shirt and shorts draped over him and no underclothes.”

The culprits have been released and will appear in court at a later date.

Leave your comments below…

Source: dailyadvent

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Analysis on Matiiku by Chiedozie Ude. GBAMLOG.COM

Ude, Chiedozie Orji.
Department of English, UNILAG

Analysis on Matiiku

It is no news that trying to analyse a live performance is a tricky job. This trickiness may be as a result of different factors such as place and time— or more impressive, the complex nature of literature. Notwithstanding this difficulty, this paper will make an attempt to critically analyse the stage play entitled Matiiku. This essay will succinctly summarise the play and its subject matter, making use of factors such as the stage management and the gestures (which some may refer to as body language) of the actors to defend the choice of subject matter. The attention that will be paid to the factors stated above stems from the technical nature of the dialogue — that is, it was, to a very large extent, exclusively performed in the Yoruba language. However, the focus on the gestures and stage management does not in any way downplay the usefulness of the dialogue in this analysis because its importance in making the play fit its setting, and also, its subject matter cannot be overlooked. Also, it is important to note that this essay will include foreign references — that is, events or even books outside the narrative — which will be used support the arguments expressed in this paper. All these will be combined to comprehensively analyse this play.

This segment of the essay will comment on the playwright and the setting of the play. Not much is known about the playwright; hence, we move on to the setting of the play. The play is set during the colonial era, and this is reinforced through the manner in which the stage was set, and the numerous festivities which took place — the market scene; the baby/ritual scene; and the court dispute between the colonial district officer and the people. The latter is unarguably the strongest supporter of the claim that the play is set during the colonial era because it not only captures the communication problems that plagued the colonial masters due to their inability to grasp the local languages employed by their subjects, but also captures the presence of the white man (The district officer); hence, justifying the time setting— that is, the colonial period. The place setting of the play is Lagos. The introduction of three characters at the beginning of the play who represent the three white-cap chiefs of Lagos is testament to this fact. They, unequivocally, strengthen the play’s genre — that is, a historical play.

The subject matter of the play revolves around a man, who was predestined to be king, right from birth. This information was exposed by the narrator, before the start of the play. Hence, one can say that the plot of the play is based on the child, whom the oracle chooses as king. As expected, he becomes the king of Lagos once he attains adulthood; although, the colonial government later wrestled power from him. It is important to state that the fulfillment of the prophecy on the life of the king is a common motif in Yoruba themed plays— that is, the oracle can never be wrong— such as Ola Rotimi’s The Gods are Not to Blame, where the pronouncements of the oracle on the main character comes to pass. Therefore, one can be justified to state that there is a theme of fate (inevitable destiny) in the play. Another thing that is worthwhile to discuss is how the scenes in the play are linked by an interlude of music and dance. These performances (music and dance) may be regarded as entertaining because of the choreographic dance steps employed by the dancers. Being a traditional play, these songs should have deeper meanings, but that is not the focus of this essay. So, this analysis will rate the musical interlude from the standpoint of pleasure and entertainment.

One may describe the stage management as almost impeccable due to the perfect way the stage was set to represent the setting, and also, their flawless deployment of the lighting technique. To me, it is this lighting technique that makes the play stand out. The lights came up when and where necessary, not a second too early or late. Unarguably, the lighting technique was most effective when it was employed to show time — that is, day and night. This topnotch use of this technique is also brought to the fore when the lights were dimmed during the ritual scene. The solemnity and sacredness of the rituals were well captured by the eerily spooky umbrella of semi-darkness. This was enough to make the watcher understand the importance of these rituals. Another important thing I noticed due to the arrangement of the stage is the market scene. The market scene is crucial in traditional plays. The market is known as a place where rumours and stories thrive. Little wonder the birth of the would be king is announced in the market setting. The market scene is also ideal for announcement of the king’s birth because it reinforces Soyinka’s principle in Death and the King’s Horseman of the market place being a strategic location for the meeting of the three realities in Yoruba mythology — that is, the world of the unborn; the world of the living; and the world of the dead. It is important to note that the market place also serves as a link between these realities. Hence, this well believed myth strengthens the writer’s use of the market scene to announce a transition — that is, from the world of the unborn to the world of the living. The stage management was described as almost impeccable at the beginning of the paragraph because it had slight flaws. One of such flaws is the bad sound systems used in the play. Aside this, one can be justified to give the stage management crew an excellent score for a job well done.

Also, the gestures of the actors also enable non speakers of the Yoruba language to have an insight on some of the happenings in the play. The slow pace, with which those who are to make prophecies on the child move, gives insight to the audience that these men must be truly special and of high importance in the society. The greatness which is proclaimed on the baby is evident when the priests and other spectators bow to the child. However, the child’s mother refuses to bow to her child; hence, bringing into play the African belief that expects a child to prostrate himself to his parents, and not the other way round.

In conclusion, if I were asked to give my personal opinion on the play, I would rate it as a largely successful performance. The topnotch techniques employed by the stage management crew played a huge role in this. As a member of the audience who could not fully grasp the dialogues, I was entertained by the dance interlude. Hence, I can boldly describe the play as a successful one. In conclusion, this essay has made an attempt to analyse the production of the play Matiiku.

Works cited:
Ola Rotimi’s The Gods are Not to Blame.
Wole Soyinka’s Death and the King’s Horseman.

EROTIC ROMANCE: THE LOVER by Verline Seremy | GBAMLOG.COM

Facing my bedroom window, I wait. “Soon he will come,” I think
aloud. “Yeah, he will be here.”

Nevertheless, as I continued to reassure myself of the latter, something at the back of my mind was telling me otherwise. “What if he doesn’t come? What if he doesn’t want me anymore?”

Unable to stand the unknown, I walk over to sit at the foot of my bed with a heartfelt sigh. And once again, I wait. It is but two minutes to midnight and yet I am already burning for him. Slowly my body temperature rises. I can feel tiny drops of sweat drip through the crevice between my breasts. This sweet seducer of my dreams is finally a reality. No longer do I imagine the feel of his hands caressing the length of my person nor do I lick my lips in hope that I might taste the juices of a kiss that never was. For when he touches me and stakes his claim, we join together in a sensual dance of lovemaking. Rather than individuals competing in a game of possession, we are one soul riding in a quest towards utter fulfillment.

Trapped in my state of reverie, the realization that I am no longer alone takes a moment to dawn on me. The sensation that I am being watched sends chills running through my spine. I look over towards the bedroom door. It was him. And there he stood, a work of art. My Achilles’ heel. So perfect that no amount of words could even begin to do him just.

At about 6 feet 2 inches, my Adonis had an amazing allure that could turn any sane women’s head. Not to mention that he looked damn good in silk pajama bottoms. With a broad chest and an undeniably muscular physique, he made my mouth water. His face was even more captivating. My lover had the perfect bone structure with a stern square jaw to match, a straight nose, and the most inviting, yet kissable lips. His eyes were the color of deep, rich chocolate that I, on a number of occasions, found myself wallowing in. And to top it all off, he was blessed with a radiant skin that looked and tasted like the delectable flavor of Hershey’s chocolate. He was gorgeous.

Appearing out of nowhere, like he always did, he gazed all over the length of my person. It was a look that spoke of pure hunger. As if he were a ferocious wolf on the hunt and I, a gentle rabbit that would be his prey. A wicked grin slowly begins to spread across his face. The smirk both stated yet challenged. He was willing to play the cat and mouse game because, in the end, he knew there would only be one victor. Him.

As he walks toward me I realize that he carries one, long stemmed, red rose. “For me?” I purr, reaching out to take the flower. Shaking his head “no”, he moves the rose out of my reach and hides it behind his back, never taking his eyes off of me. It was part of a game we played. Never did we open our mouths to verbally speak to one another, but rather leaving it up to our eyes, minds, and bodies to do our talking. The sensations were both exciting and erotic at the same time.

All of a sudden, before I know it, I’m laying flat on my back. At this point he is just a few inches away and yet that is still too far. I can feel his warm breath against my face and his strong body half sprawled over mine. I want more. Suddenly nothing mattered, but him, I, and this moment. Taking his head in between my hands, I bend his head down until his lips gently touch mine. In that sweet yet brief contact, I feel a jolt of energy pass between us. We look into each other’s eyes and everything seems clear.

Palming his head once more, I kissed him as if my whole life depended on it. As our tongues intertwine in a battle of wills, I am breathless.

“Touch me, tease me, and show me” I cry. And that is exactly what he does.

Quickly striping each other of our clothes we jump into bed and under the covers. And this time he lies between my thighs. Then taking the rose in hand, he gently trails it down my head, nose, and lips with small kisses to follow. But he doesn’t stop there. Down my neck, between my breast, and lower the rose goes and still more hot trails of kisses follow.

I’m going crazy with need. I want more and more and more. He caresses me, teases me, and showers me with love and tenderness. But once again I want more. I feel like I’m going to shatter into a thousand pieces if he doesn’t fill me fast.

“I want you now,” I cry. “Please,” I beg, not waiting for him to answer before pulling him astride me. “Come to me”.

Then to my shock he answers me with a “Yes” and fills me over and over again. He takes me to heaven and back and heaven and back in a climax so powerful, it works the depths of my soul. As he takes me to unknown heights, I think to myself I am in heaven.

*******

Suddenly, I awaken. I am alone. Where is my lover? Where has he gone? Has he left? Why do I still have my nightgown? Then something dawns on me. A wicked grin slowly begins to spread across my face. I say to myself, “Mmmm…what a nice dream.”

THE END

ROMANCE: THE GIRL MADE OF GLASS by Ayush Kumar | GBAMLOG.COM

Heather stood 12.5 inches tall; she wasn’t colorless, as most of Kate’s friends would say (When Kate was a child); she was transparent…because she was made of glass. She would sit patiently throughout the day on Kate’s bookshelf, pretending to be a lifeless glass sculpture. She would occasionally slip between the pages of ‘Snow White and the seven dwarfs’ and would read through the book in one go; she liked Snow White but her favorite fairy tale was ‘The sleeping beauty’. There was a heart (also made of glass) embedded in her bosom, it was the only thing in her body that wasn’t transparent; it changed its color when someone touched her, red when she felt anger, yellow when she felt scared, green when she felt happy and blue when she felt sad.
All these years, her heart had been changing colors, but it’d never turned colorless…transparent. She knew her heart would only turn transparent when someone would touch her with true love; for love she knew, was pure…was transparent.
It wasn’t that Kate didn’t love her, she’d always treated her gently, but she’d always treated her like a toy…even though she knew Heather was special. Now, that Kate had grown up, she hardly even played with her.
One autumn afternoon, when Heather was gazing at the falling leaves through the slightly parted curtains, of the window near the bookshelf; she heard approaching footsteps, she became still. When the door opened she was relieved to see it was Kate, then her gaze fell upon the little thing galloping behind Kate; it was a boy made of glass mounting a horse, also made of glass. The boy was dressed in a transparent medieval jerkin and on his chest was a heart glowing in a greenish hue.
Kate cupped and gently put her hands next to Heather on the bookshelf; Heather stepped into the cup of Kate’s hands, her heart was glowing brilliant green, too.
Kate then brought Heather to the boy and his horse. Heather stood next to the boy, she didn’t know what to say but neither did the boy; he began whistling which made Heather look at him, who until then was looking at the floor (and everything else but the boy), and then he timidly extended his hand and said-
“I’m Peter,” then he smiled broadly.
Heather held his hand. Both their hearts turned transparent.

YOUNG ROMANCE: A KISS FROM A STRANGE GIRL by Tebogo Mogoto | GBAMLOG.COM

I am tk , a guy who hardly go out at night for drinks. One Saturday night my younger bro and i decided to go out for couple of drinks. We went to the nearest pup, we got there a bit early and we picked a very nice spot where you could see everyone coming in and out.

While drinking, a group of girls came in and set right in front of us, one of them was my ex, she kept on waving at us smiling.. I wasn’t interested but i waved back.. she came to our table asked us if we could join them, I said “no we are actually with our girlfriends” … why would i wanna go to a pup to be with my ex… i mean i know her, and i know her cookie too i ate that shit.

After some few hours lot of people came in, lot of fine girls,the pup got creepy crowded.. people are dancing and drinking. It was my round to go and buy, when i came back, just after i set down, I saw two beautiful girls coming straight next to us, simply because it was the only spot with enough space.

The other girl was blond i think, then the other one was gorgeous, such a hottie, a light skinned caramel babe in adidas tracksuits damn! i still remember all her moves, i couldn’t get enough of her, every chance i got i looked at her.. she seemed a bit shy, well i thought so. I don’t know what other guys thought of her but all i know is that i would lick her from head to toe.

While my brother and i still admiring her beauty we saw two guys coming for them.. the next thing she is holding hands and cuddling with one of the “motherfuckers” sorry i mean one of the “guys” who magically later became her cousin.. i didn’t buy that. still don’t. I got bored, very irritated i immediately took out my phone and replayed messages on WhatsApp.

While at it, the hottie, charlorray its her name… she came set next to me asked me why am i here if am gonna be on my phone the whole night, I told her that she was also on her phone when she got here… but in my mind i wanted to tell her ” babes go to your man i don’t wanna get into trouble “. After talking she then went back to her lover cousin.

At my 10th drink half way drunk, i felt a very warm and soft hand grabbing my hand then i looked it was her “charlorray” she then pulled me outside pushed me against the wall… asked me if i ever kissed a stranger.. i slowly said nnno… She then kissed me …. Damn!! she was so good, so amazing just the way i loved it,. it felt like the world has stopped moving, the pup turned in to a church, drunkards turned into followers, tracksuits turned into a white dress.. it was quiet a dream.

After the kiss she wanted to leave i grabbed her and pulled her back to me kissed again, she then stopped, i asked for her number, she refused while taking my hand and went back inside the pup. It felt good, so good but was very surprised but bit worried that i will never see her again after this. In my mind everything was her, I’ll be lying if i say i didn’t think of fucking her, yes true i thought of wanting to fuck the shit out of her but she was not up for that, she was just up for kissing a stranger and i respected that.

The night got old, the pup was about to close everyone went outside, all the crowd was outside and i couldn’t find charlorray.. then i bumped into her lady cousin she then told me where charlorray is.. luckily i found her exactly where i was told I’d find her. She asked me to walk her home, i agreed.

When we got to her house, we got into her car that was parked outside, we talked like we knew each other for years, we cuddled a bit though it was a lil torture to me because i couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss and she refused to kiss me again. When i asked for her numbers she gave me two choices.. numbers or a kiss, numbers came with a package of friendship and a kiss came with nothing.. she is a good girl, friendly, kind and very calm. so I made a good choice for not choosing a kiss. but i still wanted it, wanted us to be kissing friends… Wait did i tell you that we even nursed the new friendship with chocolates…. **laughs**

***THE END***

MYSTICAL ROMANCE: LAST LOVE by Yoto Yotov | GBAMLOG.COM

I do not see myself as a decent person. I realize that the notion of right and wrong is something relative. It all depends on the concrete situation, since something you consider good can be unpleasant or offensive for someone else under different circumstances. There is no universal good. I, in particular, think that it’s of primary importance that things should be good for me, even if it might seem a bit egocentric. Yet this principle has never failed me. Actually, one can be selfish only to a certain point. I think that this moment in one’s life comes when you meet the one and only person you want to spend the rest of your life with. This is the time when you begin to crave for a real home, and you ponder what it really means to be a man. For me, this moment had not come yet. Even by my standards, I was not a good man, but it was of little importance to me, and I didn’t have to worry myself with how to try to change this fact.

So far my life had passed in wandering in forgotten and far-off places, and unwittingly, the carefree days turned into carefree years. I had visited so many towns that I no longer remembered their names. Nameless little dwellings at the edge of desolation and survival had been my home for a day. In the larger towns to the East, I did stay long enough to get acquainted with the darker sides of human life. But who am I to judge why the darker side of life is more fascinating? Some people claimed that I had killed dozens of men. But I knew that they were not so many, and for sure they wouldn’t be missed. The devil of youth was in my eyes. I faced every challenge with a head held high and a grin. The other attribute of youth I truly possess—overflowing confidence—was no stranger to me, either.

I had nowhere to go in particular and plenty of time to get there. I was merely following the curves of the old and obviously unused road, filled with curiosity as to where it would lead me. Well, it did lead me somewhere. It reached an inn or at least to something that passed for one around here, and beyond it there was nothing—only woodland. I decided to spend the night at the inn, so I moved toward the old massive building, able to withstand the whims of time and men who visited such amazingly beautiful and totally useless parts of the world. The main hall was spacious, a little dim but clean and well kept. There were wooden benches next to the tables, and the floor was covered with straw. Obviously, this was not only an inn but also the home of the innkeeper and his wife.

As I entered the inn, I saw them sitting around a table close to the counter, having dinner. Both of them were middle aged and not so thriving but seemed happy. The innkeeper stood up to greet me, and I halted so that he could have a good look at me and size me up with his judging gaze. During my wanderings, I came to understand certain things about people, and I knew everything about the man standing in front of me. I had met hundreds like him, who were in pursuit of happiness and a place to call their own. People feeling at ease both in the towns and in the wilderness. Men and women who were not used to bend down to authority. They were good-hearted and noble, and I was always glad to have such people close to me in times of trouble—not one caused by me, of course. But they also had one annoying streak in their character—they considered themselves the salt of the earth and didn’t listen to anyone’s opinion or advice.

It was clear he didn’t like me a bit, but at the same time he was not shocked by what was standing in front of him.

“Good evening. We don’t have so much visitors lately, but as long as you have money to spend, you’re welcome.” He was precise and to the point.

I held back my smile. I’m never wrong. He offered me a bed and a meal but, at the same time, kindly reminded me that these services were not for free. He was not rude but knew what he was offering and its worth. I gave him a silver coin and sat next to them.

They were nice people, and the absence of visitors also meant the absence of news. Dinner went on for hours while I was telling them the hottest gossips. And when I didn’t know something, the little devil in my eye winked, and I came up with the most shocking and spicy stories. Now the family would have something to talk about for days ahead. What is this world coming to? Later, I found my room to be quite charming—small and dusty, with two beddings. You should be amazed at what people call a bed these days! I threw my bag on the one and lay down on the other, without even taking off my shoes. I was so tired…

The waves crushed below my feet. The wind messed my hair, in an attempt to blind me. Even up here on the rocks, I could feel the salty sprinkles that the wind deliberately lashed across my face. I don’t remember how I came here, what I was doing, or even who I was, but obviously things didn’t look good. I was just standing there, and strangely enough, I was enjoying the rough sea. I saw the life itself in the vast, delirious chaos of waters and wind. Despite the fury of this untamed beautiful nature, I felt at peace. I raised my gaze to the sky, and the clouds parted. They opened a small gap, and the moon’s rays slipped toward the earth. They reflected on the ground and glowed. High in the rugged skies, there was a dragon gliding. Black as night, it was flying above to get me. I was convinced that it had come for me and that there was no escape. How can it be possible? I don’t even believe in dragons! Its wild roar broke through the wind, and it dived toward me. I had to get away and go somewhere far, far away from here. I turned and froze. All the fear gathered inside of me melted away and vanished and gave place to unnamed terror. Just a few steps away from me there was a figure draped in black, holding a deadly weapon in its hands. Clearly I was alone, pushed to this corner of the world, with nothing to protect myself. I was close to the edge, and I knew it. The silhouette moved toward me and raised its head. It slowly pulled down the hood while I stood as if in a daze, gasping for breath. Extremities were playing inside of me tonight. A waterfall of black curves dropped underneath the hood. The greenest eyes that I had ever seem stared at me, and I found myself drowned in them. I could never imagine a more perfect face. It was both gentle yet and strong and complete. My wanderings had come to an end. She was here, and I had nothing else to ask for. She was the one I would love for life, and without her, life would be a living hell.

I woke up sweating and sat on the bed. The same old dream, night after night, was becoming more and more obsessive. At least this time I didn’t wake up screaming. The moment the dragon dives toward me and I turn around and try to run, I usually wake up—except for tonight. And that face. I hope and wonder if this dream is sent to me by someone or something. It was only a dream, yet I had fallen in love with the girl, and I had to find her. I was awake the rest of the night, staring in the dark, while her scorching eyes burned inside of me.

Next morning, I went down to breakfast, and probably something in my manner gave away my feelings, so I was left alone in peace to have my meal. I paid, and after saying good-bye, I continued on my lonely path. I had no intention of going back, so I turned toward the woods, without any specific direction, just following old trails left by animals. I didn’t care where they would lead me. I kept on walking and remembered that damned dream. They whole day passed in wandering. As night fell, I stopped at a small, sheltered meadow, the kind that people believe is visited by sylphs. I started a fire but wasn’t feeling very hungry, so I lied down and hoped to sleep and be visited by the same dream. I wanted to ask her so many things. Consciousness tried to give way to oblivion.

Perhaps I was too eager; no dreams came that night. I tried to calm myself by listening to the sounds of the forest. I had always found peace in the nocturnal serenity and the hum of nature. The sound of a branch breaking. Then another one. No wild animal makes such noise. Someone was coming toward me. I stood up cautiously and alert, the knife ready in my hand, pointed in the direction of my visitor. Clearly someone was walking across the meadow toward me. Maybe there was no malice intended, and it was just a youngster who was about to experience one of the greatest mistakes of his life. The night visitor stepped into the ring of light, and everything became clear.

The girl from my dream was standing in front of me. She was here, yet it was totally surreal. Still she was flesh and blood and full of energy overflowing underneath her clothes.

“I’m totally freaked out.” Well, I can’t be blamed for not knowing what to say to a girl.

She smiled and sat opposite me.

“How…why? I…” I couldn’t stop babbling.

“Slow down! Stop! Too many questions, too little time. Will you come with me?”

“You know that I want you.” Finally, I said something deep.

I felt as if her face grew paler, but maybe I was wrong. I knew absolutely nothing about that girl, after all.

“I know. Believe me, there isn’t anything I want more than to be together. And we will be together as long as it is possible.”

“As long as it is possible? What do you mean? There isn’t anything that can keep me away from you.”

“You’re so naïve…You don’t get it, do you? I’ll have to pay dearly even for the little time we’ll be together.”

I stood up and moved toward her. She took my hand. For the first time everything was perfect. I was at the place where I was supposed to be. I was home—here, with her. It didn’t matter what she said. The important thing was that she was next to me, and I wouldn’t let anything—or anyone—keep us apart. Not even death do us part.

We walked through the trees and enjoyed the touch of our hands and the fact that we were together. We reached a creek, its water lit by the moonlight. She pressed her body next to mine, and our lips joined in a kiss. Time stopped, and we were the only two people on earth. Her dress fell to the ground, and she ran to the creek laughing and dived into the silver water. She emerged from it, sparkling all over, and in that moment, I knew that I was the only one to witness such beauty. We were together, and we were one. This was our night, and this was our world.

Hours later we rested on dew-sparkled grass and watched the break of dawn.

“I must go, my love,” she said. “You should know that I have never loved till now, and my heart belongs to you. Maybe someday we’ll be together, free from the worldly chains.”

“But…” I began. She placed her finger on my mouth and nodded.

“Don’t. Only remember me. We’ll meet again. I promise!”

She stood up and, without looking back, ran toward the trees. Even then, I could see her cheeks covered in tears.

“I love you,” I cried. I guess I always know what to say.

She halted and turned around. For a moment I thought she’d come back, but she turned and was lost in the greenery. Next to the creek, I was at a loss, and far off, I heard the swift flap of massive wings.

* * *

 

This is the story of my love. This is the way I told it to the young girls, but they enjoyed it, nonetheless. Such romantic creatures—they don’t seem to mind taking care of endless complaining, grumpy old veterans. The old army barracks were now the home of rusty soldiers like me, who had nothing to their name and nobody to care for them. People who had spent their entire lives in the army, for some reason or other. I had my reason—I was looking for her. I tried to find my love on the battlefields, but she didn’t come for me. I knew she would find me someday. Yet I never shared my secret with anyone. Somehow I had sensed in my dream what she was and why she carried a weapon. I was never mistaken even for a brief second that the scythe is for harvesting hay.

Now at my deathbed I am sure she shall find me at last.

“Hello, my love. It’s been a lifetime since we’ve been together, hasn’t it?”

I never imagined that Death could be just a feeling. At last she’s here for me, and she is smiling back. Damn it, I do love this smile!