Christmas tree, jingles, and tinsel merrily humming.

Welcoming fireside generously beckoning. 

Bright blinding flashing lights dancing in the chilly night. 

The tantalizing aroma of hot chocolate and roasting chestnuts gently hugging.

Christmas decorations smile brightly, announcing holiday cheer.


It seems so warm and cosy.

It’s such a lovely invitation to cuddle around an inviting fireplace.

Yet, it all feels like make-believe now, for nothing is as it seems.

Some people are shipwrecked, and the light of hope is almost non-existent.

The virus has ravaged the body, soul, and the life essence of many.


So how do we celebrate this festive season?

Is there anything to commemorate?

Is there any good cheer left in the wake of this desolate year?

Oh! I dare believe that there is reason to make merry and spread around good cheer.

For you see, we are still here.


Therefore I propose a toast to you and me.

May the light of hope keep shinning in our lives.

Though broken, diminished, hurt, and grieving, we are still here.

Let us share good cheer, however small it is.

May we rise above the pain and despair of this year.




She braced herself for what was coming.

Her heart hunched over and locked itself into a fetal position.

She held her breath and tried to shrink into the doll-house.

If only she could hide, escape, disappear into another dimension.

Her fear glazed eyes darted to and fro, seeking a way out. 

She trembled in terror, for there was no hospitable place to conceal her petrified frame.




She didn’t even try to disguise her disinterest any more.

Her face was a closed sepulture.

The tombstone was heavy and ominous.

An eerie grey mist rose from it.

Few dared come close.

She spat toxic vapours of resentment and unforgiveness on those who ventured.

Many unsuspecting souls stand petrified in her abandoned garden of relationship.




“It shall be well,” she said.

Her words echoed around her mockingly.

Her doubting soul eyed her petulantly.

She had to hold herself together.

She needed to be steadfast and full of hope for her mother’s sake. 

Yet, she knew that once she hung up the phone, she would breakdown.

Her nemesis fear was hovering over her waiting for an opportune moment to ambush her.




She closed her eyes, her face softened, and her shoulders loosened up. She allowed the healing dew of encouraging words to wash over her.

Each wave of empathy and care crushed upon her parched heart.

Her soul softened like butter on a hot skillet.

She languidly opened her eyes.

She gazed intently at him, an endearing smile coyly lifted the corners of her mouth. 

A glimmer of affection lit his troubled countenance.

He keenly watched her.

A profound sight sneaked from his anxious soul.

He allowed himself to relax.

The veil had finally lifted from her mind.

Her gaze was steady and confident.

He leaned back, content.

She was going to be okay.

She had weathered the storm that raged in her soul.  




My heart is cautious.

My soul is wary.

My mind is sceptical.

I see your efforts.

I accept your apologies.

I know you mean well.

Yet, I cannot let you walk back in nonchalantly.

You see, you ravaged my heart.

I need time to heal.

The tower of trust needs to be nourished, rebuilt, and consolidated by you.



I allowed you into my abode.

I trusted you.

You sat down comfortably and enjoyed the finest delicacies that I had laid before you.

My soul sang for joy in your presence.

I was finally at home with my kindred spirit, so I thought.

I closed my eyes in bliss and lay my head on your shoulder in sweet and trusting abandon.

You pounced on me and laid my land desolate.

I am now rebuilding the ruins of my fortified city.

When I finish restoring my soul, I will hunt you down.

I will recover and bring back all my treasures that you took as spoil.




She smiled.

An empty, defeated, sad smirk took over her countenance.

She hung up the phone.

Her renegade mind wandered in the somber forest of tormenting thoughts.

She crumpled into a weary, defeated mess.

The weight of her responsibilities smothered her.




I have found my way, finally!

I have found me, honestly?

I am in my lane, my own; it’s dreamy.

I am speaking my heart, my passion.

I have finally given voice and life to my purpose.

It’s thrilling, exhilarating, daunting, and frightening.

Yet, how I feel so alive! 




It felt strange.

She peered keenly at the sign on the entrance wall of the general practician’s office.

Her familiar family doctor had retired.

She gazed pensively at the notice that announced it.

He had told her that he was going to retire at the end of the year.

But, for some strange reason, she felt bereft.

A chapter of her life had come to a close. 

He had tended to her and her family for many years.

She hadn’t even thanked him, she mused wistfully.




I woke up today, angry.

My blood is simmering.

I scowl at my cat.

My eyebrows knit as I glare at the kitchen door.

I look around to find somewhere to vent my rage.

My flaring nostrils are baffled by an enticing aroma.

The sweet enchanting smell gently woos me into the kitchen. 

My annoyance grudgingly releases me.

The rich aroma of coffee hugs and kisses my lips.

I sigh, and finally, my anger evaporates.




She stood petrified.

She couldn’t tear her livid eyes from the scene unfolding before her.

She looked on in fascinated horror. 

The enraged mob swayed and swelled in their bloodthirsty rhythm.

The murderous crowd closed in on the hapless pickpocket who wailed and begged for mercy.

She trembled with uncontrolled fear knowing that the man would receive no mercy.

For, mob justice gave no clemency.




I failed yet again.

I never intended things to unfold as they have.

I push you to the edge.

I leave you vulnerable and open to your foes.

Oh, how do I right these wrongs?

How do I take back these clumsy words uttered?

How do I enlighten you and help you build your broken esteem?

I am at a loss for my esteem is groveling and needs a pick me up.




She sat mesmerized.

She was under a spell.

His smile wooed and beaconed her.

It sang hypnotizing songs that numbed her reason. 

Her emotions rebelled against her.

They tore down the citadel of her guarded heart.

They threw themselves into his awaiting dungeon of seduction.




I am loud.

I am determined.

I am rigid.

I have the right answers.

Yet, this nagging feeling never leaves me.

What if I am mistaken?

What if the most important thing is listening and seeing you for who you are?

I should stop trying to fix you or fight your battles.




I look at him and feel so helpless.

He is closed up in his pain and anger.

He whistles a deceptive joyful tune while going about his business as usual.

The wall of silence between us is the red flag warning that all is not well.

For you see, I am an ostrich too.

I have buried my head in the sand of denial, self-pity, and fault finding.




I don’t loathe you.

I don’t despise you.

I am bitter and angry at you, much less now.

I hate you no more.

I keep removing the scab from my heart, thinking that the wound has healed.

But it bleeds afresh.

I will no longer make-believe.

I will let things be.

I will give myself time.

I will allow myself to fully and truly heal.




Her blood boiled.

Her nostrils flared.

She spat blazing sulphur.

The inferno within her erupted and scorched everything in its wake.

After she had spent all her anger, she beheld the scene of desolation.

Her wanton rage had ravaged the land of relationship.




Her voice was deadly calm.

Her eyes were cold fiery glowing embers that could melt the hardest diamond.

She moved lithely and grabbed his chin.

She tilted his head back so that their gaze locked.

Then she powered molten venom down his soul.

Each of her words lacerated and mutilated his heart.




She is lethal.

Her eyes throw flaming darts with surgical precision.

Your heart is her target.

For those who believe that they are masters of the game, watch out.

Don’t think that she is easy to tame.

Even though you have a long list of past conquests, be vigilant.

Wake up from your deceptive slumber.

She is on the prowl.

She will pounce and close in on your jugular.