Brianelvis+ Cerebral

Brianelvis+ Cerebral

Brianelvis+ Cerebral

Sunday, 6 March 2016

Trey's Women.



“Maybe I should have slept with Eden, if you keep on insisting I did.”
That was it; he lost himself in the rage her words elicited. She had pushed him over the cliff. He almost did not realize it, it happened so fast. The slap fell so hard on her left cheek she tumbled to the carpet like a sack of potatoes.

Floored and confused, her left arm soothed the throbbing cheek as she gathered her wig and wits using the other. She never saw it coming.  Trey had never so much as pointed a finger at her. Never! She was bewildered and somewhat ashamed looking up at him on her fours.

His face was taught, his teeth gritted as he towered above her like a victorious wrestler. She had never witnessed her husband so cross and unapologetic. His breathing was heavy and Meralda could not see the husband she knew in the man standing in front of him.

Slowly and confused, she picked herself. Her hand still holding the impact point, she managed to get back vertical. Seemingly stripped off her decorum her eyes glared at him wide open like a weary donkey. Her hair clumsily clutched and her dress no longer perfectly cupping all the right curves. 

“You slapped me Trey!” She screeched. 

“Never mention that man’s name in my house again!” His words may as well be squeezing through his teeth.
With that he turned and left her in the bedroom, breaking the first rule they had based their relationship on; to never walk out on each other. 

It was all too much for her. Her fingers rose to her mouth like she was gnawing on them, wig still in hand. She had to make sense of what had just transpired. She blamed herself, she should have been more careful with her words. She never should have let her ex-boyfriend pick up the car from the garage nor drive it to the house. She never should have been in any contact with Eden period. 

The woman trotted towards the bed, it felt like a journey. She felt her entire world had been unraveled by her husband’s violent outburst. She knew that no matter what, the entire relationship would take on a new path after that. The bed was her only solace as she sank into it and let the duvet absorb all her tears.
Trey on the other hand was shuffling down stairs to get as far away as possible from her.  Suddenly he bumped into the house help. An absorbed mind failed him and he did not notice her dusting the leaves on the potted plant at the base of the stair case.  Immediately he knew that she could tell that something was not okay. He could not leave the house.  She had always been too observant and snoopy for her on good.
After a furtive apology, he excused himself and made a bee line for his study. In the solo confinement of the low ceilinged room, volumes upon volumes of books loaded the shelves running along the walls. They dutifully held other people’s ideas and thoughts for him, but if only there was a worse day. That day all that concerned him were his thoughts.  He had to put a lid on them. They were busy stoking up his deepest fears and past memories. 

What had he just done! Nothing could ever justify raising his hands on Meralda. His fears had come home to roost. Maybe he was just like him. His mind took him back to a time he wished he could forget.
It was close to midnight and the lights were still on in mama’s and papa’s room. They were talking, loudly and at each other. Then the talking and shouting would abruptly stop and the screaming and grunting would ensue. It was the same old pattern, just like yesterday and the day before and would definitely be so tomorrow.  Mama would scream and yell, but papa wouldn’t stop. He wanted to go in there and help her, but he would be taking sides. Instead he pulled his blanket over his head and hoped it would end earlier today. Then he would call upon God and beg him to make it go away. He would promise him things, lots of things, if only He would make papa and mama be friends again. But nothing he said would move God. The lights would still stay on late the next day, and he would have to pretend that everything was fine the morning after.

In the evening, mama would tell him things about papa. Things that made him feel that papa was bad. She planted the seeds in him, and every night papa would water them. With each passing moon he despised him more and more.  So much he did not cry at his funeral.

One night the lights stayed on late as usual. Then mama would start screaming and papa would grunt. He already knew the drill. Pull the blankets over the head and cover the ears. That night their door opened and he could hear mama running towards his room. Papa was chasing behind and cursing. Suddenly there was a huge thud on his door and the commotion ceased.

That night is still as vivid to him as a plan. He remembered being utterly terrified. What made them run out of their room? What was that sound at his door? Why was it so eerie suddenly? He tried to perk his ears but nothing was forthcoming. Had he killed her? Mama always said that he wanted to kill her.
Scared stiff and confused, he froze in his bed. The slightest movement of his legs felt like blown out rattling. It was almost an hour before he could gather enough courage to step out of the bed. Nothing was forthcoming from the other side of his door, and so he hesitantly tip toed towards it.
He had barely turned the handle, when the frame of mama’s almost lifeless body pushed it in. The sight was horrible. He immediately took her into his arms and started calling her.  She did not answer, she could not answer, it’s the blood that just kept on flowing from her multiple wounds. Her arm was bleeding, her fore head was busted, her left eye was soaked in blood and she hardly responded to him no matter how loud he called to her. 

Scared and breathless, he rushed into the living room. That is where they kept the phone. The front door was wide open and he used the street lights to make his way around the furniture.  His fingers, bloodied and unsteady, finally got to dial those three all-important numbers, 911. The lady on the other end promised to arrive fast at the address he had just given them. Then he ran out into the night. He had to get to mama Susan’s place. Susan had always bragged that her mother was a nurse. In his mind, he would rather have a doctor but a nurse would do in the circumstances. 

They got mama to a hospital and managed to stabilize her, but that day would be a bookmarker of all his memories; a key point in everything that is his past and the biggest factor in shaping who he had become. A lawyer who ran a charity that provided pro-bono services to victims of domestic violence. His fulfillment came from helping people who could not afford justice, alternative safe abodes or a means to start over.
 Trey had also been involved in the drafting of the domestic violence act and put a lot of effort into making sure it sailed through the legislative house. Not satisfied, he had spearheaded a lobby that ensured a special police unit had been set up to deal solely with DV cases all over the country.  All his valiant efforts over the gone decade had made him the country’s face of refuge. Loved and reviled in equal measure.
In that study, at that moment he did not care about all that however. He was worried about himself. Maybe there was no escaping it, he thought to himself. Perhaps he was just like his father. The thought burned his insides but he had to face up to the possibility.

His clenched fists forcefully banged his desks as the man fought his own devils. He refused to accept that he was in any way like his father and made a point to prove it to himself. He was going to walk out of that office and right back to Meralda and apologize for everything. He would do everything in his power to make it up to her and make that whole incidence just go away. 

The front door bell rung the second he stepped out of his study.  The help rushed to get the door and he decided to stick around just in case they were his visitors.  Auma walked backed into the living room with two officers of the law in tow and right behind them, that man Eden shadowed.
The officers hadn’t recognized him yet. “Sir we have received a call concerning a domestic disturbance at this address.” The condescending lady cop promptly stated their mission.

Monday, 1 February 2016



-Let us make man in our own image.
-What is man?
-Man is an animal.
-But haven’t you used most of the fifth and sixth days declaring that all sorts of animals fill up the “seas” and that patch you call “land”?
-Well, not exactly all.
-What do you mean?
-All these things you see I have been declaring into existence, I have done it for my own glory but also for a special being I had in mind before the beginning.
-My interest is piqued.
-See I have been thinking. . . All we ever do is just chill out with the angels. We know everything and there is hardly anything surprising anymore. The pearly gates have always been the same pearly gates. Our splendor and power is at its peak. We have done practically everything there is to do. Why not try out something new?
. . . and this so called “man” is supposed to change this? How?
-The plan is actually to form and sculpt a special animal out of mud.
-What is so special about that? Last time I checked, that was less magic than actually declaring things into existence.
-I want to be personally invested in this man. I want that species to grow up and fill the entire world I created. I . . . I . . . I . . . want him to have free will.
-What! You do realize that that is too much in our own image. You will have lifted this animal even above the angels who have been loyal to us unconditionally.
-That is exactly it. Don’t you ever wonder? Doesn’t it ever prick you that they are loyal only because they have to. We have forced them to love us and they do not even know it. I can’t have that anymore. Their love is not really borne in itself. I need a different kind of love, not that of a master-servant. I need something that grows in its own self. Totally “un-nurtured.” I want something more solid, something that I do not directly control. 
-Now you are going to create an entirely different species whose motivations and desires we haven’t programmed and let them lose in your playground just because of some fantasy you desire?
-It is not a fantasy! Why won’t you just think about it? To know that there is one soul out there that just loves us because they love us. No control, no making them do it, just free will and pure adoration. If there is even the slightest chance of that happening, a one in a trillion chance it would happen; wouldn’t you take it.
Well, I would try.
Now you are talking.
Will they worship us?
I am not sure because they will have free will remember.
Not sure; the words themselves sound impossible and alien. Alien . . . and exciting too. We know everything and frankly it is becoming bland. However you do realize for sure that we are going to need exactly that trillion souls in order to have just one that would love and worship us just like that. Not because we offer blessings or protection or provision, but just because of pure love. How do you plan to fit a trillion souls in that small piece of rock?
Do not worry. I have the perfect plan for that.
And what could that be?
I will encapsulate all the souls we create in time.
You omniscient God, please converse in a language I understand. Now what is this time thing?
Time is a concept I have created for the universe I have created. I can’t give you all the details now but it basically works to push things forward.
Like a conveyor belt?
Spot on! I plan to start with just two souls which I will insert into time. We will create rules within time that cannot be interfered with unless the situation is absolutely pertinent to our glory. Everything must occur in an action reaction format in the time sphere. This will create environments that we cannot foretell and therefore nature the actions of these souls.
Why just two if we are shooting for a trillion?
Actually the souls will recreate themselves and complete my grand plan. How two souls pair up for recreation will be left entirely to prevailing factors and current environment just like everything else in the time realm.  All will be left to the permutations that be, as long as we have more and more souls. As is clearly evident, my rock can only handle a few billions, but my time will help move them along as we sift out the souls that worship us in truth and spirit.
What happens to the other souls?
We simply take back their free will and turn them into more angels.
Sounds like a plan. What are you waiting for? Let us make man in our own image.