For the NG Festivals Short Story Contest, I made one of the first submissions a while ago. I think it's good, but I recently came up with a new idea idea I think is also good. I'm only allowed to submit once, so I need some help deciding which one is better. If the people think the new one is better, I'll delete the old one and submit the new one.
The Invisible Theft
I am an invisible man. No-one sees me! I can do what I want. When I walk into class no-one stops to look; no-one stops to talk; no-one stops to acknowledge me. Because I'm invisible! And so that's how it goes when I walk into maths class with Miss. Gordon; no-one turns an eye.
"Goodmorning 3B", says the pretty-blond teacher. "Goodmorning Miss Gordon!" Chant the braindead monks as if summoning Satan. She sits and puts down her brown satchel. In maths she asks us questions; she then throws us a sweet from the jar on her desk like dogs if we get it right. I've never gotten one, because remember, I'm invisible!
And so that's what happens. "What's 10 x 4?" That was easy one! "What's 6 x 3?" A little more difficult. "What's 21 รท 7?" That was a toughie! But I didn't get a single one, because she doesn't see me. But then I hatch a plan. Oh what a devious plan! Because I'm invisible, no-one will see me steal a sweet! They'll see the jar-lid move, so I'll wait until class is over , then when everyone packs up their stuff... I strike!
And of course that is what happens. When all the boys and girls pack their little bags, I sneak up and tip-toe towards the jar. They can still hear me after all! And just as I'm about take a sweet...
"Hey Timmy!"
What was that? Timmy? That's me! How did he see me? I'm invisible! Well see me he did because I didn't make a noise and there he is staring right at me. Had may invisibility worn off?
No.
Everyone still couldn't see me. In the following days people continued to turn no eye; but in the same following days he continued to see me. and I started to see him. I started to greet him; I started to sit with him; I started to laugh with him. I suppose I was no invisible man to him!
I finally had someone who could see me!
A Little Boys Chocolate
Warning: If you're sensitive to the Rwandan Genocide, I wouldn't read this.
I wasn't having the best of days. As a matter a fact I was having the worst day of my life. But I didn't know that. I woke up on a normal Thursday to go to school. I had a normal day at school. I came home to our little clay hut on the outskirts of Kigali as always. Mother was in the only-room cooking as usual. Father had just walked in to the only-room from work building his brick shacks to the highest, low bidder, as he did everyday. And brother was up to his usual nothing sitting on the dirty only-room floor. A normal day as any.
But morning me, noon me, and afternoon me would never have imagined what evening me would witness.
As the sun was setting over those classic Rwandan hills, we heard a commotion. We never hear commotion. Our little village on Mount Kigali is as quite as anywhere. And just as we where popping our head out, a man runs in. He had a gun. I knew him. I did! I couldn't put a name to a face, but I could put a face to a memory. I had seen him walking around. He was one of us! A peer. A neighbor.
He then said words I'll never forget. Words so clear. So straight. Nothing to interoperate. Nothing to misunderstand. Words that mean the words they say and nothing else. "Get on the floor you fucking Tutsi, and stay there!". I was a Tutsi. My family was a Tutsi. My friends where Tutsis. They all where! Except they weren't! That's the thing they weren't! Many where Hutus! We lived together. Learned together. Played together. We where the same. And now, for little reason that anyone can justify: it was making the difference between life and death. Killer and killed.
I was small. Just 10. I could hide. My parents where to big, and my brother was too young to even realise what was happening. I jumped out the only window in the house and hid. And there was a boy. A young boy. Now more that 6. He must have been a Hutu. And he was holding a chocolate bar. A rare treat! No doubt it was his birthday or something. What a horrid day to share your existence with. And he took his one chocolate bar. Something very few people would ever even see; he took his little hand, and placed it in my bigger little hands.
He gave me his bar. He gave me something he wouldn't have had for a long time before, if ever; and wouldn't have for a long time afterwards, if ever.
Funny. I never actually ate that bar. But that's what made it the sweetest chocolate I ever had.
penis
