All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
the picture, the bank and the bomb
A picture, just a picture, a streaming vast endless splashes of colour, wrapping, entwining, flowing together to create a timeless master piece to be adored and loved for many years to come, who created the picture? was it an idea or a memory or did the image appear in the painters head like a clear cut diamond embed into a dessert of old rocks and never-ending dunes of sand.
I finally looked away from the portrait hanging on the wall and back to reality, back to the day in day out tasks and duty’s that bombard us it’s those exact “duty’s” that lead me too sitting in a bank on one of the unadorned chairs staring at a wonderful painting, my thoughts getting lost in the art work, the magazines that that lay on the table in front of me were neither interesting nor could I be bothered to waste my time reading useless junk.
The people sitting in chairs beside me all had their noses deep inside magazines that left me throwing random quick glances at the employees they all had smiles across their face it took all my inner strength to stop myself pulling faces.
Mind boggling boredom was my only company and it didn’t look like I would be getting out any time soon I sat in my chair playing with the loose button on my shirt when I my gaze caught a man, a very peculiar man in fact he was worth my attention, he was a slim cut Arab man who wore long plain white dress I think to be called a juba he had a musty odour to him that was extremely unsettling it smelt of petrol and cheap perfume he carried a suitcase at his side tightly next to him constantly checking it while stroking his thick black beard I kept a close eye on him without making it to noticeable everyone else’s hasn’t noticed him at all going about their uninteresting lives I on the other hand will watch this man like a hawk.
He placed his suitcase down on the floor after checking his watch he waited a few more seconds before picking his suitcase up and making his way to the toilet.
What is he doing in there?, what’s in the suitcase?, where has he been? questions after questions ran through my mind until I could bear it no longer and hauled myself up and doted after him.
The toilets smelt of dry pee and it was littered with toilet paper and the blue light that hung under the ceiling flicker’s on and off constantly the man could not be seen but a faint ticking was present, the cubicle door was closed but not locked I put my ear to the door, there was a definite ticking sound I took a breath in and pushed the door opened what I saw made my blood run cold.
There was an open suitcase with a bomb attached to it there was no time or clock or anything to tell when the bomb was going off.
I bolted back outside to the bank
“Everyone ru-“ I had scarcely any time to finish before a rippling blast sent me sprawling across the bank and thrown into piles chairs, a huge commotion had started as that bomb caused other hidden bombs to go off in a chain of ear-splitting explosions.
I looked up as chairs, desks, people, limbs, smoke, rubble, pieces of carpet flew in all sort of direction colliding into the ceiling and walls breaking them, I heard a faint scream before an explosion erupted in dark flames and smoke whisking me away into some unknown location.
Searing heat burnt one side of my body while blunt rocks bruised the other all I could feel was my body being blown all over the place after a while everything went black.
I woke up under a pile of rubble my body ached, my mind was numb, my sight was blurry but I could make out some figure in front of me, there was a constant ringing in my ear, and everything smelt like dust and smoke.
“Would oil lick my ting” I heard someone say my eyes strained to see who it was
“Before you hear my bed” the constant ringing wasn’t helping either.
I crawled out from under the rubble and to my disbelief I saw my mother
“Would you like some tea darling” she said with a smile on her face “before you go to bed, honey”
I was slowly recovering from the bomb witch was phenomenon effort on my part I still couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
“Would you like some tea darling?” she said again
“What are you talking about mum, what are you doing here” I said
“Before you go to bed, honey?” she repeated
“How did u get here mum, are you ok mom?”
“Would you like some tea darling?”
My heart sank there was something very wrong here I thought
“Before you go to bed, Honey?” she continued
“Mum?” I tried again
“Would you like some tea, darling?”
“Mum stop saying that mum” I screamed at her trying to stop myself from losing it
She stopped then smiled, looking dazed the strange thing was she was completely unscathed from the blasts.
“Wake up sir”
“Sir, wake up” she said again “sir please it’s your turn, wake up”
I woke in a dazed frenzy the small frail employee lightly taping my shoulder
“Sorry for the long wait sir, the lady at the bench we’ll be right with you”
I rubbed my aching temple pondering this strange dream there was one thing that still bothered me the smell of petrol and cheap perfume still wafted in the air.