₦airaland Forum

This is a dope classic you're dealing us, OP. Bring it on, please!

I'm sure you will, sire. Good luck with it!

What a great work you gat going on here, bro. I tell you, what you have here is not just amazing, but extraordinaire. And know that I'm not flattering you, when I say it's been a long time since I stumbled upon a talented individual like you.

And about not getting likes and comments on this particular piece of yours. Trust me, it's something that happens to everyone of us here on NL. And it's a big lie when someone tells you this doesn't get to him/her as well. But, you still gotta handle it like a man, and find joy in knowing that you're giving your all and best.

It's quite unfortunate that pure talents like you are born here in Nigeria. And even sadder that you're not appreciated for your God-given gifts.

[BRAZIL: OF SAND, BEACH, SOCCER, AND A VOICE.]

Earlier in the day.
The day was remarkably hot. Remarkably hot even for a typical summery July day in the tropical savanna climate of Rio De Janeiro, Brazil.

Of all days the sun could have chosen to shine its brightest from its heights and the weather blew its warmest, today must have been the worst choice of all for tourists, vacationists, and natives alike, swarmed here on the Balneario beach of Copacabana, Rio De Janeiro, Brazil.

For the men and women, young and old of different races and colors from around the globe, all of whom had decided to hang out here on the widely known Copacabana beach today, the sweltering temperature which was well over forty-five degrees Celsius and still rising was not only unusually too hot but had remained so for far too long. Too long that it had proven a huge deterrence to most activities on the beach.

So much that a great deal of the natives driven out of their homes onto the beach by the smoldering heat of the day had tossed their clothes and was either left scantily dressed in bikinis and trunks, or, have straw hats on their heads, and their sunglasses on to shield their eyes from the glare of the sun.

And the little few luscious, foreign sunbathers laid on beach chairs, reading from exotic magazines, had layers of sunscreen thickly spread on their bodies, and glasses of Tequila sunrises or Margaritas laying idly by their side.

While, the great many that remained either lay reposed under beach parasols in the company of friends or, were clustered around the edge of the beach, the breaking waves of the Atlantic lapping at their feet under the heat of the hot scorching sun.

But the weather hot as it was apparently so, was no hindrance at all. At least, not to the wildling lot of skiers and surfers, who braved the rolling waves of the Atlantic.

Nor, to Jonas, his friend—Maik, and the bunch of other young Cariocas, who played beach soccer, volleyball, and catch at different spots and angles of the four kilometers-long shore of the Copacabana beach, wading here and thereafter the ball over the powdery sand of the beach, and shouting at the top of their voices.

Jonas chased frantically but rather hopelessly after the ball from one player to another in wide circles and arcs, failing at his every attempt of tracking after the ball to regain possession of it.

He had lost possession of the ball earlier on in the game to a carrot-haired boy from amongst the Cariocas they were playing with. And had been made into the middle man in their little retrieval game ever since.

But, after twenty minutes or so of wild, frustrating dashes after the ball, with heart heaving arrhythmically in his chest, and his legs and joints growing heavy and leaden already, Jonas still had nothing to show for his troubles, but a river of sweat that glistened off his body at the touch of the sun.

And quite ironic enough, poor, unlucky Jonas had discovered in the first five minutes of his boring chase after the ball that neither he nor his friend, Maik stand a chance against the other six boys they were playing soccer with. And this was not owing to the obvious fact that the other kids were a head taller and brawny than himself or his friend.

But rather to the fact that they were playing the round-leathered game with these boys, who could literally play football from birth. Or, didn’t the saying goes; “every Brazilian kid is born with a ball at his feet.”

In any other game, we could have stood a chance. But in football, It’s a no-no! Jonas, who was never the type to give up at the first try had resignedly agreed to himself from the start.

And luckily so, Jonas was not in any way disappointed in his earlier assessment. The kids had thus far lived to his expectations while maintaining the long-enduring legend that every Brazilian is a born football player.

Their sleek touches, perfect ball juggling skills, and movements on and off the ball, their control and command of it, and the adroitness and intelligence with which they played the ball was unlike anything Jonas had ever seen since ‘The Matrix’. And had him marveling how kids his age could play soccer this good.

But despite his frustration at his vain attempt of recovering the ball from any of the kids, Jonas kept at his wild goose chase after the ball in good spirits, hopeful in the chances that one of the boys, most importantly, his friend Maik would lose the ball at some point in the game.

The torture of chasing after the ball under the red-hot sun went on for long for Jonas, who with the willful indifference of a twelve years old, and in the spirit of never giving up carried on still with his chase after the ball.

The burdensome chase, the sweat, and even the fatigue seeping into his bones and muscles, as a result, had mattered little to him. Worse still, he had considered every one of it as part of fun had with friends.

And besides, the stress and troubles that had resulted from it were nothing compared to the ones he would have faced on the off chance that he was attending summer school.

And what else could be worse torture for someone’s Jonas age, but school in summer?
It is for this reason and none other than this that Jonas has had to work extra hard in the last school session to best his previous woeful grade, and thus, earned the free ticket to go on summer vacation with his mum and friend in any country of his choosing.

Jonas had worked his ass off. But more than anything, his efforts had counted and he had avoided summer school.

Summer school was no fun, after all.
And when it was time to choose where to go vacating this summer, Jonas had had little problem deciding on where to go. Having seen the city of Rio in movies and on news cables countless times already, and falling instantly in love with the Carnivals, Samba, the cable cars, and the beach life, he had said outright to his mother that he wanted Brazil.

No more, no less!

And as fate would have it, it happened that his late father had indeed left enough fortune behind to cater for his vacation with his friend, and his mother.

So, rather than feel frustrated or crestfallen with the ways things were going so far, Jonas had felt rather unusually happy. Knowing he hadn’t traveled all the way from Germany to the Southern Hemisphere to mope or feel sad, but to have fun and live every moment of his summer vacation to the fullest.

And with this conviction to further fuel his passion and determination, he continued with his chase after the ball, racing from one player to player, like a dog going after a scent.

His efforts eventually paid off some minutes later, when Maik received a glancing pass, which he apparently had little trouble controlling from one of the boys.

Trouble only came for Maik when he intended to return the ball to the boy directly across from him, and lost possession of it after a miskick, which sent his feet slicing through thin air, and a spray of fine sand instead.

Jonas watched with a relieved and gleeful expression as the ball rolled over to him, taking his feet off the ground to control it with his instep in a complete show of finesse and victory.

But, however pleased he was with this fortunate break, he didn’t hold to the ball a moment longer, discharging it at once to the nearest kid, and staring flippantly as his friend, Maik tracked after the ball like a lost puppy.

At that moment, he hadn’t cared in the slightest that it was his friend chasing after the ball. Nor, did he care what he would have to go through to retrieve the ball back.

‘All is fair in love and war,’ is what they say, he mused. For all he cared, it could be his father chasing after the ball.

Jonas, with a thin, mock smile spread upon his small face watched his friend suffer the same fate as him in the minutes that followed, running in seemingly endless circles after the ball.

While standing there, enraptured by the sight of his suffering friend at the hands of the other kids, Jonas felt at first the rupturing of something from inside of him—something similar to doors tearing off from their hinges, then, a sudden presence on the edge of his subconscious.

In those moments, Jonas couldn’t tell if he was in a trance, asleep, dead, or even, alive. Nor could he tell if he had been transported into another world—a parallel dimension or universe, perhaps.

What he knew, however, is the presence he had felt earlier in his subconscious grew heavier and stronger by the seconds, until seeping into his consciousness and filling up the vacuum of his mind.

Before long, Jonas’s mind became overwhelmed by the presence, which not only drowns out every other thing, from sound to sight and sensation. But also made him feel alone and empty as he had never felt before.

“Hello, Jonas.” Jonas heard a scratchy voice called out to him.

Lost and unable to place where the sound was coming from, Jonas searched within the emptiness and solitude of his mind for its source. But found nothing, still.

“Are you there, Jonas?” The voice called again this time in a higher pitch and boom.

“Who are you?” Jonas tossed back a question in a shaky breath. Still, uncertain of which was stranger; hearing the voice, or trying to demand an answer from it.

“I’m just a voice in your head, boy.” Jonas thought he heard the faint rustle of a chuckle in the voice this time. “And from now on, you will do what I ask of you when I ask it.”

It became apparent then, that just when things were about making sense to Jonas, and he thought he had had it the worst, it was just only getting started.

This must be insanity, he thought. Or, what else could better explain the outrageousness of an unknown voice talking to him, and giving him orders.

“And why would I want to do that?” He asked, having decided he might as well have some fun chatting with Mr. I’m the voice in your head.

“Because I need you as much as you need me.”

“Need you? Tell me why I would ever have a need for you when I have never seen you before?” Jonas said with a sneer.

“Want to find out that bad? Then, why not get away from here to a silent place where you can meditate.”

Now, he’s making demands of me, Jonas thought unsmiling yet unangry, still not believing a bit in this strange, comical mental encounter.

“Meditate, you say?” Jonas forced out after some time, still very much doubtful.

“Definitely. Find a quiet place to meditate at once, and see for yourself.”

“And I am supposed to trust and hold you up on your words, right?” He demanded, not knowing what to believe anymore.

“Have some faith, Jonas. Will you?”

And just like that, the voice was gone, and with it the heavy presence in his mind, and the lid placed on his senses.

Seconds later, Jonas felt again a stirring in his consciousness and the reawakening of his senses.