cyan swells, rolling
echoes of a nocturne, ring
budding moon, we rise
About the Creator
Chipa Mulenga
Hello! I have dreamed of becoming a writer since I can remember. Adulthood and obligations lead me down the path of an educator for the past years. I joined Vocal to share my stories, some fiction some semi-autobiographical.
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More stories from Chipa Mulenga and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Elephant In the Room
I have had this recurring dream since I was about six. The only dream, besides waking nightmares, which I have ever recalled. In my dream, a monumental lion suddenly appears, a mane so majestic, I can’t help but to notice. Each misplaced visit forebodes something aberrant; it stalks about, first along the fence then it leaps atop the roof, not a single tile mislaid. While it slinks about, I rush my family inside, frantically. Why has this beast come? My face is stoic and scrutinizing, but my knees tremble and my heart races. Wild and free this feral cat has no place here. Who let this beast loose? It tilts its head and flicks its tail tauntingly, a torrid invitation. A standoff ensues: a six year old girl face to face with a king of the jungle. Its whiskers draw back in a snarl. What would the neighbors think if they heard a lion so far from the zoo? She, or I, I suppose- I am just an observer now - bows in diffidence, an attestation of reverence. This lion has no voice, but I know what it would say. And the feeling which startles me awake is that of nightmares.
By Chipa Mulenga3 years ago in Poets
The First Hairline Cracks
The first cracks never look like cracks. They don’t arrive with drama or warning. They don’t announce themselves as danger. They hide inside the very things that feel like power — speed, clarity, momentum, capability. That’s why they’re so easy to miss. That’s why they’re so dangerous.
By Elisa Wontorcik6 days ago in Poets
So You Decided To Become a Nurse Practitioner:
So you decided to become an "Advanced Practice" nurse. Congratulations!... is what I would say if this was a good idea. Grad school? In this economy? What were you thinking? Likely it was something along the lines of either 1) “I've seen these other chucklefucks do it— Why can't I?” or even 2) “I've got a nice career, I should shake it up. I miss feeling like I have no clue what I'm doing.”
By Sandor Szabo7 days ago in Fiction
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