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Children of the Sun
(On the plane to South Africa)
by Dan Akinlolu
497 words

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Children of The Sun

When I was young, mum told me there was man in the moon. I sat every night staring at the sky, with a thousand stars dotting the naked sky. Each time I tried counting the stars I kept mixing them up, losing tracks of recorded numbers.

One night the moon was full, and we were out at the balcony. I mean dad and I, with my younger friends from the neighbourhood. Mum was in the kitchen cooking, she was making corn porridge with rice. Dad was seated on a reliable chair, reading an old newspaper. I lay on my back, begging the stars to call my name.

The man in the moon smiled at me. He wore a bowler hat with an old winter coat. I blinked my eyes, thinking I was hallucinating. He smiled again and called my name. I was excited; I stood and rushed to mum in the kitchen to tell her the good news.

“Mama one day I will touch the sky!” I shouted joyfully.

Mum looked at me, she was cooking a soup and the rice was half boiled on the stove. She was really sweating and working very hard.

“How did you know?” she asked jokingly.

“The man in the moon called my name. He said I would see the cloud by my side. And I will ride above the woolly cloud.”

“I don’t understand my son, but one day you will ride in the sky and the sun will be your guide and companion. The stars will point the way to your destiny.”

“Mama when will this happen?” I asked excitedly

“The time is not for me to tell nor the future for me to see. Your palms predicted it, the stars have spoken your name, beckoning at you right from the day of your birth that you are child of destiny, child of the sun.”

I went back to dad half exited but confused. Dad was too tired to listen to me. He already was snoring on the chair though the dinner was not ready yet.

Two decades passed; here I am at the age of twenty-seven in an airplane, flying to another country in search of a greener pasture as a writer. Lost in a timeless world. Here I am seated by the window side of a BOEING 747 looking at the cloud by my side; the vastness of the blue landscape and the sun falling at the smooth but silky horizon. 

I pick up my pen and rewrite my history. I am not just mortal, because the stars are pointing to my destiny. I am not ordinary, for there is a price to pay for my future. I am a child of the shining sun. I will tell mother that I saw the moon bowing for me at the horizon. I will tell mother that I rode so close to the stars. They mentioned her name too, and send their greetings to every child of the sun.

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lis gerrard   Australia
"A lovely story - well done"
 

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