She knew this christmas wouldn’t be different yet she couldn’t help dreaming it would. Dreaming was the only thing that kept her alive. She sat by her typewriter and she began to create the christmas she wanted for herself.
“If I can’t have it, at least my fans can.” She thought as she begun putting her thoughts onto paper.
It wasn’t that christmas was a particularly sad event for her. No, it was the memories that christmas brought that made her wish she could skip christmas as a whole.
These memories weren’t violent or sorrow filled but they were silent, unhappy memories that were more violent than violence itself.
She knew when people saw her, they did not see her. They saw the image her publicist, stylist, manager, agent and brand manager had carefully and meticulously created. People saw beauty, perfection and joy. Underneath were scars, tears and memories better kept at bay.
That was the reason she wrote stories that depicted the world she was supposed to live. These stories made her the best selling author, and perhaps one of the wealthiest in her part of the world. However, they did not alleviate the pain she felt.
She had men drooling over her, women wanting to be her, mixed breeds craving her. Yet, she couldn’t understand how they failed to see the person beneath her perfect image.
“Was the camera that blind it failed to see her lips quiver when she smiled?”
“Were her fans such romantics that they did not notice that she never clung to the men she dated?”
“Did her fans not notice the sad trails in her books?”
“Was the world that insensitive?”
At a red carpet event she attended a month ago, under extreme pressure, she nearly choked when a fan said she wanted to live like her for a day.
“Poor child, all she sees is the glitz and glamour.” She thought.
She hated outings that weren’t relevant to her work but her team made it impossible for her to stay away from such horrible events.
They kept telling her how people need to see her to read her books.
“What a silly notion! Must you see me before you read my thoughts? These people are just weird.” She muttered while they were sticking pins into her hair to hold it in place preparing her for the event.
She wasn’t always a sad person. There were times she was happy. Those times were precious to her so she never shared it with anyone. Whenever, she finished writing a book or a project, she felt extremely happy.
“I must finish this book else, Enid will kill me.” She reminded herself. So, she typed the first two words- A SMILE…
The book was going to be titled CHRISTMAS IN JOS. It would be a love story that occurred in JOS during christmas when the Boko Haram activities started.
“Yes, perhaps this would endear me to Northerners, they need this escape during this trying times.” She assured herself.
One hour later, she was almost through with the first chapter of the christmas she imagined she was experiencing…
Compliments of the season everyone…
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