Beware The Falling Man!

Where is this?

Where am I?

What is that?

Falling Man

Something is whimpering in the darkness, shrill like the wheels on a rusty shopping cart,

I glint at sad eyes far off in a corner,

The place is eerie cold,

The whimpers intensify, slight howls break the monotony.

As i walk to the eyes the farther off the voice trails,

What is this?

Where am i?

There is no ground, my feet stomp on darkness,

My hands grasp at darkness,

How can i see?

Dazed and confused the ground opens up beneath my feet,i reach out…


I scream out!….I scream for help, but the only audible voice i can make is the shrill whimper; cold and sad.

The fall seems like forever, tumbling around the vacuum, embracing myself for the imminent fall, the forthcoming ground seemingly fore-staying its welcome for me with its cold cemented hands.

My eyes shut,bracing for impact

My heart pumping through my veins, i can hear my own heartbeat at my throat in this dark void,the only other solace beside my whimpers. I am scared, scared to open my eyes, fling out my arms, enjoy this ride till it lasts no more. The only lucid thought going through my mind is that huge ‘SPLAT!’ that waits for me.

I ride on the high adrenalin that is pumping through my system and squint open my eyes,the light is dazzling at first, so bright yet no light source no sun, no big bulb.

I stare into the image of me on the rows of buildings i fall past. This renewed surge of confidence allows me to glance around, nothing around me but a field of buildings. This particular one that mirrors my fall seems to be quite the crop, so Tall. I glance down, expecting any moment to kiss the ground but no i am saved the pleasure with nothing but darkness beneath me.

I dont understand. What is the meaning of this?

I glance up back again maybe my mirrored image will offer me companionship.

Wait! That’s not me.

Face weighted with age, dressed for a funeral, eyes riddled with sadness….There is something familiar about those eyes…

My His hands are shaking…those long slender fingers..something so familiar about them..

I try to scream out, but all that’s audible is My His whimper; that cold shrill song laden with death.

WHO am i?

I wake up!

Beads of sweat rolling down my face, the matatu conductor is vigorously shaking me.

“Boss umefika stage!”

Dazed and confused i try to gather my senses…

Where am I? In a bus (not that answer does much to assure me of The Where) all i know is, i need to get out first then figure it out as i go along. I have to wait a bit though, there is some old guy still hesitant about getting off the matatu, so I use this time to try to figure out what that dream was all about.

I alight off at the stage,sun shining, the dream slowly shimmering back to the recess of my subconscious. Oh yeah! I was heading in to work..tsk “Saturdays” such a task.

I make my way to the bridge, safe haven for all those seeking to cross this busy highway.. such a task though.. going up those stairs, but i am in no hurry still early by 45 minutes i can jog the weird dream away.

Half way up, loud screeches below, smell of burnt rubber on tarmac, some lady screams…i shake my head, make sure this isn’t one  of those inception moments..NO! very real.

I glance down,a trailer has ground to a halt, behind it a small stream of oil darker than usual; but for all its worth no serious car crash, hence i am confused about all the screaming and commotion, being the curious Kenyan, i venture forth to the accident scene; i know morbid but hey this makes up for morning conversation, so got to have my facts straight.

Everyone seems to be peering under the truck, that’s when i see him, that oil was no oil, blood streaking from something under the truck. That funeral suit, those long slender fingers protruding under the hood, those motionless sad eyes staring into forever. I know that man!


It’s the old man who was seated next to me in the matatu.

It’s the old man I was looking at in the mirror. It’s HIM!





4 thoughts on “Beware The Falling Man!

  1. Great read. I respect a writer who gives justice to the words….you do just that and it keeps one hooked to the story. baethewei those images are off the hook….u do them yourself?

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