They'd found Abisola dead on a Monday morning. Nothing stood out about the death but the look scribed on his face; terror poured from his eyes, his mouth contorted, his tiny body huddled into a rigid foetal position.
The village was accustomed to losing children young - as accustomed as you could be to the passing of a child. But this was different; Abisola had been born eight years earlier, his twin, Adelola, had died not an hour after their birth. This was another tragedy for the family, upon the village, upon the tribe.
In Yoruba tradition, upon the passing of a twin, an Ibeji was carved to hold the half of a soul the dead twin carried - it was believed that twins shared a soul, and without housing the other half, death was likely for the survivor.
Abisola had lived with his twin at his side, he sat on his bookshelf looking over him each night, he took him away with him, he'd fave him towards the TV when Spiderman was on - Adelola had continued to live on.
Abisola would often talk to his brother, tell him stories, sing him songs; he'd even dress him up, leave him scraps of food, draw him pictures of what he'd missed at school.
That Monday morning, Abisola’s mother had entered his room to wake him, found him still sleeping - and allowed him to rest for another five minutes as she prepared his breakfast.
She called out his name, he did not stir.
An hour later, his body had been moved to the living room, all of the village elders in attendance, praying for his safe travel.
Not a thought was cast to Adelola; but if they'd looked closer upon that shelf, they'd have seen that he was smiling, a maniacal smile etched from one disproportionate ear to the other.
If they'd have taken the time to listen, they'd have heard the echo of his laughter upon the wind - a childlike giggle, finally, reunited with his twin.
Corky Harker grew up playing baseball in Florida. He was an above-average outfielder who swung a ferocious, mighty bat. The Minnesota Twins grabbed him. They would help make him one of baseball’s all-time greats. He would help make the Twins world champs four years straight. Then, everything went abruptly south.
Pam was running late, she was not going to make it. The traffic ahead refused to move, some drivers had switched off their engines and stepped out to get some fresh air.
"Sally?"
"Hey sis, where are you? Everyone's waiting for you."
"Can you step in for me? I'm held up in traffic, I don't know if I'll make it, in time."
"Pam, this was your dream" replied a shocked Sally.
"You have to do it for me, please, do you have my brown jacket?"
"Yeah, I got it from the cleaners, this morning."
"Please wear the jacket and try not to talk too much."
" Uh! OK, but you owe me one"
"Sure thing", said Pam, she was going to miss her own book launch, and yet, she was still going to be there. "That's the great thing about having a twin", she thought to herself.
Two suns, twins in a distant galaxy, burned brightly. Born together, they danced in a cosmic waltz, illuminating planets and asteroids. One day, a rogue black hole approached. They faced it together, merging their fiery essence, creating a dazzling supernova, lighting the universe with their eternal, intertwined brilliance.
Two mints in one, but no Siamese twin fused together. Presidential debate twins fate—immune to SCOTUS’ scalpel slice—back door’s closed. Lower the drawbridge; back to drawing board. Who’s in the castle? Few know. Chains lift the bridge high over troubled piranha moat waters to devour crossword puzzles.
Twins Castro n’ Bollox wowed the punk rock scene back in 1977, Castro in his green forage cap, giant fake beard and big cigar, Bollox in his crotchless bondage pants showin' off his titular ‘nads.
Today, nearly 50 years later, they ain’t quite cuttin’ it.
Why does there even need to be two of them?
I’d wondered.
Long cotton dresses, long braids, sensible shoes, the TWINS are surrounded by kids in the sunshine, with babes in arms.
Then they sing:
“Lord help the mister
Who comes between me and my sister
And lord help the sister who comes between me and my man.”
It’s for the song, the sun,
The progeny in harmony.
Thank you for joining in Elizabeth!
Twins
They'd found Abisola dead on a Monday morning. Nothing stood out about the death but the look scribed on his face; terror poured from his eyes, his mouth contorted, his tiny body huddled into a rigid foetal position.
The village was accustomed to losing children young - as accustomed as you could be to the passing of a child. But this was different; Abisola had been born eight years earlier, his twin, Adelola, had died not an hour after their birth. This was another tragedy for the family, upon the village, upon the tribe.
In Yoruba tradition, upon the passing of a twin, an Ibeji was carved to hold the half of a soul the dead twin carried - it was believed that twins shared a soul, and without housing the other half, death was likely for the survivor.
Abisola had lived with his twin at his side, he sat on his bookshelf looking over him each night, he took him away with him, he'd fave him towards the TV when Spiderman was on - Adelola had continued to live on.
Abisola would often talk to his brother, tell him stories, sing him songs; he'd even dress him up, leave him scraps of food, draw him pictures of what he'd missed at school.
That Monday morning, Abisola’s mother had entered his room to wake him, found him still sleeping - and allowed him to rest for another five minutes as she prepared his breakfast.
She called out his name, he did not stir.
An hour later, his body had been moved to the living room, all of the village elders in attendance, praying for his safe travel.
Not a thought was cast to Adelola; but if they'd looked closer upon that shelf, they'd have seen that he was smiling, a maniacal smile etched from one disproportionate ear to the other.
If they'd have taken the time to listen, they'd have heard the echo of his laughter upon the wind - a childlike giggle, finally, reunited with his twin.
Corky Harker grew up playing baseball in Florida. He was an above-average outfielder who swung a ferocious, mighty bat. The Minnesota Twins grabbed him. They would help make him one of baseball’s all-time greats. He would help make the Twins world champs four years straight. Then, everything went abruptly south.
A destiny was forged for the two. One, an extraordinary life continuing the family legacy. The Other, an ordinary life of contemplation and solitude.
The Other watches One through stained glass windows. Dark incense clouds his soul, thickening with each passing day. Everything is green.
"She should be MY destiny."
That actually sounds like an awesome setting for a story.
Thank you! I plan to use it down the line.
PROMPT: TWINS
THE MATCHING PAIR
From birth, Simon and Sam always wore the same outfits.
With matching shoes.
Even matching hats.
And at Christmas time, without fail, they’d be in identical sweaters.
But they weren’t twins.
They were two pugs, belonging to a rich heiress, who loved dressing them up and thought they looked cute… 😎
Prompt: Twins
Pam was running late, she was not going to make it. The traffic ahead refused to move, some drivers had switched off their engines and stepped out to get some fresh air.
"Sally?"
"Hey sis, where are you? Everyone's waiting for you."
"Can you step in for me? I'm held up in traffic, I don't know if I'll make it, in time."
"Pam, this was your dream" replied a shocked Sally.
"You have to do it for me, please, do you have my brown jacket?"
"Yeah, I got it from the cleaners, this morning."
"Please wear the jacket and try not to talk too much."
" Uh! OK, but you owe me one"
"Sure thing", said Pam, she was going to miss her own book launch, and yet, she was still going to be there. "That's the great thing about having a twin", she thought to herself.
Great one Lydia! Haha. My nieces are twins and I can imagine them doing these shenanigans one day lol.
Two suns, twins in a distant galaxy, burned brightly. Born together, they danced in a cosmic waltz, illuminating planets and asteroids. One day, a rogue black hole approached. They faced it together, merging their fiery essence, creating a dazzling supernova, lighting the universe with their eternal, intertwined brilliance.
Lovely! 😎
Fish are alike to one another.
Thunder and lightning ride bumbling but tight in an awkward three-legged race.
Rice paper and the flat earther conspiracy;
A lake between centuries, gaps in the fence;
My left back molar hurts, the king is dead.
Twins.
Two mints in one, but no Siamese twin fused together. Presidential debate twins fate—immune to SCOTUS’ scalpel slice—back door’s closed. Lower the drawbridge; back to drawing board. Who’s in the castle? Few know. Chains lift the bridge high over troubled piranha moat waters to devour crossword puzzles.
Twins Castro n’ Bollox wowed the punk rock scene back in 1977, Castro in his green forage cap, giant fake beard and big cigar, Bollox in his crotchless bondage pants showin' off his titular ‘nads.
Today, nearly 50 years later, they ain’t quite cuttin’ it.
Coughin’ and danglin’. No future.
Ohhh