It is an outrageously hot day. One of those where drinking water doesn't do much. Where a shower only gives reprieve for the period you stand under the shower head. Step out and you realize you have no need for a towel. Yes. That hot.
That's why I'm in this pool. I'm proud of myself because I just learnt how to swim. Time to do another lap. Midway my lap, I see her. I swallow another gallon. The discomforts of being a first time swimmer! Let's ignore me trying to catch my breath and concentrate on the lady. Flowing hair to the nape of her neck. Two piece pink bikini. Lovely thing! Beautiful body!
Is she swimming toward me? She stops. I reach out to touch her and she doesn't fight me off. Now that she's this close I recognize her. Flavia Tumusiime. Oh my God! This is a sign. I knew that hefty Serena membership fee would pay off.
"Let's go to my room." I mischievously suggest.
"Wham!" Slap right across my face!
"Ouuch!" That obviously hurt.
“Nel nome del Padre, del Figlio e dello Spirito Santo”, said the priest.
Amen, replies the congregation.
"Wait, boomerang! Why am I in church? Is the Priest presiding over our wedding already?" I question myself.
The Italian communication takes me by surprise. I raise my head, and look at the priest standing in the presbytery leading the prayers. I have never seen him before, but his rugged face and scar across his face send quivers down my spine. He looks like the kind of man whose family you wouldn’t want to play with. Probably in his mid-forties, 6”2, barrel chested, a man not to mess with. Wait, do priests make babies, legally?
To my right and left are two beautiful ladies who seem to be following the proceedings with keen intention; spotless beauties, the kind who can get away with just anything with a simple smile. A glance around the church; and I realize everyone is dressed in black and the mood in church; a sombre one. The cross hanging in the blind, the stained glass on the lunettes showing Jesus and Mary gives me a hint that this is a Catholic Church. The Gothic art, large bronze doors, beautiful frescoes and mosaic façade in addition to the language being used mean am somewhere in Italy and probably in Orvieto's medieval cathedral (I have never been here, but I can relate). Simple deduction; it isn't my wedding.
The casket at the end of the aisle with a picture of an old man adjacent to is what gets my attention.
"Where is my bride? What am I doing in Italy? Who has died? My bride? Why am I fluent in Latin to crown it all?" A myriad of questions spring in and out of mind. I need answers, I have to get out of the church. I stand up gently as I prepare to go out.
Simultaneous sharp hits to the back of my knees, followed by jerks at my ankles get my derrière onto the edge of the pew. I adjust myself in my seat trying to comprehend what just happened as my body tries to assess the pain that has been inflicted upon it. The self-body evaluation is cut short by the realization of the barrels piercing into my lower ribs by the two ladies seated next me. A look at one of the ladies who shakes her head as a sign of disdain to my failed antic as she digs deeper into my flesh with her pistol is enough to get my attention. Palm to face as I lean forward, only to realize the plastic knots binding each of my ankles to those of the ladies. "Oh no! I didn't kill this man. I don't know him." I timorously convince myself.
"Non cercare di nuovo!" Instructs the other lady.
I have no idea what she means, but given the tone in which she speaks, I sit upright and try to follow the church proceedings.
I look up at the priest who is now holding a double barreled riffle in my direction, everyone in church has vanished. I stare down the barrel of the gun concomitantly saying what may seem as my epilogue to my creator. He pulls the trigger and click!!!!
I am in Paris, "la Ville des Lumières", which is French for "the city of lights" and below the great Eiffel tower just to be exact. I am not dead. She is standing right next to me. She murmurs, "I have been planning for this moment two months prior." She has a blessing for a body, dazzlingly white eyes and her hair is falling back effortlessly letting the wind string Mozart's tunes with its splendid nature. The rays of the setting sun falling on the tower alleviate the situation and this is when I know it is now.
Very malleable, I lean forward and kiss her on the forehead and let her rest her head on my chest. In sync with the gently sailing wind, I part my lips & whisper in her ear the three magic words, "I love you." Without hesitation, she reverts the same words and we share a very passionate kiss.
It is so warm. Gradually, the warmth levels fall and she is as cold as ice. I open my eyes only to realise that I have been clenching to my bed post. The wind is blowing harshly through the unshut window and my entire room is now so cold. I have been dreaming.
Compiled by; 1. Tushabe Joseph ( @jrukeeba)
2. Nasasira Paul ( @nasasira_)
3. Ssemujju Lewis ( @Lewis_Bond007)