What is not Known

short stories collection - a compilation of my short stories.


Ever get that feeling, that the people you know may have something to hide? That the girl you've been with for all this time is cheating on you? Or taking advantage of you? Ever had that thought that the friend laughing with you is just looking out for the next opportunity to fleece you in the name of 'friendship'? Friendship! Base on what?!

A stream-of-conscious story about social paranoia...with a twist.

Ever get that feeling, that the people you know may have something to hide? That the girl you've been with for all this time is cheating on you? Or taking advantage of you? Ever had that thought that the friend laughing with you is just looking out for the next opportunity to fleece you in the name of 'friendship'? Friendship! Base on what?! A couple trite conversations and laughs? Ha, funny that, but what more can a relationship be?

Every get a shiver down your spin when you realize that you're all alone, that those around you are just a part of your imagination? Drives you mad, don't it? Does to me. Can't trust anyone, they are all shells, elaborate shells that you can never get behind or crack. Know that girl you just chatted with at the party? Was she thinking about the next dude she going to bang? Or is she actually interested in conversing? What's with that smile, stupid bitch.

I'm cynical that way, maybe that's why I'm here, they think I've gone mad. But I'm not mad, I'm not! I just voiced what everyone else was thinking and they declare me mad! But I am not angry, this place allows me to reflect, to remember, to plan. That smile...how I hate that smirk, I thought of stabbing her, right there. But that would have been messy, so I didn't. Another girl I'd known for awhile was talking to me about another person, I looked into her eyes and realized I knew very little about her, her past, ambitions, etc. What did I know about her? What were all those conversations spent talking about? Oh, right, this, the pointless ramble about other people, joking about some hackneyed memory or discussing some irrelevant piece of news.

What do others talk about? Is this all there is to social interaction? I must be missing something, maybe that makes me crazy, or special or misunderstood or whatever trite term is the politically correct term-of-the-day. The party ends and the people leave, people brag about their accomplishments and I retreat back into my mind, is this all there is?

The sweat drips down my brow, and I hear screaming in the background, yet I am unaffected, and feel no need to rush and help. Several people pass by me, their faces full of terror, one of them decks me as he runs by, screaming, “Look at her, you sick shit, why didn't you stop him?!” I wonder if he knows I could have killed him, but why these thoughts! I wake up in a cold sweat, a doctor looking at me through the mirror; he jots down some notes and walks off.

I ask myself sometimes, who am I? I continuously distrust my past self, my memories are suspect. Who am I? I killed someone they say, that's not 'normal' even though they let their soldiers do it every day. And in that case, you know what they do? They cheer! Sick hypocritical fucks. And I'm not 'normal'? I'm pretty sure I didn't kill anyone, that's not me, I know myself quite well in that regard. But they say there were witnesses. I'm falling asleep now…

It was raining outside, the cell was cold, they told us the temperatures would drop inside; don't want to spend money on heating. The real purpose was to make us all a bit crazier, to keep their jobs (I hear they are very high paying). The same thing happens when it gets too hot, poof goes the cooling. But the heat is worse, much worse. See, the cold you can hide from, a blanket, a body, a makeshift fire, these all fight off the cold. The heat, well the heat you can only bear, you can't blanket it or shiver through it. No, it must be fought with power, of which we apparently don't have. So we fight through it, a person or two dies, but that opens spaces for more high paying individuals to come in.

I was sick, I knew I should not have trusted that nurse, fucking whore is sleeping with the others, she's fat and ugly though (probably why she's a nurse), even here I won't lower myself to that level. But I am now sick, with what I know not, but I think they are trying to make us crazy, that's the only plausible explanation. Think about it, I'm like a brilliant stag yesterday and now I'm like a sickly old lady, all of this after receiving my shot. They aren't too clever…

Someone has come into see me, strange, didn't know I knew anyone well enough to warrant this. Must be some government or private entity come to whisk me away and perform experiments on me. Alas, it was my mother. She asked me to stop with this crazy stunt, that it was proving nothing and I would soon be forgotten, the system did that to people. I smiled and gave thumbs up. Told her it would only last a bit longer, this experiment. Needed more time to gather the data, to trick people into believing more that I was crazy, as you all think I must be. Haha, but I'm not.

bahanonu [at] alum.mit.edu


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additional articles to journey through:

two kinds of odd
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I've always wanted to fly--to soar and twirl without a care, to dive bomb that crazy little brat who walks on me every day and sp[...]ills his rancid milk, or to skim the streets unhindered. Alas, I am here, watching the world pass me by. I was always the odd one out, but that would make me special right? It's always good to be special...

A tale about an inanimate object (I'll let you figure out what) and its journey to be free.

week 7 and 8 | good times
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humanism in european art and society
06 january 2012 | essay

One of the main themes of the renaissance was the rebirth in the interest of classical themes or greco-roman culture. Many artist, eit[...]her through paintings, sculptures or architecture, portrayed this general movement by using Greek/roman themes, such as pillars, and integrating it into their works. But it wasn?t just an interest in greek/roman architecture or appearance but also their cultures.

An essay looking at various European paintings and how they were used to capture the essence of European culture, both old and new.

state of sbsa: a review of 2017 and thoughts on future directions
04 june 2017 | sbsa

I spent the past year leading the Stanford Biosciences Student Association (SBSA) as President. This post consist of the letter to the comm[...]unity I sent out at the end of my term giving some highlights of the past year, those who have helped out, and thoughts on future directions.

©2006-2018 | biafra ahanonu | updated 02 april 2018
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