Kenyi Diallo | First Year | Gryffindor
The name's Kenny.
════════════════════ ═══════════════════ ════════════════════ ════════════════════ ═══════════════════ ════════════════════ ════════════════════ ═══════════════════ ════════════════════ ════════════════════ ═══════════════════ ════════════════════ Kenny grew up in a one-room rented apartment with his family, consisting of his mother and three older sisters. Growing up without a father figure, he was subjected to a female-dominated environment for most of his life. He grew up heavily influenced by Christianity and British-African sub-culture when he attended his local Church. Prone to fits of uncontrollable anger, a young Kenny often got into trouble both in and outside of school. In some ways, the pastoral guidance of Christ managed to mellow out his fiery temper. Eventually, he found an outlet for these outbursts of suppressed energy in the form of his school's soccer society. He joined several informal soccer clubs organized by other youths around his age, eventually developing close ties with the sporting community. He hung out with them regularly, affectionately calling them his "brothers", something he never really had before.
He would've laughed then if one were to claim that he was magical. The things that happened to him were obscure, easily dismissable as figments of imagination. One time, he saw a white speck by the window, a little paper crane taking to the air as Pastor David called for our salvation. He thought nothing of it then and would think little of it now. Ever since he had been uprooted from his old life, there's no more denying what's in store for him in the present, and what the future might hold. He now struggles to reconcile with this new reality, that the segregated world he knew was even more divided than he had imagined.
Last edited by Kenyi Diallo on 20 Sep 2023, 15:18, edited 6 times in total.
Kenyi Diallo | First Year | Gryffindor
This Tapestry is my StoryAct I: Beegu
Darkness. Darkness and sudden light. Sudden light and smell. Blood. Red like the womb. Viscous, angry, tears. They run. Cold, suddenly. Light and cold, and soft. And faces. So many faces. Two eyes, nose and teeth. And gaping maws, I'm scared. Of all these faces I'll soon forget. Except one. She teaches me the caterpillar. Hungry, hungry, like me. And bear. And Beegu. Beegu is my favorite. Ma' calls me Beegu and hungry, so I'm in all the stories. Beegu can count to ten. One... two... three... four... five... seven... nine... ten...Act II: Obama
Ma' hauls me to the TV to watch Mister Obama. He's a god-serving man, she says. A righteous man. A worthy man, she adds. I wonder why there isn't a worthy man in our little home. If men are so important, then every family must have one, right? But ma' does everything by herself: cleans us, reads to us, makes us food and tells us when to go to sleep. Some day, I have to become like Obama, a good, worthy man. A man for his family.
Ma' also takes us to Church with the others like us. Not like those who live in the house, downstairs. Or next door. They speak too fast and they own the rest of the house. The people in the Church are our friends. They dressed in white tell me good things. That the future is bright if we put our faith in God and sing the hymns. Ma' only cries twice a week. Once at Church, and once that night. I haven't cried for some time now. I'm too scared to make Ma' worry. Isn't she scared she'll make us worry too?Act III: Judas
I stand outside the door to the condominium, staring bleakly upward. The skin of my eye is darker than usual, tethering upon purple than its natural tan. A heavy weight fills my heart. Dreading what is to come, my mind races for a solution.
It's not much use, for when she sees me, Ma' showers me with such concern that I only sink further with guilt. Who did this? She asks. Chad Hedge. I nervously say. As all mothers do, she flies into a rage, though not at me. Instead at this skinny, nasty-mouthed caucasian boy. Ma', it's fine, I plead, hoping hopelessly that her maternal instincts choose not to manifest just this one time. But I love my ma', and my ma' loves me, and I know that the most doubtless bond lies between the lioness and her cub.
On the phone, she speaks to Mr Gleeson. Her eyes red with tears from seeing her poor boy. Her rage simmering just under a carefully kept tapestry of calm. Suddenly, she hears something, and her expression cracks like a frozen frame. For a moment, that simmering rage turns to shock, before returning like the tide of a falling tsunami. Except this time, her eyes glower over her poor boy.
Because I started the fight.Act IV: Kenny
Sprinting down a narrow patch of unobstructed grass, I can see the angle widening: an opening between the players. Sweat drips from my brow, down the side of my cheek, and coats the skin of my forearms like a fine film. I only hear the roar of air and a distant clapping rhythm in the spectator stands. A crowd of less than twenty come to watch their sons and daughters battle it out in a vicious game.
There it is, the crack between the door and the frame. All that's needed now is a recipient from the other side and... there he is! Wasting no time, my leg twists with such violence, that I fear for a moment I might have ripped something. But had I, it would have all been worth it as the ball careens past two helpless defenders, finding Amari's dribble. One... two... three... he lets it loose!
... and it's saved by their goalkeeper! My victorious air-punch is mid-motion, feigned as a frustrated brush of my head as I rescind the gesture. I glance at my watch. There's still ten minutes. There's still time.