Door whines on its hinges as you open. It whines louder and shuts. When will you apply the grease? Tomorrow? Yesterday, you said today.
You dont know what to do with yourself. Are you looking for an Oasis in the desert of your day?
Inside whizzes. Blank. You shamble across to the bookshelf. You dont take any of the books, but peer at the titles. War and Peace. Critique of Pure Reason. Love in the Time of Cholera. The Famished Road. You Must Set Forth at Dawn. There was Country. Meditations.
Stop. Enough. And the writing desk? No. You dont want to face the blank sheet today. Yesterday, after an hour, you couldnt write a befitting first sentence.
Loll on the settee. The foam sinks loyally under you, and a whiff of dusty air wafts along. You exhale. Noisily. As though you just remembered your breath.
You dig into your memory. For a joke. It is faded like an old flag. You pull another one. A conversation. It is frayed and craggy.
What do you want to do? Talk to someone. Who? Anyone? You sigh. It comes off like a whisper to someone who is not there. Ah, anything but this silence staring at you. You look away. At nothing.
Phone is dead. Power bank too. Power supply came last three days. What now? The 60 watts bulb flickers some weak glow of yellow. It goes off. Your nascent smile dies.
Tickles you at the sides. You twitch with displeasure. It giggles. Your head bangs echoes of wordlessness. You squint a frown. Oh. You roll and roll. Your hands are fidgety. You give them to your teeth. The nails crack, tack, tack. Then you begin to twiddle your toes.
Voice has been speaking. Humming like a steady din. It is still speaking. You don’t want to hear. But you can’t hear anything else. Thin. Loud. Hush. All at once. Humming like a steady din.
“Hey, I am here. I have brought you to this sphere by removing all attractions and distractions, so that you can focus on me. Every other thing will be fine.
“I. Am. God,” it says again.
Eze Ifeanyichukwu Peter, studied Philosophy at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka. His works have appeared on Africanwriter, Afridiaspora, Brittlepaper, Black Boy Review, The Kalahari Review, and NaijaStories. His piece, ‘Life Deferred’ was in the top four of the Igby Prize for non fiction, January, 2017.
One thought on “Pathway by Eze Ifeanyichukwu Peter”
Comments are closed.