Pathway by Eze Ifeanyichukwu Peter

 

The

Door whines on its hinges as you open. It whines louder and shuts. When will you apply the grease? Tomorrow?  Yesterday, you said today.

Today

You don’t know what to do with yourself. Are you looking for an Oasis in the desert of your day?

Your

Inside whizzes. Blank. You shamble across to the bookshelf. You don’t 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.

You

 

Stop. Enough.  And the writing desk? No. You don’t want to face the blank sheet today. Yesterday, after an hour, you couldn’t write a befitting first sentence.

 

You

 

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.

 

Then

 

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.

 

Now

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.

Your

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.

Loneliness

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.

A

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.

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