Day 5: The Enterprise
Today’s
Prompt: “My business is to create,” wrote William Blake. This week, write a
story whose protagonist is also in a creative enterprise. Your character can be
an artist, or he or she can be involved in a field your typical reader may not
initially think of as creative. Try to find and describe this creative impulse.
— Courtesy: PW.Org
Word
Count: 1,544
It was five in the evening and the feasting
was done. Me and Reuben had grabbed a rattan chair each and walked off to the
bank of the river a few meters behind his house. We took glass cups, a bottle filled
with water and a little table for entertainment. The evening air was fresh and
cool; a perfect culture for a serious conversation.
“What
do you guys do down where you said you worked?”
I
took a deep breath and said, “The Enterprise?”
“Yeah,
that. What are you up to?”
I cleared my throat. “I am the Creative
Director.”
“Break
that down into chunks I can gobble in one swallow.”
“I
create stuff and I have all authority in decision making.”
“You’ve
lost me for the second or third time in as many minutes.”
I looked at him and spoke one word I knew
he’d understand. “Art.”
“I’d
have come to ruin towing that line,” he said. “I tried it often even with you
standing close by doing your own thing. Remember the times we came by these same
waters as kids to paint the scenery?”
I nodded.
“You,
you were always the gifted hands in the family. Always.” His face congealed in
a scowl. “How did you drift so far apart from the promising kid we all believed
in, Markus?”
I swallowed and even though my mouth was
empty, a lump slid down my throat like XL bitter-leaf-flavored pills.
“Called
and said you got a fine job and we was happy for you. Said you ‘created’ stuff and we believed you were
a genius of some sort and beamed with pride everywhere we went…”
Reuben sniffed on his inhaler. He always
had one on him whether he caught a cold or not. God knows why.
“’Kay,
I give up. I can’t narrate your own story to you it’s like preaching to the
darn choir. So help me out. I want to know what you did. Don’t spit it like some
god darn official report. Spin the yarn as simple as simple does without making
it sound like a ball of confusion.” He sniffed some more on his inhaler. He sank
in his rattan chair. ‘Your turn’ that
gesture seemed to say. Read more here: IntShoWriMo 2014
Eneh Akpan
June 5th, 2014
No comments:
Post a Comment
Feedbacks welcome and appreciated.