Day 7: Scent of Rust

Surreal Photography by Caracas Ionut

The scent of ripeness

Is the scent of rust;

A complete life clefts

In a mote of dust.

That’s how we begin,

And how we go on.

When ripeness kicks in

Its cousin rust comes;

The taste of sourness

Hides in the sweetness.

Life is light and dark.

Fate is good and bad.

Opposites collaborate

In a field of grain

Making it all blend.

Ripeness points to the end

And makes way for rust.

And rust confounds us all.

Akpan

Day 7: Still Breathing

Seven years ago I debut on the internet.
This one's specially for the confused young man
who threw in his all.

I have lived on a razor edge all my life,

But I’ve had my senses filed like a soldier’s knife.

It’s not been easy, not exactly what you’d call

A fairytale setting but I’ve had some good fun.

I’m still healing from the pain, still dealing with aches,

The memories still fill me with rage, a rip in my days.

I’m feeling the scars and there’s still some sore spot

But these are just keepsakes from the battles I’ve won.

I’m growing in the same space I picked myself back up

I’m not just surviving I’m thriving straight for the top.

I’m into this feeling so deep I could do it for a living

And it all comes down to one thing; I’m still breathing.

Akpan

IntShoWriMo 2014: Day 7

Day 7: Hard Drive

Today’s Prompt: “Checking Hard Drive… File Corrupt.” With a deadline looming, my heart stopped.

— Courtesy: Writing.Com

Word Count: 1,723

‘CHECKING HARD DRIVE…’

Koko stared at the screen of her inbuilt computer, the sense of urgency charged the air. The street was alive with people but Koko knew better to be wary cause this was 2057 where people had ceased to be just people. Computers ruled the age and people had become Files. Night had covered the world with deceptive ease while she buried herself in work.

‘CHECKING HARD DRIVE…’

            “Shit, this is going to be a long night,” she said aloud to no one in particular. “Can’t you just figure out who is real and which ones are ghosts of their former selves?” she asked the artificial intelligence installed in her Jeep. Just when she decided to spin her wheels, she probably had nothing to fear, her computer shattered her hasty conclusion with a ‘BONG!’

In 2057, that sound had become the next thing to the Final Trumpet Sound. Sitting in her Jeep, alone in the dark of night, the computerized female voice inserted terror in Koko.

‘CHECKING HARD DRIVE’ traded places with ‘virus detected’ and got traded for ‘file corrupt.’

Blue dots filled the computer screen. That signified one thing: she was in danger. She was stuck for alternative routes. Plus, beating the deadline seemed somewhere in the realm of impossible. The blue dots converged cued by an invisible, diabolic director. Then they began to move in on her in slow measured tempo acting out their cemetery choreography. Read More Here: IntShoWriMo 2014


Eneh Akpan
June 7th, 2014

IntShoWriMo 2013: DAY 7

Courtesy: Flickr

Today’s Prompt:

You strike up a conversation with a stranger in the check-out line at the grocery store who, as it turns out, is not a stranger at all.

Courtesy: Writing.Com

Link for Day 7: DAY 7: Lethal Evenings Word Count: 2,447

‘Forgetting isn’t always voluntary. Sometimes it’s willed.’

Idara and Angie, two women, programmed by fate to bump into each other a second time.

Their first encounter at a party in an out-of-the-way mansion, which turned out to be a house of horror had awakened a malign force that must be laid to rest or there will be blood.

Like there had been before.

When they collide at a grocery store, their memories of the past had been reshuffled. The question was, by trauma or by evil spirits? The victory or defeat of the women at the hands of evil depends on them unbottling their past.

In an instant of total brilliant recall, their memory gushed to the surface of their consciousnesses and with it a horror they would rather forget.

Idara and Angie must complete their assignments yet; they may not live to see their grades.

Read the full story here, DAY 7: Lethal Evenings

Keep your pen bleeding.

Akpan