Nightwalker by Ime Atakpa

Author:Ime Atakpa
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2017-03-21T06:00:00+00:00

The sun rises this morning with a hint of power in its rays. They scathe the marble table where I lie in wait for the day’s events. As expected, Mother wakes first. She lumbers downstairs in a stupor of tiredness, fumbling over herself all the way. Uneven mats of hair fall along every side of her skull. She carries herself directly to the kitchen, scrounging through cabinets for the final dregs of coffee to spread in the machine. She sets it to prepare a strong brew. With that done, she’s back on the trail upstairs. Given the time between her ascent and Father’s descent, they must have met each other on their respective paths though from Father’s expression, nothing substantial passed between them. He enters the kitchen same as her—droopy-eyed and lazy—checks to see that coffee is brewing, and heads back upstairs himself. Within thirty minutes, they’ve both returned, each in their formal clothes.

The coffee goes quickly. They refuse to speak this morning. I attribute the silence to an unseen conflict from last night. Mother appeared relatively sober on her way upstairs, but I still struggle to draw any conclusions on the authenticity of the sounds I heard from her. Should she return to bed intoxicated and stir Father from slumber, what might his reaction be? The answer to that question, I’ll never know. For now, I deliberate the current situation, the serenity of it. Each is occupied with premeditating their ritual. Such is how they endure the day, absorbed in their fantasies. But all those fantasies may soon lose their worth. The benefit of escapism, should I succeed, shall cease to exist. I can put an end to all their suffering, if only I’d work faster. If only I’d work at all. But I hear echoes of the storm and feel that this is where I belong.

Mother leaves first, and Father ten minutes later. Until they return, only grandfather remains to keep me company.

Father’s bookstore is a local operation, located on the outskirts of the city east from home. When his sensibilities are unclouded, his sense of responsibility drives him to be present there whenever possible. The hours of operation are brief, but they manage to sell enough antique and classic books during those hours to make up for it. Lately, I don’t imagine many books have left the shelves. Since Father “quit,” by which I assume he meant only that he now takes a vacation from his full responsibilities, he only oversees the store’s opening, then returns promptly home to wallow in self-pity. I’d pity him myself except he’d not notice; besides, all my pity, like his, is reserved for myself.

It has been far too long since I dared to reach them across the barrier. I made irrefutable progress, yet the complexity of my predicament seems only to have increased. While my mind encourages progress, my body refuses to move forward. It refuses the power granted me to escape purgatory. If only my awareness of my stasis steadied my course toward success, I’d have long since met my goal.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.