My Two sided Pen

My pen has two sides- one for writing, the other for stabbing me in the heart repeatedly and without repent; some pen that is, and not surprisingly too because it’s my best pen, one I wrote many of me with. Yes many of me, and I've written a great number, great enough to fill a day with lots and lots of dull grey, rendering that day devoid of all happy thoughts, filling that day with my merriest memories; many of me. And it is with this pen that I created many a world- not many per se, rather one world having many different faces. There's the black sides, grey sides, red sides, green sides, blue sides, and many other different sides all having the same face. They have one face, just with many colors depending on where you’re looking from. Also, depending on how you hold the pen, my pen has different colors of ink- black ink, wine ink, cloud blue ink, desert brown ink, death grey ink, and all these flow from one pen tip- like I said, depending on how you hold my pen-

“Sometimes I forget the last how I held my pen,” I say to me sometimes, and I hasten to correct him but he insists on “...the last how...” and I go “fine!” I leave him be after that, more for my peace and because at that point I’d rather have a pleasant nap than argue what's good grammar, and what's not. But does he accept his victory? No. He comes to rub it in my face even while I'm asleep, such that I do not know if I'm dreaming about his rants or not. Sometimes my dreams confuse with the very last memory before sleep and I wonder which is what's which. But then thank heavens it’s a dream, so I can pick my pen and stab him many times over and not fear for his actual death- my intent is always to cause him as much pain as I can inflict but for some funny reason he seems to always die. Perhaps he loves the idea of dying in a dream, particularly because it’s not his dream so he needs not fear not waking up. But when I stab him with my pen I feel a slice of fear because like I said sometimes my dreams confuse and I may not know if I really stab him in real life.

Time speeds from hours to seconds, to utter timelessness, and I'm stuck in some in-between world, some loop between the last thought and this present memory. It’s all dark here, with frenzied dancing shapes zig zagging from point A to point only-goodness-knows. Then it goes all red, like red ink was splashed on my face into my eyes and just then I see something else- not just red, but green, and pink (I hated myself for seeing pink) and colors I wasn’t even taught in primary school. Then I feel a familiar weight, light and heavy at the same time, like the object suddenly became confused as to which weight it should really bear, and my thumb brushes across something sharp, the sharp tip of something. A pleasant heat trickles from my thumb, hitting the floor in dull thuds, thuds as rhythmical as a half calm heart. Then a soothing suction as I feel me drain out of me onto the ground, this time in rushing waves, then it goes all quiet.

Have you ever been in the middle of a thought where you can’t hear anything, not even your own thought? A state so silent you can’t even hear the silent nothingness of silence- that's what happens after the rushing waves, like time just ceases to exist. My sight clears and I look down; I see something of many different colors, each color pulsing as if with life. It’s still quiet inside, and my thumb brushes across my pen again. As I look at it I see it’s all empty; there's no ink anymore. Then I see, all the ink had drained to the floor, and all the ink had drained out of me. I am now as empty as the pen in my hand, quiet as the inside of the pen. My pen indeed had two sides; with one I wrote principles of good grammar for my friend, and with the other I drained the ink out me. Finally it’s the absence of time, and there's no color to name it this time.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

The story was very entertaining. I like how you used the pen and create situation and possibilities. I like the logic of the two-sided pen. One for writing and one for stabbing. Had a dark tone to it and the feel of control and discipline. Thank you for sharing the excellent story.
Coyote

[Opeyemi Jide-Ojo]

Thanks Coyote.... I really appreciate your review...

[ReneeJ]

wow! what a dark story, you went really deep with the details. You wrote in such a way that I only saw gruesome images in my mind. I could see a broken character and pain, you penned all of this so well. Great Job!

[Opeyemi Jide-Ojo]

I really appreciate that you could understand it... Thanks Renee.... :)