InkandPen : Practice makes perfect

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InkandPen : Practice makes perfect

I thought I had it flow through my veins.

I thought it's been there in my bones.

But nay I was wrong.

The synergy just wasn't right.

The ink had dried out and the pen refused to let words flow.

I'm searching all around me for another pen or better still, ink.

But there's none.

I flip pages of my old books.

Books I swore that I'd never open.

But now I did, I have no choice.

The man was coming.

And I'd have to pay the price.

I struggle to see where else I can find one.

But my limitation won't let me.

The chain on my leg bound to the wooden table.

That's where I have always been.

That where I know.

Blindfolded I'd tell you his history, his corners, his secrets.

And before time slips through my fingers, before hell befalls me, before I get stabbed in the eye with that rusted blade of his, let me find a replacement.

I turned when I heard the old noise that sends chills down my spine.

I turned when I hear sneaking footsteps.

He's here.

He's here!

I look at his figure almost reaching the door and then his cracked voice box spares me mercy.

'Is it done?'

I knew the answer to that.

I am gone.

8 Comments

Chudhary

01-Jul-2022 06:47 PM

Nyc

Aniya Rahman

01-Jul-2022 06:12 PM

Nice

Saba Rahman

29-Jun-2022 08:28 PM

Nice

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