Mighty Work

He sat on the only chair in his room staring for the upteenth time at the mail he received thirty minutes ago in his phone. The work he thought is up there with the best has been rejected once again. The ninth this month and the month is still young. He eyed the ceiling for the hundredth time within thirty minutes, in fact, his eyes had automatically fixed on that ceiling non shifting since thirty minutes that he can describe all the regular and irregular lines on it so easily with eyes closed. The day is the 13th of the month and there are still two more days to get to half of the month.

He had believed ignorantly that writing is an easy thing to do. When he read others' work, he found them to be easy. Where all the noise surrounding this art is coming from beats him hands down. He had added the noise to where he added other noise like it based on myth or some trying to make easy things seem hard to look important doing it. "Is it not putting your thoughts down or experience down as it happened?"  He had queried his friend three months ago and decided to join the ranks of those that make little money from the sector. 

Two months on, he is beginning to see that not only is it time consuming, warrant serious undivided attention from you in the beginning, it's money consuming too. The demand to measure up is enormous. He is beginning to see that there's even a kind of spirit behind it that needs its own undivided attention. All these requests are what Phil Okeke found tasking and controlling. The spirit it warrants, equates to what you see in gambling sector. Gambling spirit that tends to observe all that comes to him desperate and sieve them from fiddlers that are never serious and go out in his way to implement his laws on both. 'The little that you think you have would be taken away from you and given to he that has much or he that isn't all that interested' 

He eyed the mail again running down his battery, and electricity isn't that area's friend. He had noticed that his flaring up rate had increased dramatically in the past three months, he has become sensitive to what makes him smirk before, little things these days makes him spark like a bad car plug. He eyed the phone in front of him and was surprised to see three missed calls. He picked the phone in anger and concluded that whoever it was, flashed and did not call. "I had been sitting here for the past one hour, I did not hear any phone ring" he sighed loudly and racked his hair roughly. "Idiots" he cursed only to see it was his madam calling him. He became alert. The woman is not in the habit of flashing him, she always calls. "How come I did not hear the phone ring?" He queried himself. He has used up his money. The little stipend his parents gave him as pocket money in running his writing gambling as he now calls it, he had resorted to the 1-0-0 eating formula when he found out he didn't have a penny most of the time with him anymore. He had asked the woman managing the warehouse that supplies not only the campus and armada of restaurants that surround it with all manners of drinks but the whole town almost to take him as one of the offloaders of the crates. She had been good enough to understand why a student would write such a pleading letter and had sat him down to read what sounded like a riot act of employment to him. 

Since he is always in class in the day, evenings and weekends had been his beat there for two months plus now. He eyed his watch and realized he was thirty minutes behind schedule. He returned the call telling her he is almost there, as he raced like mad towards the store. If he is kicked out of this golden opportunity God sent his way, his education will pack up for sure. He sighed once again as he was running out of breath, wasting the strength he will use in doing the work, racing. 

 " I can see you are mixing pm to am these days phil. If your watch isn't working normally, do something about it. I spent my credit calling the phone that you refused to pick up. Minus twenty naira from your pay"

Phil eyed her. Few months he has worked there told him that the woman isn't joking. He sighed to himself again as he changed into his working clothes to tackle a lorry full of assorted drinks that remained 75% to go. For the next hour plus, he tried to concentrate on the job and was finding common concentration hard to do. His mind kept rushing to the rejection email and the manner it was worded. "We have highly quality works to select from"  "What does that mean?"  He queried himself only to find two of his coworkers staring pityingly at him. " What does that mean?" One asked him. He smiled and tried to wave them aside but there is concern on their faces and they are not letting go. "Last week, it's fuck them, this week it's: what does that mean?- are you okay phil?" He eyed the guy trying to laugh the question off but they stuck like glue and guess work started. "Is it the teachers or girls, phil? Don't mind them, they are all crazy. Not only you complaining. Many people complain about those two. They siphon your money and don't deliver. They are like that "Phil Okeke eyed them and smirked while shaking his head at the same time. Their ignorance of what he is passing through and their words triggered another kind of comparison that never crossed his mind before. Had it been the two, he would not be worrying so much but those faceless creatures that hide behind the monster would call the internet. You can't even swear to the identity of who you are dealing with and who is insulting you. He sighed for the eightieth time and did the math. It remains twenty to round off.

The weather is not looking all that friendly, the light is always on in the stores. The generator never disappoints since he started work there. You can even crash on the floor of the warehouse if you so desire something like that. Doing a night job comes with that right. But he likes sleeping in his room  not only for writing but the rituals of getting his morning duties done, food warmed and personal hygiene is done better in one's house. He needs to think up ideas, read up others' works without disturbance. Those are better done from the comfort of his room, not in the company of other workers, some parrots nonstop TDB. 

He set out for his lodge and it's 9:35 pm when he glanced at his watch. The works he had intended to edit and send to another site, he has double mind about them since that email. "What is the essence, they will go the way of others"  he shook his head, eyes cast downwards while he continued trudging towards the room he is beginning to rescind as if the room has anything to contribute to his multitude of rejections. He was surprised to realize that the journey of thirty minutes took him almost one hour to see through. There is no way he can do anything again today, school work has been receiving less attention since he joined this writing race that kept betraying the amount of hours invested in it in returns. He sighed loudly once more as he peel his clothes. Thankfully he always showers in the shop, which saves him little money on water. 

He hit his head on the pillow and went to his village while his body lay there on the mattress, phone not far off. His spirit seems to know what he needs most that period. Being far away from writing and anything connected to it in any way.