The Pre-extinction of Mankind

It is the year 3005. Approximately a century of a light year,  man is on the verge of extinction. The ozone is depleting, unfiltered rays shone through. Each Human  had a 100% chance of getting cancer if they were exposed to the atmosphere.

Augusta sat at her grandma’s heel, they’d just had lunch. The grub is meager now-a-days, all food, even confectionery  truck  foods had GMO traces in them which is gastronomically toxic. At the time of discovery, less than 3% crops were organic and while the world steadily ate their way to the grave, Australia  proved resilient to the natural selection of humanity.

Augusta loved stories, her favourite were about the life before the extinction era,  she was curious about civilization and the millennials. She’d revere in the stories like she lived then as she’d never known smart phones or social media and today was no exception. Luckily grandma Alex is the best story teller alive, literally, as there were only 300 humans alive.

Grandmother Alex enigmatic eyes loomed into the distance. She knew the story her grand daughter would request far too well. She relived it as many times as she reiterated it. She heaved heavily as if it’ll hurt to utter a word. She started;

“I come from a time of great triviality. We could have done better because we knew better. It was the year 2017 and mankind was at the peak of evolution. The world had 3 trillion occupants with oodling birth rates and a recline in  mortality.

I was a young student at the time, my ultimate goal, to become a neurology specialist. I was insouciant to the world around me,  It was the only way to stay sane… little did I know what life had in store for us. The migration rate was explosive, with the ongoing war in the Middle East, and economic stand of third world countries, everyone wanted a better life elsewhere than home, including myself, albeit this was the beginning of the end.

A neo-viral disease surfaced,  The terminal ailment was traced back to a CNC mechanic in Cardiff. I was the resident physician on call that day.  He presented symptoms of a complicated flu, 11 days later, the young man made a complete recovery, or so we thought. Later that evening, he suffers from status epilepticus and died within seconds. A culture of his blood sent to the lab suggested that the infection was a recombinant cluster of Ebola and Dengue virus. Attempts to identify it’s diverse symptomatology failed and sure enough, the disease spread fast.

Vietnamese migrants were the first to be associated with the disease.  East-Asia crumbled under the blow of an epidemic, the economic instability worsened it.  Attempts by the world leaders to aid Asia proved futile. Europe and USA went on the defence, abandoning Asia, watching under quarantined roofs as one subcontinent vanished. There was an uprising by world activists; liberals protesting the governments, and thus began the third world war.

Lives were destroyed. Dreams shattered, and families  separated.  Meanwhile Russian biologists worked secretly on a trial antidote for the pandemic, it was solely in the interest of the government. Nonetheless, the grim reaper spared them not.

By 2020,  the rate of inborn errors of metabolism had drastically tripled, and the world population was halved yet again. This was indirectly linked to GMO in food produce.

All these while, Australia went A-wall. That seemed to have a source of hope. Unbelievably, it worked. Almost no one migrated there. In that period, Australia was simply forgotten. The underdogs survived the greatest tribulations of Mother nature.

You, my dearest Augusta, are the descendants of the fittest survivors, grandma concluded.

Although Augusta loved that story, she knew it was a far greater burden for Grandma Alex. She made a solemn promise to herself that she’d never make her millennium old relative relive the worst era of her life.

An so it was, because as nightfall came and they rested their eyes, so they could fight tomorrow. Grandma suffered a stroke.

Today is  29. 2. 3005, General population of the world, 299 survivors left.

 


I wrote this story a while back but held back from publishing it. I guess now’s as good a time as ever. I hope it makes sense to you and you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Don’t forget to let love shine through your words, and deeds.

Bless your beautiful hearts. Au revoir.

Son Of Babylon

Tete-e-Tete on a foyer

he bows his head in a prayer

spiraling, sooner than later

the old town hall grows dimmer

 

Pre-nostalgic vibes on the edge

The rechoreting sound of silence

safe to say, he feels lurid

everything surmises after all

 

Like a lewd bawd in midsummer’s ball

Like a shrewd mother shields her youngling

From the shards of a filtering moonbeams

Reminding him he was raised on holy grounds

 

 

Son of Babylon, Cry for me

Let me lay on your bosom

Let our breaths synchronize

No iota of reprucusions

 

Our bodies must pay the price

With every breath

I beg thee, Son of Babylon

Save thyself.

 

Image credit: Pinterest

 

 

 

 

 

My Journey

 

Graduation week. I was fatigued, mentally, even before it began and although I turned to exercise to recuperate, It only seemed to worsen with physical stress. The only person this was harder on was my sister. My beloved Viktor was on an emotional rollercoaster, he was trepid with anxiety. Now some may wonder why graduation would be anything but Joy and relief,  while some of you might already have guessed it. My parents, the Ukuts, were coming to town.

Naturally, I was more worried about my boyfriend’s first encounter with my parents than I was about the graduation, to further complicate things, Nigerian tradition demands a formal introduction.

Dr Otuekong Ukut has made quite a name for himself because he is determined and strong-willed. He’s the type of person you notice in a room because of the panache way he carries himself, he can be rather obdurate—kinda like me. Then you have my Mum, Mfon Ukut, a torrid energetic Leo and a colossal bundle of fun.

To God be the Glory, both my introduction and graduation hit off well and I unknowingly achieved two important milestones in my life. I will definitely not be missing med school. Next week, I will go back to posting on Fridays. Here are some of the photos of events that took place these past days. Official Grad photos will be uploaded later.

arrivederci, Dr Idara-abasi Ukut. 30/06/2018

 

 

memoirs of Alex

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The Painting

Time really does fly by. It’s been a busy past couple of months, and this phase will only end in June hopefully. I have neglected interactions on this platform for a minute, albeit unintentionally, it has been devastating. I didn’t have time to pull together a story this week, fortunately, I  have this poem for “writing crisis” like now.                                                                   I love all art forms and often imagine that if I had the time I would project my creativity in making paintings, so here’s a poem that’ll stir your imagination, I hope you enjoy it.  Au Revoir darlings.

 

A lone man’s dreams these stories

Corals of ox-blood and ultramarine.

Delicate pieces of happiness, beauty & lust

War entwined onto the canvas on the wall.

 

Beauty floats in a meadow of virágok

Maidens of silk ebony skin,

Their radiant eyes veiled like morning dew

with voices like canaries.

Ensnaring them are men of power

Missles fire into the air

Corrupted soil turns crimson.

Volcanos give off condensed smug

Rain.

 

 

Feathered fawn, persnickety lots

A doe beside mossy greenery

Announcing it’s meek spirit

as if it were home

Wolves growl hastily at their prey

The blood moon runneth over

Flirting abstractions on tempera and pastel

 

 

The silhouette of a man

seated at a table

Elegance stares back at him

His bride by his side

Their hearts meet in the center

Knowing each other.

Finding each other

Completely free in each other.

Alas, evil stirs the ego of his brother

Consuming him, he unleashes  a wrath

Thus bringing an end  to a beautiful home

Man being his kin’s worse enemy.

 

Etched in brass beneath the painting;

“Her love although late, saved me,

but not before I forged a decree

and descended on the cul-de-sac to self-destruction.”

 

The fresco hangs haphazardly on the wall

Creating an imbalance between light and darkness.

Love and valor. Life and honor.

Archaic to the tides of change.

 

 

Virágok: origin; Hungarian, meaning; flowers

Liebster Award Nomination

Hi there,

In 2017, I made a decision to follow through on a dream of mine, I am overjoyed that I stuck by that decision and believed in my ability as a creative writer. Blogging has not only been a platform for self-discovery, but I have come to know some talented writers and artists.

So let’s get down to business,  Memoirs Of Alexander was nominated for the Liebster awards by The Creative PTSD Gal whom I admire, she is not only a brilliant blogger but a kick-ass mum with a big personality, I would recommend you visit her blog and support her.

THE OFFICIAL RULES OF THE LIEBSTER AWARDS 2018 (as seen on The Global Aussie)

The rules are:

Acknowledge the blogger who nominated you and display the award logo.

Answer 11 questions that the blogger sets you.

Nominate blogs that you think are deserving of the award.

Create 11 questions for your nominees to answer.

Let your nominees know about their nomination!

 

And we begin…

  1. What villain character could you sympathize with and why?

I tend to sympathize with villains more than the heroes because they were once patriotic citizens until the dynamics of their life was churned — while others are just inherently evil. With that being said, I don’t watch a lot of movies so my fav villain is from the book, “blood brothers,” by J.A. Kerley. Jeremy is a psychopath who turned out to have a glint of good in him.

2.What vintage piece of clothing would you like to bring back and why?

The chiffon dresses with daunting necklines that reigned in the 1950s are due for a comeback, accessorized with a hat, gloves; and for the most regnal occasions, a fur shrug. They look panache and for my 21st birthday, I rocked a black number and although one of my friends made fun of me, it was a memorable evening and I can happily check it off my bucket list. So it wasn’t a piece of clothing but a whole look

3. You’re are playing the leading role in a major film, what is the title and who is your character?

It would be called, Jewels of a shadow chaser (that sounds like a hit, right?),  My character would be an ardent lady who wouldn’t have a lot of lines because she is slow to speak, yet analytical. She would possess an innocence and shyness that is child-like, easily mistaken for pride, however, she is bold.

4. When is the one time you trusted your instincts and they were right?

As a medical student, my life is plagued with examinations that seem more like interrogations. I have been asked questions that were neither taught nor in the study materials, at those dire times, I go with my gut feeling and often surprisingly, my examiner nods in surrender.

My instincts were also spot on when I  begin blogging

5.  What would you like to gain from your blogging experience?

For starters, more traffic. No seriously, sometimes it’s not about what you can gain but what you can offer, as it turns out, my soul urge is that Memoirs Of Alexander can encourage, uplift and impact wisdom to other bloggers by God’s grace.

6. What is your go-to comfort food?

Plantain! Plantain!! Plantain!!! with hot chocolate or pudding.

7. Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings?

Lord of the rings has a  more intricate storyline.

8. What book have you read more than once?

That would be, “A Time to Kill”, by John Grisham. It evokes certain emotions that I never knew I had. I use my minuscule platform to advocate for people of color and I have a couple of posts about that if you care to check them out under Alexandrian tales.

9.  Coffee or tea?

I love tea. It’s soothing and gives a certain peaceful vibe with pleasant flavors. I drink coffee rarely.

10. Where do you find inspiration when you are stuck?

I draw inspiration from everything, most especially, my journal, nature,  from the words of others as well as their behavior, In music.  Everything.

11. What is the one holiday you go all out for?

Unfortunately, none. Perhaps I’m boring but I really just go with the flow. It highly depends on how busy I am, and who I’m spending it with.

 

So that was it. My nominees are;

Pened in Geniuz

When the Whippoorwills Sings

Writings by Mcm

Help from Heaven

Gasping for light

Stuart Aken

Fallen Alone

The Diary of a Muslim girl 

Cinnamon Memories

I pen I write

Lunarian Thoughts

 

 

My questions for the nominated bloggers are as follows;

What country/city would you love to live in, and why?

what is the key thing blogging has taught you?

If you had a time machine, would you go to the past or future and why?

Sweet or savory?

What is your favorite book of all times? would you recommend it?

What are the top five things on your bucket list?

What is your favorite thing about your blog?

Give five facts about yourself.

Tell me something about my writing that you love, or don’t love

What question do you wish I had asked you and what is the answer?

 

Goodluck nominees and shout out to the bloggers not on the list. It’s been an honor. Thanks again to Creative PTSD gal for nominating me and thanks to my readers.

Signing out.

 

Little Wanderer

Her mother calls her little wanderer. Her brother says she’ll twist a joint if she swings from one more branch. she’d play dress up and hopscotch.

She loved to twirl most of all. It’ll transport her into Neurkhkryx, where everyone is minuscule, like crystal. All eleven tribes are peace-loving. Poverty doesn’t exist. It is Nirvana.

Chihuahuas are the deadliest creatures, and leopards are homebred.

Her extraterrestrial neighbor, Ayo, who migrated from Azuzu, the ninth planet, would stop by with oatmeal raisin cookies whenever she voyaged here. There is no segregation between ETs and Neurakhites, neither is immigration laws complicated. There is no prejudice.

Amongst them, she is giant. They’d stare in awe then make pictures with her. They’d invite her to their homes to dine and meditate. There is only one God, Yahweh, whom they meditate to and they’d often ask questions about the world she came from, Earth.

She’d always have to leave, this made her forehead wrinkhttps://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/wrinkle/le. Back to the other world and its troubles. Her mother would take her to Dr., and he would say;

“Your child has absence seizures, and perhaps a mild autism. Be wary lest she wanders too far”.

Before the first luminous star fades. She would fold unto her mother’s thighs. A smile painted on her lip.

One day, this world would accept her just like in Neukhkryx, this she was certain. And maybe then she could show them that being different isn’t as scary as it’s played out to be.

Today

Today I woke up

to the soft whistle of a hummingbird

serenading me on my window pane

The anaesthesia is waning.

my exhausted joints wrung with pain.

But, I turned on the stereo

Happy thoughts only.

I sprang to my feet

Revived.

 

I went for a stroll, today

my heart was azure, like the sky

the air smelt of pine cones and lilies.

I spilled coffee on my blouse

came down with the flu

my banker told me I was broke

and I got a concussion from a flying ball

 

 

Naive

In the littlest ways,

I exercised the patient I never had

Today was perfect.

 

 

My  temple rests on satin pillow

I saw myself today

Another fitted piece

Tidbits of a congregate picturesque perspective

All that I am,

and all that I am going to be,

knowing enough.

 

 

 

The Tin Man’s Friend

The light from the tv illuminated the room

Alexander sat on the sofa. Family guy was on, the episode about the Nigerian prince that scams Carter Pewterschmidt. From the side of her eye, she caught a shadow sprawling in the cornfield. It must be the neighbor’s cat, that destructive fur ball that somehow finds its way into her yard at night. She went out there to chase it away.

There was no cat—or raccoon. She crept silently through the small field. Nothing. Half-way back, she felt a jolt that destabilized her, lurching her towards the mud beneath her. A voice above her startled her.

I….m, I am mighty sorry, I didn’t mean to cause you tumble ‘nd rumble.

She leaped into the air, almost instantly. She made out face made of metal, limbs made from old curtain rails, and a body which appeared to be recycling cans. His speech was slurred.

His metal face twisted into what she could only imagine was a smile.

“May I stay here? my home has been destroyed. Promise I won’t be a bother”.

His meekness spoke more than his demeanor. She was more amused than terrified.

“Where is your home?”

“The landfill”, he was pointing west.

Empathy welled up in her heart, “sure you can stay”.

“Mighty thanks, Ms., I will be gone by the break of dawn”.

She began to walk away, from what was inarguably the most bizarre encounter of her life.

“Have an oil spill rocky dream Ms. ….”, he trailed off.

“Alexander”. She added quickly.

He chuckled. ” That’s a funny name for a girl”

“I guess it is”, she played along, “and what is your’s?”

“I never had one”, he mumbled.

“I think I’ll call you Tin Man”, She said, stepping through the door.

*************

There was no trace of Tin Man the next morning.

She went about her work conversantly, finishing with dinner in front of the tv. She found herself wondering if the man of tin had come back. Eventually, she switched the tv off and went outside.

There he was, playing with a cat, completely distracted that he didn’t even see her approach. Then he did.

“Ms.., I call him skittles”

Does he talk too? she joked

“I enjoy the company of furry animals. They are rarely alarmed by me”.

Speaking of company, do you have any family?

“No, I was made by a team of robotic experts at a factory in Sapele”. His head hung as though it was heavy. “But my units started to malfunction, early. They stopped producing me, I was worthless, then they abandoned me in that landfill”. He again pointed West. “I built the rest of my body and my home from scraps”.

“I am not Conversant with my primary function”, he added.

She was amazed, She’d heard of Artificial Intelligence, but she’s never heard of an articulate, self-building robot. Her lips grew into a grimace

“I have no family too”, she admitted. “Just an old tv, and a journal”.

He frowned.

“Mighty sorry to hear that, Ms. I was programmed to believe humans ain’t supposed to be alone,” His eyes lit up almost immediately, “perhaps I could be a friend to you”.

She grinned. “would you?”

“It would be my pleasure”, he retorted

And so they sat in the yard under the night sky and be bid her well before the last vanishing star. He’d come back every night to be with her. Thus, the queerest of bond was forged between a raggedy tin man and a lonesome writer.

Image source: ailustra blogspot.hu/2012/08/homem-de-lata-ti-man.html

Thin Line

There’s a thin line between genius and depression…..

Many a night, my mind wanders to these thoughts while I toss and turn around the edge of my bed, fluffing and re-fluffing my pillow and tapping my device in every hour.

Perhaps, there is some sort of correlation between owning your truth and the lack of acceptance which is more than a coincidence. We, humans, hold our social ethics so dearly; it has everything to do with fitting it and concomitantly becomes the source to which most attach their happiness. To be an outsider would mean to reject these norms imposed on one. To be an outsider would mean suicide.

Sigmund Freud was the psychoanalyst who created a theory widely accepted recently in psychology. This theory states that human is composed of 3 components: ID, the most primitive, uncompromising and self-centered. The Super ego which deals with society’s norms and morals. Ego creates a balance between ID and ego. Freud went on to describe five phases humans must go through in life to achieve psychological maturity. Interestingly, neither Freud nor his theories were accepted at the time.He died by suicide after he was diagnosed with an inoperable tumor.

There’s a thin line between genius and suicide. We’ve all seen the movie, the enigma code, which was centered around the life of Alan Turing. By inventing the computer that deciphered the coded transmissions between the Germans, he contributed immensely in the victory against Hitler’s armies in world war II. Unfortunately, instead of being appraised by the Britains, he was rejected for his sexuality.

One lesson the Holocaust taught the world is that not all genius is good. In profound chatter, I dwelled a little on the evil genius that is Adolf Hitler, and Hitler was a man who faced loss and rejection in his early years; leaving him vulnerable to be molded by the people around him. I associate his disregard for human life to the death of his brother from measles. He grieved deeply and his outgoing personality was overshadowed by a detached and rebellious exterior. We know where the story continues from there, up until he poisoned himself with cyanide.

Creatives have also had their fair dose of lows. Virginia Woolfe a feminist and writer invented a theory that entailed the communication with oneself through inner conversations, an art I’m all too familiar with.She was also gravely plagued by depression. One day, she headed down a lake, her pockets filled with rocks and the brilliance that was Virginia Woolfe never walked out again. Her last note read: “I feel certain I am going mad again”.

This draft wouldn’t be complete without shading a light on the relationship between dark-skinned and depression. Like most illnesses, major depression isn’t easily diagnosed in black people because they see it as a plague for the feeble mind and. They focus on fine tuning strength. The story of Albert Alyer, a self-taught Jazz prodigy is indeed a sad one. Alyer was better than good at what he did, but in his time, being a person of color was a disadvantage. His jazz concerts didn’t receive any media coverage and when they did, it was never aired so his art did not get the recognition it deserved so depression took a toll on him, leading him to end it all when he plunged into New York east river.

So, having insight it seems torments even the best, and my mind cross-examines and debates it until I drift into slumber land.