"The only redeeming quality about this story is that the good die and the stupid suffer." ~ Anonymous
“This way!”
I cried to my companions
Backpack jostling
As I crested the top
A sea of pines
Spilled out below me
Stretching on beyond horizon
Completely unbroken
I stopped
And hesitated a moment
Pulling out my map
Squinting at the formations
Then flipping it over
Considering all angles
Soon my comrades caught up
“Well?”
One wheezed as he collapsed
Pulling out waterskin
And quenching thirst
“I may
Or may not
Have absolutely no idea
Where we are…”
A man in beard and corpulent belly calls for all to sit upon his lap. Tell him your desires. If he deems ye worthy, great fortune… if not…
All over town lights flash and strobe to unheard music. Signs instructing us to listen to the airwaves. We do not. Those few who do drive slow and listless as mindless drones.
Our living rooms are dominated by pine adorned in garish color and light, garland dragging carpet. Somewhere, someone is singing its praises in a language you do not know.
Relatives from all over come to your door. Who are these people? Have you ever met them before? They devour your hard won meals with fervent greed.
Carols at the doors. We dare not open. They call for wassail. Banging and wailing as lost souls. We pretend not to be at home.
It is late. The children sleep. Within their house something creeps. A man in cheap red suit and cotton beard places surprises for those little ones to find. He is prepared if one should awaken. He crunches cookies with a snifter of scotch.
Presents beneath the tree. Children stare on in shock. Who delivered them? When? While they all slept, ignorant and secure.
Parents stare on in dull silence, eyeing children tearing at wrapping like wolves upon a deer. Eyes are sunken and dark. They sip brown brew and silently thank they made it through another year.
You’re working on your next story. The inspiration struck you part way through your last story. Your stories never end. Your laptop open on twelve projects all labeled “WIP.”
The glare of the page hurts your eyes. The idea of what to write hurts your head. Your hands ache from hours of writing. your fingers nearly blistered. Why is the page still blank?
Eureka! The breakthrough needed to conclude that manuscript you started years ago! Now… where was it? Where did you keep it? Was it on the flash drive? External hard drive? Gigabytes of data, but not the few kilos you require.
Ah the old story blog you started in college… maybe you should start it again. Passwords spill out of you and all are wrong. You were clever and made the password relate to the story. Too clever. The email is the same. A simple quip no one would see and you have forgotten.
A publication’s email “submission requested” and the promise of exposure… yet no payment. You eat your cold ramen. It tastes like exposure, completely without value.
You scoff as you read an excerpt from a new e-book. You can write better than that! So why are they published and you aren’t? Your twenty unfinished novels eye you sadly like puppies in a pound from their folder on your desktop.
A rejection letter in the mail. You set it with the others. A few more and your paper craft castle will be complete. You jokingly refer to it as your “house of leaves.” No one gets the joke.
Just keep writing. You get better with practice. We don’t look back on where we came from. Those were dark times. Just keep writing.
You’re depressed because you haven’t written. You don’t have the energy to lift your hand, let alone create. You berate yourself for not writing. This makes you more depressed. The cycle continues, every day the same.
You just need a cup of coffee to start your day. After this cup you’ll begin. One more then it can really get under way. A few more sips and you’ll have it. The cups are a mountain range lining your sink.
You finished. Finally. It’s over. You look back and instantly are filled with the unstoppable urge to delete everything. It is an affront to god and should not see the light of day.
Nationally certified
And state certified too
I have two degrees
From online courses
Top of my class
At the academy
I’ve read three textbooks
Covering every possibility
I also have access
To all manuals and guides
I’ve purchased every possible tool
And gotten doubles
Just in case
Hands-on experience?
I
Um
Well
No
Not as such…
Caffeinehighhitshard
Bodyjitterteethtight
Coffeebuzzmindboom
Fasterthinkingliquidgold
Notaddictiongivememore
Isthathorse’shoofthunder
Ormyheart’sbarumpbumpbump
Tightening. Chest. Slows. Breath
HHHHHHHHHHHH
AfewmorecupsIthink
My chains rattle against stone
No light reaches me so far down
What horror next lies in store for me?
What vengeances shall be wrought?
Gods
The anticipation might just be
The worst part of all
Wait
What was that noise?
A lantern approaches
No
No gods no
This is so much worse
Gods I was wrong
I was so wrong!
Please!
Gods above no!
Dried Ink Ribbon 