“I was sixteen and had run away from home...”
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“I had married young after getting pregnant…”
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“Ernie found me cold and hungry wandering the streets…”
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“Grrr… I hate writers block!”
Even though I was sitting alone in my office, I was talking out loud. I was trying to write a story in a genre I had never tried before and was having a hard time getting started. I decided it was time to try one of the other new categories the site had recently introduced. I read one of the category descriptions, then skimmed through a few of the stories and opened a new document. After staring at a page that was blank for ten minutes, I gave up. I checked out a few chat rooms, but no one I knew was around. Finally, I just pulled up an older story, a book really, that I was working on and proceeded to continue editing it. After several hours, I decided to go to bed and see if I might have better luck on the new story tomorrow. I soon fell asleep.
I am alone and walking along a path in the woods. The day is bright and sunny, though the thick foliage does not allow much of it to reach the forest floor. I have never been here before, yet it is familiar somehow. The further I go, the darker and colder it becomes, until I can barely see ten feet in front of me. I don’t know why, but something compels me to keep going forward instead of turning around. When I come to a fork in the road, I turn to the left, not really knowing why.
In the distance, I see a light and head towards it. The weather has turned decidedly cold and I begin to shiver. The light never seems to get closer, but I cannot stop myself from heading towards it. The undergrowth thickens, and still I keep stumbling forward. I do not know how long I have been walking but it seems like hours. The darkness is now so pervasive; I can’t even see my watch. I notice that it has gone completely silent. Even though I can feel the wind against my skin, I cannot hear the leaves rustling or the crunching of the dead leaves beneath my feet.
The light I had been seeing is no longer visible. I have no idea if I am still on the path or not, nor the direction I am headed in. Turning around is no longer an option, and for all I know I am walking around in circles anyway. My legs are growing weary from struggling through the thick brush; I am cold and hungry and tired. I finally feel my way to a tree and sit down, leaning against it. I try to cover myself with the leaves I feel on the ground and dream I fall into a fitful sleep.
I am no longer cold; I feel arms are wrapped around me, warming me. At first a feeling of security rolls over me, but when I try to move, I find myself restrained; the arms tighten around me and the fear rises inside. I struggle to escape, but to no avail. The next thing I know, I am waking up in my bed. The memory of the dream is hazy, as often happens, but since I often get inspirations while I am asleep, I try to write down what I remember. After a few vague paragraphs, I set it aside.
Once again, I stop and go work on the first story in the hope that some inspiration will come to me out of the blue. Several days go by and no insight comes on either story or anything new. I don’t dream about being in the woods again, or at least don’t remember if I do. No inspiration comes for any other stories either. Any writer worth his or her salt has stacks of stories that never get beyond a few ideas they jot down or write a few paragraphs about. In between working on the short stories, I keep working on the book. I finally decide to just forget about it, and go back to working on one of the other stories I have in progress. I manage to finish one of them, and get about 1500 words added to another. Satisfied with the day’s work, I head to bed.
I am back at the edge of the forest again. I know what will happen; that I will walk in deeper and deeper; that it will get dark and cold; know that deep in those woods, something is waiting for me. I start to turn around, but stop and enter the forest instead. This time I find myself quickly back at the spot where I sat down against the tree and fell asleep. I don't know hoe I know it is the same spot, but I do. I put my hand on the tree and feel a heartbeat.
I withdraw my hand quickly and start to run. I don’t make it ten feet before I trip and fall. The silence is broken by a low sound of laughter. I get myself up and run, but a little slower this time. Once again, I have lost all sense of direction and can’t tell if I am running to or away from the laughter. I cannot see more than several feet in front of me, so move with my arms stretched out before me. Suddenly, the light appears in the distance again and I move towards it. Once again, it never seems to get closer. I am beginning to tire again, but dare not rest for fear of whatever had captured me before would find me again.
I keep fighting through the brush towards the light which finally seems to be getting closer. I stop to catch my breath and hear the laughter again. This time I also hear screams coming from the direction of the light. Even though there is no wind, I feel something brushing against my arms and face. The touches feel almost like caresses, but frighten me into running again. The light disappears and then I am awake in my bed. It s still dark out and despite being covered, I find myself shivering.