So I wrote this short story about the writing prompt below. I entered it into a short story contest, and I’m still waiting to hear back from them. I’ll update in the comments if I won or not.
- Write a story about an author who has just started writing again for the first time in a couple of years.
Two Years Silent
I draw a deep breath as I stare at the blank page on the computer screen.
“This is it,” I think to myself. “Today’s the day my life finally starts again.”
My hands start shaking as I put my fingers on the worn, familiar keys. Everything about this is just so comfortable to me. The white screen, my hair up in a messy bun, sweatpants and a jacket, the words slowly making a sentence, a paragraph, a page, a story. Everything is perfect about this. But is it, really? This depression I’ve been in had gotten better after everything, but now it’s ever worse. How could it get better now? Am I doomed for endless melancholy?
I start typing.
I stare at the small, but large, world outside the airplane window. I’m finally landing in Florida, where I will live the rest of my life. The cylinder shaped bronze and silver buildings look like stacks of coins, the little cars like children’s toys. The millions of small home pools like a small aquamarine dots on the surface of the green earth….
I withdraw my hands.
“UGH!” I shout in my head.
I haven’t been able to write for about two years. How could I, when….
“No. I can do this,” I tell myself, breathing deeply again. “I was strong enough to make it through everything, I can write a short story for the thousands of viewers still waiting to hear something from you. No pressure, no pressure at all….”
I give my head a little shake, and I wonder what I need right now. Meditation? Relaxing massage? A little reading time? Some music?
But the answer comes to me, and I’m just tired of fighting it all. I always knew that at some point I’d have to think about everything. I can’t just ignore it forever. And this writer’s block is only going to get worse.
I stare at the little part of my reflection I can see on the computer screen. Long, fiery-dyed hair, bright blue eyes, light skin, and black glasses. I’ve changed so much over the years, I’m hardly recognizable. But I’m me, and I need to get back to being me, not the person that everyone thinks I should be.
As the memories consume me, I’m glad for a second. I’m finally on the road to recovery. It’s not going to be easy, but it’s the right thing. I close my eyes….
I stare at the wall of rain outside the window.
“What have I done?” I think to myself as the rain pours down from the heavens.
My guilt is endless, I can’t get rid of it. People say that the grief and guilt fades into something sweeter, into memories. But not for me. This is forever, I’m doomed to this misery forever. I can’t deny it, I was always destined for pain. I deserve it.
I open my eyes, gasping through tears that I didn’t know I was crying. I shake with sobs for another couple minutes, until I calm down. Even though this time will be more painful, I close my eyes again….
As I raise the blade over my wrist, I think to myself, “This is good for everyone.”
I cut myself over and over, the sink starting to turn red. I am so consumed by my own destruction, that I don’t even notice when the bathroom door slams open. I hear a terrible scream, and feel the knife wrenched out of my grasp.
“It’s over, it’s finally over,” is the last thing I think as the world fades into an inky black.
I open my eyes, surprised to feel nothing. No pain, no anger, no grief. Nothing. Just a sense that something has been lifted from within me, something that has been weighing me down for a long time.
I take yet another deep breath, and pull back my jacket sleeve.
The scars are still there, angrily accusing me. But I don’t feel their sting anymore, they seem to be fading a little. Healing, just like I am. My eyes close of their own accord this time….
The darkness surrounds me, wrapping me up in a blanket of stars, keeping me safe from the evil world out there.
But through the comforting darkness, a terrible voice.
“Einmana!” the voice cried out, sounding as though it was in a desperate pain. “Please! Don’t leave me!”
The voice faded away, leaving me alone with the darkness. But in the darkness, a blinding white crack. I knew, somehow, that the crack in the darkness was reality. It was the way to escape the darkness and go back to the real world, back to the voice. Should I go back? I was never wanted there, though.
“But,” I argued with myself, “that voice says something differently. You are wanted, didn’t you hear them? That was the sound of the most tangible human pain.”
Maybe I was wanted. Maybe I had a purpose in life.
As the darkness retreated a little, I was able to think properly. I thought about everything that I loved. Fresh coffee, the breeze through the trees as I sat outside, my best friend, Annabelle, reading while listening to the rain outside, and my boyfriend, Alexander…. Every time I thought about something new that makes life worthwhile, the crack in the darkness widened. The crack soon consumed the darkness, making the pain I had been starting to feel alive and within me.
I opened my eyes and found a white room with white walls, a white bed, and white curtains. Someone was in the white chair beside my bed, making the strangest of noises.
“Alexander?” I asked softly.
The person jumped about a foot in the air and looked at me with red eyes.
“Einmana?” he cried, hopping out of the chair. “You’re awake!”
“Of course I am, silly.” I said, realizing just how much I loved him. “Did you really think I’d leave you?”
Alex broke into the biggest smile I’d ever seen. He leaned down and kissed me, slowly and carefully, as if I was made out of the most fragile glass.
“Oh, Einmana,” he said as he pulled away from me, his face crumpling into a frown. “How could you do this?”
I smiled sadly. I smiled because I was just comprehending that I really did belong here. I belong in this world. I belong because I have a purpose, why else did that crack of dazzling light bring me back? But it was a sad smile because of how much pain I had caused.
“Oh, Alex,” I said sadly. “I was in a terrible state. I’m so sorry to have caused you so much pain. I didn’t realize that I belong here, that I should be here. I thought myself worthless, but I’m not, I see everything so much clearer now. I won’t ever try and leave this place again, I promise.”
He smiled, although it was also a little sad. I was glad to see that he believed my promise, though. He really did, he really did.
I open my eyes. My breathing is deep and loud, and I’m surprised to see the current Alexander standing right in front of me. His eyes are wide, his curly blonde hair tousled from sleep. His face is terrified, and he’s shaking me desperately.
“Einmana!” he cries. “Are you okay? What’s happened? Do you need to go to the hospital?”
I grin at him so brilliantly, he stops shaking me and looks even more panicked.
“Einmana?” he asks again, his voice a little higher than usual. “Are you okay? Please! Talk to me!”
I keep grinning, then through myself at him and kiss him. I can feel the surprise in him, but he soon melts into my tight embrace, kissing me back just as fierce.
He has to pull away hard to make me let go of his face.
“Einmana?” he asks yet again, although much calmer than before. “What’s happening?”
“Alex!” I say, the first time I’ve spoken in two years, “I love you!”
I liked writing this short story, I liked the twist at the end. Bet you didn’t see the hint in the title? Interesting prompt, but a good one.
Yours in writing,