wordsmith's manuscript

Chapter 2

The oak wood wasn't the most comfortable, yet it provided a more intimate connection with nature. So, I laid the paper on my lap and cracked my neck. I took a deep breath, feeling the moisture of late autumn, and despite wearing a sweatshirt, a subtle breeze stealthily invaded the seams, embracing my skin, dancing with my hairs, and causing my body to make quick movements.

I folded my legs and placed the book to serve as a base. I observed the surroundings; What was most abundant, undoubtedly, were the ants continuing with their arduous lives. I dare to say that bees are next in line now that the flowers have quenched their thirst with all the water from the sentimental sky. It's time for them to bear fruit, which is rather amusing. There's a mural in all things, after every storm, there's a surprise, after every difficulty, there's a reward. The surviving flowers are now stronger, those that were once small seeds are now germinating and ultimately coloring the area. That's fascinating.

I glide my hand along the edge of the page, no... I feel nothing. Perhaps today is not a good day... Just as the sun struggles against the clouds to shine, I battle my mind to conjure imagination, just enough to write something perfect and worthy of respect. But there are good days and bad days, and perhaps today is not one of them... Just as yesterday was not... And who guarantees me that tomorrow will be any different?

I confess that, at times, I fear losing the one good thing where I excel, in writing, in transcribing what I feel and see into short and poignant sentences, which pass by the egocentric, yet contain the most intense truths, consequently making us question life. Well, little pressure for few words...

I fold the page and tuck it into the first sheet of the book, I got up and walked away. No... Today is not the day.

***

-And yours, Orion?

-Please, give me one more week, that's all I ask.

-"One week"? - He widened his eyes, then sighed as he looked at the rest of the class calmly leaving, placed my blank sheet on the table, and stared at me - You asked me for more time last week, yesterday you said you were almost finished, and now you hand me a blank sheet? I can't give you more time.

-But... I need a vote of confidence, I can do it, I know I can.

-I already gave you one...

-I know, but...

He looked at the sheet and then back at me:

-I understand you're feeling more suffocated lately, but Orion... I don't want to be insensitive... But life goes on, you have to keep going, or you'll be run over by it...

-I don't want to talk about that, no, no, it's not that at all, it has nothing to do with her... I just... - I put my hands on my head - Please, give me until tomorrow, and I promise to make it up to you for all the lost and added time.

Distance seemed most appropriate for him to think, and after long and painful seconds, he ended up murmuring:

-You've lost two points, you better apply yourself with soul and heart to this, otherwise I can't put you on the list.

I forced a small smile to contain myself.

-Yes, of course, I understand perfectly, thank you very much for the vote of confidence.

He handed me the sheet and didn't seem pleased with my smile, so he kept it in his hand, even though I pulled it.

-Don't disappoint me, boy. I put hopes in you.

-Yes, yes, I promise, I swear on my life.

He released the sheet and nodded.

-Okay... I want something from you, without inspiration, without copying, I want to look at the sheet and say I saw your soul, I want to look at it and say I see you completely vulnerable, I want you in the writing, not the writing in you.