Behind Those Eyes

The Author

This shouldn't be happening... I think to myself, staring numbly at the screen of my computer. It's dimly lit, on it's second-lowest setting. My friends wonder how I can see anything on it.

The small vertical dash is flickering on and off, my eyes are fixed on it. I want words to emerge from it, flowying like a melody across the page, weaving a gripping story filled with action, aventure, heartbreak, plot twists (real good plot twists), mystery, thrills, death scenes (especially the ones that you don't see and make you throw your computer at the wall), chaos, people screaming and crying, emotions, emotionless, scary character, human sacrifce...

I know I can write it. I'm inspired, I'm in the mood to write. But I can't. I rest my head against the back of the couch I'm sitting on, I'm tired. Real tired. I should sleep...

Tired

But I want to write. I want to write real badly. My fingers hover over the keys and I keep my eyes fixed on that infuriating, flickering little line.

Come on, how am I meant to start?

No, scratch starting. I'd already started, this was to be the tenth or so chapter. It had already begun, I am just picking up from where I left off.

But I can't.

Because... I don't know why.

I'm hungry.

And tired.

And I need to go to the bathroom.

This is diabolical.

Now I'm glaring at the little blinking dash as if it's the cause of my inability to write.

I begin, typing up the first thing that comes into my head.

Waffles.

Seriously?

No, no waffles.

But I'm hungry...

No waffles.

I delete the word. I have to get serious now. I stare hard at the dim screen...

... And think of all my story ideas except for the one that I'm trying to write right now.

I end up giving in. I close the document, turn off my laptop and put it to one side. I close my eyes and try to summon up any kind of inspiration.

Nope, no luck.

The phone rings nearby and I get up to answer it, each step taking me further away.

And with each step, I get ideas. They're building up inside my head, sentences, descriptions, scenes, plot twists, the lot.

I pick up the phone, my mind buzzing with excitment so that I can barely hear who is on the other end. One of my mum's friends, I think.

I practically charge through the house and shove the phone into her hands and dash downstairs. I flip open the lid and glare impatiently at the screen. Why isn't anything- Oh right, I turned it off.

I hold down the on button and tap my fingers lightly against the keys as I watch the screen light up with the computer company's logo. It stays there for what seems like five minutes before I'm able to type in my password.

It takes seven tries, it's like I'm barely in control of what I'm typing. I open a blank document and my fingers hover over the keys in anticipation.

And just like that, the inspiration is gone.

Damn it.