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Drabble: Hidden between

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Prompt: Hidden between

Hidden between the cracks and crevices, you can just make it out. It won’t stay still and it’s difficult to hold in sight for long, but you feel its presence and you know that it’s watching you. It can see you just as easily as you can see it. You tear the wall apart, dropping the pieces chunk by chunk to the floor, but still it eludes you. The more you excavate, the more it evades.

The wall is gone now, torn to rubble by your hands, by your eagerness and greed. No longer can you feel its presence, its warmth. The answers it once held are lost forever now. Instead of letting it exist just out of your reach, you wanted it for yourself. It had to be yours, didn’t it? You wanted to claim it for your own. You couldn’t leave it alone. Now no one else will ever even see it.

You stare down at your hands, realizing too late your folly. You apologize. You plead. You excuse. You didn’t know the wall was its only home. You didn’t know it would die without it. What a silly creature it must have been, you decide. Perhaps the world is better off without it. Honestly what use could an animal be if all it does is live inside the hidden spaces of the world.

Originally posted on Typetrigger. Fiction in 300 words or less.
Please pardon typos or grammatical errors. See sidebar for copyright information.

Drabble: Blah blah blah

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Prompt: Blah blah blah

The words won’t come, but you can’t force them. The keys on the keyboard won’t press themselves any more than sheer concentration will push the ink out of the pen. Words are finicky brats and are quite easily frightened. They bubble up out of an intangible haze, but just as you reach out to them, they go under again.

They must come of their own free will, these fickle words, but it’s up to you to know which ones are worth catching. Wield your net carefully and don’t be afraid to choose the best. Brevity is alright, but it can be quite boring. Verbosity is lovely too, but can lead to much confusion.

If you do have a muse, it’s probably best not to wait around for her. She is easily distracted and quickly loses interest in anything you value. She often whispers of new ideas, new characters, new worlds while you’re waist deep in a completely different project. She sees your schedule as more of a suggestion, and every time you start complaining, she gets bored. After all her job isn’t really to be your muse, she’s really there to be your crutch. She is both a convenient scapegoat and an incomparable genius. Is it any wonder she is so unreliable?

Write garbage, write foolishness, write in a stream of consciousness, write a grocery list, write what you love about your cat, write something you would never show the light of day; just don’t leave a blank page behind. That is the only true rule.

Originally posted on Typetrigger. Fiction in 300 words or less.
Please pardon typos or grammatical errors. See sidebar for copyright information.