Once Around The Writer's Block, a short story by Bob Richardson

Once Around the Writer's Block - Page 3

He sat at the computer, typing in the last of it. It wasn't because it was something, finally, to write. It was just because he had to ... to get it out.

After they had taken Sarah, he'd grown completely distracted and unable to concentrate. They were closest to him here by the computer where he sat in his writer's daze. The fog of his mind had brought them. He knew that now. They were attracted to him.

The last few nights he had thought he saw Sarah at the edge of his vision, but when he turned, all that remained was her shadow whispering to him that they wanted him.

They wouldn't let her go, of course, now that she had seen them. But it was he who had first attracted their attention with the dark, hollow intensity of his writer's block.

It was getting dark again now. He was beyond crazy. His mind was a darkness more pitch black empty than he'd ever felt in his life. He hoped it would be enough to interest them. He would have to just wait and see, here in the darkness. Just wait and see. -=|=-