Images to words... or not.

  In front of the glowing screen in a dark room she struggled for the words to translate her mental images into words.

  The screen was glowing because the computer was on, and the room was dark because it was moonless night. And she hadn't turned a light on. No distractions were wanted. It was hard enough to find the time to actually sit in front of the keyboard without continuous distractions. Kids, husband, pets, phones, the world of the living in general. Why just this morning when she thought she could sneak in a half hour or so, her...

  Dang! She was distracting herself now. Picking up the glass for a slow sip of wine, she closed her eyes. Her mind conjoured the images of a story that had been running through her head for several days now. The smile came back to her face and she rested the fingers of both hands on the keyboard. Opening her eyes, she started to type. Then her body told her that she had to go to the bathroom.

  Ok back in front of the screen again. All was ready. To get back into the thought pattern, the short paragraph was re-read. Hmmm. Not bad but not exactly right either. Recalling the images of her stories opening storm, she rewrote the paragraph underneath the first. That was better... no...not really. With a sigh she deleted both, then regretted it. The first paragraph had been better but now it was lost forever. A sip of wine, and a sigh, she started again.

  What was that sound? Not sure, she strained her ears listening. She could hear the faint hum of the refridgerator. Barely hear the click of the clock. Definitely hear the snoring of the husband in the next room. But they are all familar sounds. Background noise. Not something that would grab ones attention. Perhaps she heard nothing, just her imagination. One should expect something like this when trying to write a horror/mystery novel. Write! More like start. With yet another sigh and another sip of wine she started again.

  Two paragraphs in and she was happy with the progress. The scene and the mood set, now it was time to get to the... What was that? This time she knew she heard something. Like a faint rumble of a distant train. While she did live in a city, there were no tracks for a train to rumble upon. Again her ears could detect no futher sounds out of the ordinary. With a tiny frown she reached for the glass only to discover it was empty. The frown grew as she knew another glass this late at night would not be a good idea.

  Settled once again with a fresh supply of a fine red, she re-read her opening. Ok it still wasn't the greatest, but it would do for now. After all she always re-read and editted everything to death several times. That would be for another day. Just as she was about to take another sip, the faint rumble that wasn't a train sounded again. It was definitely a rumble and like the last time, it did not repeat itself as she listened for it. Putting the glass down she closed her eyes and brought forth the images of her mind again.

  With a start she opened her eyes. Damit! She didn't want to believe she had napped, but a hugh yawn would have named her a liar. She rose from the chair and did a couple quick stretches. Neck, shoulders, back. Back onto the chair, another sip of wine and fingers onto the keyboard.


  The thunder boomed and shook the windows in the little office. She jumped, typed "alergkj", and squealed all at the same time. Holy crap that was loud. Well, she thought at least the storm was the same as she was writing. With a small giggle she deleted her nonsense jerk response from the screen. She sat and listened to the rain beating against the window for a few minutes. The thunder was clearly heard now but no where near as close. OK this can work. I'm writting a scene of a storm with the victim walking in the rain. She quickly went over her start. Another quick sip of wine and she started a new paragraph...

Flash! Boom!

 The house shook and she literally jumped again. She tried to slow her racing heart and realized she had to go to the bathroom again. Blinking spots from her eyes she made her way out of the office.

  Alright. No more wine, and no more fooling around. The storm continued outside and another storm was pouring rain over her soon to be victim, and would be the cause of a considerable delima. "This is perfect!" she thought What better way to set the fury of nature into words then to have the inspiration right outside your window!.

  She flexed her fingers and started to type.


  She jumped, the enitre house shook and the glowing screen went black.

"NOOO!" she yelled. The computer screen and the power proved they how easily they could ignore her by staying off.

  Rain taps on the window pane. Lightening flashes and thunder booms from a distance now. A husband snores. An empty wine glass sits on an unoccupied desk.

  A frustrated, would be writer laysin bed and thoinks in just three hours the kids will be up. No chance of getting the computer again untill late the following night. With a sigh, she rolles onto her side and attempts to sleep, after elbowing the husband in the ribs in a vain attempt to stop his snoring.



The End

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