I looked at my all too visible kitchen counter and felt a little dizzy as I realized what this must mean: I was crazy. I collapsed into a chair as the realization hit me. I was mentally instable. Great.
I could hear Ingrid stomping around in her room upstairs but I shook it off. I had slightly more important issues. Like, the fact that I was going crazy. My vision blurred and I rested my head on the table. Suddenly I was too tired to keep it up. I had this raging headache that was starting, too, and my stomach wasn't feeling that stable either... "Oh, my God. It's starting again!" I realized. In some back corner of my mind the rational side of me started talking. The part that told me there was no way not writing would give you physical symptoms of anything. I must have some highly contagious and lethal disease. I told it to shut up and shove its common sense up somewhere where it would be more useful.
I groaned, now I was having conversation with myself, and, after failing to stand up, fell to the floor and started crawling out the kitchen and up to my room. Weakness, nausea, and headaches were all warning signs of staying away from my laptop for too long. And they were really, really bad this time.
"Look, Taylor, I'm sorry I was being-" I moaned when I heard Ingrid's voice coming down the stiars before her surprised scream at my, well, dilapidated appearance. Knowing what happened last time, I was probably already pale and deathly looking. "Taylor! What's the matter with you? I'll call 911 and-"
"No!" My voice surprised even me. It was firm and confident. Not sick and near death. "Not 911. Just...just help me up to my room. I-I just need to sleep it off." So much for firm and confident. Ingrid obviously bought as much of my crap as I bought of hers, but she helped me upstairs and into my bed. I started to feel a little stronger when I got by my laptop.
Ingrid helped me into bed and started to leave, with a worried look on her face, when I asked, "Ingrid? Can you bring my laptop over here?" She threw me an exasperated glance but brought my laptop over, anyways. When someone looked like they were dying, you sorta did what you could for them.
She left and I waited, impatiently, for my computer to start up. What usually seemed like seconds seemed like painstaking hours. When it had finally started and completely loaded up, which took an additional five to thirty minutes depending on the day, I opened Word, took a deep breath, and began to write.
It was ice cold and the peasants in the village were huddled around a fire for warmth. It was the worst winter they'd had in years. No one told the other, but they all secretly wondered if maybe He was responsible for this. Could He change the weather now? They hadn't heard any news from Meria in a while and were starting to worry for her. Out of the woods, a dark stranger appeared...