The darkness grabbed onto his words and crumpled them into tight rejected wads of failure. He typed with such a frenzy to keep ahead of the monster, but it was faster than his imagination, consuming all his ideas and dreams. It then had the nerve to regurgitate its partially digested remains onto the page.
He tried to rearrange the mess into something that hinted at his intentions, but he was not a forensic investigator. The work seemed dead. And to think he thought he was a writer.
He consoled himself. “Well, it’s a start.” He saved his work and shut down.
Being all alone was hard on Mary
Losing Rachel at such a young age left a scar
Even after four years, Mary would return weekly to the grave site
Sharing her thoughts and dreams, troubles and victories
So much of her life was under that dirt
Everything just seemed so much harder
Daily though she thanked God for the chance to keep Rachel alive in her heart
Westerly winds blew across the prairie, making the long grass dance
Even such a beautiful sight couldn’t raise Kyra’s spirits
All her hopes and dreams seemed to have turned into grey ash
Reaching out to touch the blades, feeling them tickle her palm
Yawning inside she felt double her forty years
Gastronomical wonders coursed through his dreams
Leaving Gary with a sense of contentment
Until the alarm went off announcing the next course
Towering hunks of roasted meat awaited this time
Tempting Gary to push his limits once more
Only ten minutes on the clock for the all you can eat competition
No problem eating eight pounds of meaty goodness
Yet during the competition, he savored not a single morsel
Part of the time I know exactly what I am doing. Unfortunately that part is usually when I’m sleeping. That is why I propose the building of the great machine. This invention will capture your dreams and put them into the world for all to see. It will allow you to put your imagination directly into your audiences’ heads. What is the price of such a miracle? Why only you forfeiting a small part of your soul. The soul is converted through self-doubt and torture into fairy dust to transform dreams into words on a page. Isn’t that a bargain?