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.
The conversation around the bonfire grew quiet as Ludwig stepped into the circle. The campers scooted back a bit in anticipation to what was about to happen.
Ludwig rubbed his hands together and then began to sign his tale of terror. Some averted their eyes, not wanting to hear about the horrors, but others stared with rapt attention.
Soon Ludwig concluded his tale of woe and the hands of his audience waved back and forth in appreciation, even the monster that was hiding in the tree line. Tonight he would go hungry, because it was that good of a story.