It came to her in the shower.

So a day after whining that I have no creativity left, I was inspired to write this short story. It may or may not be finished, who knows.

Here we go:

It came to her in the shower. A whoosh of air, like a door being opened. A subtle change in pressure that she felt in her ears. It interrupted her singing on a sharp note and she looked around, expectantly. But tonight was just her and the dogs. Who could it be? Or what?

But beyond the shower curtain, there was only her messy bathroom. So she tried to return to bathing. But she couldn’t quite pick up her tune again. Something had changed.

And then she got to thinking. Was this a sign? Did some other worldly being just stretch out its hand to her, offering divine wisdom for the moment?

“I’m listening,” she said, feeling something in between hope and fear. Anxiety, probably. She felt that often enough.

The lights blinked out. In a panic she threw open the shower curtain, but she could see nothing in the dark. She flailed her arms ahead of her, knowing that if someone was standing there by the light switch that she could reach them in her tiny bathroom.

Nothing there. Dropping her hands back to her sides, she began to laugh. Surely it was that last bulb giving out, that’s all. But she couldn’t ignore her initial instincts. She had thought that something was trying to communicate. And didn’t she just get a second sign?

She couldn’t stand being in the dark. So she stepped out of the tub carefully and fumbled at the window sill for the lighter she knew would be there. It was difficult with her trembling, wet hands, but she lit it.

At first, nothing seemed out of place, only dark. She navigated the flame to the counter where a candle sat, and that’s when she saw it. In the mirror.

Waiting.

She screamed.

it’s not working

I know I’m supposed to be writing. I promise, I think about it every day. But I kill the words before they even come out. I’m so critical of myself, and I don’t know how to turn it off. Even now I’m tempted to hit the delete key and give up. I’m just…scrambling my fucking brain, trying to come up with a story, a memoir, a poem, an anything. Just like my paintings haven’t been turning out, neither is this… I don’t know if it’s that all my energy and effort is at school, and there’s nothing left for creativity? Maybe? I just hope it comes back, in some fashion. I haven’t been in any shows either, so it’s really like I have no creative outlet right now and I’m going mad.

Alright, that’s enough from me.