Blocked.

I feel like creating today, so I pick up my pen and set it to paper. The black ink absorbs into the fibers of the page, but the pen doesn’t move. I dig deep in the caverns of my imagination but the caverns are empty. The distant sound of dripping water echoes off the rocky walls and moves throughout this hollow space. It’s cold and damp and the musty smell makes my sinuses itch. I shiver and wish I brought a jacket as I walk across the stony floor. The souls of my shoes scrape with each exhausting step. Soon I find a door engraved with fancy markings that shimmer a soft, delightful, gold color. I open that door excited for what I might find, but this room is empty, like the rest of my imagination. I walk through the doorway and it slams shut behind me. The room is dark except for a shape, it’s glowing bright.

I take a deep breath and move the pen, a line is formed across the paper. Soon the line becomes a doodle, the doodle a word, the word a sentence. I build and I build and soon I can’t stop, the words pour from my fingertips. The dripping in my cavern has turned into a waterfall and it gushes from me in the shape of something new.

-JCRyans