Been a minute since I’ve written one of these. I wish I knew the science behind writer’s block. I wonder if someone has looked into it–into the psychological factors that trigger it. I’m sure someone has; there’s probably an article somewhere where they breakdown everything. Diet, environment, emotional state… Tomorrow’s my birthday. I’ll be another
For the past several days, I had the same recurring dream. In it, I stood a little over two meters from the red door, and in each dream I took a step closer. The last thing I wanted was to go near it–to see whatever the door had to show me. I wanted none of it, but I didn’t know why.
Why does it make me feel this way? I asked myself when I woke up last. It’s just a door.
The door opened.
Shadows crept in, scaling the walls and slithering across the ceiling.
He took a step in.
Who is that? My body asked.
My mental presence shook her head, panicked. I-I don’t–
He took another step in.
She could not have been more than ten. She was curled up at the base of an old worn-down fountain, clad in a filthy over-sized t-shirt. It was so torn along the bottom that he would have mistaken it for a rag. Men’s shorts swallowed her up from the waist down. Her feet were bare, dirty, and covered in scratches and cuts. The wounds seemed to travel up the child’s legs.
She’s been running.
The young human continued to watch the spirit, peering at him through a mess of umber locks. She shook fervently as a gust of fall passed through the heart of the park, forcing the child to hug herself more tightly. In her shifting, he noticed a large black spot through the rips in her top, an uneven splattering against her side.
His expression hardened at the sight. Damn humans… Who the hell would hurt a little kid?
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Darya is snapping. Breaking. Becoming something else… Someone else.
Every spell has a price.
Brigit wants to share this with the world someday.
Kathee doesn’t know how much more she can take.
Music can be therapeutic.
From the diary of Tiamat 💔