Inspiration is a difficult thing to come by. It gets further away the harder you search for it, yet when you least expect it, it shoots into your head and never lets go until it's realized. It's the happy medium, the searching for inspiration in way you know that works that we all strive for. But sometimes you wish those ideas had never come by.
The clock ticked away as I lay in bed, watching some silly videos online. There was something about the simple things they were doing and saying to make you laugh that it felt almost effortless for them. I wish I could be that talented.
As I turned over to glance at my clock, I saw that it was getting late, 10:45pm. I sat up and headed for my laptop. I needed to write another horror story before I doze off to sleep.
I sat down and opened the screen to my laptop. The screen flashed on and I entered my password. After everything loaded, I opened up a Notepad file and started to write. Or at least I tried. It was so difficult to come up with anything to write about.
I was a horror fanatic with the ability to write stories coming to me so easily, just as easy as a spoken word. All I needed was a basic idea and I could get the words flowing to fill up many pages. Of course, I always dreaded rereading my stories. I never thought they were any good. I just thrived off the concepts and hoped that the outcome was almost as good as the experience writing it. Most of the time I could never be that lucky.
I stood from my chair and walked around my room, glancing around at things in hopes that an idea might jump out at me. It was rare to work but I had my fingers crossed. I paced back and forth, speaking aloud any thoughts that might enter my head. Surely something would come to me.
It had been several minutes, nearly thirty, when I realized this was a lost cause. If I was going to dream up an idea I would need some help. I turned on some music in hopes that the feeling I get from the songs might shift my mood into something that sparks inspiration.
It took my ten minutes and several songs to realize that luck wasn't on my side tonight. I turned off the music and decided to search up short horror films. Surely the video would inspire me to write something based around the idea the video presented.
I think I ended up sitting through two videos that were roughly five minutes a piece. They were nothing but someone finding something they shouldn't have and having to deal with the consequences of it. Sure, they followed so many horror clichés but I didn't mind. Writing stories every day, eventually you'll find yourself following clichés at least once every dozen or so stories. I just had to roll with it.
So I had the idea in mind for how the story would roll out, I just needed something to base the plot around. I wandered around my apartment for several more minutes, looking around and hoping that something, anything, would jump out and catch my eye, but nothing ever did.
I finally made the decision, I'm going to go outside and walk around. Maybe the fresh air and the new scenery would help. It was dark out there, so it was even better to get the terror juices flowing.
I walked down a few blocks, noting that while I was walking by a multitude of houses, there wasn't a single soul outside. This was perfect, I could talk to myself aloud without getting weird looks.
Even after all of the things running though my mind, not a single on was an idea for anything creepy. Was I just burnt out on writing? Should I stop and take a break for a few days? After all, I'd been going at the whole writing thing for over a hundred straight days. A break didn't sound terrible.
I turned around to make my way back home. I decided that I would walk a different route and try to find something, anything to write about. If I couldn't find anything, I told myself, I would stop writing and collect my thoughts for the next few days.
After walking for a few minutes, I saw this man carrying a person. Were they injured? I saw them turn toward the car. Were they setting the person in the back seat? That's what I assumed before they went to the back of the car and opened the trunk. I gasped as the person struggled to get them to fit in there.
I continued to walk past in hopes that the person would pay no mind to me.
Like I said, luck wasn't on my side tonight.
The person dropped what they were doing and shot their head around in my direction. I didn't move, frozen in fear. What was he going to do?
He began to charge toward me at a violently quick speed. I took off running as hard and fast as I could, dodging fallen tree limbs and broken pieces of sidewalk as I ran.
I ran and ran until I made it back to my apartment. I wasn't about to look behind me. I only hoped that they were far enough behind me that they didn't see which apartment I went into.
I kept my lights off, knowing that if they looked through my windows they wouldn't see me standing here.
I walked over to my laptop and sat down, trying to catch my breath. I could feel the blood pulsing in my ears. He was gone, and I knew exactly what I was going to write about.
The clock ticked away as I lay in bed, watching some silly videos online. There was something about the simple things they were doing and saying to make you laugh that it felt almost effortless for them. I wish I could be that talented.
As I turned over to glance at my clock, I saw that it was getting late, 10:45pm. I sat up and headed for my laptop. I needed to write another horror story before I doze off to sleep.
I sat down and opened the screen to my laptop. The screen flashed on and I entered my password. After everything loaded, I opened up a Notepad file and started to write. Or at least I tried. It was so difficult to come up with anything to write about.
I was a horror fanatic with the ability to write stories coming to me so easily, just as easy as a spoken word. All I needed was a basic idea and I could get the words flowing to fill up many pages. Of course, I always dreaded rereading my stories. I never thought they were any good. I just thrived off the concepts and hoped that the outcome was almost as good as the experience writing it. Most of the time I could never be that lucky.
I stood from my chair and walked around my room, glancing around at things in hopes that an idea might jump out at me. It was rare to work but I had my fingers crossed. I paced back and forth, speaking aloud any thoughts that might enter my head. Surely something would come to me.
It had been several minutes, nearly thirty, when I realized this was a lost cause. If I was going to dream up an idea I would need some help. I turned on some music in hopes that the feeling I get from the songs might shift my mood into something that sparks inspiration.
It took my ten minutes and several songs to realize that luck wasn't on my side tonight. I turned off the music and decided to search up short horror films. Surely the video would inspire me to write something based around the idea the video presented.
I think I ended up sitting through two videos that were roughly five minutes a piece. They were nothing but someone finding something they shouldn't have and having to deal with the consequences of it. Sure, they followed so many horror clichés but I didn't mind. Writing stories every day, eventually you'll find yourself following clichés at least once every dozen or so stories. I just had to roll with it.
So I had the idea in mind for how the story would roll out, I just needed something to base the plot around. I wandered around my apartment for several more minutes, looking around and hoping that something, anything, would jump out and catch my eye, but nothing ever did.
I finally made the decision, I'm going to go outside and walk around. Maybe the fresh air and the new scenery would help. It was dark out there, so it was even better to get the terror juices flowing.
I walked down a few blocks, noting that while I was walking by a multitude of houses, there wasn't a single soul outside. This was perfect, I could talk to myself aloud without getting weird looks.
Even after all of the things running though my mind, not a single on was an idea for anything creepy. Was I just burnt out on writing? Should I stop and take a break for a few days? After all, I'd been going at the whole writing thing for over a hundred straight days. A break didn't sound terrible.
I turned around to make my way back home. I decided that I would walk a different route and try to find something, anything to write about. If I couldn't find anything, I told myself, I would stop writing and collect my thoughts for the next few days.
After walking for a few minutes, I saw this man carrying a person. Were they injured? I saw them turn toward the car. Were they setting the person in the back seat? That's what I assumed before they went to the back of the car and opened the trunk. I gasped as the person struggled to get them to fit in there.
I continued to walk past in hopes that the person would pay no mind to me.
Like I said, luck wasn't on my side tonight.
The person dropped what they were doing and shot their head around in my direction. I didn't move, frozen in fear. What was he going to do?
He began to charge toward me at a violently quick speed. I took off running as hard and fast as I could, dodging fallen tree limbs and broken pieces of sidewalk as I ran.
I ran and ran until I made it back to my apartment. I wasn't about to look behind me. I only hoped that they were far enough behind me that they didn't see which apartment I went into.
I kept my lights off, knowing that if they looked through my windows they wouldn't see me standing here.
I walked over to my laptop and sat down, trying to catch my breath. I could feel the blood pulsing in my ears. He was gone, and I knew exactly what I was going to write about.
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