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[More unrelated writing, now from the writing book]

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May. 18th, 2010 | 01:16 am

First short practice passage transcribed from my (IRL) writing book~


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There was nothing left.

What had been, mere moments ago, the whole of a dream, recorded upon pages of a hundred tomes, was now a rapidly fading memory; an urgent, flashing afterimage.

The Author stretched out a hand to the book open on the table, dragging desperate and shaking fingertips across the paper.

Blank paper.

Not one word remained to be read, and in the author's mind the panic of the moment was undoing every effort to cling to the memories of what had been written.

"No, no-- NO!"

A wind stirred suddenly, fluttering ten thousand empty pages, slamming shut the cover of the nearest volume over her hand. She felt the end, and the revelation hit like a slap to the face.

"I haven't done it yet. You've taken me back to before. I... I'll have to do it over again."

Her hand ached--she tried to remember why. She noticed a book in front of her with nothing written inside. She picked up the pen from beside it.

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