Blocked - a short story

    She hurled the laptop across the room in frustration. For months now she hadn’t been able to type one word. Not even a storyline had come to her; only fragments which never made sense put together.

    People said her novels were good, that she wrote well for her age. Then why did it seem she always wrote junk?

    Trying to fill the void over the last few months, she had done most everything to get her mind on other things, to inspire creativity, to at least be able to come up with something. But everyday she sunk further into the deep emptiness. She had tried every genre. Adventure came out dull. Thriller became stupid. Romance reminded her of how alone she really was. Mystery fell apart at the seams. Science fiction turned creepy way too fast. Fantasy was all too like reality.

    Fresh air and coffee. That was what she needed. Grabbing her jacket and scarf, she pulled on her boots and trudged out the door. She walked two blocks to her favorite cafe, ordered a latte and two minutes later rushed back out the door. She fought back tears as she tried not to think about the little nook in the very corner of that cafe where she wrote so vigorously on countless occasions.

    Why was she suddenly so bad at writing? She was failing miserably. Taking a sip of coffee in remorse, she nearly choked. It tasted awful! She almost threw it away, but the warmth in her hands convinced her to let the cup linger.

    She directed her steps towards the park on the hill just up the street, a cool autumn breeze teasing her straight auburn locks. Consumed with doubts and regrets, she hardly noticed when she entered the park. Golden, fiery maple leaves greeted her in their whispery singing, but she didn’t hear them.

    Little birds fluttered through the branches and leaves, chatting gayly with each other. They even said a few words about the bundled girl walking beneath them, but she didn’t care to acknowledge them.

    Quite slowly, rain drops danced from the clouds, bringing with them a melody from heaven. A few even paused in their swirling to kiss her nose, but she only frowned.

    Stomping onward and out of the park, coffee still clutched in hand, she quickened her pace to arrive under an awning of the nearest shop which was just across the street from the park. Her back turned to the door of the establishment, she stared glumly at the wet drops hitting the pavement. Nothing could go right.

    Just then, she heard a scuffle in the doorway behind her. As she she turned to see what it was, a large cardboard box crashed into her, a gasp escaping her lips.

    Stuttering a thousand apologies, a young man appeared from behind the box, bright eyes shining at her from behind round glasses. He quickly gave one last remorseful plea and skipped into the rain, whistling as he went.

    Eyebrow raised, she stared at him, then turned to the small shop he had come out of. An old sign in the window read “Books” in warm and friendly letters. Shrugging, she pushed open the door.

    The inviting scent of hundreds of tales and adventures beckoned her to venture in further. She had quite suddenly found herself lost in the rows of bookshelves, all piled high with whole worlds captured on thick pages. Letting her fingers brush one book after another, she finally pulled one out, letting herself absorb the textures and smells of the book. Discovering a sofa in a corner, she curled up, opened the book and was immediately drawn into the saga of an unlikely hero.