Writing Reality: Chapter 1
A/N: This is a story I just started writing. I kind of have an idea of where I want it to go but I’m mostly making it up as I’m going along. I hope you enjoy it!
Sitting in the coffee shop, Bianca stared at her laptop screen as it showed her the story she was trying to write. The words sat still, the only movement being the cursor, steadily blinking. It didn't take long from when she began her one-sided staring contest for her attention to be directed at that cursor. Her mind began to give it life, turning a simple line of pixels into a character whose sole purpose was to taunt her. Each blink turned into a tick of a clock's second hand, her mind now giving the newly created character the power to manipulate time, to speed it along and rob her of the little time she had to write.
“Ugh!” She slapped the laptop screen halfway to close. I guess I've been lied to. Coffee shops don't help you write at all! She took at look around at the other patrons in the shop, half of which were working on their own scripts/novels/sketches. Bianca stared at them hoping to observe their secrets to their efficiency. Her eyes widened as a realization struck her. I bet I need to order coffee! Her face turned her nose up slightly. I hope I don't have to drink it.
She excitedly stood up to order a cup of caffeine and bumped into a man who had just entered the shop. Both stared at each other for a moment of surprise. He was a young man with scruffy facial hair. The hood he had over his head gave her pause, her whole life recognizing hoods as a sign of someone up to no good, but something else made her take a step back. It was the look on his face.
His eyes were open and swinging around wildly, never resting on Bianca for more than a half-second. His mouth was slightly agape, his lips moving but forming no words. Together all of these features formed told Bianca what the stranger was feeling and it worried her more than the hoodie.
“Um..sorry,” she said hoping that he wouldn't be angry at her. She started to turn away when his eyes landed on her and stayed. She stopped, frozen with fear of her own now that he was aware of her. Down and up, down and up his eyes studied her before aiming for her eyes once more.
Bianca's mind ran through her flight options, thinking she should be safe with plenty of patrons around, but was interrupted.
“I'm sorry,” he spoke. He pulled one hand out of his hoodie pocket and tossed the object he was holding. Reflexively she cupped her hands to catch it but before it even had a chance to land in her palms, the stranger had already turned around and was halfway out the door.
Up and down, up and down her head moved between where the stranger used to be and her cupped hands. Bianca looked around her, some of the patrons looking back before going back to their own coffee and scripts/novels/sketches. With no one paying attention and the situation over, she finally took a look at what she was holding.
It was a small, wooden figure carved into a fine shape. Bianca held it closer to make out the details. It seemed to be a stumpy man holding a feather quill in one hand. She looked for it's other hand but at first glance it seemed the hand was perhaps hidden. At second glance she realized that the other hand was missing altogether.
The figure was dressed in tight pants and a flambouyant blouse, along with a flowing robe over its shoulders. All of this was represented in fine detail, able to make out ever crease and fold of the fabric it was wearing. Whoever carved this was very skilled.
Looking up at it's face, it had solid eyeballs devoid of any pupils. Considering how much detail was in the figure, she assessed that this lack of detail was an intentional choice to properly represent it's eyes. Its hair was turned up into several spikes, making it look like a spike trap an adventurer might encounter in an old Mayan temple. She almost missed its pointed ears which almost blended in with it's hair.
Finally her mind came to its face, or rather the expression it was wearing. Squinted eyes, teeth barred, mouth stretched into a grin.
The thought of keeping the expertly, crafted figurine entered her mind and was making itself at home when a cold feeling came over her. Bianca was instantly uncomfortable, she felt like a spiteful force was around her, and it seemed to be emanating from what she was holding. Now her mind was in the process of kicking out the thought of keeping the trinket, throwing it's coat and hat out after it then shutting the door.
Bianca threw it into the trash can and suddenly felt relief wash over her. She sat back down and opened her laptop to be greeted by a blank, digital page. The cursor was still mocking her. After the last minute though, she was kind of happy to be frustrated by her lack of progress. It was familiar to her and something she could cope with.
The idea of writing about what just happened to her knocked on her mind, hoping to be let in, but she didn't want to think about that, so she told that idea that no one was home and slammed the door shut in its face. Instead she just decided to write words, any that came to her, even if they were terrible. Anything that would keep her mind off of the man and his trinket.
“It was a rainy day” she typed into her computer. She stopped as rain suddenly fell outside against the pavement. She looked out along with the other patrons and watched pedestrians ran for cover, trying to avoid a free shower. Bianca looked at the sentence she typed and back outside. It was a sunny day and there had been no predictions of rain.
Okay, that was weird but just keep writing. She shook her head of any crazy thoughts and repeated the word “coincidence” over and over in her mind.
“ that was soon joined by thunder and lightning” she continued typing. Light flashed followed by a baritone scream of thunder. Bianca jumped in her seat, several patrons gasped and a cup of coffee was lost to the floor. People outside flinched and ran even more frantically to avoid a free session of shock therapy.
Bianca's breathing began to quicken as her nerves began to take over. She shook her head and turned back to her computer, trying to drown out the noise from outside. With shaky fingers she typed more words.
“. It was a terrible storm that was only getting worse.” Outside she heard the rain fall faster and the wind blow harder. Bianca turned in her seat so that she couldn't see the windows in her peripheral vision. She was becoming increasingly afraid to type the next sentence.
Just do it. It's a coincidence. All you have to do to prove it is to type it out and then see that this is just freaky weather. She nodded her head sharply to herself. If you're afraid that means you believe something stupid, but you don't so you're going to write it. She had no confidence in that despite how hard she was trying to convince herself.
“ The people in the city discovered how much worse when large pieces of hail began to plummet towards the ground.”
Her heart dropped when she heard the sound of shattering glass and screams of fear. Outside the cars were being pelted by hail of all sizes, breaking windows, setting off alarms and ruining paint jobs.
Bianca was breathing fast, fear completely taking over. She slowly shook her head side to side, trying to beg the universe to make it stop. She turned back to her laptop and smashed the “Delete” key, watching the words disappear in the opposite order they were created. Bianca looked back outside; the storm was still there. She her screen to find the words she just destroyed reborn back on her screen. Her eyes moved to the side and her heart stopped for a second.
The figurine she threw away as standing on the table next to her laptop facing her.
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