I mistakenly invited a gust of wind into my room. It caught up my blank sheets of paper and scattered them across the room. I didn’t blame the sheets. Had any of them had as much as a dot, maybe they would have been heavier. I sighed and picked them.
A day earlier, I saw a documentary on how to move writer’s block with one’s mind, two plates of pie and fruit juice. After eating my pie, I downed the drink and braced up for the magic.
I yawned three times and from nowhere, inspiration flowed. I knew what to write and how to write it. The plot was clearer than crystal.
I placed my fingers on the keys and striked the first key. Then the flow flooded my head and streamed down my veins through my hands onto every strike that appeared on the page. Within minutes, a page was down. I removed the paper, reeled in another and before I could stop, 50 pages were down.
“Whoops!” I stood up, stretched and cracked my knuckles.
It was a success. I sat back and some breeze rushed inside without my permission.
Yeah, cool my nerves, I thought. I deserve this.
Then I woke up. The pins of the rain and the cold wind woke me. Almost all my sheets of paper were touched; not by keystrokes but by the raindrops. My right elbow unintentionally flipped the plates of pie and I realised when I left reality train and stepped into the dream bus. I counted the smeared sheets of paper and guess what? Yeah! You are right.
I moved the block—with my mind—I did. And the 50 blank pages were not that empty anymore. Maybe still fresh, at least they had pages with dots from the rain.
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Read – Untilted Memories – A Flash Fiction by Angel Afemikhe – Nigeria
