Drawing Blanks

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
Entry to Rsjakovac's Setting Contest

Submitted: June 30, 2013

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Submitted: June 30, 2013

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I pick up my pen, twirling it around in my fingers, my mind wandering into another realm.

The lightly colored brass pen glistens in contrast with the bleakness of my desktop, grabbing my sight and holding it in awed fascination, seemingly interesting despite the task at hand. Light shimmers from its smooth, cold edges, brilliantly contrasting with the bland white walls, dim lamp, and little bits of old, worn eraser chunks dully cluttering my workspace with a feeling of grit and many past errors.

A smooth ball graces the pen’s point with the fluidity of a line squiggled on the side of the sheets of paper in front of me, my unfinished novel. “Click” becomes the familiar sound as I toss my pen back onto my desk, another function served; it slips back into obscurity among the countless neglected supplies cluttered and gathering dust as I come out of my reverie.

Come on, Casey! Just finish the chapter and you can go to bed. Accomplish something today! I did, one whole paragraph. I let out a puff of air, looking around my small, almost closet-like office.

Books were strewn in every possible direction, sitting on various boxes, which were most likely filled with more books. Not one sat quietly on the bookcase, as they were supposed to. Titles caught my attention, Wuthering Heights, my most favorite novel out of my collection, amongst them. There had to be some small inspiration here to keep me going, at least to finish one small little chapter!

I look over the pieces of paper, my scribbled writing filling the pages, scanning for any errors I might have missed. Editing?! Again?! Well, it’s the best I can do, until I can get rid of this stupid writers block! I could do a lot more than just edit, like write! Breathe Casey, calm down and just write. Turn your filter off!

My phone chimes, pulling me out of my internal fight with myself. I unlock my phone and pull up my notifications, showing I had received a new message on Facebook or some other social networking site or another. It must be nice to spend all day sitting at a computer and looking through newsfeed, I thought bitterly, finding another message from a concerned family member, unsure if it was safe for me to be held up in writing a novel in a house that probably hasn’t seen light in weeks, let alone some dusting. How do they know that? Criticizing my housekeeping!

I stand up, walking down the short hallway into my living room, the plush couch and fire place empty. Unable to see anything in the dimming light, I pull the blinds open, allowing a little light to shine through the dirty windows and into the dusty room.

Maybe they are right… This place could use some cleaning. Add that to my long list of things to finish. I groan, pinching the bridge on my nose. I am in way over my head. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to move to Albany… Yeah, start blaming Albany for all of your problems.

I moved to Albany, Australia for a fresh start. To keep inspiration and let my thoughts flow. Albany was a good place for that, so I thought. It was a town in between Mount Melville and Mount Clarence, right on the coast of the Indian Ocean. The town is surrounded by beaches, like the one my small cottage sits on, which is the reason why I picked this run down place.

I sigh, pulling the rest of my blinds open throughout the house, the last one in my office. The setting sun instantly illuminated the small space. I haven’t seen a sunset in a long while. It’s beautiful, especially here in Albany, where the sun sets on the ocean every night.

Maybe that will work… I quickly snatch the papers that I called a novel and hurry out the door and to a bench, where I sit, getting situated as the sun begins its disappearing act.

Colors started to dissolve into one another, creating a mirage of dancing feelings and emotions. The variations of the colors were stunning. Hot reds turn to blushing pinks, oranges mixing with the yellows.

 The rays of the sun hit some nearby clouds, causing light greens and subtle purples to emerge and intermix with the colors amongst them. The blue sky fades into oblivion as the colors start to look worn. The intensity of the fiery sun pulled all the rich colors together, giving you the need to jump into its caress and feel its powerful beams of light pour onto you.

Its sweet serendipity reminded me of life. One problem merging into another but those problems turn into celebrations. Each color is an emotion out of the millions we have. Sometimes, a color can mean so many emotions... Red, for instance, had many meanings. Anger, blood, jealousy, love and many others…

The fading light waved me its final goodbyes as the sun left the horizon, taking its brilliant colors with it, leaving the Earth for one more day. Its departure left me bare, stripped. The cold, quiet night wouldn’t suffice. It just wouldn’t.

Sunsets used to be my reason to write in the first place. They were always calming, relaxing. Something you can escape to watch for a half hour and gain the inspiration necessary to let you write for the next day, the fuel ending just as another sunset starts. Inspiration had always been within reach, yet I never took advantage of the opportunity. Watching the sun set had such a composing method, a calming perspective that nothing else could have done for me. Why did I ever stop?


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