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Description
The room is dark, as per usual. I hate unnatural light. It’s bad for the soul. I avoid it if I can. The soft glow from the computer screen, however, I see as a necessary evil. I have to write, though. If I don’t write, the words will haunt me. Haunt me.

I’m still sitting here, quite alone. The bed is a mess, a tangle of sheets, comforter, and pillow cases. Papers – short stories, novels, poems – cover the light brown carpet almost completely, occasionally punctuated by a shoe or pair of pants. And all of this is bathed in the soft white glow of the computer screen, the moon of my little kingdom here.

Despite the glow, the room is still dark. Only so much light can come from the little page on the word processor, falling prey to the assault of letters as my fingers fly across the key. Word word word, phrase, sentence. I have to wonder how it can stand to live any longer, with the words, tearing at its pale flesh. Tearing, killing, thrashing. But it survives.

An unnatural cold begins to take me, causing me to shiver. That’s them. The words. They want to find the page faster, to find a victim faster. They can’t let me hold them back. If they can’t get out through my writing, they will try and tear out through my skin, slashing, gnawing, and biting. They would leave me broken, bleeding, and dead.

But I can’t let them do that. No, I won’t let them do it. My typing speeds up. Words are flying at frantic pace, every phrase that pops to head rushing into the story. But will it be enough? Good God, it’s not happening fast enough! Faster, faster!

Though the chill still takes my insides, I begin to sweat, my skin heating up and my heart hammering. I can’t die here. Not tonight. I don’t want to die. Don’t let me die. Not now. Just let me live one more night.

Oh God, there they are! I can feel them, like insects, crawling under my skin, moving the very flesh above them. No, not now! I’m almost done, I swear! Just let me finish! Biting, gnawing, slashing – all of the little insects trying to break to the surface in a wave of fresh red blood. Fingertips still flew across the keyboards as the pain began to sear, and their chittering voices carried up through my skin. I had to hurry! So close, so–

The room is dark, as per usual. But now, it is silent, save for the sound of the printer, vomiting page after page of paper covered with black ink. Blackness takes hold as I turn the computer monitor off. I stand, pushing the chair back, and walk to the bed, finding peace in slumber while page after page falls from the printer to the floor.

Description
The room is dark, as per usual. I hate unnatural light. It’s bad for the soul. I avoid it if I can. The soft glow from the computer screen, however, I see as a necessary evil. I have to write, though. If I don’t write, the words will haunt me. Haunt me.

I’m still sitting here, quite alone. The bed is a mess, a tangle of sheets, comforter, and pillow cases. Papers – short stories, novels, poems – cover the light brown carpet almost completely, occasionally punctuated by a shoe or pair of pants. And all of this is bathed in the soft white glow of the computer screen, the moon of my little kingdom here.

Despite the glow, the room is still dark. Only so much light can come from the little page on the word processor, falling prey to the assault of letters as my fingers fly across the key. Word word word, phrase, sentence. I have to wonder how it can stand to live any longer, with the words, tearing at its pale flesh. Tearing, killing, thrashing. But it survives.

An unnatural cold begins to take me, causing me to shiver. That’s them. The words. They want to find the page faster, to find a victim faster. They can’t let me hold them back. If they can’t get out through my writing, they will try and tear out through my skin, slashing, gnawing, and biting. They would leave me broken, bleeding, and dead.

But I can’t let them do that. No, I won’t let them do it. My typing speeds up. Words are flying at frantic pace, every phrase that pops to head rushing into the story. But will it be enough? Good God, it’s not happening fast enough! Faster, faster!

Though the chill still takes my insides, I begin to sweat, my skin heating up and my heart hammering. I can’t die here. Not tonight. I don’t want to die. Don’t let me die. Not now. Just let me live one more night.

Oh God, there they are! I can feel them, like insects, crawling under my skin, moving the very flesh above them. No, not now! I’m almost done, I swear! Just let me finish! Biting, gnawing, slashing – all of the little insects trying to break to the surface in a wave of fresh red blood. Fingertips still flew across the keyboards as the pain began to sear, and their chittering voices carried up through my skin. I had to hurry! So close, so–

The room is dark, as per usual. But now, it is silent, save for the sound of the printer, vomiting page after page of paper covered with black ink. Blackness takes hold as I turn the computer monitor off. I stand, pushing the chair back, and walk to the bed, finding peace in slumber while page after page falls from the printer to the floor.