It glared at her.
Taunted, teased her.
What are you going to do? it whispered.
She lifted a finger to—
You sure about that? it goaded.
Fingers hovered, trembling; teeth dug into chapped lips. She was sure, wasn’t she? Tired eyes closed slowly, shutting out the insolence, this entity of doubt. The blinding whiteness.
What had they told her? To stay true to herself, to follow her heart. Believe, trust, dream. Platitudes to mislead the weak-hearted, another voice muttered. There is nothing here but me. Surgeon’s hands, engineer’s mind, comedian’s wit. This cross is mine to bear.
Why? A knife striking stone would have been more pleasant than the voice that returned.
Another could carry your cross in the palm of their hand. Let it fall from your shoulders. Why bother stumbling under the weight you weren’t meant to carry?
Because… She felt her lip curl, not a grimace, and yet not a grin.
I chose it.
Eyes snapped open. Fingers raced across the keys, unstoppable as her thoughts spilled onto the page. Pages, chapters accumulated. Characters lived, loved, then died. A new reality was born.
And the cursor never doubted again.
September 13, 2018.
This story was written as a part of our September-October “Spooky” theme.
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