October 09th, 2021

Once upon a time, there was a writer. At first her imagination blossomed and her ideas flowed, heady and thick. Later her inspiration faded. Stories grew faint. Themes thinned with repetition. Plotlines snarled. Characters stared vacantly at each other, incapable of finding anything to say.

Once upon a time. Once upon a time. Once upon a time there was a princess. A tree. An evil sorcerer. Words dried inside her pen, clogging the ink until the only sound was only the scratch of empty plastic against paper.

Outside the window clouds hang heavy in the sky. Outside the window the temperature sinks toward winter. Outside the window there are groceries to shop for, weeds to pull, and spreadsheets to balance. Inside, the TV babbles its incessant spell, bellies grumble for dinner, laundry wrinkles in untidy piles.

Once upon a time the murderer struck, the lovers quarreled, the spaceship lifted, an owl hooted its lonely call across the velvet night.

The dog sighs at her feet, hoping for a walk. The phone pings at her side, announcing new messages. An ache blooms in her elbow, demanding better ergonomics.

Once upon a time.

Photo by Karolina Grabowska from Pexels

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