Home > Flash Fiction, Horror, Uncategorized > A Dark and Stormy Night

A Dark and Stormy Night

“It was a dark, and stormy night.”

“Was it really?”

“Don’t you like that as the start of the story?”

“Not really. It is far to bland and old and tired and boring.”

“For my internal editor, that was a really terrible sentence.”

“Oh my dear boy, what makes you think I am your internal editor?”

“Because you start talking and criticizing me every time I write. If you aren’t my internal editor, then what are you?”

“I am the part of you that wants to tell stories.”

“So you are my muse?”

“That name will work if you feel you must give me a name.”

“If you are my muse, then I have a question. Why do we always write horror?”

“Because those are the stories you feel.”

“I wish we could write better and have people wanting to read our work.”

“Do you know what is missing? It is a simple thing.”

“No. What?”

“Experience. You know you are supposed to write what you know. You want to write horror but you have never experienced it.”

“I watch horror, I read horror and I write about it. What the hell do you mean I’ve never experienced it?”

“You haven’t ever been the source of the fear you try to illicit in others. How can you expect to make someone feel it with words when you haven’t felt it yourself?”

“I don’t know.”

“Just think about it. There is no rush. After all, I am your muse. I am always here to help you along your way.”

***

After reading these words in my dream journal, I threw my typewriter away. In twelve years, I haven’t written another story. I haven’t watched a horror movie and I haven’t done anything on Halloween.

Yesterday, for my birthday, my wife gave me a new typewriter. I feel so good typing these few lines out. It feels natural and right.

But I am afraid that this might be the beginning of my own dark and stormy night.

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