Looking Through the Looking Glass
A Short Story on Passion, Prison and Adventure.
The blank white screen stared him down, mocking him for his inability to come up with a single word. His hands were placed on the keyboard, but they had no intention of typing. He had nothing to say.
He got up and walked to the kitchen, pouring the leftover coffee into a mug and making more. As he threw the heaps of ground coffee into the machine, he looked outside his window to see people waiting at the platform for the upcoming train. They stood there, lifelessly anticipating what was to come.
As the train pulled into the station, he imagined himself running towards it. He would get on and keep going until it stopped. Then, he would find another train and take that to its end, continuing this until he was either completely lost or back where he began. He imagined the deep, rich colours of the outside as opposed to the egg-shell walls that contained him.
Normally, the excitement of writing would last for days. He could push through the tough days and continue his job. Today was different. Today wasn’t a tough day. Today wasn’t writer’s block. Today was uninterested. Today was searching for something else.
He envied those who stood at the train waiting to go to their jobs. Wouldn’t it be fun to put on a…
