Indecisive Writing.

TAP TAP TAP

The pen end keeps hitting the paper

TAP TAP TAP

A faint sigh.

The noise of a passing car with a pumping stereo and a dog barking floats into the open window.      

A glass of water stands nearby, the condensation of the cool liquid slowly edging its way down the glass until it eventually leaves a ring mark on the wooden table.


TAP TAP TAP


Suddenly the pen moves. Writing starts to appear across the paper.

“A girl sits upon her bed…tears streaming down her face. Music full of hatred and violence fill the room and the girl’s thoughts. Manipulating her emotions; turning her against those who love her dearly, who hold her closer than anyone else in the world. So much had gone wrong. Where had it all started? It didn’t matter. She knew where it would end. Without moving her eyes she reached across to her bedside table; there sat a knife, sharp and deadly, a symbol of evil, of power. The tears stopped as she grasped the knife firmly. The music still blared; surrounding her. She brought the knife towards her body...”

The paper was scrunched up in anger and thrown across the room.

“I can’t write about something like that” a voice said.
“It’s just too predictable”

Another car drives past outside and the tapping starts once again.

TAP TAP TAP

The figure sitting at the desk stands up and walks casually over to a large, elaborate bookcase on the edge of the room. The individual slowly gazes at the many books stacked neatly on the shelves. The figure picks out a random book. It’s quite large. The cover is dark, a picture of an exotic land, a jungle, filled with mystery and adventure.

The figure turns the cover to the front page, reads a small part and continues flicking until they sit back again at the desk. Still reading intently while shuffling through the pages. The book is snapped shut as the pen is again picked up and writing starts to emerge across the page.


“He ran looking back behind him. A look of fear filled his face as he saw glimpses of his pursuer through the thick jungle landscape. He ran even faster hearing the loud pants of what he knew would kill him if he was caught. He kept running, all of his efforts went into concentrating on the landscape, one careless accident would mean the end.
The jungle was full of trees and plants, of every colour, every shade of green you could imagine enclosed around him until he felt choked with the pressure. The leaves and ferns hit his face, arms and legs as he brushed past quickly. The air was steaming with humidity. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck. And the smells of the overly sweet flowers and tropical rot made him feel like he was running through the perfume section of a department store. And the insane volume! All around, birds screeching, monkeys howling. But through it all he still heard the intense deep breath and heavy steps of his attacker.
Unexpectedly it was as if the heavens had opened, sunlight filled the entire expanse in front of him, as if every species of plant life anyone could imagine was crowding into that sunny spot. Suddenly, just in time, he realised why, a cliff. He skidded to a halt, his bare feet sliding on the leaf litter on the ground. His arms flinging violently round him to give himself some balance to keep from falling down to what seemed infinite expanse below. He glanced quickly from side to side, searching desperately for an escape. To his left he saw a gap between two massive trees trapped in vines, winding their way up the trunks, choking them. He ran between them, just managing to fit between the small space. He knew this wouldn’t stop his follower, but it would slow them down for a second.

Every second was vital for his survival. He kept running, again hearing the heavy steps, closer than ever before. He began to panic, he turned quickly to try to catch a glimpse and fell. He’d tripped on a root and painfully landed, sprawled out. As he lay there in a daze, he knew that this was the end, he could no longer run. Already he was surprised that he hadn’t been killed, it was then that he realised that he was being stalked, his follower knew it had the upper hand and would enjoy it. On the ground, he slowly lifted his head and heard something that made his blood freeze. A slow, deep, powerful growl. He snapped his head around to look behind him. There through the intense foliage he saw a glimpse of the orange fur, lined with black stripes. The orange contrasting against the surrounding green. Through the shadows, the animal moved stealthily, its eyes focused closely on its prey, not blinking; again it let out a deep menacing growl showing the hint of long white fangs.

The animal’s prey had stood up, his gaze following the orange and black. Still pacing back and forth between the trees, the animal kept his gaze and gracefully stepped out of the shadows, facing his prey. The two enemies stared at one another, neither moving, the jungle around them full of sound and movement, yet neither heard or saw anything, but each other. Suddenly the animal opened its massive jaws to let out an ear splitting roar which chilled the blood and sent the entire jungle into silence; revealing almost 3 inch long teeth which were designed for grasping prey and tearing meat from bones, able to cut through even the tough hide of a buffalo. This human was no match for such power, but still, he had determination in his eyes as he didn’t even tremble at the animal’s strength and intensity…”


The pen stops. More tapping is followed.  

“Now what?” questions the voice to no one but itself.

The figure stands up again and walks back over to the bookshelf. Again the hand reaches out and takes down another book. This one doesn’t have an interesting cover. It is dark navy blue and in gold letters written in the middle is the word ‘WAR’. The figure sits back down at the desk and again flicks through the pages until they come across a page discussing guerilla warfare. The figure reads the first few lines and puts the book down again. The pen is retrieved and the lines are once again filled with writing.


“I sat there, alone; in silence, waiting. The rifle in my hand was heavy; my grasp on it was slippery with sweat even though it was a cool autumn night. I peered into the blackness of the night before me, the starless sky provided me with cover yet it made it hard for me to see the enemy. However, it was the silence that was my savior. It chilled me to the bone, that silence, as I sat there waiting. But even though it scared me, it let me hear the approaching footsteps of the oncoming soldiers.

There were three of them. Just three.

But it was those three soldiers which make me look back and feel regret, regret and guilt. I quietly drew my weapon into position, sliding back the safety catch and moving my fingers to grip the trigger. Their faint silhouettes helped me decipher their position and although they knew there was danger ahead of them, they didn’t see me. As I started to squeeze the trigger, aimed at the first soldier my mind went into an almost trance, a trance filled with doubt and uncertainty. Did I really need to do this? What would happen if I did? I knew what would happen if I didn’t, not only would I be killed, but also my friends, whom id been with since the beginning, who I loved and trusted, who’d put their lives into my own hands. It was through their support that I was still alive and sane today. Was I willing to jeopardize their lives for three enemy soldiers who had taken over our country? Who’d taken our families and destroyed our homes? Yet, they were still people, they had their own families and I had no right to take their lives. I stopped thinking, I squeezed the trigger, I heard the explosion of the gun, yet it was nothing. I heard the quick cry of pain and shock of the soldiers but it didn’t matter, I shot twice more and hit the targets. I felt the bodies hit the ground around me, but I didn’t notice. I threw the rifle aside and stood up, not looking at what I had just done. I turned away and walked away, I didn’t run as I knew that if I started I would never have been able to stop. I got back to our hideout; the others were asleep, knowing that they were safe, that they had trusted me for a good reason. But it was getting back that I had felt the shadow rise above me, the shadow of the guilt and shame I now live with everyday at the knowledge that I had killed three people, I didn’t know anything about them, and nevertheless I had taken away their lives. That shadow looms above me when I least expect it, it rears its ugly head and drives me to a state of mind that I cannot face.”   
The writing stops.

TAP TAP TAP

“Now what?!”