Her fingers tap, tap, tap away on the table, one landing after another, a careful rhythm, a heartbeat of sorts outside of her chest. Her eyes scan her computer, the vivid whiteness glaring on her face in the semi-darkness, not a single word to blacken the screen. The words refuse to come. Her mind has gone blank. She closes her eyes and sees only blackness in place of the usual fireworks of imagination.
She slams her laptop closed, the sound and the feel satisfying, alleviating her temporary strained frustration. Her fingers tingle with the sensation, craving more of the quiet violence they just participated in completing. They itch for excitement, an excitement that cannot be found tapping away at a keyboard, letters forming words, words forming sentences, sentences filling pages. They need something… more.
But all they get is blank. Her screen. Her mind. Her imagination. All blank. All creativity has fled from her, as though she carried death on her back, spreading the unwanted wherever she roamed.
And she cannot predict when it might return. Farewell, dreams.
Prompt: Inspired by the fact that I didn’t really want to open up a new post and write.