The Dark ManA cloaked figure strode into the tavern. He looked sinister and foreboding in the blackened room, made even darker from the moonless night. He stopped by the barkeep and asked him a question. “Is he here? Is Mr. Barkwood here?” He said. Shaking, the barkeep raised his hand and pointed to the far corner of the tavern. “Over…over there sir.” He sputtered out. The cloaked man quickly went and joined Mr. Barkwood at his table. He sat down and pulled out a small bag, placing it on the table between them. “Here is what you needed. Will it be possible now?” The dark figure asked. “The Dark Man
Any Thoughts -final-Isn’t there something wrong with this? I feel like I can never write anymore; there is always nothing there. Ideas and creation are in a drought.Any Thoughts -final-
I feel like I can never write anymore. An empty void exists within. Ideas and creation are in a drought, they don’t flow like the wine and water
An empty void exists within – a black hole stealing my thoughts. They don’t flow like the wine and the water, Stopped by an impregnable and solid dam
A black hole stealing my thoughts; Are they ending up in some other universe of ideas? &nb
| I am a writer. I love writing pretty much anything and everything. At times I will go through dry spells, but when I do write I do it vigorously. |
Journalize me Captain!
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