Writer's Block

It had been a long day at work, retail had consumed my life for the past three years, and I got home late. My fiance had long since gone to bed, so I figured I could knock some writing out before I went to bed. I went into the office and quietly closed the door and sat at my desk with overwhelming amounts of enthusiasm. I got about ten sentences into my book when a bad case of writer's block set in like rigor mortise. I sat there staring at the blinking cursor on my screen, trying to force my imagination to get up and drag itself to my fingertips, but it wasn't. So, I figured I would go check on my rat, she recently just gave birth and lost her leg so she was continuously squeaking, so I figured I would go check on her and play with her to pass the time. I played with her for a whole five minutes until she bit me hard on my finger, breaking skin, so I put her back in the cage and went to grab a band-aid, a cup of water, and check on my fiance who was still sound asleep.

I sat back down at my computer and started typing again. About twenty minutes into a nice steady session, I could hear my rat squeaking like crazy again, then eventually grew silent until the sound of dead gnawing bone started sounding out. My first idea was that my rat had been chewing on her missing leg, trying to get rid of the bone her own way, then I turned around and saw that she had-- died. She must have had an infection, I thought. Still, the bone cracking sound echoed from somewhere outside of my office. I stood up and opened the door and I saw, standing in the darkness at the kitchen sink, the shape of my fiance.

“The rat died, Katie,” I said plainly,

“I'll be in there in just a minute.” she replied, cold,

I went back into the office, sat at the chair and rolled it to our rat's cage and looked in. Her head had been twisted completely around and all seven of her babies had become pale and shriveled.

“What the fuck?” I muttered.

I was interrupted by the cracking of bones again and when I turned my head back at the doorway, a woman stood there towering over me and staring with her one and only, pale eye. The other seemed to have been gouged out and leaked blood profusely.

She was pale and clammy and twitched impossibly and rapidly. She was nude but was covered in what looked like bile that had dripped from her grinning, green mouth.

I stared at her a moment, until she lurched forward and wrapped a twitching hand around my throat, pulled me closer to her grinning face that wreaked of rot, and squeezed.

Next I heard was a crack, then I heard a collection of noises that sounded like sobbing and laughing at the same time. The thud as my vision hit the floor came shortly after.

My eyes went black momentarily and when I opened them again, I was just re-entering my apartment.

It had been a long day at work......