Drained

It didn’t help that I had just watched John Carpenter’s “The Fog”. I love his minimalist compositions and he has made some amazing horror films but I really had writing to finish , but was a little uneased by the fog or mist that was now covering the village pond, which the picture window in my office looked out on.

It was dark but the mist was almost shimmering and I started thinking I could see darkness in it , but again half expecting undead zombies to rise from the bottom was my overactive imagination cranking up a gear.

I had work to do but recently every time I wrote I was starting to feel a little more drained as though my keyboard was draining a little of my life force from me, but I obviously wasn’t eating properly or wasn’t getting enough sleep, MY doctor and friends keep telling me I need to look after myself, but I really do need to get this writing finished and off to my publisher or else I won’t get paid and then I won’t be able to eat or even power my computer , or content delivery device as Apple once described their iPads.

There was something wrong , but was it in here , out there or in my head. Every time I touched the keyboard I could feel my life draining from me , this was wrong. Could I use a pen and paper of the old typewriter , but no, they wanted an electronic digital copy.

I was starting to feel like Chuck from “Better Call Saul” . Was I allergic to electricity or electronic devices?

Back to my computer , another few words and then something floated to my desk , a few locks of my hair , my hair was dropping out, what the hell. I was feeling more tired but the hair was a shock. I wasn’t sure where it had come from. I pulled a little at my hair , but it all seemed well rooted enough. I was half expecting it to come right out.

There is no way I could complete this , it was going to kill me , I may be imagining it , but feeling drained by my vampire keyboard and my hair falling out was not good at all, I could ask for an extension.

Then I heard something , it was water outside , something had come out of the pond but it looked like it was a ghost of fog and then there were two in my office. Seriously, what the hell?

They didn't speak , but instructed me to go back to the computer and start typing.

“You are now our sustenance, like the others before you…”

I’d wondered vaguely why the rent on this place had been so cheap, but not complained. I was a struggling freelance writer.

Back at the computer I started to type , the more I wrote , the worse I felt . The article developed slowly , but I had a nose bleed , and cuts were appearing. My fingertips were blue and bruised , there was blood on the keyboard , I was now bleeding from my eyes.

“Keep Typing, You are our sustenance”

I typed

I typed

I typed

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OK we need to clean this mess up and get it back on the market.

They won’t be happy if they don’t have food , and if we don’t give them something they might come for us.

How the hell did we get into this? I really want out , I hate it.

You know that’s not an option , there’s only one way out and you don’t want that….

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Small cottage for rent , reasonable rates , office has a picture window on to the Village Pond. Apply at any local Estate agents.