Writing Blog

"Write about one fear and turn it into a character." Everything started a cloudy morning in March. Moisture around the place provoked me to sneeze and wake up. I was sat in an enclosed room. Perhaps it was the living room. I got rid of the humid bindings covering my eyes. Nothing seemed to have life inside that negative space until the sound of two flies flying around gave me the notion of freedom. Somehow their movements were rhythmic symphonies. I still don't realize how I got there. The floor was jammed-packed with untied boots, and the walls were all coat-colored. For a moment, I thought I was dreaming. My weak back felt the pressure of gravity more than ever.       And Emma was there, leaning forward, looking strong, alive, persuasive, and also, methodical. Hatred was the first sentiment I experienced the moment I looked at her black-in-black eyes. Her right arm placed over her right knee added to the way she was staring at me, paralyzed the time.  She poin...