Writer's Cramp Entry 24 Jul 2011

Pain. Cold. Darkness. As I felt my eyes open, the darkness did not fade to the familiar glow of my desk. A moment of panic struck me as I very slowly began to feel my surroundings. I was still seated in my trusty writer's chair. I copped a quick feel of the left arm to make sure the familiar cigarette burn was still there.

"Okay," I thought to myself, "I am just in a dream. Think for a moment, and you should wake up." I thought of waking up, willing my fast-beating heart to slow while making purposeful slow and deep breaths. What seemed like hours ticked by with nothing happening, so I tried a tried and true trick I had used in the past to wake. A pinch to my right arm resulted in a brief flash of pain. Hmm... Problem. My nicotine fix was gnawing at me while my heart rate began to quicken again. I needed a cigarette badly. Suddenly, I realized that I could feel my old Zippo lighter in my right pants pocket. I leaned to my left and quickly grabbed it. Counting to three in my head, I turned the wheel expecting nothing to happen.

I let out a sigh of relief when a spark then flame came up from the old lighter. At first it was too bright for my eyes, so I shielded the flame and looked ahead of me. It was my desk, that was for sure. However, the familiar laptop was missing as well as my reference books. All that remained was a single black notebook with Arabic script strewn in the most carefully chaotic placement of red ink I had ever seen. My mind immediately looked at my hands, just to make sure a chainsaw was not attached to it. Klaatu barada nikto came to my head and I let out a chuckle that nearly stopped in my throat as I heard my laugh echo in the darkness. I waited silently for any sound at all, then began to panic as I heard an unearthly cacophony of screams and roars return my call.

I rushed to the desk again, looking for any kind of weapon. Opening my bottom drawer, I found a quill, razor blade, and an ancient-looking piece of parchment. The parchment appeared to be some kind of hieroglyphics followed with the words b-item, an arrow, and a drawing of the book on my desk. I turned to the book and opened to the first page. A rush of wind echoed in the canyon of darkness followed by more of the screaming. I could feel goosebumps all over myself as the idea of being eaten by the Evil Dark What's-it caused my heart to skip a beat or two. The first page had some prose written on it, with the words "ITEM BODY" at the top.

Your challenge today
Was to find a way
To become your lead
But warning take heed

Dark magicks was used
Now your soul is pursued
Fight fire with fire
Or be your funeral pyre

Red is your key
But leave now quickly
Else your soul will be food
For something Ungood

"God, I am a terrible poet," I said to myself as I turned the page. Something was being drawn here but it was unfinished. There was a squiggle moving upward and to the right and an eight shape tilted leftward in the lower left-hand corner. The roar became constant as the winds swirled around me, threatening to take away my sole light source. Hastily, I switched hands and grabbed the quill with my right hand. Opening the drawers, I looked for anything to use as ink. Nothing else. Looking back to the first page, I read the third set again.

Red is your key

I grabbed the razor and cut my left forearm, allowing the blood to flow from my arm. The pain was intense, but my fear was greater. I dipped the quill into my ink and then stared at what was my drawing. Squiggles to the right moving up. Eight tilted to the left. I turned the page back.

Red is your key

A key! I am such a retard! Turning the page again, I began to fill in the lines to make a key. Suddenly a gust of wind picked up and my flame went out with the wind. Silence had returned to the darkness. I pounded the desk in frustration. I was so close. With my left hand, I tried to flick the Zippo back to life. One. Two. Three. Flash. The glow of the lighter came back and I began to breathe easier. But then I looked outward and saw the Ungood. A quivering mass of dark flesh like a demented Gumby was teetering toward me with angry eyes and a mouth that opened into a thousand screaming masses. Horrified, I looked down. One more line. Quickly I scratched it into the paper. A glow began to form around the key but it was too late. Ungood looked down upon me and smiled.

"Eat em up, yum!" I started to scream, but the key flashed into being. Rising from the table, it shot into the gaping maw of the Ungood. It howled in agony and fell to the ground, melting and bubbling into a pool of glowing goo. Another roar sent me looking back to see more of the Ungoods running to me. Panicking, I dove into the glowing mass, feeling a familiar warmth.

I blinked and looked around. I am sitting in front of my laptop, at home. The last line of my poem for the challenge was in front of me. I took one look, turned off the laptop, and went downstairs for a stiff drink and a bandage for my forearm.