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Second chances
#WritcoStoryChallenge
Does life give us a second chance? The race had begun and she wondered if she would win this time round. The writer's block seemed endless, an 'akshay-patra' of hopelessness. The editor was on her back to.finish the second book in her series. And here she was, sitting on her desk, facing the bumbling creek, in her Himalayan villa, struggling to thread two sentences together. And her mind pondered over the possibilities of life giving us second chances. Maybe she could incorporate the second chance in one's life theme in her story. "Darn, you blasted block, why can't you go away, leaving me alone with coherent thoughts instead of these staccato sentences that I bleed out?", she mentally raged. "Second chances indeed! The way I am going, I won't finish this book in the umpteenth chance either", she threw her ink pen on the paper with disgust. The ink pen split open, spilling the ink on the virginal white papers of her manuscript, much like a Rorschach test. She gazed at the burgeoning blot on the paper, as the paper soaked up the ink, absorbing it. The blot had stopped spreading on the paper. She leaned in closer, examining the blot deeper, to decipher what secrets it may hold. She squinted her eyes, to help her spot better. Voila! And, there it was, the holy Grail of a plot. the plot that she was, so desperately, seeking. The ink blot appeared to resemble a mushroom cloud, if one was a little loose with the details. A germ of an idea grew in her mind, a maggot turning into a fly, event. "Eureka, you old man, Archimedes got it right", she pumped her hand with joy. "My heroine will prevent a nuclear disaster, and in the aftermath, die valiantly, saving her country", she thought. "That way, I don't have to write about the horrid heroine, and she gets to go in a blaze of glory. Wow, life does give us second chances", she thought, putting her new pen to paper.
© Natasha Sharma
Does life give us a second chance? The race had begun and she wondered if she would win this time round. The writer's block seemed endless, an 'akshay-patra' of hopelessness. The editor was on her back to.finish the second book in her series. And here she was, sitting on her desk, facing the bumbling creek, in her Himalayan villa, struggling to thread two sentences together. And her mind pondered over the possibilities of life giving us second chances. Maybe she could incorporate the second chance in one's life theme in her story. "Darn, you blasted block, why can't you go away, leaving me alone with coherent thoughts instead of these staccato sentences that I bleed out?", she mentally raged. "Second chances indeed! The way I am going, I won't finish this book in the umpteenth chance either", she threw her ink pen on the paper with disgust. The ink pen split open, spilling the ink on the virginal white papers of her manuscript, much like a Rorschach test. She gazed at the burgeoning blot on the paper, as the paper soaked up the ink, absorbing it. The blot had stopped spreading on the paper. She leaned in closer, examining the blot deeper, to decipher what secrets it may hold. She squinted her eyes, to help her spot better. Voila! And, there it was, the holy Grail of a plot. the plot that she was, so desperately, seeking. The ink blot appeared to resemble a mushroom cloud, if one was a little loose with the details. A germ of an idea grew in her mind, a maggot turning into a fly, event. "Eureka, you old man, Archimedes got it right", she pumped her hand with joy. "My heroine will prevent a nuclear disaster, and in the aftermath, die valiantly, saving her country", she thought. "That way, I don't have to write about the horrid heroine, and she gets to go in a blaze of glory. Wow, life does give us second chances", she thought, putting her new pen to paper.
© Natasha Sharma
