Die Writing

Something greater

Posted in Uncategorized by erdaron on June 14, 2010


Oh, Devotchka.


Something greater rose within him. Something to supersede the sickness, and the alcohol, and the shackling depression. As everything within him and about him was slowly falling apart, he was writing. He was leaning heavily on the table, shivering, aching hands straining to hold on to the pen, sweat covering his face. Most of him irrecoverably broken, and perhaps as his life was finally fading from the shattered vessel, it focused on this last, final task. The words were unstoppable, and it is possible to scream with the tip of your pen, then that’s what he did. Lines and lines, pages after pages, burning off whatever was left of him in one blinding flash.

Possessed, others would say. Finally happy, he thought.

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