Writing In Progress

She lay on her stomach, trying to get comfortable on the grass. She'd be here a while, so she had to find the right position. That was it! She pulled out at wig from beneath her and chucked it away. Much better. Then she pulled out her things - book, journal, a handful of pens.

"Here goes nothing," she told herself, flipping the lid off the first pen and opening to the first page in the journal. It was blank. New. Even staring at nothing, a white page, inspired the writer.

For the page wasn't blank. It was alive, images screaming out at her, clutching at the depths and trying to hang onto a corner. She hurried to put the pen to work, and wrote her first word. And the second and third. They flowed slowly one after the other. If only they came out like that every time.

[149 words]