The pistons from my typewriter smashed black letters onto the page. My story would be of a young man and women, falling in and out of love over a charming weekend. Only for them to both end up dead in the end from a miscommunication. I thought for a second. No, no, that’s Romeo and Juliet.
Aha!
I ripped the page away. What about this. A man, bent on revenge. Man verse nature. The white -. No, that was Moby Dick. I sat back in my velvet cushioned chair and took a drink. There had to be something in my head that was original. I started again and stopped. Odysseus. One more try then. That’s Count of Monte Cristo. I grabbed my drink and pushed the chair away from the small desk. I leaned against the the window sill peering out into the city. Buildings towered into the clouds. Beautiful stone, marble and glass all crafted into works of colossal art. Down below the streets were small black dots moving around. Trees scattered her and there. The air smelled of cinnamon and smoke as it cascaded out of depths and up the side of the building. A large airship was docking to one of the sky scrapers to the right. It’s massive blimp gleaming in the yellow sunlight.
“Okay, Okay” I said, taking another swig of my drink and turning the chair back to the typewriter with a screech. My fingers started punching the keys. Sweat beaded from my forehead. This is it. I got it. I hammered harder and harder. Faster and faster. The rhythm built and formed a sweet symphony of clicks and clacks, followed by the abrupt push of the carriage being pushed back. I ripped the paper from the machine, stood up and read it.
It was bad. Worse then bad. Terrible. A cross between Romeo and Juliet and Moby Dick, that took place on a airship. I sat back down, loaded another piece of paper and started typing again. It was bad, but at least it was something for now.
Inspired by Les oublies de Blossfeldtstad.