A Writer's Curse Ch.1

His hand trembled and ached with every stroke he took of his quill.

Each word, a small cry.

Each sentence, an echoed pain.

Each paragraph…

Told a story.

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The manifestation that grew within the man was slowly breaking him. Plunging deeper into the abyss of his ever black soul. Shadows invaded - possessed every inch of his being. Painful memories and words played an endless loop. Similar to the broken record player, towards the corner of the man’s study, gathering dust as the years went by without use.

Spindled spider webs crept unburdened in every corner of the mahogany room. Leather armature started to wear, wood was slowly decaying while he sat by his desk, as well as the Victorian wallpaper peeling off the walls. Etching pages and pages of painful grief, sorrow that flowed through his grey veins. Black ash ink bled through the paper as he scribbled nonsense in every paragraph. Scratching, scraping against parchment and heavy slow breaths were the only sound within his surroundings. His inner demons leaving cuts and bruises on his skin so fair.

Thump…

He clutched his chest to where his heart was indicated. He remembered the words his fellow companions used to say that was the source to this aching. Memories flooded and broke the dam he built to shut these words out..but to his dismay, they poured and drowned him. His ability to breathe began to hitch and falter with each minute the time ticked.

Tick tock...

Pain grew faster inside his chest; inside his heart. As a result, this everlasting pain clutched onto him with a tightening embrace, spreading his body. Tears brimmed the eyes of a trapped weak soul, trampled and snared by the dark shadows. Every word that was befallen to him gave a jolt of throbbing inside the chest. There was nothing he can do, for this feeling has followed and stayed with him for as long as he can remember.