The Writer's Dream

3:34 a.m.

I hear an owl hooting outside of my window. That hasn't happened in a while.  Besides that, only the trees and the wind make any sound. The world is clothed in silence. 

My feet are bare, and they stick to the floor as I patter to my cupboard. Orange juice and feet don't mix.

Opening the top drawer, I pull out my notebook with scribbles covering every surface. Words mingle and mix and only I can see where sentences end and begin. My eyes have yet to adjust to the darkness, having just woken a few minutes ago, and I bump my knee into the cupboard. "Ouch." I mutter, trying not to wake anyone. This is my time, when I own the world.

Dusting the cobwebs from my head, I begin to weave tapestries again. The clock ticks away busily, but I don't hear it. My notebook gets fuller as it sops the mess from my leaking head. I feel dizzy and confused, fighting to breathe.

I write to breathe.

I write to live. 

 This is a WIP and I am going to add more, I think. Hoping it will show itself worthy of novelship. :)

~Evening Star