I’m doing a lot of writing these days. It seems to go in spurts; I have dry spells, then words flow. I am in a time of flowing words, answering prompts.
My last post, Friendship, was a semifinalist in the Flash Friday’s Anniversary writing contest. I was surprised to see my writing on the list of stories, and flattered. Semifinalists get to write on a second prompt.
The moment I finished school, I was plunged into darkness.
Lit only by fluorescent lights and the green glow of the Computer Monster, three insubstantial walls contained my world. The world was silent, but for the soft click-clack of computer keys. I was not alone in my quest to find sunlight.
While others sought comfort in their Monsters, I attended to mine only when necessary. Instead, I fled to books. The books told me how to feed and nurture my Monster. “Stroke it gently with the keys,” they said. “Give it plenty of code. Spaghetti is best.” And most importantly, they advised me to keep the Monster away from sunlight.
Sunlight didn’t come from those books.
Over time, other books wormed their way into my world. I hid these books from my Monster, lest it devour the books. The books transported me to other worlds, places of starry nights and wide seas. Places of magical schools and tesseracts.
Sunlight came out of those books.
I basked in the sunlight. The warm glow brought me out of the cardboard walls. I didn’t comprehend that the books were eating me. The books were dark holes of their own, sucking me in with the promise of their light. Their static light confined me, just like the fluorescents.
The books’ illusion of sunlight led me to another hole.
From a distance, I heard the Computer Monster calling my name. It no longer ate spaghetti. It craved gentle keystrokes. I hesitantly answered the Monster’s call. The monster transported me to other worlds. Places of starry nights and wide seas. Places of dragons and monsters. I was now glowing from within.
With the Computer Monster, I created sunlight.