Writer Unblocked

By Rachel H Grant

Naomi opened the new book eagerly, her nine year old blonde locks falling over the page of magical words, the gateway to another reality. Reading was her passion, a world to run away to, a fantasy to wear like a party dress that shed sparkles over the drudgery of life. Her little world could be cruel at times; but words could heal like candy coated magic.

It was a book of short stories. “Sandcastles” was the simple title of the first story. Words danced wantonly in her brain. She smiled, as reality receded.

Sandcastles stood silently on the beach, like sentries to another world. Gavin stroked one, bucket and spade forgotten. He imagined himself there, a tiny himself entering the castle, greeted by a beautiful princess … And then he was really there.

Naomi sighed as an old fashioned castle grew in her mind, its beauty beating in her heart, as words drew patterns in her brain. She closed the book, its words echoing through the corridors of her mind.

The next day she excitedly opened the book where she had left it, but to her astonishment the words were somehow different. She blinked. This was not the same story.

The beach metamorphosed in front of her eyes, waves crashing relentlessly on its shore, growing larger, beasts of white fury. The sound of thunder erupted, an equine volcano as the waves turned in to white horses.

The horses neighed in time to an invisible wind, their manes rustling in a river of time. They were here to save the Earth. It was their time, it was all time.

Naomi swallowed. She loved horses. Slowly she reached her hand out to the book as if she could touch them.

© Can Stock Photo / SURZ

In a second she was there. The horses stopped and stood still, as Naomi shivered in the wind. They formed a circle around her, eyes glowing in the moon. Naomi smiled. This was a dream, but better than a dream. The real world had receded forever.

**

Vanessa picked up the book which her mother had bought from a charity shop. It felt new, like it had never been read.

Vanessa’s long brown hair touched the page as she began to read. Sandcastles on a beach. How sweet.

Later, returning to the book, she found that the story had changed! Had she been dreaming earlier? Was this the same book?

Horses rushed through the pages, running towards a better happy ending. Vanessa smiled. She loved horses.

A girl appeared, described as a lost soul seeking a way home. She rode one of the horses bareback, long blonde tresses flying behind her in the wind.

“Come and join me,” she said softly. “It is so lovely here.”

Vanessa looked at the page in disbelief. It felt as though the girl were speaking directly to her!

Hurriedly she closed the book, throwing it in her cupboard. There was something creepy about it. A neverending story that would remain unfinished, at least for today.

Years later, Vanessa found the book while sorting through her childhood possessions. Cautiously she opened it, a dim memory partially illuminating her mind.

“I’m still here, waiting,” said the blonde haired girl. “All my yesterdays are here; but tomorrows are yet unwritten.”

Vanessa touched the page, looking at words that were taking shape before her eyes. She felt something soft beneath her fingers. As she pulled them away, a hand clung to hers: an arm was emerging from the book. Vanessa sat back as a young girl materialised.

“I am Naomi,” she said softly. “You have saved me.”

She smiled, then slowly disappeared. Vanessa shook. What had just happened? Gingerly, she opened the book. It fell to the last page of the first story.

Naomi awoke in her bedroom as if from a long slumber. The dream drifted from her mind, as reality rectified her vision. The beach was gone. Far off, she thought she could still hear the horses, could still feel the salty sea air, and then this sensation also faded.

She looked round a room from the past. So her story had not ended on page six. Her life had returned.

Vanessa laid the book down, and shook her head. Something magical had just happened, but she did not know what. In any case, she wished to get rid of this book as quickly as possible.

**

Anna smiled as she fingered her new book. A story to escape to, a new dream to devour.

The beach sighed to a hidden music. Horses emerged from the waves, neighing in time to a silent story. Footprints weaved across the sand, but there was no one there. The horses sighed again, looking for a friend they had lost. One day, they knew they would be reunited.

Anna closed her eyes, and in her mind she was there, alone on a quiet beach as horses ran by her side. It felt good. But how would this story end? Perhaps it never would.

And in Anna’s mind, a happy ending grew like a beautiful flower. She smiled again. Opening her eyes, she slowly closed the book and returned to her homework.

Its words could wait until later. For after all, it was a story that would never end, the illusion of a happy ever after forever held in an unreachable future. But it was better that way; all good stories should never end.

So the book lay there, clutching its secrets like jewels, as new stories were born, words unread in a world that did not care, their happy ending forgotten already.