Writer Unblocked

By Rachel H Grant

Ann stared at the stars above, mesmerised by their magic.  Her pen slid over the notepad, the quiet music of her imagination. The novel was faltering, even before it had begun. Somehow her initial inspiration had evaporated in to a cloud of writer’s block. It was difficult writing a historical novel, trying to be someone from an unknown century, but she couldn’t stop. So tomorrow it would be back to the ruined castle she had based her story upon. That would be where the dragon of creation slept, ideas igniting in its fiery lair.

When she arrived the familiar fear formed tears in her large grey eyes, as her bobbed brown hair danced in a stray burst of wind. Her eyes rose to the windows on the fifth and final floor, the one she had not yet ventured to, the shackles of vertigo pulling her back. But today she would go. Heights were nothing to be scared of, so she often told herself with no idea where the irrational fear had come from. Sometimes she would dream of falling, falling out of a high window … and then she would awake before she hit the ground.

So she entered the castle of her dreams, breathing in the skies of her novel. After an hour or so, sitting in different parts of the castle, writing notes, Ann finally made her way to the top floor. The air felt cooler here. She shivered. An animal sense of panic set her heart racing. Was it her vertigo? Or was it …

Ann looked round sharply. A dark shadow receded. She was not alone.

Involuntarily she sucked in a large breath. She was being stupid. There was nothing here. It was just a ruined castle, there were no ghosts. That was the substance of her novel … not of real life. She looked at the empty windows, like missing teeth in the wall. Ready to devour you … Time to vanquish the vertigo. She strode to the nearest window with a confidence she did not feel.

She looked out, the grass below beginning to swim in her vision as dizziness destroyed her thoughts. “Ann …” The voice was real, even if the shadow was not. She looked round. There was no one there. Then she felt his breath on her neck, the silken touch of death …

Ann gasped as a perfect memory hit her like a rock on the head. She had been here before, right here. In another time. In … she looked down at her green embroidered dress, falling in silken tresses to her feet, and then back to the open window. The castle was no longer a ruin. There was a rug beneath her feet … and his hand on her back. Of course it was him. George, her husband.

In one mad moment she felt his hands lifting her, squeezing the breath out of her in a senseless rage, and then she was falling. It was her dream. She was falling, and falling, the green grass below swimming nearer, the sea of the past greeting her with eager hands … And this time, she knew that she would not wake up.

Ann turned round. Her body was different, her clothes bizarre. But most of all … what had happened to her home? It was a ruin.

Then she smiled. The new brain was attacking her with urgent information. Her name was Ann …. her own name, but a new body. Well, that would do nicely. Her husband had been about to attack her, that much she remembered. But now she was saved. She was a writer, according to her brain cells. In the 21^st Century. She began to grin. How exciting, a whole new life. She had survived … she had beaten George, to win in the end. As was her destiny. He had never been right for her.

This body had often dreamt of her murder, of falling from the window here. What had happened? Had she changed places with … her future self? She smiled even more. With this brain, she could go far.

The brain knew everything. It knew what a car was, which one was hers, how to drive, and how to reach her new home. She laughed. Trading lives should not be this easy.

But there was a whole new world to explore. First, however, the novel. That’s what future Ann had been writing. A novel about her own life with George in the castle! Well, now it was time to finish it. Her smile turned to a grin, and then to a grimace of evil glee …

Ann looked at her body – or at someone’s body – lying below her. She was dead, she knew that much. But never had she felt so free. She soared upwards, dancing in the clouds, castles in the sky.

Her vertigo had gone.

Ann smiled. It was time to change the past. She descended to the castle, to the beautiful intact mansion of yesterday, and decided to stay.

Her murderer would pay.

She gazed upon George, as he held his head in rising grief. Apparently he had been possessed by rage, he had not meant to kill her. She could sense this from his aura.

But he was still the monster from her dreams, the shadow she always ran from, the unseen ghost who chased her to the window, again and again, as she fell night upon night. Well, now night had turned to day.

It was her turn to be the ghost. A smile froze on her unseen face.

Ann smiled as she finished the book. Her own life … breathing from its pages. A year later, and she surveyed the novel in her local bookshop, her smile transforming her face in delight. She had done it. She had survived …. and won. A thousand tomorrows beckoned, while her murderer lay dead in his grave.

A shadow stood behind her, then was gone.

Ann continued to smile.