Fiction Fragment Friday
Ok, the inspiration for this story should be so obvious it doesn’t need explaining. Yes I have been stressed and am struggling to write. As always I just had to do it.
“Damn it why can’t I write?” I sat there with my head in my hands staring at the blank document on my laptop. It has been weeks since I had written anything of any sort of substance, but every time I tried my mind just seized up. Writing has always been one of my favorite forms of escape. So why couldn’t I even start.
My dog chose that moment to rub his nose up against my arm and try to climb into my lap. He had ignored me for hours, but when I had convinced myself that I was finally on the verge of starting he decided to want attention. “Well, I can’t possibly write now,” I lied to myself as I pet his head.
“Hey dipshit this is what we call avoidance.” The voice startled me so badly I almost fell out of my chair. My head followed the voice to the top of my bookshelf. There sitting on the shelf was a tiny elf wearing a t-shirt that said Hey Babe, Wanna Get Your Stocking Stuffed?
“No, no, no.” I shook my head. “You cannot be real.”
“I’m as real as you numb nuts.” He jumped down to the ground and walked across the floor towards me.
“Some guard dog you are,” I said as my dog just tilted his head left and right watching the little elf.
“So why do you think you can’t write? Too tired? Too many distractions? Any other excuses you wanna try?”
“You seem to know so much about me. Why don’t you tell me?”
He hopped up on a shelf next to my tv and sat down with his feet dangling off. “Do I look like a psychiatrist? No, I’m an Elf on a Shelf not a doc on a rock.”
“No, I do not support the Elf on a Shelf thing.”
“Well, that’s rude. Not that I need you to believe in me. Unlike you I’m comfortable with myself. I’m pretty awesome and I know it.”
“Kind of full of yourself for an overused meme aren’t you?”
“So says the writer who doesn’t write. More of you in the world than there is of me buddy boy. I am what I am, but you are so lost in your own head you don’t even know what you are.” His feet were kicking back and forth on the shelf.
“Let’s just pretend that you are real for a moment. Why are you here?”
“Hey, a halfway intelligent question. I’m here to be your muse. I’m going to sit here and heckle you until you write. Then I get to leave this dump. Wait until you see who comes to help you edit.”
“This is supposed to be help?”
“Why can’t you write? Cause those voices in your head are telling you that you can’t. Just write. It’s that simple. You afraid it’s gonna be bad? Of course it is, but that’s never stopped you before. I’m just gonna be so loud you can’t hear those inner voices.”
“So, if I write you will go away?”
“Ding, ding, ding. See you can use your head to figure out things. I just have to give you all the answers first.”
I reached out to my laptop and started typing. It didn’t matter what I wrote as long as I got something out. I could always just delete it and write something else. Then I looked up and saw the elf sitting there with a beer in one hand and a candy cigarette in the other. “Really?”
“No more stalling human. Write.”
“Ok, ok, I’m writing.” I sat there for the next half hour typing. Was the story good? No, but it was just the first draft, and it was complete. I let out a sigh of relief as I looked up and saw the elf was gone. I reached up to close my laptop. I could always edit tomorrow.
“NEIN!” There on the shelf where the Elf on the Shelf had been was a soldier action figure.
“Who are you supposed to be?”
The soldier stood and pointed to the swastika on his arm. “This should be obvious. I am the Grammar Nazi.”