A blank page lies before me.
As expected, Fear is there in a flash. “Hello there”, I think to myself. “Take a seat”. Fear looks at the page, then at me. It likes what it sees.
It probably thinks I’m afraid of the page, but that’s not true. I love the blank page. A blank page holds an infinite number of possibilities and wonders. It could tell a story of fiction, love, ambition, or science, just to name a few.
But, it is up to me to conjure up the right words. I know that with every word I write I chip away at its possible futures. Will I be able to capture one of its wonders on the page, or will I murder it?
So you see, Fear old friend, I’m not afraid of the page. I fear only myself and the harm I might cause it. Not that you care. I suppose you are happy either way.
I pick up the pen. It feels heavy. I dip it into the inkwell. Fear is giddy with anticipation.
I turn my attention to the paper; such a beautiful, precious thing.
Let the surgery begin.
Thanks for reading!
Written for: Sunday Photo Fiction – July 17th 2016