💯 STORY CHALLENGE (23/100)
A Witch’s Curse Called Writer’s Block
Once upon a time, I had to confront a witch to demand she free me of the curse of writer’s block.
I sat in my cosy cabin, looking out at the beautiful forest. The plants did their best to show off after a long winter. I’ve never seen such a vivid, fantastic green sprinkled with blossoms in all colours of the rainbow.
What an inspiring sight, except that it didn’t inspire today.
Instead of the muse stopping by and prompting me to write about nature, I felt nothing but bored and empty. All that was left of the muse’s inspiration was that scar where my creativity dwelled before.
What dark spell hung over me?
Could I fix it with small tricks like wearing mismatched socks? Or would it help to consult a wise man on top of a black mountain? Was there a way to regain my creativity?
Suddenly, a feline creature broke through the fabric of reality like it was nothing but a thin veil. It looked like a cat with human features and mannerisms. It smiled at me, its tail twisting and dancing.
“Who are you?!” I demanded to know.
“I’m Kat,” the cat announced, “and I guard the gates between your dimension and the source of all creativity.”
“What is this trickery? A talking cat? Impossible!” I worked myself up, “Am I to believe I’m trapped in the story of Alice in Wonderland?”
Laughter was all the cat provided as an answer, fueling the fires of my rising anger.
“Am I still sane?” I asked in a panic, “Or are you Loki, the trickster god trying to prompt me into doing something foolish? I don’t think this is funny!”
“Well, I do”, Kat the cat replied.
“This is a serious matter. I am suffering from writer’s block. That dreadful curse!”
“If it is a curse,” the cat said, her whiskers dancing hypnotically, “you probably need to find the witch that cursed you.”
“The witch called writer’s block?” I asked stupidly.
The cat smirked but tried to hide her amusement by licking her paws.
“It doesn’t sound much like a witch’s name, but you’re probably right.”
“How do I find that witch?”
“To find her, you need to will that moment of finding her into existence!”
“Bollocks! How is that supposed to work?”
“You are quite the writer, moron,” the cat replied, “Words have power! As a writer, you make it happen by putting the words on that blank sheet of paper.”
I looked at the cat with curiosity, but instead of cursing it insane or worse, I looked at the blank sheet of paper lying on the desk in front of me. Could the cat be right? I grab my pen and start writing as if my life depends on it.
Good lord! My life did depend on it!
And then, he discovered the witch’s lair … lair? That sounds stupid. And then, he found the witch’s hut wasn’t far from his cabin. A few miles into the woods, he found her weird hut perched between old, thick oaks.
“Witch! I am here. Come out and explain yourself!”
Nothing happened. Before I allowed frustration to settle in again, I remembered the cat’s words and got my notepad and pen out.
And then, the witch appeared at the hut’s entrance and explained herself.
When the witch appeared at the hut’s entrance, I was about to engage with my inner critic, who wanted to drop some wisdom about show don’t tell.
“Stop shouting!” the husky voice of the old crone barked, “I’m old and ugly but not deaf, moron. Let me explain myself.”
I looked at her disfigured face and that giant, cliche witch’s nose.
“Indeed, you are an ugly hag!”
“That is very offensive, coming from the guy who willed me into existence. After all, this is your lousy writing!”
“I did no such thing!” I shouted to defend myself, “You cursed me, and I travelled here to ask you to lift it.”
“Well, I certainly dislike your way of asking.”
Like a little boy caught stealing candy, I looked down at the tips of my shoes guiltily.
“I am sorry. It is just so stressful to be unable to write. Please,” I begged, “lift the curse. Please! This cannot be my new normals!”
“If you willed me into existence,” the witch explained, “you can lift it yourself.”
“Really?!”
“This is not about magic. It is about you cursing yourself. You should rather perceive it as a mental block.”
“Like the ones the robots in Asimov’s stories experience?!”
“Um … yes … sure!”
“Great!”
And then, he was back in his cabin and wrote a bestseller! Happy end!
Satisfied, I looked at the paper on my desk when the witch looked in through the door.
“Well, you still have to put some effort into this, moron!” she barked, “And, please, stop starting sentences with “and then”, or I will rethink my opinion about cursing you!”
© Jay C Wells, 2022
💯 Story Challenge (23/100)
Thank you for supporting my creative journey! Please check out my other weird, wicked and witty fiction stories on Medium if you enjoyed this tale. Support my writing journey by subscribing to my email list or joining as a medium member with my referral link.
The idea that morphed into this weird and silly tale was a gift from the wise man on the Black Mountain in this story (FJCMontenegro). Here is his response to my cry for help with writer’s block on Twitter:
I also hid stories and writing prompts by the following writers in my tale: JF Danskin, Kathy K, Cathylouise, Zane Dickens, Chelsea Marie, Ben Ulansey, FJCMontenegro, and Bradan Writes Stories. What are you waiting for? Go, check these creative geniuses out!
Are you interested in the 💯 Story Challenge? Check this story by Zane Dickens in Microcosm to learn more.
Like always, I finish by leading you to a personal pick from the 💯 Story Challenge: “Blood Stained Hands” by Cathylouise.
