Writing Fever

Blinking my eyes clear, I turn my head from the window back to my screen. The flashing cursor in a sea of white taunts. Anxious fingers dangle over starving keys. I turn back to the expanse outside my tiny world. The mountain sits heavy in the distance. Its snow-covered peak is shrouded in cloud just like my mind. The misty pillow begins to swirl in odd patterns; writhing as it seeps between the trees of the valley. As tentacles feeling the ocean floor, spindly appendages stretch toward the thin pane that separates it from me. My cat meows and it’s gone.

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