Writing a story is impossibly possible. Creating a plot out of thin air is easy, just take an excerpt from one of your daydreaming sessions. Writing the first draft however is like seeing an angel, a miracle to simply put it, and the second draft, grueling work. Looking at the same page for hours, rereading the same lines for what feels like an eternity just to check the spelling, then grammar, then punctuation, and then whatever there's left to do...

SHORT STORY - Create your own genesis of the Earth

Forget about the Big Bang, the Garden of Eden, and the evolution of apes. You're God now, create a new history and write it in less than 2,000 words.
 

Day 1


A room,
four walls, 
two windows,
one door,
nothing more,
nothing less.

But little me loved it.
Hours of daydreaming ,
in a quiet room,
basically paradise,
for an introvert of course.
I was always alone in there,
but never felt lonely.
Never again have I felt that.

That room was special and every day I regret leaving.

Day 2

I belong in the constant state of motion.
 

Running,
in the park,
in the track,
even on...

My ears covered,
music floating in my mind,
unable to sing along, 
cause of my bad memory,
yet I know every word to every song.

The calluses on my fingers,
picking the strings, 
trying to reach perfection, 
even though it's non existent.

The gift of hearing,
something I'll always treasure.
It gave me comfort,
it gave me warmth, 
it gave me an outlet, 
to feel,
to love,
to be me.



 

In a cocoon, 
safe, 
quiet,
dark,
that's where I belong,
but I'm no caterpillar.

So I hide in my room,
it's not quiet,
it's safe to say the least,
but there's no comfort. 

I try to make it work,
to feel the comfort, 
the warmth,
the embrace,
of the only person I know, 
myself.

Why my room?
Why myself?
I have nowhere else.
I have no one else.

Do you know where I feel like I belong?
It's in my mind
A place only I can go
A place only I can be God
The only place I can be happy

Escaping from reality
It isn't necessarily a good thing
But it is necessary

Dreaming of having
A life 
A safe place 
A solace
I can never have 

I belong in the constant state of motion.
 

Running,
in the park,
in the track,
even on the tar road.

The wind, 
cooling my hot head.

Inertia making it easier.

Easier,
to move on,
from my past,
my problems,
my worries.

My heart beats fast,
but my mind's at peace.

 

A room,
four walls, 
two windows,
one door,
nothing more,
nothing less.

But little me loved it.
Hours of daydreaming ,
in a quiet room,
basically paradise,
for an introvert of course.
I was always alone in there,
but never felt lonely.
Never again have I felt that.

That room was special and every day I regret leaving.



 

I say the mother. Instead, they hand me a child.